Vokabelheft

I’ve been keeping a running list of vocabulary words -- German words that I heard for the first time, but was able to figure out through context clues; German words I read or heard without any comprehension whatsoever (thankfully, this is rarer than the first type); and English words, whose German equivalents I desperately sought during conversation, only to come up empty, leading me to either gesticulate frantically or describe around it using other words. (Dropping in English is always an option, but one I try to avoid when I’m not with other Americans. It seems kind of rude to me. But maybe that’s just a projection of some internalized “you should speak my language” Americanness, and Europeans don’t actually feel that way.)

My Vokabelheft (vocabulary-notebook), as I call it, reads like a running commentary of my time here. When I’m diligent about writing down new words, I don’t need a proper journal.

There’s das Nilpferd (hippopotamus), the picture on the cereal box Kathi (from Central College Abroad) was looking for on our first trip to the supermarket in Schwäbisch Hall.

There’s der Weizen (wheat), one of the main ingredients of German beer. If you want a dark beer, you say, “dunkles Weizen.” If you want a regular beer, you say, “Hefeweizen.” There is no German word for light beer; Germans will laugh in your face if you ask for one.

der Hügel (hill). Schwäbisch Hall was built where two large plateaus plunge down into a narrow river valley. Some of the streets are too steep and narrow for cars. They are also too steep for Keris.

die Naseverstopfung (stuffy nose). I don’t take my allergy medicine, and then I get sick. You’d think I would learn after ten years. But I haven’t.

(den) Kater haben (to be hungover). Five of the six Central College students threw up the night before we left Schwäbisch Hall. We did not have a pleasant day of traveling.

einziehen (move in). Time to start a new chapter of study abroad!

die Sicherung durchbrennen (blow a fuse). The Central College Abroad office is full of odds and ends previous students have left. I brought a small desk lamp home with me. Two seconds after I plugged it in, there was no more electricity flowing to my room.

das Mitschriften (lecture notes). When it takes you a few sentences to figure out what the professor’s talking about, it’s difficult to take good notes. My note-taking strategy this week was a mix of chicken-scratch and copying off the person sitting next to me. (His notes were not only clear and detailed, they were also grammatical. I was jealous.) I had to re-copy all of my notes at home, translating a word here and there, and making it look like I had understood from the beginning what it took me the entire lecture to understand.

die Unzulängigkeit (inadequacy). On Tuesday, I took a workshop on writing skills (it was also my first academic experience with real Austrians.) One of the activities was to come up with a list of personal roadblocks to writing in small groups, and then present them to the entire seminar. I described (in my twelve-year-old language) the way I could never bring myself to start Social Studies 10 papers because I didn’t think I was smart enough to actually write them. My groupmates decided to write this as “a feeling of inadequacy” or “Unzulängigkeit.” This pretty much summarizes my biggest linguistic challenge: Austrians’ vocabulary is so much bigger than mine. They have a whole language at their disposal; I have about 10 verbs and a whole bunch of gestures. I’ve accepted the fact that I’m always going to have an American accent, and I can live with some improper adjective endings for the time being, but I really need to beef up my vocabulary.

Hence the Vokabelheft.