The German word Geborgenheit is difficult to translate, but it encompasses a range of feelings that make it a powerful word. A translation dictionary might describe Geborgenheit as “feelings of security”, but that does not do the word justice. Geborgenheit is the sum of warmth, protection, security, trust, love, peace, closeness and comfort. Imagine all of those feelings described in one word – that’s Geborgenheit!
Perhaps the best way to understand Geborgenheit is through examples. Someone might describe Geborgenheit as the feeling he gets when he visits his grandmother and she brings out his favorite dish from childhood. Another person might describe Geborgenheit as the feelings he or she gets when returning to their old bedroom in their parents’ house. It could be the feeling you get at a fireplace beside your lover, or the feeling you get when you are under your blanket on a cold night. Basically, Geborgenheit can be the result of any situation where you feel secure, content and protected.
Most languages (including English, French and Russian) do not have a word for this expression. However, adequate translations of Geborgenheit do exist in Dutch and Afrikaans. And Germans are particularly fond of this term: in 2004, the Deutscher Sprachrat (German Language Council) and the Goethe Institute selected Geborgenheit as the second most beautiful word in the German language. A beautiful word for a beautiful feeling!
Are you a grouch in the morning? Do you glare at everyone who tries to speak to you before noon? Well, my friend, that makes you a Morgenmuffel (“morning grouch”)!
This German word describes those who struggle to wake up in the mornings. If you – or someone you know wanders the earth like a zombie before their first cup of coffee, they’re probably a Morgenmuffel. These “morning grouches” are often in a bad mood and usually avoid early-morning conversations. They may, however, be much cheerier and productive at night — the type of people that Americans would call “night owls.” But in English, there is no equivalent for the word Morgenmuffel.
The German word Muffel (“grouch”) has been around for at least several hundred years, and its etymology is quite interesting. The Duden, a dictionary of the German language, traces it back to the Dutch word moppen, which morphed into the Low German mopen and ultimately, Mops (a type of dog known in English as a “pug”). The verb muffeln (“to chew with a full mouth”) and muffig (“damp, moldy”) are also related. A German dictionary from the year 1793 describes a Muffel as both a creature with low-hanging lips (most often, a dog) and as an ill-tempered person who hangs his head low and has a grim expression (much like such a dog).
Look at a picture of a pug. Does that remind you of a grouch? To some, the resemblence was uncanny – and today, the word Muffel is applied to anyone who is in a bad mood. You can be a Sportmuffel (someone who is disinterested in sports), a Krawattenmuffel (someone who becomes a grouch when he has to wear a tie), a Lesemuffel (someone who hates to read), or a Trinkgeldmuffel (someone who begrudges the idea of tipping at a restaurant). The list goes on and on: in German, you can be a Muffel at just about any occasion!
But the most common Muffel is of course the Morgenmuffel. Chances are, you either are one or you know one. So grab that cup of coffee and lift your head up a little higher. It might be early, but things aren’t so bad!
If you’ve got a big dorky grin across your face, a German might tell you that you’re grinning like a Honigkuchenpferd – a “honey-cake-horse.” Basically, a horse-shaped honey cake. But why the strange comparison?
Well, even Germans aren’t quite sure where the expression came from, but they use it frequently. A close English equivalent would be “to grin like a Cheshire cat”, since the striped purple cat from Alice in Wonderland is known for its excessively large smile.
A Honigkuchenpferd, on the other hand, is a Lebkuchen (gingerbread) horse that usually has a big grin painted onto its face with icing (these are often found on fairgrounds and marketplaces). But rather than describe the pastry, Germans more often use the term to describe a person with a grin so big that it lights up the room.
A teenager who just had his or her first date might be grinning like a Honigkuchenpferd – or someone who just got a promotion at work. Whatever the reason, their smile is unusually large – almost as large as the smile on a horse-shaped honey cake.
There are multiple other ways to make the comparison as well: someone can laugh like a horse-shaped honey cake (lachen wie ein Honigkuchenpferd) or radiate like a horse-shaped honey cake (strahlen wie ein Honigkuchenpferd) – you get the picture.
So next time you see your German-speaking friend, colleague or family member smiling from ear to ear, you may want to tease them about it and call them a Honigkuchenpferd!
