Words you commonly use that are from another language

TastyReuben said:
I've had four years of German, and can speak it casually ok, like a step above tourist level. I can read it fairly well, but having a native speak it to me...that's the hardest.

We have (had?) an informal group in Cincy who get together every month or so for German language night, a group of native speakers and second-language speakers, and we'd meet at a particular restaurant in town, with the purpose of speaking German the entire night, just to improve it, but I haven't gotten any notices about it since just before all this crap started.
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I'm with you there, I'm busting my guts to get back to Europe. Places I need to go to. German doesn't really interest me, my grandfather was a p.o.w in ww II. Not a fan of anything German.

Russ
 
rascal said:
I'm with you there, I'm busting my guts to get back to Europe. Places I need to go to. German doesn't really interest me, my grandfather was a p.o.w in ww II. Not a fan of anything German.

Russ
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Here's my WW2 story:

In Cincy, we have a lot of German heritage groups and clubs. My wife and I are members of a couple. Cincy is very proud of its German-American history. Munich is our official sister city, for example.

I was in my second or third year of German language class, and I met a fellow who was taking a one semester sort of tourist German class. He was very nice and enthusiastic about the language and the festivals in and around the city. He was of German heritage, his granddad had come over and settled here, and his dad, sadly, died during D-Day. So he was of German ancestry, and the son of an American soldier killed in WW2. Something along those lines, anyway.

In addition to his heritage, he was a serious WW2 amateur historian. He loved to talk about this battle and that strategy, this general and that government official, etc. He was really into it.

Eventually, I invited him to a monthly meeting at one of the clubs where we were members and he readily accepted. The meeting was a dinner and social hour, followed by the meeting itself, then drinking and socializing for the rest of the night.

On the night, I met him there, got our beers, and I took him around to meet several people. The club had been started in the 1960's by German immigrants who came over for work after the war, and many of the original members were still alive and present (no longer the case now).

We met lots of people and finally settled at the bar, next to a founding member, and Oscar (my friend) and he struck up a conversation. As Oscar invariably did, he enthused about being of German descent, then moved onto.... The War.

"Ohhhhhh <bleep>!"

Yep, sure enough, Oscar was talking and Vern (Werner, actually, but everyone called him Vern) also offered that he fought in WW2...as a sailor...in the German Navy.

Oscar's eyes got really big, and then he lowered his voice and asked, "What, um, boat were you on?"

"The Luchs," Vern answered.

"The Luchs. Really. The Luchs."

I was fearing Oscar was about to say something unpleasant, but he stuck out his hand and said, "The Luchs, if I'm right, sank off Norway, and nearly everyone was lost. You made it? Huh. That's something. That's really something!" - and he about shook his hand off!

They sat and talked most of the night, and Vern kind of took over as his chaperone and introduced him to even more folks, mostly the old-timers, and he joined the following month (I put him up and Vern seconded), and they became pretty close friends before Vern died several years ago.
 
TastyReuben said:
Here's my WW2 story:

In Cincy, we have a lot of German heritage groups and clubs. My wife and I are members of a couple. Cincy is very proud of its German-American history. Munich is our official sister city, for example.

I was in my second or third year of German language class, and I met a fellow who was taking a one semester sort of tourist German class. He was very nice and enthusiastic about the language and the festivals in and around the city. He was of German heritage, his granddad had come over and settled here, and his dad, sadly, died during D-Day. So he was of German ancestry, and the son of an American soldier killed in WW2. Something along those lines, anyway.

In addition to his heritage, he was a serious WW2 amateur historian. He loved to talk about this battle and that strategy, this general and that government official, etc. He was really into it.

Eventually, I invited him to a monthly meeting at one of the clubs where we were members and he readily accepted. The meeting was a dinner and social hour, followed by the meeting itself, then drinking and socializing for the rest of the night.

On the night, I met him there, got our beers, and I took him around to meet several people. The club had been started in the 1960's by German immigrants who came over for work after the war, and many of the original members were still alive and present (no longer the case now).

We met lots of people and finally settled at the bar, next to a founding member, and Oscar (my friend) and he struck up a conversation. As Oscar invariably did, he enthused about being of German descent, then moved onto.... The War.

"Ohhhhhh <bleep>!"

