A little less than two months ago, shortly after arriving in Germany, I finished reading Elizabeth Gilbert's new book Eat, Pray, Love. The book describes the author's year of "self-inquiry" that she spent in Italy, India, and Indonesia--in essence, she finds pleasure in Italy, devotion in India, and a balance between the two in Indonesia.
If I haven't learned anything else from that book (which I have), I know that I am at least capable of saying one Italian word: Attraversiamo. It means "let's cross over," and it's Gilbert's favorite Italian word.
For the most part, words can sound ridiculous, pretty, or downright confusing in any language. The word with the most elementary meaning can sometimes have the coolest pronunciation. Take "attraversiamo," or even the word for stairs in French for example: les escaliers. Oh, how beautifully it rolls off the tongue...especially when that tongue belongs to a native speaker and not Amanda Quinlan.
I say all of this only to announce a somewhat, yet probably only half-exciting event: I have found my favorite German word. I only wish this blog had an interactive hang-man feature so I could share it with a little more style.
The word, my friends, is üppig. According to Collins' English-German, German-English dictionary, it can have the following meanings: luxuriant, sumptuous, lavish, luxurious, voluptuous, and thick (when referring to hair). And, if you want to really go to town, üppig leben means to live in style.
I'm proud of my choice.
One of my goals coming to Germany was to learn a new German word or phrase everyday. Today, for example, I learned the word for buckling up in a car while exchanging car accident stories with Dito. A few days ago I learned the word for those paper things you use when you bake muffins. I don't even know the English word for that is. Anybody?
Dito has learned a few English words and phrases from me, as well--in fact, if he started speaking English to anybody that has ever spoken with me, said person would immediately pick up on exactly which American has dominated his English speaking time (but I am keeping that language pledge...no worries). Dito's vocabulary now consists of phrases like wicked, oh dear, and good grief. None of you should be surprised. Last night we watched A Charlie Brown Christmas together, and it suddenly became very clear to Dito just where I get most of my vocabulary. Now there are two crazy people wandering the streets of Germany quoting Peanuts. Fantastic.
There is one word, however, that I haven't learned here in Germany--and that's the German equivalent of the English word "klutz."
Throughout my twenty point five years in this world, this word has become vital to describing my everyday experiences and, as a result, my persona. Luckily for me, though, this word has had little importance in my everyday life in Germany. Since coming to Mainz, I've managed to fall down only three times--two of which were not my fault.
The first time I fell down was exactly two weeks ago today. Because it was a Sunday, I had decided to run to the bus stop, where there was a bus waiting, since busses run slower on Sundays, and I didn't want to be late for mass. About two steps in I totally ate it (another American phrase that Dito now uses). It was quite a dramatic flop, for lack of a better word. Down I went, large cloth handbag and all. I've got some nice raspberries to prove it (and no, I didn't catch that bus that was stopped at Friedrich von Pfeiffer Weg). Both knees. Holla.
The second two times I fell down, I am proud to say, were absolutely not my fault. They both happened while ice-skating this past Friday with Dito. Every year Mainz has a Weihnachtsmarkt, or Christmas market, that takes over the entire square by the cathedral--there's mulled wine, gingerbread, candy, lots of sweets, and plenty of cute ornaments and toys to buy. Also, down by the Rhein river, there is an ice-skating rink set up that stays open until 11PM (!). So, we moseyed on down there, rented some skates, and watched the Zamboni clear the ice right before we struck out for some bruised elbows and rear-ends.
At the rink, there were these cute little penguin things with little skis on their feet scattered all around--presumably to help younger kids that can't skate keep their balance. Because I'm a weather-snob and never get cold in Germany, Dito has appropriately dubbed me "the penguin," or "die Pinguine" in German, and thought that, since these penguins are meant to be pushed around like a shopping cart, I, as a penguin, should naturally be pushed from behind around the entire skating rink.
I'll admit, it was fun. The first few times I didn't fall, and I went really fast without any effort whatsoever. The last time, however, resulted in a tumble. But it wasn't my fault (I'm not really a penguin).
Moments later, after recuperating from the very comical yet very bruising encounter with the ice, I was skating around, minding my own business, when all of a sudden a man, out of nowhere, whips me around to turn me like Will Farrell in Blades of Glory. Next thing I knew I was down for the count. If I didn't know how to say sorry in German before, I learned that night--the man excused himself in every possible way, and I got a nice vocab lesson. Plus, now I have some more battle scars (the dog bite story is getting pretty old).
This week, Erich and I have decided to make a real Thanksgiving dinner. Although we had a dinner with Middlebury folk on Thursday, there was no turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, or any other staple necessary for the fourth Thursday in November to be found. The closest thing we had to Thanksgiving were the pumpkin muffins I baked the night before. I think we can do better.
But then again, I haven't learned the word for turkey baster yet. Or Poison Control Center, for that matter. We'll see how it goes.
Peace, love, and knock on wood,
Amanda
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