Floating Candles | Mistranslation Monday

One afternoon, not too long ago, I was browsing Pinterest with my girlfriend from Lithuania (as stereotypical ladies do). And as you can imagine (and as evidenced by my other Mistranslation Monday posts), mistranslations are quite common when us two non-German women spend the day speaking German with each other.

Anyways, as we were browsing Pinterest, my friend found a lovely centerpiece that we thought would be perfect for a winter wedding. It looked something like this:

After thinking about all the different flowers and greenery we could put in the water, we starting talking about where we could buy the floating candles - except we were speaking German, so we were saying schwebende Kerzen - the literal translation of "floating candles."

After typing schwebende Kerzen into Amazon, however, we couldn't find what we were looking for. Do floating candles not exist in Germany? Are they just unpopular? Are they illegal?!

About 15 minutes later, Marco (the German) came into the room, and I asked him, "Do you know where we can buy floating candles?" - except we were speaking German, so I asked, "Weißt du, wo man schwebende Kerzen kaufen kann?"

He looked at us both, obviously confused. then replied "Like in Harry Potter? Do you those really exist?"

These are the kind of floating candles Marco was picturing

Like with most mistranslations, his confusion only caused us to become even more confused. After showing him some pictures of what we were talking about, however, the confusion was solved.

Schweben does mean "to float," but unlike English floating, schweben can only happen in the air. Maybe a more accurate translation would be "levitating."

Things don't "float" on water in German. They swim. So, the candles we wanted weren't schwebende Kerzen, they were schwimmende Kerzen (or just Schwimmkerzen). Lesson learned!

These are the candles we ended up buying, and like many things sold in Germany, the German word for the item isn't even on the package. Instead, there is just English and French. The Germans are just left to figure it out, I guess (and foreigners are left to wonder).

Balls | Mistranslation Monday

After almost a month of internet silence, I am back with everyone's favorite type of post: Mistranslation Monday! Today's Mistranslation Monday is brought to you a single seemingly simple word, balls.

Over Christmas and New Year's, we rented a big house in Germany where both Marco and my families would spend the holidays together. This included both of our parents, both of our brothers, my sister-in-law, and Marco's practically-step-brother. It was a full house, and of the 8 residents...
1 was English/German bilingual
1 could speak German and very limited English
2 could only speak German
and
4 could only speak English.

With such a mix, conversations at the dinner table each evening were... interesting, to say the least. One of the best mistanslations that came out of this linguistic mess occurred on the second day of Christmas (that's right - Germans call December 26th "second Christmas").

On Second Christmas, Marco's practically-step-mother made a traditional Fränkisch meal, including venison with lingonberries, red cabbage, and pretzel dumplings. This story is about those dumplings, which look like this:

Since Marco's step-mother speaks very limited English, the way she translated the various components of this meal to my family was as follows.

Reh = Bambi (yes, she kept telling us throughout the meal that we were eating Bambi)
Blaukraut = Blue cabbage
Brezelknödel = Balls

"Balls" as a translation of Knödel was acceptable at first. She was obviously always referring to the food, and my family was all thankful that she was was putting the effort into speaking English at all. The issue was that Marco's father was picking up on the English that she used and would then repeat her peculiar word choices.

So during our Second Christmas meal, Marco's father was telling us all about how where he comes from (Bodensee-Region), noodles are the standard side dish for meals. Now that he lives in Nuremberg with his Fränkisch partner, however, (and I quote):

"Only balls!"

His delivery of this sentence made me burst out laughing, much to his confusion. And as I kept laughing, poor Marco was left with the task of explaining to his father that "balls" can also refer to a particular male body part.

Intimate Dancing | Mistranslation Monday

Mistranslation Monday has been missing from the blog lately. Unfortunately, this is not because my German is getting better. It's more likely due to the fact that I took a vacation to the U.S. and have been speaking a lot of English lately.

So, today's Mistranslation Monday doesn't come from myself, but my lovely friend Adele from Lithuania.

As you may know, the German fiancé and I are currently planning our wedding. Since we will only have about 30 guests, we have been discussing whether or not there should be dancing at the reception. When Adele came over last week for coffee, I asked her what she thought.

[Note: we speak German with each other, so this is a translated version of our conversation]

"I would dance!" she told me.