Yep, sure enough, Oscar was talking and Vern (Werner, actually, but everyone called him Vern) also offered that he fought in WW2...as a sailor...in the German Navy.

Oscar's eyes got really big, and then he lowered his voice and asked, "What, um, boat were you on?"

"The Luchs," Vern answered.

"The Luchs. Really. The Luchs."

I was fearing Oscar was about to say something unpleasant, but he stuck out his hand and said, "The Luchs, if I'm right, sank off Norway, and nearly everyone was lost. You made it? Huh. That's something. That's really something!" - and he about shook his hand off!

They sat and talked most of the night, and Vern kind of took over as his chaperone and introduced him to even more folks, mostly the old-timers, and he joined the following month (I put him up and Vern seconded), and they became pretty close friends before Vern died several years ago.
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Great story tasty, I knew about your German club. I watch the war docos on the history channel. My granddad didn't really talk about the war. Bit like John Cleese, don't mention the war,lol. Our grandparents took us to the p.o.w Xmas parties. I always won the running races,lol. My wife's father was in Egypt as well fighting. Sadly he passed of cancer when she was 7.
These are his medals
45959
 
rascal said:
Great story tasty, I knew about your German club. I watch the war docos on the history channel. My granddad didn't really talk about the war. Bit like John Cleese, don't mention the war,lol. Our grandparents took us to the p.o.w Xmas parties. I always won the running races,lol. My wife's father was in Egypt as well fighting. Sadly he passed of cancer when she was 7.
These are his medalsView attachment 45959
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That's a wonderful display.
 
TastyReuben said:
That's a wonderful display.
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Yeah my wife went to this old guy that gets all the records and mounted the medals. They all tell a story. It's funny we've lived in this house for 30 years, my wife grew up about 200 yds away. In her family home her dad built. She always has me on and says that I come from the settlement ( govt houses I grew up in) they had their own home,lol.

Russ
 
rascal said:
My wife's father was in Egypt as well fighting.
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My first father in law (6ft 2") was captured behind German lines in the desert. Their job was to kill and destroy.He was studying to be a Geography teacher when he enlisted. The one and only night we talked about our experiences was when we went on a holiday to Tenerife in the 70s. His suitcase was checked at the airport. it included two catering tins of "bully beef" The conversation started with why?
When he got back to Britain he weighed 84 lbs. His last camp was near the Russian front. The Germans emptied the Camp and forced the POW to walk west. It was Winter. Fred did not fancy that, so in the confusion he and five mates hid under their hut. The next morning they started walking west. Approximately 30 yrs latter the fear of hunger still haunted him.
After he had physically recuperated he wanted to go back to teacher training. He was not allowed to do that because of his Commando deeds and training. He was deemed to dangerous to teach kids. The Army career officer placed him in the Police force in Liverpool.
 
I don't know who invented this word, but we Mercans (especially New Yorkers) have taken it to amazing hights. It is quite possibly the only word, besides okay, that is used in every country -- don't deny it, you have used it!

THIS VIDEO IS NOT SAFE FOR WORK. DO NOT SHOW IT TO CHILDREN. I'm betting it will be nixed by the mods. But, not before they watch it and laugh.

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pWNfUGDpqe4&t=28s


CD
 
ElizabethB said:
In south Louisiana there are many dishes with French - French Acadian, Spanish and African names.
Gumbo - a west African word for Okra
Sauce Picante
Coubion - Court bouillon
I will think of more.
French words used in common conversation.
Pere - Father
Mere - Mother
Mon Cher - my dear
Petite Soeur - little sister
Petite Frere - little brother
In the extreme rural areas an outsider would not recognize the language as English.
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Lyrics from a song "Parlez - nous a boire, Non pas de mariage". :whistling:
 
I think this story might fit here:

This happened while we were living in the UK, over near Huntingdon. We'd been in-country for a couple of years, had done a lot of the more popular tourist destinations, and by this point, were going to places not all that frequented by Americans.

I can't remember exactly, but I think we were going up to Durham, and it was mid-week, and kind of off-season for tourists. We'd ambled up, taking backroads and stopping here and there, no real point in mind, just wasting a few days of leave, and we'd stopped in at a little pub somewhere for lunch.

