Ich mag Deutschen.
As I passed you yesterday on my way to work after breakfast, I heard you speaking an unfamiliar language. I’m quite intrigued by languages and was curious as to what language you were speaking. I made the bold assumption that you did not speak French, and after we passed you, I asked my boyfriend, in French, what language you guys were speaking.
Please, please keep in mind, that up until 2009, I lived a fairly sheltered life.
When my boyfriend told me you were speaking German, I was excited, as I am (somewhere down the line) from German heritage. So excited, I used my outside voice and said, “Ah, Bosch!!!!”. Bosch, you see, is my last name.
I’m sure you could understand my confusion and disbelief when my boyfriend embarrassingly told me that I had just, very obviously, insulted you. I agreed that it may not be perhaps the most couth thing to
I kinda though that….since I’ve had the same last name for thirty one years….this would be something that I would have heard before.
I didn’t believe him and went to look it up on the internet…. and sure enough, the boyfriend was right:
Since World War II, Kraut has, in the English language, come to be used as a derogatory term for a German. This is probably based on sauerkraut, which was very popular in German cuisine at that time. The stereotype of the sauerkraut-eating German pre-dates this, as it appears in Jules Verne's depiction of the evil German industrialist Schultze as an avid sauerkraut eater in "The Begum's Millions."
In the Fawlty Towers episode The Germans, Basil performed an Adolf Hitler impersonation. When the German guests asked him to stop, Basil exclaimed "I'm trying to cheer her up, you stupid kraut!"
Pronounced [boʃ], boche is a term used in World War I, often collectively ("the Boche" meaning "the Germans"). A shortened form of the French slang portmanteau alboche, itself derived from Allemand ("German") and caboche ("head" or "cabbage"). Also spelled "Bosch" or "Bosche".
This morning, when I went out of my way to say good morning to one of you, and then a “smile and nod’ to your friend, it was my attempt to resolve the misunderstanding. I thought about trying to awkwardly explain to you all that I wasn’t insulting you yesterday, I was simply just being the goofy twelve-year-old that I sometimes am. And that I’m quite proud of my German heritage and embarrassed I don’t speak any. But your death glares made me second guess that plan…
In any regard, I’m sorry for the understanding. And will continue to smile and nod awkwardly as I pass you every morning.