Wirklich? Really?: Hungarian Flavoured Potato Chips

    Let's put aside the fact that this snack company is named "Funny-frisch"  - Funny Fresh - yet another example of branding in English without consulting an English speaker (or a German-English dictionary).  Let's also set aside the fact that their other top seller is peanut-flavoured cheezies.  I think the best way to address their failings is to call bullshit on this so-called "Ungarisch" or Hungarian flavour.
    First of all, it is a dead ringer for BBQ  flavoured potato chips.  I find that slightly unsettling.  What are the common threads between Hungarian cuisine and soul food?  The ingredients give away the answer: liquid smoke flavouring.  I get why you would add the artificially recreated flavour of having burnt the crap out of your meal to simulate barbecue, but Hungarian goulash?  Either this is some kind of commentary on Hungarian cooking in general, or somebody in product development had dinner with a particularly spiteful Hungarian grandmother.

Word Up: Nordic Walking

Nordic Walking nt pole walking, ski walking, fitness walking

    Maybe you've heard of Nordic Walking, the biggest Trendsport in Germany.  Have you seen people strolling through a city park with ski poles?  Have you waited at a train station alongside a group of backpackers with retractable walking sticks?  Have you had your Sunday route impeded by a marathon of people puffing through the streets waving Nordic Walking poles?  No?  I have.  And it's weird. 
   Before I came to Germany, I had seen ski poles in two locations: ski hills and serious mountain hikes.  Here Nordic Walking is such a big hit that Germany is the home of the Nordic Walking World Championships.  Local sports accessory stores (including the curiously named SportScheck) have whole sections devoted to Nordic Walking training accessories. 
    So what's the deal with this sport?  First of all, it's target demographic seems to be the Aquafit set.  Germany has a very large, very visible and very active group of elderly people; almost 1/3 of all Germans are retired.  It's clear - from the adverts featuring grey-haired Nordic Walkers taking back the city to the group of golden-age Nordic Walkers in Goretex who swarmed us on the train to the Black Forest - that elderly people are driving this trend.  And I get it. It's a hit with older and less-than-fit people because it makes walking - the king of low impact, no-way-I'm-going-to-pull-anything exercise - even easier, and also bringing your upper body into the mix.  Your stride and posture are supported by not one, but two canes, and not an ivory handled, tortoiseshell old-lady cane - an ultra-light, super skinny aluminum cane with yellow lightning bolts up the side and the word "Nordic" emblazoned across it.  And we all know Germans, especially older Germans, have a soft spot for all things Nordic. 
   It's also clear that some marketing team is trying to convince Germans that this Nordic Walking thing is an international movement.  After all, it's not called "Nordischer Spazieren."  (It's funny how Germans seem to adore all things English language, except for the people who actually speak it.)  Sure, it may have "originated" in North America as training for cross-country skiers, but I have never seen anybody, let alone anyone in their 60s, trucking along with ski poles on an urban trail in Canada.  Given how mobile and well-represented old people are here in Germany, I think that a little more international exposure for this hip-replacement-friendly sport would be worthwhile.  No one should have to survive on Aquafit alone.

Image via www.nordic-walker-hameln.de

Garmisch-Partenkirchen

 Dear Olympic Committee, Munich wants to try again, and this time it promises there will be no screw ups.  In its bid for the 2018 Winter Games, Munich has teamed up once again with Garmisch-Partenkirchen (a partnership that brought you such memorable events as the 1936 Olympics) with the best intentions of rewriting history, but has made the unfortunate mistake of settling on the slogan the Friendly Games.  As the city museum reminded us, Munich's last shot at redemption, the 1972 Olympics, took a page out of the same PR thesaurus and called itself the Happy Games.  You may remember what happened that time. If not, Steven Spielberg does.
    Poor marketing aside, Garmisch-Partenkirchen was a very nice resort, with a lot more going for it than Munich.  Munich was full of tourists and historic buildings under construction.  Garmisch-Partenkirchen may have had the tourists and outspokenly Anglo-hating Bavarians, but it also had the Alps.  No one would dare cover the Zugspitze, Germany's highest mountain, with one of those cloth awnings that reproduce the original facade of the heavily scaffolded building underneath and claim it was basically the same experience.  We also didn't have to deal with the world's most annoying English speakers turned bicycle tour guides once we headed deep into the Alpine woods.
  Sadly, judging from the treatment we received in one of the guesthouses we stopped at for a drink on our hike up one of the surrounding mountains (which started with a trail hacked through an extremely narrow gorge carved by a very close, very roaring stream), just because we didn't encounter any off-duty tour guides that weekend does not mean that said annoying Anglos have not already made it to Garmisch-Partenkirchen and ruined the reputation of English speakers everywhere.  Even German-speaking English speakers.  We got the slowest service, the wrong drinks, and general non-responsiveness to any and all requests (including to pay).  On the plus side, we got cold drinks on a patio after hiking halfway up a mountain.  Definitely not a complete loss.