"Really? You would feel comfortable dancing in front of our families, even if nobody else was dancing?" I asked.

"Sure, but of course I would bring my boyfriend on the dance floor with me, then we could dance as a team." She replied.

Or, at least that is what I heard. Marco, on the other hand, heard something else:

"Sure, but of course I would bring my boyfriend on the dance floor with me, then we could dance intimately."

"You're going to dance intimately in front of our families?" Marco yelled from the other room, trying to hold back his laughter.

For my German-speaking readers, here is what Adele really said: "...dann können wir in Team tanzen."

But due to her small grammatical error (in Team instead of im Team), what she said sounded the same as the German word for "intimate" (intim).

So, I apologize to all of our wedding guests in advance if Adele and her boyfriend make you feel uncomfortable with their intimate dancing at our wedding reception. :D

He's My Sponge! | Mistranslation Monday

I recently started tutoring two female German high school students in English. Seeing as I have no experience in talking to teenagers or teaching English, this has been an interesting experience to say the least.

During our sessions, I discuss all kinds of things with the girls, from dream vacations to embarrassing school stories. Since we only speak English, they occasionally come across words for which they don't know the English translation. So, after saying the German word, they will pause, waiting for me to say it in English before they continue with their story.

My German is good enough that this method works 99% of the time.

One day, as we were talking about boys (oooo la la), one of my students got caught up in telling me about a particular boy from her school.

"He can speak Russian and is just so cute. He is my... my... Schwamm!" she exclaimed. Or at least that is what I heard.

"Sponge? He's your sponge?" I asked, quite confused.

"No! Not Schwamm, Schwarm!"

I still didn't understand. Although I knew that Schwarm means "swarm" (as in a swarm of bees), it made no sense to me in this context.

"You know... I like him, and I go crazy whenever I see him!" she explained.

Aha! Suddenly I knew what she meant, and it made sense that I had never heard this word used before.

"Your crush?" I asked.

"YES! He's my CRUSH!!"

I guess I've reached that point in my life where I am more likely to discuss sponges than crushes. At least I have these girls to teach me all the German teenage vocabulary I am missing out on!

Floor Meat | Mistranslation Monday

If you didn't know already, I am American. Thus, I grew up speaking American English. In Germany, however, students are generally taught British English. So, over the past five years, I have had to slowly convert my German fiancé over to my mother tongue.

Unfortunately, even after five years together, Marco still uses some quintessentially British terms instead of their American counterpart. One instance of this happened last week when we were writing up a grocery list.

"Add minced meat," Marco said.

"Only if you can say it to me in American English," I replied. 

[Before you think I am a crazy flag-waving, bald eagle-flying lunatic - know that I don't always require to speak perfect American English whenever he talks to me. I was just curious in this moment if he knew the American term for "minced meat."]

"Ummm... I know there is another word for it, but I can't remember...." he said.

Alright, I thought, let's give him a clue.

"What are you standing on right now?" I asked him.

Marco paused for a moment, before exclaiming:

"FLOOR MEAT."

Then we went to the store to buy some delicious floor meat.

P.S. Marco was obviously joking, although he still could not think of the word "ground meat" even after my hint.

Flying Kohlrabi | Mistranslation Monday

While in the U.S. last month, the German boyfriend saw his very first hummingbird! Hummingbirds only live in the Americas, so this was something he was quite excited about. Since my parents have a hummingbird feeder, we continued to watch a group of hummingbirds fly all over the backyard for our entire two-week stay.

As we were watching the hummingbirds from my parent's patio one morning, I tried to strike up a German conversation with Marco by saying the German word for hummingbird.

"Kohlrabi!"

I think this is what Marco imagined when I said that.

After a confused pause, Marco replied, "I think you mean Kolibri."

Oh yeah. Kolibri. Although, had there been a flying cabbage drinking sugar water in my parent's backyard, then that would have a been a first for all of us.

Colorful | Mistranslation Monday

-haft is a German adjective suffix. Examples of words with this suffix include dauerhaft (permanent; long-lasting), herzhaft (hearty), and grauenhaft (atrocious; morbid).  Today, however, I want to talk about the German word fabelhaft, which I always missheard as farbehaft.

