How I Know I'm American #3: Numbers

Among all the tangled ways of German that I knew would trip me up this summer, I never expected so much trouble from stuff I learned in German 1. Namely, the numbers. Somehow after spending a third of my life practicing, I still get confused by the idea that Germans say "fourandseventy" instead of "seventy-four." It's not a problem when I'm speaking, but it definitely comes up when I'm listening to something fast enough to prevent reflection. I'm really a major fan of processing numbers left-to-right.

One area where I notice it all the time is at work. Since I'm constantly typing numbers in one place that I saw in another, it makes it easier if I say the number in my head. But if I say it in German, I have to treat it as a list of one-digit numbers. (ex. one-three-nine-eight vs. one thousand, three hundred eight and ninety.) Otherwise it takes me about three times as long. Even with the one-digit method, saying it in English is definitely faster, even though I've known German numbers since early childhood. This observation ties in nicely with linguists' findings that second-language use takes up a lot of short-term memory: even when you know the words well, you're still more likely to forget the content that they expressed.

Of course, another major reason for aggravation with numbers has to do with units. Much of it could have been avoided if the US had shown common sense a few decades back and switched to the metric system. As it is, I haven't dealt with it much in the US since 11th-grade chemistry class. I'm now quite comfortable with Celsius temperatures (in the range I've experienced), and I'm OK with kilometers and increasingly with grams. But when people compare their height in centimeters, or apartment area in square meters, or monthly salaries in Euros, it takes me a little while to catch up. At least metric is logical - I pity the poor internationals who come to the US and have to tackle the English system. (Side bar: it was an odd feeling with my international classmates when I translated a dollar amount to Euros, only to realize that they were more familiar with dollars. Only two of them, among 14, use Euros at home.) Even when the German is not an issue, I'm working on a new language.

How I Know I'm American #2: Transportation

In Doylestown my life is in the car; at Penn State I always went by foot; Montpellier's trams saw a lot of me; and in Innsbruck I biked everywhere. But here in Munich, it's all about the Bahn.

It took me a while to associate the German terms with English equivalents instead of just the actual objects. Technically, I suppose the U-Bahn is a subway, S-Bahn is a regional train, and the Straßenbahn is a trolley. But since I haven't had much experience with those in the US, I've been like a little kid this summer. I'm flabbergasted by the swarms of people moving on, off, and around the U-Bahn at each stop. I'm chilled catching glimpses in the darkness of the cavernous tunnels in between stations and fascinated when we zoom by another U-Bahn full of people heading the other direction. I'm tickled by the drivers' voices muttering station names in thick Bavarian accents and their million variations on the requisite "Zurückhalten, bitte." I'm terrified, waiting outside for the S-Bahn, when the long-distance trains storm through and shake my bench just two meters away. I'm delighted when people break the routine of blank faces and non-descript actions, like the guy who brought in a lawn chair and promptly plopped down in it next to me.

My German course ended last week, but it was fun having a precise schedule every day during that time, because I started recognizing people. A co-worker was sometimes on my morning U-Bahn, so we could walk together to work. On the way from work to the station, I always passed the same 2 or 3 people from another company, napping in the car during their lunch break. Where I got out for class, a nasal male voice always filled the corridor, trying to sell a magazine called Biss. And right before the Goethe-Institut building, I was always confronted by the entreating face of an old lady begging. OK, so fun's not the word for that part - more like troubling. (I've seen fewer immigrants begging here than in France, but each makes me wonder a lot about my role in poverty.)

Munich's Bahn system has a couple of neat features, like the news updates and 1-minute cartoons playing on the TVs at every station. But from what I've heard, it can't touch the Moscow metro. A Russian classmate gave a German presentation on it, in which I learned:
-It's the second most-used system worldwide, with around 7 million riders daily.
-It's renowned for the artwork and architecture in most stations: the most famous painting requires the constant vigil of 2 guards.
-It's considered a tourist attraction, with guided tours and even a special dinner car that meanders through.
-There's apparently a hidden Stalin-era line, Metro 2, connecting several key government buildings to an underground town. Buried deep underground, it may be even longer than the regular Metro. Rumors fly around about kids and teens stumbling onto it, then never being heard from again. My Russian classmates wouldn't put it past their government.

