Die Glühbirne: the lightbulb, literally the
Die Glühbirne: the lightbulb, literally the "glowpear"

After most four months of classes and 5 months in Germany,  I find myself in German language A2, well enlightened that German — with its random articles and various cases, not to mention the seemingly impossible sound that lingers in the gap between 'sh' and 'ch' — is a difficult language to learn. Merely there is good to be constitute in the language learning process. German language relies heavily on compound words, which anyone tin can invent and use whenever they so desire, while still remaining grammatically right. This allows for amazing specificity and has resulted in many odd, whimsical sounding names for various objects and ideas.

Der Kindergarten: literally the
Der Kindergarten: literally the "child-garden"

Despite the many difficulties I've encountered, it's astonishing how much of the German vocabulary has managed to seep into my encephalon. All the ä's and the sch'due south wormed their way in. Although the actualization of these sounds in my mouth is far from perfect, their theoretically impeccable pronunciation has found a comfy space in my caput, often looping through my mental dialogue equally an accompaniment to my real-fourth dimension conversations. Even with all the direction from my teachers every bit to its correct positioning, somehow my tongue can't catch up to my brain telling it which teeth to touch when.

Die Windhose: the tornado, literally the
Die Windhose: the tornado, literally the "wind-hose"

German language is ofttimes described as harsh, guttural, and angry, but the dialect spoken in Berlin  perfectly accommodates whispers. The shushing sound comes to the forefront as though everyone is telling secrets. I remember the shock of returning to the U.s. over winter break, the aerodrome filled with loud, Chicago accents speaking in conversations I could fully empathise. Information technology was odd how intrusive this felt. I was no longer able to remain alone in my caput: Instead, I was suddenly berated with the personal lives of so many strangers. Subsequently months of existing in public spaces filled primarily by languages that easily became background noise to my thoughts, the change was overwhelming. Information technology was also odd how many times I had to push down the ever-present German word for alibi me– entschuldigung –as I accidentally bumped into people with my suitcase. Although BCB is an English-speaking schoolhouse and I occupy mainly English-speaking circles inside Berlin, somehow my brain has been rewired to use the little German I have when faced with an bearding oversupply.

Der Ohrwurm: a song that's stuck in your head, literally
Der Ohrwurm: a song that's stuck in your caput, literally "earworm"

While it is truthful that I have spent many an hr staring at torturous verb conjugation tables and vocabulary lists in what sometimes feels similar an ultimately futile endeavour to memorize the language, information technology is too true that I enjoy German. I can have a simple conversation and understand much more than I did when I first arrived, and I'thousand becoming increasingly convinced that life isn't also short to learn German language after all.