You may remember that I spent of good chunk of last summer in Switzerland learning German. My time there was well worth it and not just because I got lots of time with Stefan's family and got to do some traveling, but also because by the end of the month I could actually carry a conversation.
Walking the dog with Stefan's mom:
In Berlin with our good German friends Frank and Marlene:
But when I touched back down in the States, my German speaking became - well - non-existent. I had the best of intentions, but whenever Stefan and I would practice, the conversation would ultimately deteriorate into English. While I could talk about what I ate or said or did, I couldn't discuss anything of depth, and when you have limited time to conversate each evening, depth is of the essence.
So when Stefan's dad and Edith were here, I expected us to speak mostly English and/or for me to not participate all that much in the conversation. But surprisingly to everyone (most of all to me!), my German came back fairly easily. I quickly remembered key words and phrases and was able to partake in conversation (albeit basic and slooooow conversation) without issue. (Particularly after a glass or two of wine.)
But while my high German was passable, Swiss German (an extremely heavy dialect of German not understandable to high German speakers and the actual language spoken by Stefan's family when they aren't accommodating me) was another beast altogether. While they mostly spoke high German around me, Swiss German naturally entered the conversation given that it's their true native tongue.
My ultimate end goal is this secret language. We're raising Samantha to speak English, Swiss German and high German. My biggest fear is that her and her dad will be able to talk in Swiss code without me understanding: i.e., "Samantha - your mother's cooking tastes like dog poo tonight, doesn't it?" "Yes daddy - I could not agree more. Let's order pizza when she goes to sleep at 8pm."
So naturally I tried to pick up on as much of this special language as possible.
Throughout the weekend, particularly on our hike on Sunday, I heard one particular Swiss German expression used over and over.
I listened carefully for it and noticed it being used in all sorts of different situations. I was sure I had struck Swiss German gold! If I could learn this key phrase, I could simply begin sprinkling it into my high German and before you knew it, I'd be a legit Swiss German Heidi-li.
That night, as we sat down to takeout from the very best Thai spot (that happens to be right around the corner in our new hood)...
...I decided to ask about this golden phrase.
As soon as there was a lull in conversation, I went for it:
"Was ist 'oberhohl'?"
I eagerly awaited glowing compliments on how wonderful I was for learning such a key Swiss phrase. "KK, du bist so intelligent! Du bist so perfekt mit deine Schweizerdeutsche!" I expected them to tell me.
Instead I got dead silence.
And then uproarious laughter.
"What is it?" I begged, mortified by a clearly nicht so gut mistake.
More un-containable cackling.
"Is that not a word?" I pleaded.
"No - hahahahahhahaa - it's - hahahahahaha - a - hahaha - word," Stefan managed.
"Tell me!" I implored.
"It means 'unbelievably stupid' like 'the stupidest of stupid'. Where did you learn that? Did my brother teach you that?" Stefan continued as his dad and Edith continued to appear to be dying from their never-ending laughter.
"You all have been saying it all day long." I offered sheepishly.
They all looked at each other.
"Us? We have been saying this word??" Stefan's dad asked as he looked at his wife and son. They all wondered who had been the one to toss around this not-very-nice expression for my Swiss-German virgin ears to hear.
Eventually, they all calmed down from their laughter, we finished our dinner, and Edith and Urs headed back to their hotel.
Later that night as Stefan was changing Samantha's diaper, I heard him say my not-so-golden phrase.
"THERE! That's it. Did you just call our daughter the stupidest of stupid??" I asked him appalled.
"Lueg emol! Not oberhohl." He replied as he began laughing again and went to text his dad and Edith the debunked mystery of my new word. "It means 'have a look here' or 'look at that'!"
Oh.
Well lueg emol, I guess I may be a tad bit oberhohl myself. :)
xoxo
KK