Being back in America is fantastic. I stood in the middle of the escalator, had 4 glasses of free water in a restaurant, and smiled at whoever I wanted. I've had so many conversations with people where neither party had to struggle to communicate. I even took pride in the fact that one of the roped off lines at immigration had a giant, 10-foot wide pillar right in the middle of it. A German would have planned around that before getting out the rope, but in America, that pillar can suck it. While that's all good and dandy, it turns out that Germany has poisoned my mind a little bit. It took me approximately 5 minutes to count out $8 of this "monopoly" money these crazy people use. I've mixed up "much" and "many" consistently over the past two days, and most embarrassingly, this happened:
Location: New South Building. Situation: kweeks is locked out and ID-less. Some disgruntled employee is trying to confirm my identity.
employee: where do you live?
kweeks: 1234 Candyland Road
employee: thue sife jurde cor hale furt.
kweeks: Was? Was that even English...? What?
employee: LAS.T FO.UR DIG.ITS OF YOUR SO.CIAL SE.CUR.IT.Y NUM.BER.
the sad part is, I would have rocked that conversation in German.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
people of germany
Cathy and I decided way too late (read: 2 weeks before our internships ended) that we should have made a blog about the people of germany. in a similar fashion to "people of wal-mart", we'd post pictures of people, well, in Germany. Doing German things. Being German. Despite the fact that we didn't have enough time to collect the necessary materials for said blog, we fleshed out what it would look like. Guess this will just have be a project for my dream life of moving to Munich and being a professional party-er/beer drinker.
1) Photos - if you've ever been to Europe, no explanation necessary. For everyone else, this would include, but is not limited to, photos of matching t-shirts from bachelor/bachelorette parties, 40 euro pit-bull sweatpants, fanny packs, man capris, uncategoriable outfits, haircuts, lederhosen, and people epitomizing what it means to be German:
2) Do You Know What Your Hat Means? - interviews with people wearing anything American related (MLB hats, shirts with English writing, American-flag shorts, etc) and inquiring about their level of knowledge on that little piece of America their toting around.
3) The F-bomb and Why You're Using it Incorrectly - an explanation of when to use the f-bomb, including the fact that it's a really offensive word.
4) Mistranslations - signs, tourist information, menus, a recording of any Deutsche Bahn train driver trying to speak English by skipping one out of every third syllable, the Deutsche Bank "GIZ" division (sound it out...), etc
5) Ask Robert - (he's not man Robert, but he is man German). a Q&A where we ask intern man to explain things that Germans do.
1) Photos - if you've ever been to Europe, no explanation necessary. For everyone else, this would include, but is not limited to, photos of matching t-shirts from bachelor/bachelorette parties, 40 euro pit-bull sweatpants, fanny packs, man capris, uncategoriable outfits, haircuts, lederhosen, and people epitomizing what it means to be German:
this drunken mess is exactly what it means to be German
2) Do You Know What Your Hat Means? - interviews with people wearing anything American related (MLB hats, shirts with English writing, American-flag shorts, etc) and inquiring about their level of knowledge on that little piece of America their toting around.
3) The F-bomb and Why You're Using it Incorrectly - an explanation of when to use the f-bomb, including the fact that it's a really offensive word.
4) Mistranslations - signs, tourist information, menus, a recording of any Deutsche Bahn train driver trying to speak English by skipping one out of every third syllable, the Deutsche Bank "GIZ" division (sound it out...), etc
5) Ask Robert - (he's not man Robert, but he is man German). a Q&A where we ask intern man to explain things that Germans do.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
What's in a Name?
I just need to get this off my chest: German names are weird. Usually I can't tell because when I meet someone, chances are real good (~110%) that I don't understand what their name is. The reason for this is two-fold: 1) it's something I've never heard before and 2) (if you're an active kweeks train follower I'm sure you've guessed it by now) I don't speak German. The name part of the conversation sort of just runs together with every other incomprehensible word that's being said.
