When you live in a country in which you don't speak the language a wonderful wonderful thing happens.
You don't understand advertising blurbs at all. They become parodies of themselves.
There is no need to prick up your ears. A pricked ear in an indecipherable language is like a periscope on the Dead Sea. There's nothing there.
You don't understand newspapers, magazines, street signs, police directions, shop keepers, cashiers, spruikers, beggars, children, the elderly, telemarketers, gypsies, casual conversations, round-table discussions, phone messages.
Here in Germany all is not lost on the new comer. In Germany, moreso than other places, English is the go-to language for pithy, sexy slogans. Except that they get it wrong much of the time.
I'll never forget the first miss. It was a bicycle shop in Berlin. The sign, so proudly shouting the name of the shop from the rooftop was "Little Johns' Bike!"
As if there were only a single bike inside. But you could tell there were hundreds of bikes inside. I thought to step in and mention this
You don't understand advertising blurbs at all. They become parodies of themselves.
There is no need to prick up your ears. A pricked ear in an indecipherable language is like a periscope on the Dead Sea. There's nothing there.
You don't understand newspapers, magazines, street signs, police directions, shop keepers, cashiers, spruikers, beggars, children, the elderly, telemarketers, gypsies, casual conversations, round-table discussions, phone messages.
Here in Germany all is not lost on the new comer. In Germany, moreso than other places, English is the go-to language for pithy, sexy slogans. Except that they get it wrong much of the time.
I'll never forget the first miss. It was a bicycle shop in Berlin. The sign, so proudly shouting the name of the shop from the rooftop was "Little Johns' Bike!"
As if there were only a single bike inside. But you could tell there were hundreds of bikes inside. I thought to step in and mention this
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