Der Geist is a ghost. Der Fahrer is a driver. Put them together, and you have a terrible phenomenon but the perfect word to describe it. Der Geisterfahrer drives the wrong way on a divided highway, usually at excessive speeds. In Austria, which has collected such statistics, eighty percent of these drivers are male, and the majority are drunk. In any case, der Geisterfahrer appears as a pair of bright white ghostly headlights where no headlights should be. And since the trip of a Geisterfahrer is likely to end in death, it seems appropriate to speak of him as if he’s a ghost already.

Noch means something like more, but in an adverbial way, as in the expression children hear from their Omas: “Iss noch!“–“Eat something else!” Wieder means again, as in the expression everybody knows even if they don’t know its exact meaning: “Auf Wiedersehen!” — “Until the next meeting, until we see each other again!” And immer means a whole lot of adverbial things like ever or always. Now let’s put them together.

If you continue in the same state, you use immer noch, and it means things are still like they were before. I’m reminded of a reproachful comment from a neighbor who walked by my house at midday and found the shutters down: “Immer noch zu!” — “Still closed!” (This implied that I was still sleeping, or at least a careless housewife.)

But what if the state you’re continuing isn’t constant? What if it’s something that repeats, so that there’s action–rest–action–rest? Then you use immer wieder, and it means that you continue to repeat something–you do it again and again. “So hab’ ich immer wieder gesagt,” grumbled an old man to his wife as he walked past me yesterday. “That’s what I’ve said again and again!”

Last night on Tatort, Inspector Borowski of Kiel had his hands full when eine Leiche showed up in a septic system. Then, not five minutes later, up popped another one, and before the show was over, Inspector Borowski himself had almost become eine Leiche as well. Die Leiche is a corpse or cadaver of a human or an animal. Unlike the picturesque English, Germans do not keep their skeletons in the closet, a charming Halloween expression that wouldn’t work at all well in reality. No, the Germans have eine Leiche im Keller–a corpse in the cellar. That’s a much more practical place to stash a body.

If die Jagd is a hunt, then die Schnitzeljagd is a hunt for schnitzels, right? This makes perfect sense to me–I’m on a hunt for the best Rahmschnitzel (schnitzel in cream sauce) money can buy. But no, that’s not quite what a Schnitzeljagd is. It’s actually a hunt for Schnitzel (snips) or Schnipsel (scraps) of paper. In other words, die Schnitzeljagd is a scavenger hunt.

The other night, my husband almost ran over an Igel who was out foraging at night. Yesterday, completely by coincidence, my daughter bought an Igel as a pet. What is this mysterious little animal? Here’s a hint: just about every European schoolchild has played with one, but most American schoolchildren haven’t even seen one in a zoo. Der Igel is a hedgehog, a cute nocturnal garden visitor who eats bugs and worms. When frightened, it may roll into a ball and try to protect itself with its spikes. From this, the Germans get another word: sich einigeln, which means to retreat, hide away, or take up a defensive posture–like der Igel, the hedgehog.