On my first visit to Munich, a year before I ended up moving there, I was taking a walk through the city and came across a shop that made me laugh. It was called Handschuhe and if you can’t guess what that word means based on the look of it, then you definitely would if you saw the window display.
I mean really what is a glove if not a hand shoe? As far as compound nouns words go, Handschuhe is pretty amazing.
The German language is known for having “Frankenwords,” those words that are long and complex, usually taking their root from two or more other words. Lots of languages do this, including English, but for some reason I just don’t find our examples nearly as charming. I mean, OK fine – we have airplane. It gets the job done. But compare it to the German version, Flugzeug, which literally translates to “fly thing” and you’ll probably agree that we could have done the job a lot better.
These literal translations seem to pop up all over the place – in language learning apps, on product packaging and menus. Sometimes they’re obvious enough. Like, Schweinefleisch. I knew schweine (pig) and fleisch (meat) from high school vocabulary. So “pig meat”, or as we would call it pork. That one made sense.
Zahnfleisch, on the other hand, did not. Zahne, which means teeth, did not seem to partner well with meat. What the hell is tooth meat? Even with context clues (that being a box of toothpaste in the dental aisle) I had to look it up.
Gums. Your Zahnfleisch is your gums.
When I was learning vocabulary for parts of the home, I came across another good one: Kühlschrank. Literally, the cool cupboard, or as we would say, the refrigerator.
Actually, there are a lot of good compound words in the house:
Glühbirne: glow+pear = light bulb
Wasserkocher: water+cooker = electric kettle
Staubsauger: dust+sucker = vacuum cleaner
It made me wonder, what do they call an oven? A microwave? I said a little prayer that one of them was the “hot box.” I would cook every day if only I was allowed to refer to the whole process as hot boxing.
No such luck. Just Ofen and Mikrowelle, same as English. I was disappointed. They really had a chance to do something great there and they blew it.
My disappointment was short-lived. A few weeks later, I got to the animals chapter. There I learned about the Schildkröte, a shield toad. Guess.
A turtle! How adorable is that? A toad with a shield! If I didn’t know better, I would think that my nephews made this language up and are now trolling me from across the Atlantic.
There’s more:
Schweinswal: pig+whale = Porpoise
Tintenfisch: ink+fish = Squid
Faultier: lazy + animal = Sloth
Nacktshnecke: naked+snail = Slug
Fledermaus: flutter+mouse = Bat
Those are great. But my favorite, my absolute favorite, is the Stinktier. A stink animal. By now you should be able to guess it.
A skunk!
Why have we not borrowed these words? Someone tell me how on earth kept pirouette and bourgeoisie but threw out Stinktier? It is an absolute outrage.
In researching this post, I came across a list of elaborate compound words in German, most of which we do not have in English but could totally use – sort of like Schadenfreude, but if that meant something hilarious.
Kummerspeck (Grief bacon): Weight gain due to stress eating
Treppenwitz (Staircase joke): When you think of a comeback or one-liner too late
Erklärungsnot (Explanation poverty): Having no good excuse for bad behavior
Drachenfutter (Dragon fodder): A gift given by a man to his wife or girlfriend to apologize for staying out late
It wouldn’t be too hard to use all four in the same sentence, though I know I probably shouldn’t. What’s the German word for overkill?
OK, last one. In the middle of town here in Munich is Marienplatz, a beautiful gothic building that looks very important. When I first saw it, I wasn’t sure what it was but my guess was that it was city hall. A quick online search confirmed that was correct, but added something peculiar. For some reason, the Germans called it a Rathaus.
Don’t get too excited. Rat in German is not the same as in English. They did not name their government building after vermin or the human equivalent.
Rat in German is advice. The Rathaus is the advice house.
I guess that makes me the Ratfrau!
Yes! Thank you. This is what I mean when I tell people that I think the German language is adorable.
My personal favourites are:
Kopfsalat – head salad (lettuce)
Waschenbär – washing bear (racoon)
Washing bear! Ha! The animals are the best. :) thanks for stopping by!
I know NO German but these ARE great, I agree that it’s surprising that American English hasn’t borrowed any of these fun pairings! Enjoyable post, thanks.
I wish! They are so useful… especially treppenwitz. Every time I miss my opportunity for a joke, I say, “You know in German, they have a word…” and then I tell them the whole spiel AND get to deliver my joke. It’s pretty great, as far as strategies go. I’d like to make treppenwitz happen.
The most widely accepted standards for the design and maintenance of green roofs comes from a German organization called the Forschungsgesellschaft Landschaftsentwicklung Landschaftsbau, or FLL. It loosely translates to the Research Society for Landscape Development and Landscaping. One of my professional goals is to someday be able to pronounce their name.
Tom. Yesterday I went to meet with my new roommate in Munich and I told her she should speak to me in German. Every sentence sounded like Forschungsgesellschaft Landschaftsentwicklung Landschaftsbau. I just kept saying, “Nothing for me, thanks!” And then I literally tried to walk out a window that I thought was a door. So. Good luck with your goals. it’s a long road.
I just adore all of your pictures from your travels. Every time I check your blog or Instagram and see more pictures, I get giddy! Keep ’em comin’!
Well thank you! I appreciate that :) For what it’s worth, I get giddy when I’m taking them!
This post made me genuinely LOL. Nothing I hear today will beat flutter mouse. :) :)
I’m glad. Makes me laugh every day. Yesterday I learned that a robe is called a “morgenrock” – or a morning skirt.