I have to point out, it's a much different mindset when you live somewhere versus just visiting; no matter how many times you visit and are familiar with a place, it's just different when you're paying utility bills and shopping on the economy and there for the long haul.

Anyway, we were about halfway through lunch, when the group of four who were there when we walked in finished up and went to leave.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't help noticing that you're American, is that right?" - asked the older American woman in the group.

Now, I have a thing about being interrupted when I'm eating. I like my hot food to be hot and I want to eat it when it's hot, so I get fairly annoyed by any kind of butting in when the knife and fork are in play. But, I was raised with manners, so I didn't stab her. :laugh:

MrsTasty said, "Yeah, that's right. My husband is in the military and were stationed here."

That started a whole conversation, mainly with questions asking where we lived and what I did and where did my wife work and how do taxes work out and do you get paid in British money and be honest the food is crap isn't it and doesn't everyone talk funny and how in the world do you get used to driving on the wrong side of the road and what's it like trying to get used to just four TV channels and everything is so expensive and...well, IOW, my bangers and mash or whatever it was, wasn't getting any hotter while these people blabbed on and on.

Finally, they scooted off, and we politely smiled at them, gave a little wave as they were going through the door, and as soon as the door shut, both of us dropped our fake grins, and without any sense of irony or trying to be funny, MrsTasty grumbled:

"Bloody Americans!" 😤

:laugh:
 
TastyReuben said:
I think this story might fit here:

This happened while we were living in the UK, over near Huntingdon. We'd been in-country for a couple of years, had done a lot of the more popular tourist destinations, and by this point, were going to places not all that frequented by Americans.

I can't remember exactly, but I think we were going up to Durham, and it was mid-week, and kind of off-season for tourists. We'd ambled up, taking backroads and stopping here and there, no real point in mind, just wasting a few days of leave, and we'd stopped in at a little pub somewhere for lunch.

I have to point out, it's a much different mindset when you live somewhere versus just visiting; no matter how many times you visit and are familiar with a place, it's just different when you're paying utility bills and shopping on the economy and there for the long haul.

Anyway, we were about halfway through lunch, when the group of four who were there when we walked in finished up and went to leave.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't help noticing that you're American, is that right?" - asked the older American woman in the group.

Now, I have a thing about being interrupted when I'm eating. I like my hot food to be hot and I want to eat it when it's hot, so I get fairly annoyed by any kind of butting in when the knife and fork are in play. But, I was raised with manners, so I didn't stab her. :laugh:

MrsTasty said, "Yeah, that's right. My husband is in the military and were stationed here."

That started a whole conversation, mainly with questions asking where we lived and what I did and where did my wife work and how do taxes work out and do you get paid in British money and be honest the food is crap isn't it and doesn't everyone talk funny and how in the world do you get used to driving on the wrong side of the road and what's it like trying to get used to just four TV channels and everything is so expensive and...well, IOW, my bangers and mash or whatever it was, wasn't getting any hotter while these people blabbed on and on.

Finally, they scooted off, and we politely smiled at them, gave a little wave as they were going through the door, and as soon as the door shut, both of us dropped our fake grins, and without any sense of irony or trying to be funny, MrsTasty grumbled:

"Bloody Americans!" 😤

:laugh:
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I had a similar, yet different experience in the UK. I was there with my (ex) wife, and she decided to take a nap. I went to the nearest pub. I was the only person in the place. I was kind of tired of beer/ale, and noticed a bottle of Jack Daniel's on the bar shelves. So I ordered that. Yeah, the place was empty, but it's Jack Daniel's out of a bottle, so I knew what I was getting.

The bartender immediately caught on that I was American, and asked me where I was from. I told him, "Texas." That was a big mistake. Lots of stupid questions about what I wear, and do I have a horse. Then, he gave me a free shot of tequila. His best tequila, he told me. It was Two Fingers tequila. A decent cheap tequila -- okay for making margaritas. No salt, no lime -- two things essential for a shot of cheap tequila. I didn't want to offend the guy, so I did the shot. As expected, it sucked.

Lesson learned... don't drink "the best tequila" in a British pub.

CD
 
As far as I can tell, Thai folks always answer the phone with "hello?"

"Hello" in Thai is sawasdee khrup/kaa.
 
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