The German language is filled with words that do not exist in English. One such word is Sehnsucht, which is difficult to translate accurately. Sehnsucht is a deep emotional state; it describes an intense longing, craving, yearning or “intensely missing” something or someone. English translations do not do this term justice; it is a much more emotionally charged word in German.
Someone can possess Sehnsucht for a faraway place – a deep yearning to be somewhere else, one that consumes your thoughts. Someone could also have Sehnsucht for another person; two lovers separated by distance may possess this sort of craving for each other. Someone could also have Sehnsucht for a different life – one that occupies their dreams while their reality is mediocre.
The term comes from the words das Sehnen (“yearning”) and das Siechtum (“a lingering illness”). The yearning described by Sehnsucht is, in some regards, like an illness, because it is all-consuming and will not go away easily. What do you have Sehnsucht for? Your star-crossed lover? A life in Hawaii? Your childhood? Or the future of your dreams?
At the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve, many of us transform suddenly from inebriated revelers to neurotic dieters as we make shedding those extra holiday pounds one of our primary resolutions for the New Year.
As if wiping our individual slates clean, dismissing all the missteps we may have taken or things we did not get done over the course of the past 12 months, we decide that THIS is the year to finally, for instance, shed those extra 20 pounds, get our finances in order, or spend more time with friends and family.
In German, such New Year’s resolutions are known as “gute Vorsätze fürs neue Jahr”. And “to make resolutions” is simply to engage in “(gute) Vorsätze fassen.”
As a stand-alone noun, “Vorsätze” (plural) can be translated, depending on the context, as intents, intentions or resolutions.
Prefacing this with “gute” (good) is generally the preferred expression at the beginning of the year, to express how we have “good intentions/resolutions” for the New Year. And adding the verb “fassen” (grab/seize/grasp, as
well as comprehend/realize, among other possible meanings/usages) rounds out the expression “gute Vorsätze fassen.”
The expression “mit typischen Neujahrsvorsätzen” meanwhile means “with typical New Year’s resolutions.”
As in the United States, this is a common practice in Germany, where lists of New Year’s resolutions, or “gute Vorsätze,” are not uncommon.
If you live in a cold place, there’s a good chance you might get some snow this winter! And if you do, you might stay at home until the Winterdienst clears the roads!
Literally translated, the word Winterdienst means “winter service.” It’s a broad term that can be used to describe any person or service employed to clear the mess created by winter weather conditions, whether it’s snow, ice or freezing rain! The Winterdienst could refer to a snow-plowing service, winter road maintenance, snow and ice control, snow plowing or sanding. If you see people salting the roads, it’s the Winterdienst. If you see someone driving a snowplow, it’s also the Winterdienst!
In English, we don’t have a single word that describes all of these services. It’s a practical – and commonly used – word that you will hear in Germany when the snow begins to pile up. Where is the Winterdienst? Hopefully the Winterdienst will be working overnight to make it safe for you to drive the next morning!
You’ve probably had it – or know what it is; Lebkuchen is a German delicacy commonly found at German-style Christmas markets, as well as other festivals and events. But do you know the origins of the word Lebkuchen? They can be traced back hundreds of years!
As you may know, Lebkuchen is a German treat that is similar to gingerbread. At Christmas markets, it often takes on a heart-shaped form and is topped with icing that spells out messages of joy. The treats can vary in shape and flavor; some are round, some are spicy and others are sweet.
The origins of the holiday delicacy can be traced to ancient times; the Egyptians, Greeks and Romans believed that honey had magical healing powers, so they created a “honey cake” similar to what we now know as Lebkuchen. Some people wore these honey cakes around their neck as a sort of protection against evil. Honey cake has even been found in the tombs of pharaohs who died 4,000 years ago!
But the German-style Lebkuchen we know today first arose in the 13th century. German monks in Ulm and Nuremberg had heard about the healing powers of the magical honey cakes, so they brought the delicacies into the monasteries. Although the origins of the word Lebkuchen itself remain unclear, it is suspected that it comes from the Latin word libum (Fladen, or “flat bread”) or the German word Laib (loaf).
And while some Germans refer to it as Lebkuchen, others call the delicacy Pfefferkuchen (“pepper cake”), since many types of spices can be added to the cake (and all spices used to be referred to as types of Pfeffer).