Fabelhaft means fabulous or mavelous. It comes from the word Fabel (fable). Add on the suffix -haft, and it becomes an adjective which basically means "like a fairy tale."

Silly me has always understood the word fabelhaft as farbehaft, which is not a real word. To me, however, it meant "colorful" (Farbe = color).

I am pretty sure that I have been understanding the word as fabelhaft as farbehaft for years. Instead of using a word like "marvelous," I simply thought that Germans used the word "colorful" to describe wonderful things. It made sense to me!

This mistranslation was brought to my attention recently when the German boyfriend was proofreading one of my term papers. The paper was about a research project I did on food fotography in Hamburg. Wanting to describe a group of pictures as colorful, I used the word farbehaft in my paper.

As he was proofreading the paper, Marco called me over to ask "What is this word supposed to be? Do you mean farbenfroh?"

"Farbehaft. Colorful. Yeah, farbenfroh means the same thing," I replied, thinking that farbehaft was a synonym for farbenfroh.

"Ok. But farbehaft isn't a word. Are you thinking of fabelhaft?!"

Then he kindly explained to me the correct spelling, pronunciation, and meaning of fabelhaft, and I was left pondering all of the times I thought Germans were describing things as colorful.

Liebhaber | Mistranslation Monday

Liebhaber. What a beautiful word. Or at least I thought it was until an embarrassing situation with the German boyfriend happened recently.

Marco and I recently played the computer game Spore together. In the game, you can choose to make your character an aggressive killing machine by killing all other species. You can choose to be a peaceful ruler by simply studying the other species. Or you can choose to be something in the middle.

We had already played through the game once, and our character ended up somewhere in the middle. Since it was pretty fun, I wanted to play it through again, but instead get each of the other scenarios.

So, I told Marco that he can play as a Mörder (murderer) and I would play as a Liebhaber.

You see, Liebhaber is a compound word composed of Lieb (Liebe = Love) and Haber ("Have-er," like someone that has something). Love-Haver.

"You're going to play as a what?!" Marco replied in a tone of voice I wasn't expecting.

"A Liebhaber!"

"What do you think that word means?"

Like most new words I hear in German, I had simply guessed the meaning from its root words. Although, as I had already experienced with the word vermöbeln, this method is not very reliable.

Anyways, I don't always learn from my mistakes, and I had interpreted Liebhaber as "love-haver" - like someone who has a lot of love for something. Like a philanthropist or peacemaker.

I was wrong.

"A Liebhaber is a lover - like someone a married person has an affair with," Marco explained.

Oh... that's not what I meant.

P.S. I did look it up myself, and Liebhaber can also mean "enthusiast" (not just lover). But anyways, that is also not what I meant.

Giggles & Jiggles | Mistranslation Monday

On Sunday nights, Marco and I always watch Game of Thrones together. Anyone that watches Game of Thrones knows that the show can leave you in a weird mood once the credits start rolling.



I guess the episode a few weeks ago left Marco in a really weird mood, because as he was getting ready for bed later that night, he told me:

"I have the jiggles!"

I shot him the *what the heck are you talking about* look.

"I mean the giggles!" he said in an attempt to correct himself.

"You have the jiggles or the giggles?" I ask, not really knowing what the jiggles are, while also being quite certain that he did not have the giggles. 

"I just meant I have goosebumps," he replied, sounding discouraged.

Hey, it was a nice try at finding a new way to express the feeling of goosebumps. And I suppose it also kind of worked since it's now totally normal for Marco or me to say that we have the "jiggles and giggles" when we really just have the goosebumps.

Vermöbeln | Mistranslation Monday

A lot of German verbs begin with the letters "ver." Verbessen means to improve. Versüßen means to sweeten. Verabreden means to arrange (a meeting).

The thing about all of these verbs (and most German verbs that begin with ver), is that when you take the "ver" away, you are still left with a German word. Besser means better. Süß means sweet. Abrede means understanding or agreement.

So, when confronted with a German verb that began with "ver" recently, I used this base to try to understand the meaning.

The instance occurred when Marco yelled at me, "Ich werde dich gleich vermöbeln!" For anyone that understands German, this probably makes it sound like Marco is an abusive boyfriend, but I assure you it was said in a joking manner. Anyways, I didn't understand the correct meaning.

