In der WG wohnen derzeit Katharina, Sylvie (aus Frankreich), Tobias, Fabio (aus Spanien), Raschka und ihr Freund Marius* (als WG-Gründer). Außerdem zwei Katzen und diverse Meerschweinchen, die den Garten bevölkern.
Ehemalige Mitbewohner: Sun (Koreaner), Thomas und seine Freundin Anja.
*Alle Namen geändert. Ähnlichkeiten mit lebenden Personen sind weder zufällig noch ungewollt.
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My English is degenerating. It really is. I notice it each day I get home. Being a state-certified translator with several years of working experience in an international law firm, I am usually capable of expressing myself in a sophisticated manner. But when I get home, it get worse.
The reason is my French flatmate, Sylvie. She speak really bad English, and her German is still not good enough to talk about any more interesting than weather. So instead of being a good example and teaching her some grammaire, I adjust to her level, and start speak like her.
So some week ago, we wanted to eat out and went to the new Greek restaurant in our village. It used to be Bavarian, and now it is Greek, but nobody told me at first, so I was in shock the first time I went to eat there after a few months. But by now I have recovered and the food is actually really good there. Plus, we still had a coupon for free entree.
Alors, so we went, Sylvie, Marius and me. All entrées were free, and so was the ouzo. For beginning, the waiter forced us to drink ouzo with entree, because that is how Greeks do, he say. So we drink, and then ordering food. We soon know that the waiter and owner of the restaurant were called Angelo, that he like Bavaria but have problems with the villagers who did not want Greek restaurant in the village. So he made them like him by giving out free ouzu in large quantities. Nice way, I thought. The food was fine, especially the loup de mer, but I and Sylvie start soon to feel a little kaput, because we don't like ouzu at all actually. But so it is with Greeks, you have to drink or they will think you crazy. After the food, we had more ouzo, bien sur, then dessert, which Angelo also offer us for free. We started to wonder how he survive without to take money from customers. By that time, we were the last guests, so Angelo came to sit with us and drink some more ouzo. Sylvie and I finally told him that we did not like so much, and after he returned from shock, he ran to get us aperol sprizz, which we don't like too, but we did not dare tell. So we drink. I feeling dizzy at the time, and the aperol make me even more sick, so we return to ouzo. Angelo start telling stories to Marius, about how he had to drink 28 ouzo at the Maifest the last weekend, because he made the mistake to start drink with people at one table, then the people at next table were not amused because he did not want drink with them, so he had to take ouzo at each table with the villagers, plus a few more with the Bürgermeister and the people from local Sparkasse. To adjust in Bayern as a Grieche, you have to make sacrificial. After 20 ouzo, Angelo says, he called for help to his waiters, and they had to drink too. Still they did not manage to drink with all people from village, and a few maybe still don't want him here.
Anyway it was all getting very funny, my English degenerate even more, mixing with stupid French, and I translating all the time between Angelo and Sylvie, because his German had strong Greek accent and Sylvie understand nothing. I could translate only half of the story, as my simultaneous interpreting skills also degenerate after so many alcohol, but we was still laughing our head off. Between each ouzo I take swallow of Radler, because it still taste dégueulasse. I hate anis, that is why. Mais c´etait egale, and Angelo sure wanted to show us all his new restaurant rooms now, if we want or not. We was staggering behind him, wondering how he remain steady after a whole day, and admire the large ball room and combined Bürgerzentrum behind the restaurant. The Stammtisch in the side room greet him in enthusiastic way, and I was think by myself he adjusted really good already. No idea how they manage to have all Weißbier in front of them, however. Maybe they pay him for not to drink ouzo.
After the tour, we drink ein bisschen more and more, while the waiters get nervous to close. I were remembering our velos outside and wonder how we could ride home.
I somehow remember that we did finally, with a lot laughing, and danger to traffic. But no accident, and then we fell to bed. We were really kaput. Bonne nuit, I said to Sylvie. Guten Nacht, she said.
Ehemalige Mitbewohner: Sun (Koreaner), Thomas und seine Freundin Anja.
*Alle Namen geändert. Ähnlichkeiten mit lebenden Personen sind weder zufällig noch ungewollt.
________________________________________________________
My English is degenerating. It really is. I notice it each day I get home. Being a state-certified translator with several years of working experience in an international law firm, I am usually capable of expressing myself in a sophisticated manner. But when I get home, it get worse.
The reason is my French flatmate, Sylvie. She speak really bad English, and her German is still not good enough to talk about any more interesting than weather. So instead of being a good example and teaching her some grammaire, I adjust to her level, and start speak like her.
So some week ago, we wanted to eat out and went to the new Greek restaurant in our village. It used to be Bavarian, and now it is Greek, but nobody told me at first, so I was in shock the first time I went to eat there after a few months. But by now I have recovered and the food is actually really good there. Plus, we still had a coupon for free entree.
Alors, so we went, Sylvie, Marius and me. All entrées were free, and so was the ouzo. For beginning, the waiter forced us to drink ouzo with entree, because that is how Greeks do, he say. So we drink, and then ordering food. We soon know that the waiter and owner of the restaurant were called Angelo, that he like Bavaria but have problems with the villagers who did not want Greek restaurant in the village. So he made them like him by giving out free ouzu in large quantities. Nice way, I thought. The food was fine, especially the loup de mer, but I and Sylvie start soon to feel a little kaput, because we don't like ouzu at all actually. But so it is with Greeks, you have to drink or they will think you crazy. After the food, we had more ouzo, bien sur, then dessert, which Angelo also offer us for free. We started to wonder how he survive without to take money from customers. By that time, we were the last guests, so Angelo came to sit with us and drink some more ouzo. Sylvie and I finally told him that we did not like so much, and after he returned from shock, he ran to get us aperol sprizz, which we don't like too, but we did not dare tell. So we drink. I feeling dizzy at the time, and the aperol make me even more sick, so we return to ouzo. Angelo start telling stories to Marius, about how he had to drink 28 ouzo at the Maifest the last weekend, because he made the mistake to start drink with people at one table, then the people at next table were not amused because he did not want drink with them, so he had to take ouzo at each table with the villagers, plus a few more with the Bürgermeister and the people from local Sparkasse. To adjust in Bayern as a Grieche, you have to make sacrificial. After 20 ouzo, Angelo says, he called for help to his waiters, and they had to drink too. Still they did not manage to drink with all people from village, and a few maybe still don't want him here.
Anyway it was all getting very funny, my English degenerate even more, mixing with stupid French, and I translating all the time between Angelo and Sylvie, because his German had strong Greek accent and Sylvie understand nothing. I could translate only half of the story, as my simultaneous interpreting skills also degenerate after so many alcohol, but we was still laughing our head off. Between each ouzo I take swallow of Radler, because it still taste dégueulasse. I hate anis, that is why. Mais c´etait egale, and Angelo sure wanted to show us all his new restaurant rooms now, if we want or not. We was staggering behind him, wondering how he remain steady after a whole day, and admire the large ball room and combined Bürgerzentrum behind the restaurant. The Stammtisch in the side room greet him in enthusiastic way, and I was think by myself he adjusted really good already. No idea how they manage to have all Weißbier in front of them, however. Maybe they pay him for not to drink ouzo.
After the tour, we drink ein bisschen more and more, while the waiters get nervous to close. I were remembering our velos outside and wonder how we could ride home.
I somehow remember that we did finally, with a lot laughing, and danger to traffic. But no accident, and then we fell to bed. We were really kaput. Bonne nuit, I said to Sylvie. Guten Nacht, she said.