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Decorating the Christmas Tree: Success
(Oldenburg, Germany) |
After spending six months in the wonderful land of Germany, I can hardly say that I was prepared, nay equipped, for the Christmas holiday with my German boyfriend's family. Two months of German language lessons twice a week left me struggling to follow the quips, sarcasm and overall flow of conversation that came as soon as the car door opened in Siegen en route to Oldenburg. I felt ready to rip my ear off, dip it in a good beer and toss it to my new "German Family" in hopes that somehow I wouldn't be lost in translation any longer. Many mistaken der, die, and das in between hearty meat, good cake and Christmas beverages later, we were all laughing over a game of billiards (during which I reportedly had become the "profi" professional). Perhaps communication lines are eased when a bit of healthy competition, fun and good beer are thrown into the mix.
When it came to Fooseball (called Kicker in German), my boyfriend would apparently much prefer to work up a sweat and crack the table in half than lose. However, even table soccer needs cheerleaders, so I contributed with some jolly and mispronounced "ja Woll!" "gut gemacht" and "toller Schuss!" (Yes sir, well done and nice shot!)
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In Germany: respect the process and theme of
decorating the tree and you just might survive! |
It is very important to note, however, that there is a sort of mathematical curve in terms of German language abilities and beer consumption. These two are generally directly related and, as beer levels increase, so do speaking capabilities. This goes for billiards skill in relation to consumption as well. Unfortunately, as goes for the optimum tariff we've been studying in International Economics here in Cologne, there is a maximum level of benefit. After that level (of tariff % or drink consumption) the curve shoots you back to either trade decline or missed shots and misunderstandings. Let's just say that I properly performed my research and graphed this curve unwittingly and much to my own embarrassment. Fortunately, the whole experience became a good laugh for all, we lost at billiards, I made up my own version of what I thought was Deutsch and I was dubbed the "Sweet Girl" for the duration of my stay. I must say that I'm relieved that that was the name I received after all the hullabaloo, but that might be because I never caught word of any other granted titles.
Though I may have caught my own hair on fire from the candles on the Christmas Tree (O' Tannenbaum!), eaten a pile of pink termed "Heringsalat," and crashed my bike into a
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One of the nightly spreads on the dinner table!
(Pork filet wrapped with prosciutto in a cognac-cream sauce
accompanied by baked hash browns and creamed veggies.) |
lamp post amidst the frenzy of dozens of hurried, Christmas-shopping bikers, I learned to adore his German family with their traditions, present opening schedules, and especially palate in terms of what is to follow the hearty call of "GUTEN APPETIT!"