In some regions of Germany, it has also been referred to as Lebenskuchen (“cake for life”), Magenbrot (“bread for the stomach”), Labekuchen or Leckkuchen. In most cases, the words either describe the supposed healing properties of the delicacy or use a more general description of its ingredients or appearance.
But one thing is clear: Lebkuchen has become an important part of German culture. Whether you’re at Oktoberfest or a Christmas market (during normal, non-pandemic times), you’re bound to find rows of Lebkuchen hearts and stars lining the booths of vendors. So when you bring your friends and family a souvenir from Germany, don’t tell them it’s gingerbread; refer to it as Lebkuchen!
Do you have a house full of junk? Are your drawers overflowing with knickknacks? Then you have a lot of Krimskrams in your home!
The German word Krimskrams means “junk”, “miscellaneous objects” or “odds and ends”. It refers to all those random and useless objects you have collected over the years. Maybe you have a lot of useless souvenirs, keychains, magnets, old calendars and other items that serve you no purpose and simply collect dust. But for some reason, you find it difficult to part ways with these items. It might be time to organize or throw away your Krimskrams!
The term comes primarily from the word Kram, which means “stuff” or “junk”. Its origins can be traced back to the 16th century; it is believed that the term came from the old German phrase krimmeln und wimmeln (“to crawl”) and Kram (“junk”) – as in, your place could be crawling or overwhelmed with useless junk.
In today’s language, Krims does not have a meaning – but it makes the word Krimskrams more snappy and memorable (similar to the English word “knickknack”, where “knick” does not mean anything).
Germans are known for their cleanliness and order, and Krimskrams only makes their lives more cluttered. We’re sure that you’ll feel better about your home and office space if you clear out some of that Krimskrams!
Germans have an uncanny ability to produce unique terms to describe every possible circumstance. One such word is Gießkannenprinzip, which describes exactly what it sounds like!
Literally translated, the term means “watering can principle”, and it describes the principle of giving everyone an equal share of something. Watering cans often have many holes in the cap where the water pours out, allowing for the equal distribution of water on a plant. The “watering can principle” therefore describes situations where a person or an organization distributes something (often money) equally among others.
Let’s look at two examples:
If a company pays all of its employees the same salary – regardless of performance – that company is operating by the Gießkannenprinzip. Even if one employee works harder and longer than the rest, while another employee sleeps at their desk, their pay stubs will always be equal.
As another example, a parent may have two children – a 7-year-old and a 16-year-old. That parent gives both children $5 in allowance every week, even though the 16-year-old has more expenses than the 7-year-old.
In some cases, the Gießkannenprinzip can be beneficial if a person or organization strives to treat everyone equally. But in other instances, it is not always fair or practical. If you’re reading the news in Germany, you may find articles using the word Gießkannenprinzip to describe an organizations flawed economic principles or a political party’s perspectives.
Have you ever leapt out of bed on a particular morning flooded with the uncontrollable urge to get something done, such as hit the gym, clean up your home, or finally start writing that novel you’ve already mapped out in your mind? Then you were gripped by a sense of “Tatendrang.”
Germans are often defined in international organizations, when experts suggest how to work with folks from all over the world, as “task oriented people.” Such generic cultural cliches may not, of course, apply in each and every individual case. (Some German teenagers, for instance, may exhibit the same lack of “Tatendrang” when their parents suggest they clean up their rooms as many of their similarly cheeky and rebellious counterparts all over the world.)
So “Tatendrang” – which literally means “action urge” – describes that feeling you have when you just can’t wait to start getting stuff done. Another in a long and proud line of awesome German compound nouns, it is based on the words “Tat” (action, deed, task) and “Drang” (urge). (This is not to be confused, however, with “Tatort” (Scene of the Crime), which just happens to be the most popular and longest-running detective series on German television.)
Clearly the opposite early morning urge (rising early is another classic German cultural trait) to “Tatendrang” would be the desire to hit the snooze button and sleep in. People who do not like mornings in Germany are, moreover, known as “Morgenmuffel” (morning curmudgeons, morning grumpus) – and they are definitely a minority in a nation of “task oriented” early risers.