I didn't blog about this when it happened, mostly because I didn't want to talk about work on the public domain...Deutsche Bank has a serious Big Brother complex going on. But, it's my last day and I'm running back to the land of the free tomorrow so Big Brother can suck it. When I met one of my coworkers on my first day, I couldn't really understand what he said when he introduced himself, so I had to listen to what everyone else called him to find out. I managed to ascertain that his name was Hamlet. Awkward. Maybe his parents liked Shakespeare. Or wanted him to suffer (whether at the hands of Laertes or of other children is unclear). But the next day, the Prince of the Danes answered the phone and he definitely didn't say Hamlet. Back to square one. Creepily listening to his phone conversations, my next guess was "Helmet." More awkward than Hamlet? Hard to say. Eventually I manned up and asked someone. Proving that the truth is stranger than fiction, I was told that his name was actually "Hartmut." Just to give this some cultural perspective, this is the country that used to have a list of names that you were allowed to name your child. This isn't the work of rogue parenting. This is a legitimate German name. Hartmut. Say that to yourself. Heart. Moot.
I didn't blog about this when it happened, mostly because I didn't want to talk about work on the public domain...Deutsche Bank has a serious Big Brother complex going on. But, it's my last day and I'm running back to the land of the free tomorrow so Big Brother can suck it. When I met one of my coworkers on my first day, I couldn't really understand what he said when he introduced himself, so I had to listen to what everyone else called him to find out. I managed to ascertain that his name was Hamlet. Awkward. Maybe his parents liked Shakespeare. Or wanted him to suffer (whether at the hands of Laertes or of other children is unclear). But the next day, the Prince of the Danes answered the phone and he definitely didn't say Hamlet. Back to square one. Creepily listening to his phone conversations, my next guess was "Helmet." More awkward than Hamlet? Hard to say. Eventually I manned up and asked someone. Proving that the truth is stranger than fiction, I was told that his name was actually "Hartmut." Just to give this some cultural perspective, this is the country that used to have a list of names that you were allowed to name your child. This isn't the work of rogue parenting. This is a legitimate German name. Hartmut. Say that to yourself. Heart. Moot.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Judgement Day
really the only thing I've learned since coming to Germany is that stereotypes are the most truest things that have ever been invented (and not in the true dogg kind of way, but in the certain, undeniable, handed-down-from-God kind of way). As my internship winds to a close, the Deutsche Bank requires my boss to fill out a "Beurteilung" on how well he thinks I did. In case your German isn't as wunderbar as mine, Beurteilung is literally the word for judgement. It's a four-page long document consisting of various aspects of intern performance (knowledge, social skills, quality of work, etc) and a grade is given for each aspect. Basically the German Gods have come forth to evaluate my self-worth. And in case you think that's a bit extreme, I go to Princeton, grades are everything.
For those of you who've forgotten, these are Germans we're talking about. They don't pussy around with their opinions: If you suck, they're gonna tell, and they're not going to be concerned about your self-esteem when they do. Needless to say, I was a little nervous about my value as a German worker. Thankfully, they don't get bogged down by the details like, "you showed up 30 minutes late every day," "you were severely displeased when you had to stay past 8," or, "you took your aggression towards our entire country out on the other intern." Unfortunately this left time for more glaring flaws in my interning: "you know nothing about finance. or math.", "you can't speak German", and "I have the feeling that you're smart, but I have no proof."
For those of you who've forgotten, these are Germans we're talking about. They don't pussy around with their opinions: If you suck, they're gonna tell, and they're not going to be concerned about your self-esteem when they do. Needless to say, I was a little nervous about my value as a German worker. Thankfully, they don't get bogged down by the details like, "you showed up 30 minutes late every day," "you were severely displeased when you had to stay past 8," or, "you took your aggression towards our entire country out on the other intern." Unfortunately this left time for more glaring flaws in my interning: "you know nothing about finance. or math.", "you can't speak German", and "I have the feeling that you're smart, but I have no proof."
