Der optimistische Regenschirm
An umbrella, a weather forecast, and a very optimistic neighbour.
A COLLECTION WORTH REMEMBERING
An umbrella, a weather forecast, and a very optimistic neighbour.
Sometimes the best part of a journey happens before it begins.
A perfectly reasonable approach to sharing cake.
The first two minutes of meeting someone: name, where you are from, what you do.
Getting a table, ordering drinks and a main course, and asking what is in a dish.
A café order from start to payment, including the question every German café asks first.
Asking for directions and understanding the answer, including distance and public transport.
How to ask a stranger for help politely, and the phrases you will hear back.
Asking about someone’s free time and keeping the conversation going past the first answer.
Asking a local where they actually go, rather than where the guidebook sends you.
Asking someone who has been there for practical advice: tickets, timing and where not to eat.
Describing symptoms and asking for a sick note — the vocabulary you want before you need it.
Sizes, fitting rooms, colours and the return policy, in the order they come up.
Making plans with someone: suggesting, agreeing a time, and settling where to meet.
Checking into a hotel and asking the two questions everyone asks: breakfast and wifi.
A phone call in German: saying who you are, and negotiating a time that works.
Small talk with a new colleague, ending with the question every learner worries about: du or Sie?
The safe German small talk topics — weather, delays, the weekend — with the Sie form throughout.
The pun is „daran arbeiten“ — you work on a building site, and you work on a joke.
A classic Scherzfrage. „summen“ is what a bee does and what you do when you have forgotten the lyrics.
Seeing through someone works the same way in German as in English — literally and figuratively.
The pun is „Plätzchen“, which means both a biscuit and a little place.
A caller in a panic gives the fire brigade directions they did not ask for.
Germany’s most famous Antiwitz: „sich treffen“ means both to meet and to hit each other.
The pun is „ausgehen“ — to assume something, and, for a candle, to go out.
The pun is „rechnen“ — to calculate, and „mit etwas rechnen“, to expect something.
A greeting that is more accurate than the speaker intends.
One of the shortest punchlines in German, and it lands in any language.
The pun is „Faxen machen“, to clown around, next to the office fax machine.
A Scherzfrage that sets you up to guess something small and harmless.
The doctor’s bedside manner has seen better days.
The pun is „ankommen“ — a joke lands, a train arrives, and German trains famously do neither on time.
The pun is „Das spielt keine Rolle“ — that does not matter — beside „eine Rolle spielen“, to play a part.
The pun is „eingehen“ — to agree to something, and, for a plant, to die.
Look at the two numbers side by side and the punchline draws itself.
„Löwenzahn“ literally means lion’s tooth — and it is the German word for dandelion.
A waiter takes „ein Kompliment ausrichten“ far more literally than the guest meant it.
The pun mixes „Schweizerdeutsch“, Swiss German, with „schwitzen“, to sweat.
Rüsselsheim is a real German town — and „Rüssel“ is an elephant’s trunk, „Heim“ a home.
A joke and a grammar lesson: „halb sechs“ is 5:30 in German, half way to six rather than half of it.
Said aloud, „Insekten“ is indistinguishable from „in Sekten“ — in sects.
Goethe on why learning another language changes how you hear your first one.
Goethe’s answer to anyone who has read about a thing without ever doing it.
Faust puts a name to the feeling of being pulled in two directions at once.
From Wilhelm Tell, and still the line German parents quote at a child with an instrument.
Probably the most quoted sentence in modern German, and shorter than you expect.
Nietzsche, who played the piano daily, states his case in nine words.
Kant’s motto for the Enlightenment, written as an instruction rather than an idea.
Written in 1821, and carved into the ground at Berlin’s Bebelplatz where books were burned in 1933.
Nathan der Weise in four words — and a small lesson in what „müssen“ can do.
Marie von Ebner-Eschenbach on the cost of not knowing.
Wilhelm Busch builds the joke into the grammar: the sentence itself turns out differently.
Rosa Luxemburg wrote this in the margin of a prison manuscript in 1918.
The twenty-year-old Kafka, in a letter to a friend, on what reading is for.
The last line of Effi Briest, and the reason Germans still say „ein weites Feld“ to close a subject.
Two strangers, one bread roll, and a little patience at the bakery.
A note on the door brings a quiet neighbour into the life of his building.
A magic pot that does not know when to stop. Original 1857 spelling.
Four animals discover a new life together. Original 1857 spelling.
A journey home, and a series of surprising trades. Original 1857 spelling.