When Marco said, "Ich werde dich gleich vermöbeln!" I heard, "I am going to turn you into a piece of furniture!"

So, I laughed and asked, "Like what? A table?"

"What?" Marco said, quite confused at my response. But after a moment he caught on to my logic and just started laughing.

"I don't think you know what vermöbeln means," he finally replied.

Turns out, vermöbeln actually means "to beat up" (most online translators actually give "lambast" or "thrash" as the meaning of vermöbeln, but I think beat up is a better translation for how Marco was using it, and who says "lambast" anyways?).

But as I said, I looked at the root of the word to try to figure out its meaning. When you drop the "ver" (and the "n" at the end), you are left with Möbel, which means furniture. So, I figured that vermöbeln would mean to make furniture. That's logical, right?

And now, as always when I make a Mistranslation Monday post, Marco and I continue to use this word as I had originally understood.

"Courtney, ich könnte dich gleich vermöbeln"

"Courtney, I could beat you up right now."

"Aber ich bin ein Mensch! Ich will keinen Tisch sein!"

"But I am a person! I don't want to be a table!"

Yo, Digga! | Mistranslation Monday

Today's mistranslation comes from a few years back, but I have been weary of writing it due to its not-so-appropriate content. But since I am still reminded of this one years later, I feel like I just have to share.

There are some particular slang words that people up here in Northern Germany use -- words that are not taught in the classroom. One of these I encountered at a bar one night, when I heard a group of friends repeatedly calling each other Digga.

I think you can all guess what word came to my mind when I heard them saying this. Since this word obviously began with a "D," however, my logical assumption was that it was a combination of two words:

Deutsch (German) + n*gga = Digga

When talking about it with my fellow America friends, we all agreed on the fact that this is the only logical explanation of what Digga could mean. So, we all continued to be appalled whenever we heard it used.

Then, I finally mentioned my interpretation of the word Digga to a German friend.

After they finally stopped crying with laughter, they explained to me that although Digga does have a similar meaning to what I was already thinking, the origin is much different.

Simply put, Digga is the Northern German way to say bro. The word is derived from the German word Dicker, which, in this context, means close friend.

Needless to say, I am very happy to know that the Germans are not running around the streets calling each other Deutsch N... well, you know.

You're Welcome | Mistranslation Monday

Although I had studied German for about 4 years, I wasn't very good at the language before studying abroad here in 2011. So when I first arrived, I was so terrified to speak the language with actual Germans that I put off doing things that required any level of social interaction with non-Americans for as long as possible. That included grocery shopping.

After living off of the cookies and apples given out at orientation meetings for nearly a week, I finally caved and walked to the local grocery store near my apartment. Luckily, picking out the items and getting to the register went quite well. Heck, even the checking out and paying went well, which I was quite nervous about. However, I was shocked at the rudeness of the cashier when she handed over my receipt.

"Bitte schön," she said with a monotone voice as she stared me straight in the eyes.

In my mind, "bitte schön" translated to "you're welcome." And saying "you're welcome" without someone saying "thank you" first is pretty darn rude.

My eyes squinted, and in a refusal to give this impolite woman the courtesy of a proper "thank you," I quietly uttered the American "mmmhm" and walked out of the store as quickly as possible.

Over the next month, I continued to notice this phenomenon throughout my everyday life in Germany.

When I ate in the school cafeteria, the lunchlady would say "bitte schön" as she handed over my plate of Schnitzel and Pommes. When I went for drinks in a restaurant, the waiter would mutter "bitte" as he placed the beer on the table. When I ordered bread in the bakery, the baker would exclaim "bitte schön" with a smile as she handed over my Franzbrötchen.

Looking back now, I do not know if I slept through the German lesson where it was taught that "bitte" or "bitte schön" is also a polite way of saying "here you go," or maybe it simply wasn't taught in the U.S. at all. Anyways, it took an embarrassingly long time to figure out that the Germans aren't rude. I'm just an idiot.

At least I know better now.

It Will Go Horribly! | Mistranslation Monday

Now that final exams are over, and I am feeling a little more relaxed, it is time for another Mistranslation Monday!

