Polyglot Pathways

Recently I’ve seen questions on various Facebook groups about whether someone can be called a polyglot if they only speak certain languages, e.g. only Romance languages, or only languages from one region, e.g. Europe, or if they only can read and write the languages but cannot speak them.

As far as I’m concerned, a polyglot could be anyone who speaks, understands, reads, writes and/or signs serveral languages. It doesn’t matter how many languages or which languages they are.

There are many different paths to polyglothood, or polyglot pathways, as I like to call them. Each polyglot and potential polyglot has their own reasons for learning languages, and for choosing particular languages.

  • You could specialise in one language and its variant forms – dialects and accents; regional, social and historical versions; creoles based on it (if any); and the other languages that have contributed to it.
  • You could specialise in one language family, or one part of a language family.
  • You might prefer to learn languages from various language families and regions.
  • You might concentrate on languages with the most speakers, or ones spoken in the most countries.
  • Alternatively you might prefer smaller languages, or endangered, revived or ancient languages.

I’m currently concentrating on Germanic, Slavic and Romance languages, and to a lesser extent on Celtic languages.

What polyglot pathways are you exploring?

International Mother Language Day

International Mother Language Day Poster

As you might know, today is International Mother Language Day. The theme this year is “Linguistic diversity and multilingualism: keystones of sustainability and peace”.

To do my bit for multilinguism, I’m currently learning Swedish, Russian, Romanian and Slovak, and practising other languages, especially French and Welsh. So far today I’ve learnt a bit more Romanian and Russian, listened to some Welsh language radio, and read a bit of Swedish.

Tonight I studied some Swedish and Slovak, spoke English and Laala, read in English, Latin and Scots, and sang in English, Welsh, French, Zulu and Church Slavonic.

What languages have you spoken, read, heard, written, sung and/or studied today?

Pining for the fjords

An image of a dead mobile phone

Last week my phone stopped working when I was in the middle of a Russian lesson on Duolingo. It never objected to me learning Russian, or any other language, before, so I don’t know why it chose that moment to cease functioning. I took it to a phone repair shop, but unfortunately they couldn’t help, so I bought a new one.

I could say that old phone died, it gave up the ghost, it packed-up, it’s finished, it’s kaput, and has had it. Or to paraphrase Monty Python’s Dead Parrot scetch, it’s resting, it’s stunned, it’s probably pining for the fjords, it has ceased to be, it has expired, and it is an ex-phone.

The sketch was about a dead Norwegian blue parrot, hence the reference to the fjords. My ex-phone was made in Korea, so perhaps it’s pining for the mountains.

Do you have any other ways to say that something has stopped working?

Image from: www.modernmom.com

Rememberers

I discovered a new word today – rememberer – it means one who remembers, and in sociolinguitics it has a more specific meaning:

“One who remembers several words and phrases from a moribund language, but never became fluent in it.”

I came across this word on Wikipedia in an article about the Southern Pomo language, which states that “In 2012 there was one fluent speaker, from Dry Creek, one rememberer, and a handful of people who learned some vocabulary as children.”

Does anyone know that the current situation is for Southern Pomo?

The article mentions revival efforts, but I can’t find anything more recent about the state of the language.

Related words include rememberancer – a person who reminds someone, and reremember – to remember again. So someone who remembers again would be a rerememberer.

Sources: Wiktionary and Wikipedia

Playgrounds and yards

Schools in the UK usually have a bit of outside space where the pupils play during break times and at lunch time. This is known, at least in primary schools, as a playground. There are also playgrounds for children in some parks.

In American schools such spaces are known as schoolyards, and the students play in them during recess – is that right? Are other words used for playground?

In the UK you might have a garden at the back of your house, which is referred to as a garden or back garden, or if it’s paved, concreted or covered in decking, you may refer to it as a yard. I understand that in the USA a backyard is the area at the back of your house, whether it’s paved, grass or whatever. Is that right?

In French a school playground is a cour de récréation, and elsewhere it is a terrain de jeu or cour de jeu. A playground for the rich is a lieu de divertissement. Are other words used?

What about in other languages?

Different ways of knowing

In English you could say that you know a person, a place, a language or a fact. You could also talking about knowing about things, knowing of people, knowing how to do things, knowing hardship, knowing what’s what, knowing the ropes, and so on.

In Welsh to say you know a person or place you use adnabod or nabod. For exmple Dw i’n ei nabod nhw yn dda (I know them well), Wyt ti’n nabod Caerdydd? (Do you know Cardiff?).

When talking about knowing a fact you use gwybod. For example, Mae hi’n gwybod popeth (She knows everything), Dan ni’n gwybod tipyn bach am weu (We know a little about knitting).

In some cases you can use nabod and gwybod to show how well you know something. If you say Dw i’n nabod y gân ‘ma (I know this song), you mean that you are familiar with it, but can’t necessarily sing it. If you say Dw i’n gwybod y gân ‘ma it means you it well.

There are quite a few ways to say ‘I don’t know’ in Welsh: Dydw i ddim yn gwybod, Dw i ddim yn gwybod, Dwi’m gwybod, Sa i’n gwybod, Wn i ddim, ‘Dwn i ddim, and apparently in Bala they saw Wmbo.

