I’ve been going for lunch two or three times a week to a tiny döner kebab place called “Kebab Haus” in Berlin-Wannsee. Today was the first time that one of the guys behind the counter talked to me. As I ordered my falafel, he could tell I was not a native German speaker, and started speaking to me in English. When my sandwich was ready he handed it to me and said, “Guten Appetit…. I don’t know how you say that in English.” I sat there eating and reading a print-out of a New York Times article, debating whether to engage him in conversation and discuss the fact that we don’t really have a phrase for that in English. (I have had this conversation with other people in Germany at least twice since coming over here.) In the meantime, the man and his co-worker briefly discussed the question, settling on “Enjoy your meal” as the most likely phrase.
A few minutes later, the man’s co-worker went out for a cigarette and the guy behind the counter walked over to me. “We are alone now,” he said, in English. I was a little freaked out. But he continued: “So, how do you say ‘Guten Appetit‘ in English”? It was as if he had been reading my mind! In German, I said that we sometimes use the French (“Bon Appetit”), but that people might indeed say, simply, “Enjoy” or something similar. He asked me where I was from and whether I was an economist–apparently that’s what I looked like. When I said I was a lawyer, he was confused. Once you’re a lawyer, aren’t you done studying? he asked. Can’t you just keep working? I said that was true, but I chose to come abroad for a fellowship. I asked where he was from, in turn, and he said, “You can’t tell? I am Turkish!”
A young Middle Eastern man with a thick beard and moustache then walked in. (This guy must have a hard time with, say, airport security; he looked straight out of terrorist central casting.) The Turkish guy asked what he wanted, in German. But the man did not answer. “Turkish? Arabic?” the guy behind the counter offered. The bearded customer shook his head. “English?” was the next suggestion. “Yes, I know some English,” the customer replied in a fairly hushed voice. The owner asked where he was from, and the bearded man said, “Afghanistan.” (Not really surprising, given his look.)
What a moment, I thought. Here in Germany, a Turkish guy is talking to an Afghan guy in English, while an American guy sits there and listens.
The Turkish guy asked the Afghani what kind of sauce he wanted on his sandwich. Garlic? Chili? Herb? The Afghani guy said only, “the red one,” and my new friend behind the counter nodded. “Afghanis like hot food!” I don’t know how the Afghani reacted, since I wasn’t looking at him, but he said, “I need to know more German.” So the Turkish guy told him the name for each sauce in German. “Knoblauch, scharf, krauter,” he recited. “Scharf is German for hot, spicy. You want me to write the words down on a card for you?” I guess the Afghani shook his head, because he was out the door with his sandwich in hand a minute later.
A few German customers came in and ordered doner kebabs to go. I got up to pay for my falafel. “You know, you speak better German than my father, and he’s been here 30 years,” the Turkish guy said to me (in German). “Danke schön,” I said with a little smile, and headed back to the office.