Word Up: das Kopfkissen

Kopfkissen (nt) pillow

    I was surprised that I hadn't posted on this before because the difference between German and Anglosphere pillows was an immediate setback to developing a positive relationship with Germany.  Falling into bed after a long day stumbling through another language should have just been a respite, but here it involved yet another cultural learning curve.

   Pillows here are different.  They are soft.  They are fluffy.  They are down-filled.  You can squeeze  round the middle of one with a single fist.  They come in one shape: square; and usually two sizes: 80 by 80 or 40 by 40 cm.  I'm sure this pillow system, like the A paper designation where each paper size is double the last, is very orderly and makes for especially pleasing production diagrams.  However, it's hard to accustom a neck that is used to being supported by a nice thick pillow to what is essentially a mini duvet.  Your head sinks through to the mattress, creating a pillow crater whose downy, quill-y walls envelop your mouth and face.  Tickled noses and sleepless nights ensue.  Sore necks follow.

    And while IKEA may sell the same monochramatic set of strainers, throw rugs, and flat-pack chairs the world around, it does not sell proper rectangular pillows to the German market.  Their one concession is an extra wide, very skinny, borderline tube-like pillow that, doubled-up, bears a passing resemblance to pillow normalcy (and is a perfectly regular 40 x 80 cm, or exactly half of a regular big fat square pillow.  Yes, Germans are precise like that).  Ultimately, the vote on (obnoxious) ex-pat forum Toytown Germany seems to be that people with English-speaking pillow habits should suck up the shipping costs and BYOP - bring your own pillow.  

Word Up: Express Service

   There’s no word for express service in German because the concept doesn’t exist in Germany.  Everything takes forever, from telephone installation to dry cleaning to email replies.  Forget what you’ve heard about Germans being punctual as well: any given service you order probably won’t be ready at the time specified.  This total disregard for punctuality also goes for trains, appointments, and village clock towers.

    Of course, the absence of express service probably contributes a lot to the German quality of living.   If deadlines are flexible, and nobody expects anything to done by tomorrow, let alone yesterday, everybody can just take it a little bit easy.  People can leave work on time.  Shops can close at 6 PM.  TV primetime jumps forward to 8PM.  Nobody stays glued to the TV until 11PM waiting for the results from Dancing with the Stars.  A perfect world.

    But, if you are used to getting your grocery shopping done on a Sunday or have your shoes fixed within the week, it is unbelievably frustrating.  You have to plan ahead.  Even remembering that there is no such thing as a convenience store is a lot harder than you would expect.  It takes a lot of the spontaneity out of something like a Sunday afternoon picnic.  On the other hand, because everything is closed on Sunday except ice cream stands and Greek restaurants, relaxation is almost mandatory.  You can basically guarantee that, rather than catching up on paperwork or working a thankless retail shift, your friends will be available for said picnic - unless they’ve made a date to go hiking in the Schwarzwald or boating on the Bodensee or something equally sporty and carefree.

  

Word Up: die Wohn- und Geschäftesgebäude

Wohn- und Geschäftesgebäude (nt, pl) mixed use building

    O champions of mixed use space, I doubt you have ever been kept up all night by your local Business Improvement Area’s outdoor presentation of Stuttgart’s Got Talent.  (Yes, you can read 24-hour time: the link says the party goes 6:30 PM to 2 AM.) There’s something to be said for zoning laws that keep Nirvana cover bands out of residential courtyards.

Photo courtesy cannstattermusiknacht.de