A tricky telephone conversation

Anyone who speaks a foreign language will know that certain situations are particularly tricky: for example, when you’re on the telephone (and can’t see the facial expressions and lip movements of the other person); when you’re on the telephone and the person at the other end is giving you distressing news; when you’re on the telephone, the person at the other end is giving you distressing news and can’t pronounce the German consonant "z" properly (the German consonant "z" sounds like "ts" in English).

Last Friday, I had just sat down at my desk to write a post about my experience with crowdfunding, when the phone suddenly rang. It was a local Berlin number, caller unknown. When I picked up, the male voice at the other end of the line sounded excessively jolly; the man was clearly trying not to alarm me. As soon as I heard the word Schwimmhalle, or swimming pool, I realised this would not be a jolly conversation indeed. He was calling to inform me that my son had just had an accident and had injured his "Fahn". He repeated the word that sounded like "Fahn" and I wondered what on earth he meant. I had never heard of a "Fahn". What could you injure in a swimming pool? How worried should I be? He also suggested I should make an appointment with a doctor of some sort. By now I was getting quite frantic.

The German language is renowned for its compound words. The word for doctor is Arzt and the words denoting most specialist doctors are compound nouns ending in arzt. For instance, a paediatrician is a Kinderarzt (literally children’s doctor), a gynaecologist is a Frauenarzt (women’s doctor), a dermatologist is a Hautarzt (skin doctor), while a dentist is a Zahnarzt (tooth doctor). If only I could understand what doctor he meant, then I might be able to guess which part of the body had been injured. After the man repeated the word Zahnarzt several times, I suddenly realised that my son had hurt his tooth.

I put on my face mask, jumped into a taxi and gave the driver the address of the swimming pool. During the short taxi ride, I kept replaying the sentence in my head “Hopefully the tooth can still be saved”, which I realised is what the man had actually said. That didn’t sound too reassuring. When I got to the pool, I saw a group of schoolchildren waiting outside; they were being instructed in the AHA rules. I made my way inside and followed the yellow arrows on the floor, courtesy of the coronavirus regulations, and eventually found my son talking to the Bademeister or pool supervisor. After signing the accident form, we were joined by the swimming instructor, who first told me about the accident, but then proceeded to complain about the other children’s poor breaststroke technique. Somehow it didn’t seem like an appropriate conversation, given that I’d been called there for an emergency.

For anyone who hasn’t learnt to swim in Germany, you should know that children in this country first have to master breaststroke perfectly before they can learn any other stroke. I read in a German newspaper once that this tradition stems from the army: you need to be able to swim with your head above water to hear commands and to keep an eye out for the enemy! 

When we eventually got to the dentist, my son was seen very quickly, and we were reassured that his Zahn wasn’t loose, while his gum would heal rapidly despite looking, in the words of the dentist, gruesome. I will spare you the gory details, suffice it so say, it involved a piece of gum and some bleeding. By Monday morning, the gum had healed as if by magic, and he was able to go back to school. All’s well that ends well.

To go back to the beginning of this story, in order to be able to speak a foreign language on the phone, it’s not enough to be a good listener, you also have to be good at guesswork.

*Photo by Sharjeel Khalid on Unsplash

Aha! The new normal

The summer in Berlin ended two weeks ago, when thermometers recorded a spectacular drop of 20°C. One day we were heading to lakes and outdoor pools for relief from the heat and the next we were rummaging through our wardrobes for cardigans and raincoats. Although the summer is technically not over yet, there is an autumnal feel in the air. The mornings have turned decidedly chilly, while the fallen leaves on the ground are getting more noticeable. As the coronavirus summer ends, the coronavirus autumn begins.

Aha!

Some of us were lucky enough to enjoy a proper summer break, perhaps even going abroad, while others opted for a staycation. For most of us, though, the holiday time is over and it’s back to old routines, well not quite. The new normal in Germany is represented by the AHA rules. In this case Aha is not an exclamation to express satisfaction or surprise - Aha! So that’s how you defeat coronavirus! - and it also doesn’t stand for alpha-hydroxy acid. Moreover, it doesn't refer to the Norwegian pop band that was popular in the eighties (Take on meee!). In the year 2020, AHA is an abbreviation of Abstand (distance), Hygiene (hygiene) and Alltagsmasken (daily masks). 

Going back to school

While children around the world are returning to school or are preparing to go back to school in the coming weeks, here in Berlin children have already completed their fourth week of school. The first week was dedicated to learning the AHA rules obviously. Apart from the compulsory masks, the social distancing (not in classrooms) and hygiene rules, school here is pretty much back to normal. We even managed to have an Elternabend or parents’ evening (a general meeting about the class) in the assembly hall, where we were all sitting 2m apart and wearing masks.

It's virus time

As life gradually returns to normal, albeit under the AHA rules, and recreational and cultural activities pick up, what can we expect? Viruses of course! However much we wash our hands and keep away from crowded places, viruses will reach us, especially if we spend time with children. As GPs and paediatricians are keen to point out, there are plenty of viruses out there, in addition to the infamous one. 

After three weeks of school, the first virus made its way into our home, in the form of a sore throat, runny nose and fever.  I spent last weekend wondering whether it was coronavirus and where to get tested. When I finally managed to get through to the paediatrician to ask for advice on the following Monday, it became clear that a Covid-19 test would not be required. Luckily, it wasn’t a serious infection and it cleared up after a few days. In the area where I live, it seems that the only way to get a free test without a long wait is to return from a Risikogebiet, i.e. a region at risk. When I started sneezing and feeling under the weather, my husband suggested booking a cheap return flight to Spain so that I could get tested. The alternative would be a private test in Berlin that costs €158,65. Sunshine and tapas here I come! 

On a serious note, check the guidelines for your country or region. If you live in Berlin and your child is ill, this PDF by the Berlin Senate Department for Education, Youth and Family explains what to do.