My new friends Mascha, Dascha, and Natascha

It's been over a week since my latest transition, but I wasn't sure at first how I felt about it. Last Monday, I started my 4-week course at the Goethe-Institut and moved downtown with a German woman named Dorothee (housing arranged by the Goethe-Institut). I had been super-excited to meet her, get to know some international students, and finally have formal instruction to complement my day-to-day practice. The thing was, Dorothee was gone all last week, chaperoning her elementary school class on a field trip. And I was miserable in class because I was slightly better than my classmates and the lessons largely consisted of things I already knew. This was not what I had signed up for.

Now I can say, though, that I am delighted with my new situation. I switched to a higher level mid-week, and my new class is very stimulating. I haven't had such a language-oriented German class since high school, and it's great. (My PSU courses were more content-based, so I never had to memorize lists of words, as long as I could express ideas about the literature or history we were studying.) It's good for me to work on my weakness: German verbs and their dizzying combinations with prepositions and nouns. Since I got here, my philosophy in speaking German has been "fake it till you make it:" say things in a way that makes sense to me, and hope others figure out my meaning. But the daily structure of homework and being called on in class is a powerful motivator. Plus, the teacher makes it really fun, with lots of discussions and comparisons to our own cultures and languages.

There's quite a mix of people, though most are college-aged and about half hail from Eastern Europe. Among my classmates and others I've met are an Egyptian mother of two, an Italian monk, a Peruvian architect, and a Mongolian college professor. 7 of my 14 classmates speak Russian (1 from Tajikistan, 1 from Ukraine, 1 from Kazakhstan, and 4 from Russia, including the rhyming ones in the title). In their honor, with Ukrainian Katerina's painstaking translation and constant laughter, I joined the Cyrillic-alphabet equivalent of Facebook. I love the fact that I've only met 2 other Americans here and nobody tries to speak English with me.

After a week alone in her apartment, I finally met Dorothee on Sunday. As I had suspected from her furnishings, we had more in common than teaching: she loves French language and culture as well as classical music, and walks around singing fragments from Johann Strauss' opera "Die Fledermaus." What I hadn't guessed was pretty fascinating: she spent twelve years in the theatre, released a CD, and founded a Montessori school (!) before planting herself in a roomful of seven-year-olds the last several years. Her daughter is following in her footsteps: she's studying modern dance and theatre, and has won several German film awards. I have the impression that Dorothee knows how to thoroughly enjoy life, and it seems contagious.

Europa Meister der Herzen

Well, the EM hubbub is over and the last few straggling flags have been taken down from cars and balconies. Those of you who paid attention on Sunday will know that Germany fans came away less than elated. Everyone concedes that Spain simply played better and deserves its new title as "Europa Meister." (As one kid put it, Germany's just the "Europe Champion of our hearts.")

For Germany's match against Turkey, my co-workers and I sat in the cafeteria and watched it projected on a screen. Technical difficulties interrupted the program a few times, causing groans(stupid Swiss technology, as everyone muttered!) but overall, the mood was pretty low-key. It was fun having 2 enthusiastic Turkey fans there, including Ebru, who oversees most of my work. She promised to root for whichever team was losing, since she likes Germany too. She started out in a Turkey T-shirt and jumped and yelled with Hassad when Turkey scored early on. (We all clapped and were happy for them too - Turkey didn't seem like a real threat, so nobody minded that they scored first.) Then she ran to change into her Germany jersey, maintaining her promise to support the underdogs. When Germany scored later, she switched back to the Turkey T-shirt, knowing they'd have a tough time getting ahead again. Overall, nobody was impressed by Germany's playing, but the last 5 minutes provided some serious drama - Turkey scored to tie, but Germany scored again with barely a minute left.

For the Finale, I went to a barbeque hosted by the same students that joined me on the Isar. I expected the normal 15 to 20 students, but instead there were over 100 - I guess everyone brought a lot of friends! It was a very fun atmosphere...a little more enthusiastic than my sleep-deprived co-workers after 12 hours in the office. They taught me the cheers and songs with gusto, which I much prefer over Germany's cheesy official EM 2008 Theme Song. I found myself surprisingly engaged in the actual game toward the end, and I was genuinely sad when Germany lost. Still, we were proud of our boys for making it this far.

More Photos!

I spent several hours yesterday and today staring at a spreadsheet that needed to be filled in. Out of 2741 rows, probably 800 contain the word "dummy." I think it's subliminal messaging from my employer. Should I be offended?

In other news, photos of Munich are now available to the public.