Unheimlich

I don’t know many German words. Of those I do know, Unheimlich is my favorite. It was the first real word taught to me by our friend Alex Meder. Unheimlich translates to “eerie” or “uncanny,” though I’m sure it’s connotations are much more subtle and nuanced to a native speaker. I never thought I would have the opportunity to use it in context until last night.

It was a little unheimlich when I settled into my table at Spinnrad last night just before six. Spinnrad is the local Stube or pub, located right on the corner next to the IBZ. Julie and I watched the Germany v. Poland soccer match there last Saturday, along with a small but enthusiastic crowd of regulars. There were German flags, a noise-maker, and free shots of schnapps, compliments of the house, for each of Germany’s goals in its 2-0 victory. For game two of group play, Germany had drawn Croatia. Eager for more of the same, and with Julie otherwise engaged at her “job” at the WBZ, I returned on my own last night to watch the match.

Unheimlich was the word to describe the scene: “reserviert” signs on most of the tables, but no patrons, even though the game was just about to start. It wasn’t until midway through the first half, with Germany already down 1-nil that people started showing up. They appeared to be regulars too, though not the same regulars from Saturday. And why were two of them moving tables around? And was that a stand-up base one of them was carrying? That’s right. Thursday night is apparently Jazz night at Spinnrad. The soccer regulars must have known, and thus settled elsewhere. The Jazz regulars didn’t really care too much for soccer, so the commentators were muted & the band played on.

They opened with Weird Blues by Tom Davis. In attempting to translate the song title, the band-leader looked to me – the guy who can barely order a beer and ask for the check. But I knew unheimlich, and I used it. He nodded in agreement and added that this scene, with the Euro 2008 playing on mute in HD in the background and a trio of fifty-something Germans playing American Jazz to a crowd of other fifty-something regulars plus one American ex-pat with a small but eclectic vocabulary was indeed, unheimlich.

Germany lost 2-1, the band smoked, and I got a little tipsy on two large steins of Jever and a too-small prosciutto sandwich. During their break, I gave my compliments to the band, promised to return next week and told them I was off to eat dinner. After I assured the bass-player I was walking home & not driving, he saluted me with perfect, albeit German-accented, hep-cat English, “Take it easy, man”. Unheimlich.