This one goes back to November, when I was preparing to give my first presentation in German for one of my graduate school classes. The night before my presentation, my friend Sarah texted me.

Here is my literal translation of the above messages:

Sarah: Best of luck tomorrow! I am sure that it will go wrong.

Me: You are sure it will go wrong? I hope it doesn't go wrong...

I remember when I first read the message, I was seriously confused. She kind of contradicted herself when she said that she wishes me luck, but then says that it will go horribly. Maybe she forgot to put a "not" in that second sentence?

Luckily, Sarah quickly wrote back, explaining it is a common saying, similar to telling someone "break a leg" before they go on stage.

So, the next time you want to assure your friend that everything will be fine, just go ahead and tell them "Everything will go horribly!" If they look confused, just tell them it's a German thing.

Please Don't... | Mistranslation Monday

Most people reading this blog are probably familiar with the German word for "please," which is bitte. Well, this simple word actually comes from the verb bitten.

Okay. So, if bitte means "please," then the verb bitten probably means "to please," right? 

Wrong.

But, this is a common mistake that Germans make when writing emails and requests. So, instead of translating "Ich bitte dich..." to something like "I am asking you..." (with "ask" as the proper translation of bitten in this instance), Germans sometimes accidentally start of an email with "I please you..."

And when you are getting such an email from a coworker, all you can think is, "Please don't."

And like all mistranslations that the German boyfriend and I see quite often, this one has now become a normal part of our conversations with each other.

"Marco, I please you to help me make dinner."

"Hey Courtney, I please you to bring me the ketchup."

Hopefully we don't accidentally use this one in front of guests, because they could get the wrong idea.

My Turtles Are Dead! | Mistranslation Monday

Ever since I first came to Germany in 2011, I have struggled with the German word for turtle.

The topic first came up when Marco bought me my first Kinder Überraschungsei (those chocolate eggs with the toy inside). My toy inside was a little plastic turtle.

"That's a Schildköte," Marco told me, "it combines the world Schild (shield) and Kröte (toad)."

"Germans sure do love their compound words," I thought to myself as I tried to save the word Schildkröte into my vocabulary. Except I didn't. Instead, I always thought of turtles as shield-toads.

Opening my first Kinder Egg in 2011

Luckily, the German word for shield is pretty easy to remember, but I could never remember the name for toad. But what did I know the word for? Frog. So, Schildkröte became Schildfrosch, and just like so many things I share on my Mistranslation Mondays, Schildfrosh is still a term that Marco and I use quite often.

In fact, that is why Marco keeps this little glass turtle that I bought for him while in Prague on his desk at work.

Unfortunatly, however, this new compound word of mine is a little too ingrained in my memory, because when I was recently confronted with a new compound word that began with "Schild," I could only think of those darn shield-yielding frogs.

Did I mention that Germans really love compound words? Well, this also goes for biological and medical terms, as the word for thyroid (English-speakers are smart and just modified the Latin word) in German is Schilddrüse, with Schild meaning "shield" and Drüse meaning "gland."

Makes sense, but in my mind, the only word that comes after Schild is Frosch. So when the doctor told me that my Schilddrüse were not working, I was quick to turn around and tell Marco, "My Schildfrösche aren't working!"

And now every morning when I take my medication, I think about my poor under-functioning Schildfrosch.

I Love You Puppy | Mistranslation Monday

A few months ago, there was a J.Lo song that made its way into the top 40. Since the German boyfriend and I listen to a lot of Radio Hamburg whenever we are in the bathroom, we knew all of the words.

Heck, I had even seen the music video a few times, which tries to poke fun at music videos that objectify women by objectifying men instead (see screenshot above).

If you don't know what song I am talking about by now, it was "I Luh Ya Papi" by Jennifer Lopez (aka "I Love You, Papi"). The title is quite easy to remember since the lyrics to the chorus are as follows:

I luh ya papi
I luh ya papi,
I luh ya, luh ya, luh ya papi
I luh ya luh papi,
I luh ya, luh ya, luh ya papi
I luh ya papi,
I luh ya papi, I luh ya luh ya luh ya papi
Yeah that my papi
I luh ya luh ya luh ya papi

Anyways, the song was stuck in Marco's head one day, and he was trying to find the song online. He was getting quite frustrated, and once I came over and looked at his computer screen, I immediately saw why.

