Germans are bound by the fattest rule book in the world. No wonder they freak out at Fasching.

Even if it's not verboten, don't push your luck too far...

                                        
Fasching passed uneventfully this year, though not without the usual pain and discomfort. Most Germans must have heaved a sigh of relief, climbing out of their sweat-filled cow or donkey costumes. Happy to see the back of this time of year known as the "fifth season", and return to the regulated Ordnung which characterises their lives for the rest of the year.

Alles in Ordnung – literally “all in order” – is one of the most common phrases in German – even more popular than “OK”. Another favourite is ordnungsgemäß – “according to rules”. Not that Germans really need any rules at all. They intuitively know what is and isn’t “in order”. They simply say “Das muss sein” or “Das darf nicht sein”. Saying that something “must be” or “isn’t allowed to be” justifies everything – no further explanation is required.

Germans not only keep a tight rein on themselves – they’re also quick to reprimand others. They pass comment on everything, from opening the window and causing a draught (a very serious offence, it seems), to sitting in a sauna without a towel (I tried this once and was immediately sent out). But it’s from disciplining each other on waste disposal that Germans seem to derive greatest pleasure.  What is it about waste disposal that gets them so excited? When I first moved to Germany neighbours were always leaving me notes on rubbish bins. We had about six various bins, all colour coded. Mix up codes and put waste in recycling, for example, and you got enough notes to fill a whole container. I used to come home from work to find a trail of post-its all up the garden path, stuck on every available surface.

Funniest note I ever received was after parking my car in a terrible hurry. Skew-whiff and half over the kerb, it was nonetheless no great obstacle to either traffic or pedestrians. I came back to find some smarty puss had stuck a memo on the windscreen, saying something like “If you have sex as badly as you park you’ll end up with a stiff neck too.” Chucking the note in the nearest recycler I remember thinking what a charming way Germans have of connecting two totally unrelated activities.

Orderliness and civil obedience go hand in hand in Germany. You’d be amazed at things Germans obediently refrain from doing: hanging up washing outside on Sundays, tuning pianos at midnight (luckily, I’ve so far resisted all temptation to do THAT) and – take a deep breath – denying a chimney sweep access to their home.

..and don't dare think about hanging up washing on Sundays

German legislation is at its most creative, however, when it comes to curtailing its citizens’ fondness for frolicking around in fancy dress. Turning up at a meeting or demonstration in a mask or false nose, for instance, will earn you a hefty fine or 12 months imprisonment. This so-called Vermummungsgesetz is suspended during Karneval, for obvious reasons.

Germans can’t possibly know every single rule though. When I moved into my first flat I put up a satellite dish to watch the BBC. I was just tuning into Teatime News when my landlady burst in, saying it was verboten and demanding I take the dish down. I politely recited the German Civil Code, which charters the right of every foreigner in Germany to watch television in their own language. Ah so. Alles in Ordnung, came the calm and orderly response. For a while everything remained calm and “in order”. Until we tried planting a small shrub in the garden – without permission – which really is verboten.

Peep over the garden fence and you'll see how Germans over-exaggerate when it comes to avoiding anything that’s the slightest bit verboten. Like letting leaves pile up on your lawn any higher than 5 inches. Only this would explain why I’ve had several neighbours who go around shaking tree branches before raking up the leaves – presumably in order to halve the workload.

Germans might take civil obedience to ridiculous extremes, but when it comes to forking out for fines they eagerly conspire to outwit the law. Take, for example, Blitzer-Meldungen.  Nothing, as Brits might think, to do with The War. Blitzer are speed traps, and Germans love phoning their local radio stations to warn listeners about where they risk getting “blitzed”. You can almost hear them purr with pleasure, patting their backs in self congratulation, as they reveal the whereabouts of these loathed devices. Brits loathe them too of course, but take the attitude it’s “a fair cop” – you speed, you pay. The idea of deliberately stopping the car to warn fellow motorists on public radio makes most Brits curl up with laughter.  

The typical German seems constantly looking out for pitfalls in life, guarding against whatever atrocities might strike. Something which the press must take part blame for. Doomsday warnings like “Werden die Deutschen impotent?” (are Germans losing their fertility?) and “Sterben die Deutschen aus?” (are Germans dying out?) are widespread. The latest online “Spiegel” carries an interview with a “Population Expert” from the University of Bielefeld. Written in typical Endzeitstimmung style, the message is that Germans needs an extra 500 000 immigrants by 2025, or they’ll die out.

Of course things are rarely as bad as they seem. Not even in Germany. After living here 14 years I secretly enjoy a bit of disorder once a year. I can’t wait for Fasching 2014.

 

Why do I have to mispronounce my name to make myself understood?

Sinking? Thinking? With Germans you can never be too sure......

There are so many things I love about living in Bavaria: The extremes in climate (ice-cold winters, sizzling-hot summers), lovely clean public swimming pools everywhere, and some of the best bread in the world. Not forgetting of course the local brew. Considering about half of Germany’s 1250 breweries are here in Bavaria it’s not surprising that most of the local festivities are beer driven. Last year I finally went “native”, dressing up in Lederhosen and dancing on beer tables with the Bürgermeister. It felt great. I even began liking niederbayrisch, even though I find this local dialect mostly incomprehensible.

