Germanisms: at home, abroad

Anglicisms, Gallicisms, Hispanicisms … countless foreign words from languages such as English, French and Spanish have found a second home in the German language. There are several reasons behind this: war, migration or simply conversations with neighbours who live across the borders. In fact, some of these words have been assimilated to such an extent that no one remembers where they originated from. Take the word Keks, for example. This German word for biscuit comes from its English predecessor, cake, while the words Karamell (caramel) and Kakao (cocoa) have Spanish roots.

The settled intellectual

In return, many German words developed wanderlust themselves and emigrated to foreign shores, where they’ve made a name for themselves as Germanisms. For example, you know that Americans take their children to kindergarten and value Gemütlichkeit. They also like eating schnitzel and strudel while looking for the leitmotif in their Bildungsroman.

The French also like helping themselves to figurative expressions penned by German poets and thinkers: words such as leitmotif and zeitgeist are used by those pondering a utopic Weltanschauung. These are fairly intellectual Germanisms that seem to have found a home in the French language, wouldn’t you agree? That said, strict entry restrictions apply, with the Académie Française (a literary organisation that monitors matters pertaining to the French language) keeping a close eye on the purity of the language.

Fully assimilated or blatantly borrowed?

Some of our other neighbouring countries are even more receptive to German words. The Danes, for example, talk about being besoffen (drunk) when celebrating a polterabend (stag night) and disliking besserwisser (know-it-alls) who always see things coming before anyone else. The Finns, Swedes and Norwegians also call someone who sticks their nose in other people’s business a besserwisser. This inference to the German culture, however, has more of a negative connotation in the Nordics … 

… as opposed to the Dutch, who’ve embraced positive German words such as aha-erlebnis (aha moment) and fingerspitzengefühl (finesse). In Poland, they use words such as bosman (from the German word Bootsmann, meaning boatsman), buchalter (Buchhalter or accountant) and burmistrz (Bürgermeister or mayor). These words in Polish are so-called ‘loanwords’, which unlike foreign words, adapt to the usage in the host language. Loanwords also make an appearance in Finnish – with its penchant for double vowels – in words such as kuulalaakeri (for Kugellager or ball bearings).The Latvians have converted lustig (funny) into lustīgs, while the Romanians use the German pronunciation for the word Schnur (string) but write it as snur.

Famed fusions

The German art of linking multiple words to say as much as possible as quickly as possible has won many fans abroad. And doppelgangers, too. It explains why German composite words that consist of two or more elements in particular are also used in other languages (apart from monstrous words like Donaudampfschifffahrtsgesellschaftskapitänsmützen, which translates to the Danube steamship company captain’s caps!). In Turkish, for example, popular multi-word Germanisms include şipidak (Schiebedach or sunroof), tonmayster (Tonmeister or sound engineer) and otopark (Autopark or car park). And the Italians also listen to Minnesänger (or minstrels) and select the stoccafisso (Stockfisch or stockfish) from the evening menu at the ristorante.

I encountered a particularly endearing two-part Germanism during my last holiday in Fuerteventura in Spain when I decided to take a windsurfing course. The tanned and muscular surf instructor pointed out the different types of courses on offer and then finally advised me, in a Spanish accent, to take the trial course: ‘We call it the Schnupperkurs.’