Instead of searching "I Luh Ya Papi" (or "I Love You Papi," which would also work), Marco was searching "I Love You Puppy."

This turned into us watching videos of dogs that can say "I love you" on YouTube, which is a real thing.

I Weigh 375 Pounds | Mistranslation Monday

As mentioned in my post last week about German healthcare, I recently went to the doctor in Germany for the first time. The appointment started off just as any appointment would. After checking in with the receptionist, a nurse asked to check my vitals before I went into the waiting room.

"Please take off your shoes and step onto the scale," she said (but in German, of course).

Since it was one of those scales with the sliders, she then asked me, "About how much do you weigh?"

"Ummm..." I had to think for a second, remembering that we were dealing with kilograms, "about 170 kg."

The woman then fumbled with the sliders for quite a while before finding the correct value (I don't know why, I told her how much I weighed...). Finally, she announced my real weight, a number that is less than half of 170.

I walked back out to the waiting room, sat down next to the German boyfriend, and stared at the wall for a good 5 minutes before I realized what I had said to the woman just moments before.

I told her I weighed 170 kg. That is 375 pounds. I am an idiot.

After relaying the story to Marco, he had a good laugh and told me that all the doctors and nurses in the office already know that I come from the U.S. At least she didn't just think I was completely stupid. Instead, I am just the ignorant American.

Would you be able to say right now (without Google's help) how much you weigh in both pounds and kilograms?

Outen the Lights! | Mistranslation Monday

Welcome back to another Mistranslation Monday!

I have been feeling quite uninspired when it comes to this blog lately, which is mostly due to the stress of starting my Master's program in Germany.

Currently, I am working on preparing for two presentations this week (hence why I didn't post anything at all last week). Luckily, one of the presentations is in English, but the other one will be my first presentation in German in Germany in front of a room full of Germans! Wish me luck!

Anyways, back to Mistranslation Monday. After a week-long streak of feeling quite uninspired, I was quite pleased when I stumbled upon this sign over the weekend:

Was this an honest mistranslation? Was it a joke? Who knows, but I thought it was pretty darn funny.

Hope you all had a great weekend and a Happy Halloween! 

Do you have any big plans for November?

Astrology is a Science? | Mistranslation Monday

As you probably already know, last week was my first week of graduate school in Germany. One of the courses that I have to take as a part of my Master's program is called Philosophy of Science.

View from the back of the lecture hall

All graduate students at the university have to take this course, which means it is held in a large lecture hall with approximately 200 students attending the each week. What is most interesting about this course, however, is that it is held in English.

On the first day of class, the professor was discussing the basics of the course, and started off with the question, "What is Science?" (...I know).

To get everyone's attention, he began by telling us to raise our hand if we thought that what he is saying is a science.

"Biology," he began.

Everyone raised their hand.

"Chemistry."

Everyone raised their hand.

"Physics."

Everyone raised their hand.

"Astrology."

Everyone except me raised their hand, and I looked around confused.

"Umm... Astronomy."

Less people raise their hands, and you can hear the sound of murmuring increase.

"Yeah, I figured everyone was confused about that last one. Well, let's just move on."

At least I have one course that I am sure to pass this semester...

Wet Dreams | Mistranslation Monday

Ever since moving to Germany, I love flipping through the weekly ads that come in the mail. Recently, we received a large advertisement from Hornbach, which is a large home improvement store. On the second page of the pamphlet, I saw this:

Not thinking before speaking, I said to the German boyfriend, "Feuchttraum?!" Is that the name of this light? That sounds awfully inappropriate!"

Confused, Marco came over to look at the ad and replied, "It says Feuchtraum, not Feuchttraum."

"Oh..."

The advertisement is for a moisture-proof light that is meant for use in a room with high humidity. Feuchtraum is a compound word made up of:

Feucht = damp
Raum = room

Instead of seeing the words feucht and raum, however, I saw:

Feucht = damp
Traum = dream

You can probably piece together why I was so shocked to see that word in a home improvement store's advertisements...

Before anyone says it, I have since learned that the proper word for a wet dream is feuchter Traum, but it is not unreasonable to assume that the Germans would make a compound word for such a thing.