Geography
kweeks: wo studierst du? (where do you go to school?)
German: Niederlande
kweeks: wo ist das? (where's that?)
German: pause. northwest of here.
5 minutes later
kweeks: oh wait, do you mean, the Netherlands?
German: Niederlande
kweeks: wo ist das? (where's that?)
German: pause. northwest of here.
5 minutes later
kweeks: oh wait, do you mean, the Netherlands?
Geburtstag
the memories of my homeland are starting fade, so I can't exactly remember what a birthday is like in America, but for Germans, it's a big deal. No other event makes so many people so excited about something completely unrelated to them.
Learning that it's someone's birthday must be one of the very few occasions where Germans are allowed to smile unsolicited. When one of these blonds learns it's your birthday (regardless of how well they know you, or whether they know you at all), their whole face lights up, they wish you a happy birthday, and then counter-intuitively go in for the formal handshake. Even with the buzz kill ending, it's really exciting to have people so happy that you were born on this specific day.
And the fun just keeps on rolling on your Geburtstag: at the end of the day, my coworkers brought me a huge bouquet of flowers and a cookbook - so that I wouldn't go hungry in Germany (I've clearly fooled them into thinking that I can actually understand German...). German Verständnis aside, it was a sweet gift. Made even sweeter by the jealouslooks stare down everyone gave me on the subway as I struted around with my giant bouquet of flowers. "Why does she get flowers?" Because I'm an awesome Amerikaner. Eat it Deutschland (slash thank you).
Learning that it's someone's birthday must be one of the very few occasions where Germans are allowed to smile unsolicited. When one of these blonds learns it's your birthday (regardless of how well they know you, or whether they know you at all), their whole face lights up, they wish you a happy birthday, and then counter-intuitively go in for the formal handshake. Even with the buzz kill ending, it's really exciting to have people so happy that you were born on this specific day.
And the fun just keeps on rolling on your Geburtstag: at the end of the day, my coworkers brought me a huge bouquet of flowers and a cookbook - so that I wouldn't go hungry in Germany (I've clearly fooled them into thinking that I can actually understand German...). German Verständnis aside, it was a sweet gift. Made even sweeter by the jealous
Saturday, September 3, 2011
social day
in an attempt to combat global warming (a.k.a. build good PR) Deutsche Bank organizes a "social day" for its interns every summer where everyone goes and plants trees and then drinks beer afterwards. basically a really stereotypically German day. it started out fairly normal - kweeks speaking awkward German, free t-shirt, and a bus ride to approximately ten minutes out of the city, prompting the girl behind me to say, "wow, we're really in the country now." clearly someone who's never left Frankfurt or encountered the phenomenon known as the internet.
we had to divide up into groups to go plant trees and it quickly became abundantly clear to everyone in my group that i was really foreign. mostly because at one point pretty early in the day, i had to read out loud in German. Not only did I have to slowly sound out a word that I didn't know, but I over-anticipated where the end of the sentence was and ended my intonation one awkward word too early. it was great. just great.
the weirdest thing about the social day, however, was not me (at least from my perspective...). only in Europe would you have to have a designated smoking area for a group of interns on an outdoor tree hugging adventure. anyways, we managed to plant 1,000 trees while simultaneous undoing all our good efforts by drinking 1,000 bottles of water.
we had to divide up into groups to go plant trees and it quickly became abundantly clear to everyone in my group that i was really foreign. mostly because at one point pretty early in the day, i had to read out loud in German. Not only did I have to slowly sound out a word that I didn't know, but I over-anticipated where the end of the sentence was and ended my intonation one awkward word too early. it was great. just great.
the weirdest thing about the social day, however, was not me (at least from my perspective...). only in Europe would you have to have a designated smoking area for a group of interns on an outdoor tree hugging adventure. anyways, we managed to plant 1,000 trees while simultaneous undoing all our good efforts by drinking 1,000 bottles of water.
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