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| CLICK HERE NOW FOR FREE ONLINE SPANISH LESSONS A Bad German Joke
We recently visited Lago Llanquihue, notable for the big snow-covered Volcano looming up from the opposite shore. The first town we dropped into was the beach resort Frutillar. Like most other towns around the lake, Frutillar boasts the best view of the Volcano. The Germans started colonizing southern Chile around 1850 and ever since they've had a rich impact on this country that many perceive to be soley Spanish in its heritage. But I have to say they hit a low point when the German cult Colonia Dignidad opened its subterranean torture chambers to the terrifying intelligence agency DINA as Chile's Prussian-modeled military, harnessed by General Pinochet, cast a dark shadow across the Southern Cone. Still, the cute Gingerbread House architecture is a major attraction in the South. We ended up on the terrace a mom 'n pop Küchen joint (big house/sidewalk stand) swapping war stories with the pop. And by "swapping war stories," I mean that he told us he was a retired Colonel in the Chilean Army, and we just left it at that. But he was nice. He was a "fourth generation German immigrant", named Carlos Siebald. He spoke German, but we agreed Spanish would be easier. He kept telling jokes Sometimes I just couldn't make out Herr Siebald's punchlines. He would graciously excuse himself. "Sorry," he would say, "just a bad German joke". He was compelled to use the line several times throughout the conversation, and it was funny enough. He had about four daughters helping out and a couple women washing dishes in the kitchen that looked out onto the terrace. He would occasionally interrupt his own stories to bark at his daughters: "Attend the customer!" he'd yell as a business prospect emerged from the ephemeral foot traffic, in want of a steaming hot empanada or a Kuchen "on the go". "Wow, Herr Siebald", I commented, "It's really beautiful here, the green trees, the hills -- it looks a lot like Germany." He grunted, unusually reticent. "So...when was the last time you visited Germany?" "Well, I haven't," he said. Herr Siebald explained that while he had been the commissioner of the German Museum in Frutillar, some dignitary from Germany paid a visit. During the course of his stay he befriended Siebald, and "invited" him to Germany. In Spanish, invitar means all expenses paid. That was 9 years ago, explained the Colonel, but he was still waiting to hear back. Talk about a bad German joke. The whole experience with Herr Siebald got me thinking about these weird Chileans who identify more with [insert name of European country here] than, it seems, their own Chile. Like owner of this bar down the street here in Santiago. "Where are you from?" I asked her. "England," she said in Spanish. "I mean, Chile. But my father is from England."
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