Moving to Germany over 13 years ago I was scared stiff of those big black Audis which creep up on you on the Autobahn, headlights flashing furiously, forcing you to pull over into the slow lane. Worse still when I accidentally threw an old hairdryer into normal rubbish, a neighbour saw this and reported me to the police. I’ve since learnt to live with impatient motorists and intruding neighbours. But one thing I will NEVER get used to is how Germans misuse and mispronounce English words in their own language. And how I have to mispronounce them too in order to be understood.

 

Just look how German is flooded with English words in advertising: “Get the London Look!” (Rimmel), “Drive alive!” (Mitsubishi) or Douglas’ confusing invitation “Come in and find out!” Smooth, smart slogans - and all totally meaningless.

 
Advertisers please note there is a London Eye but no London Look, that being alive is an absolute minimum requirement for driving a car, and “come in and find out” sounds more like a challenge to find the shop exit.

Teachers are forever reminding pupils that “Handy” (mispronounced “hendy”!) is a mobile phone in British English. Maybe we should also explain that this word is used by native speakers only as an adjective, to mean "helpful" or "useful". 

Mispronunciation, if you're not careful, can be a matter of life and death, as highlighted  by language trainers Berlitz in a popular advert. “We’re sinking!” - a ship’s Mayday call to German coastguards - is tragically misunderstood as the officer enquires “Oh ja, and vot are you sinking about?”

Hearing so much English mispronounced is slowly “germanising” my own English too. I recently phoned the cinema to ask for times of Woody Allen’s “From Rome with Love” (pronounced by young Germans as “luff”, and the older generation as “low-ver”) Asking about this “Vooty Ellen luff-feelm” made me feel foolish but at least we understood each other.

But nothing makes me feel sillier than having to mispronounce my OWN surname, Howe, as “How-ver”.

This helps prevent people spelling it “Hau”, “Hovi” or “Howi”.

To be on the safe side I would spell it out too. All four letters: “Ha-O-Vee-Ay”. Until I found it simpler just to pronounce it correctly, referring to another oft-used English word in German – “Know-how”.

When it came to setting up my own language service I didn’t need to think too long about what to call it: Know Howe for English.

 

German humour no oxymoron

At the count of three all laugh please. Eins, zwei.....

Henning Wehn, self-appointed German ambassador to Britain, once said “Brits think we have a no sense of humour – and we don’t think that’s funny.”* Yet some German humour does manage to transcend language boundaries, as testified by Loriot. Even the world-acclaimed Huffington Post reports the sad news of his death, announcing “Germans often cited him as proof of their sense of humor”.

I suspect “Die Zeit” is exaggerating a little when it compares Loriot as a German cultural figure to classical writers Friedrich Schiller or Wolfgang Goethe. Yet there was certainly something very special and unique about the comic who could make unexciting activities like taking one's place at a concert or eating a hard-boiled egg look so hilariously funny.

And who can forget the noodle on the upper lip sketch :-). My favourite sketch, however, was Deutsch für Ausländer – a spoof on all those diabolical audio courses, which were supposed to teach us poor Brits but actually ended up making German grammar even more incomprehensible than it actually is.

Loriot will be missed, but his sketches, films and cartoon's will run for many more generations.

* Check him out, he’s really funny: Henning Wehn - the funny German

How the Germans can drink you under the table - and still stay sober

In Bavaria all the best things come duplicate...

With the Oktoberfest just a few days away what better to talk about than Bavarians and their beer habits.

I’ve always marvelled how the Bavarians manage to toss down the contents of a liter jug quicker than you can say “Deutscher Rheinheitsgebot“. Not even batting an eyelid and still stay amazingly sober. Unlike in my home land, where beer is seen chiefly as a means of inebriating one’s self, there’s some thing very civilised and cultured about the way this beverage is consumed in Germany. You only have to walk around the Hofbräuhaus to marvel how calm and collected drinkers behave outside what is ostensibly the greatest booze bar in the world. Were this establishment in Britain people would be staggering out day and night in state of drunken ga-ga and there would be a constant sound of glass shattering on the pavement. Beware Saturday nights in particular.

Not once have I seen even a single shred of broken glass within throwing distance of a pub in Germany.  I love the law-abiding orderliness of the Germans, even when they’re drinking themselves silly en masse to the deafening oompah accompaniment of “da-da da-da!

My overriding memory of the Fest is of roaring drunkenness, amidst croaky cries of “A prosit!“.
And that none of us could make ourselves understood without cupping our hands like megaphones to shout ear to ear. One year we managed to end up on a table of Aussies - not the best idea. If you’re going to get properly drunk make sure you don’t do it with anyone from Down Under. Unlike the Germans they really don’t know when and where to stop.

While I don’t plan any more laps of honour round the Wies’n I have a deep soft spot for Bavaria’s wonderful beer gardens. Where you really can hold a proper conversation with friends. And the forecast till month’s end is looking good – temperatures of 21 degrees on the last three Wies’n days. That might not matter if you’re huddled together in a Wies’n tent, but it’s good news for all us alfresco drinkers.

Enjoy your beer, wherever you drink it.