Hard to Understand

Yesterday, before basketball, Max asked me about my weekend. I told him that I had been in Lüneburg. At first, he couldn’t understand me.
“Where?” he asked.
“Lüneburg,” I said.
“Ah,” he said, “Lüneburg. Can you say it again?”
“Lüneburg,” I answered.
“Ha-ha, ‘Lüneburg,’” he said, mocking my pronunciation. “Try it again, ‘Lüneburg.’”
“Lüneburg,” I said.
“Right, that’s it,” he said. “That’s funny, ‘Lüneburg.’”

Then, later, after practice, I was in the locker room getting changed and I overheard just part of a conversation that Max and Uri were having.
“It was a lot of fun,” Max said.
I butted into their conversation. Jokingly,  I said, “What? The strip club?”
“Sorry?” Max said.
“What was fun?” I repeated. “The strip club?”
“Sorry?” Max started to smile. Uri cut in; he had understood me. “No, no," Uri said, "I think you are getting a little confused. That’s a different kind of fun.”
“Oh, strip club, you said,” said Max, “Strip club . . . OK.” Max laughed.
I was smiling and Uri was too. After a moment, I said, “No, but for real, what were you guys talking about?”
“Oh, we were talking about Elsass,” Max said.
“Ah, Alsace, nice.”
“It’s a place in France,” Max said.
“I know,” I said. “I’ve been there.”
“Oh, you have?” he said.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Yeah, we stayed in a ‘Mittelgebirge,’ a middle . . . I’m not sure how you call it in English.”
“We actually just call them ‘hills,’” I said.
“Oh really? OK. Yeah, so we were staying at this camping area in Elsass and we just hung out and played music, guitar and so forth.”
“Oh, the Vosges!" I said, referring to the mountain range in Alsace and other parts of eastern France. "You guy stayed in the Vosges. I know the Vosges.”
“Vosges,” Uri cut in, correcting my pronunciation. “The Vosges; that’s enough.”
I laughed. “Uh-oh, we better watch out with that English pronunciation of French!”