To know how to do something is also medru, e.g. Mae o’n medru darllen (He can/knows how to read), and to not know how to do something is methu, e.g Dw i’n methu siarad Basceg eto (I can’t / don’t know how to speak Basque yet), at least in North Wales. In South Wales they say Mae e’n gallu darllen and Dw i ddim gallu siarad Basceg eto.

Irish equivalents of the above Welsh examples are:

– Tá aithne maith agam acu = I know them well
– An bhfuil tú eolach ar Chaerdydd? = Do you know Cardiff?
– Tá a fhios aici gach rud = She knows everything
– Tá beagán eolas againn faoi chniotáil = We know a little about knitting
– Tá a fhios agam an t-amhrán seo = I know (of) this song
– Tá an amhráin seo ar eolas agam = I know this song (well)
– Níl a fhios agam = I don’t know
– Is féidir leis léamh = He can read
– Níl Bascais agam go fóill / Níl mé abalta Bascais a labhairt go fóill / Ní féídir liom Bascais a labhairt go fóill = I don’t / can’t speak Basque yet

The other Celtic languages have various ways to express knowing, as do quite a few other languages, such as French, Spanish, German, etc.

Incidentally, when asked which languages you ‘know’? How do you answer? At what level would you say that you ‘know’ a language?

Sources: Geiriadur Yr Academi, WordReference.com, Reverso, fócloir.ie

Corrections are always welcome if I’ve made any mistakes.

Kiev, Kyiv or Kyjev?

I’ve received several emails from people telling me that the capital of Ukraine, Київ, should be written Kyiv in English, and not Kiev. So I thought I’d look into the history of the name.

Kiev, or Kyiv, is named after one of its legendary founders, Кий (Kyi). It was originally written Къıєвъ in Cyrillic. This was transliterated as Kyjev in the Latin alphabet.

On early maps of the region, Kiev was variously written Kiou, Kiow, Kiew, Kiovia or Kiiow. The name Kiev, based on the Russian pronounciation, started to be used while Kiev was part of the Russian Empire (from 1708), and was first used in print in English in 1804. It has also been written Kyyiv and Kyjiv.

According to the Ukrainian government’s rules for the transliteration of geographic names into English, Київ is translierated as Kyiv. This spelling has been used in all official English language documents in Ukraine since 1995, and has been adopted by the UN and other international organisations.

How is this name written in other languages?

Source: Wikipedia

Beards and chins

Illustration of a beard

One of the Romanian lessons I did today was about parts of the body. One word that came up was bărbie [bərˈbi.e], which I guessed meant beard, but actually means chin. I suppose beards usually grow on chins, so this isn’t too surprising.

Bărbie comes from the Vulgar Latin *barbilia, from the Latin barba (beard; wool; down on a plant). Or from the Romanian barbă (beard) +‎ -ie (a noun suffix) [source].

In Spanish chin is barbilla [barˈβiʎa] – barba (beard) with a diminutive suffix, so it could be translated as “little beard” [source].

The English word beard comes from the Middle English berd, bard, bærd, from the Old English beard, from Proto-Germanic *bardaz, from the Proto-Indo-European *bʰardʰeh₂, all of which mean beard. The PIE word *bʰardʰeh₂ is also the root of words for beard in Germanic, Slavic, Romance and Iranian languages [source], and in Welsh (barf) Cornish (barv) and Breton (barv) [source].

In the Gaelic / Goidelic languages however, the words for beard are different: féasóg in Irish, feusag in Scottish Gaelic, and faasaag in Manx. The come from the Old Irish fésóc, from fés (lip; body hair) [source].

Are words for beards and chins similar in other languages?

Greetings and salutations

Greetings and salutations

Dear Readers,

When writing an email or other message, or even a letter or postcard, how do you start it and sign off?

When replying to emails, I usually echo the greetings and sign offs used by my correspondents. If they start with “Dear Mr Ager” or “Dear Simon”, I will reply with something simliar, although I often just use “Hi [name] … “Regards”. If we have already exchanged emails, I might dispense with the greetings and the sign offs.

I have also been greeted in emails with “Dear Professor Ager” and “Dear Dr Ager” – I’m neither a professor nor a doctor, so these amuse me.

How about in other languages? Are there standard ways of starting and finishing emails? If not, what do you use?

There was an interesting discussion about this on the latest episode of the BCC Radio 4 programme Word of Mouth, which inspired this post.

That’s all for now.

May your hovercraft always be full of eels.

Simon

Bags, satchels and briefcases

In Romanian the word for a satchel, school bag or briefcase is ghiozdan [giˈozdan]. When I learnt this, I wondered where it might come from – it certainly doesn’t look Latin or Slavic.

Ghiozdan actually comes from the Turkish word cüzdăn (wallet, billfold, purse, pocket book).

A related word is servietă (briefcase), which comes from the French serviette (towel, napkin, serviette, briefcase).

There are in fact quite a few Romanian words borrowed from Turkish, including:

– bacșiș = tip, gratuity; baksheesh. From bahşiş (tip)
– basma = handkerchief. From the Turkish basma (printed cloth)
– degeaba = for nothing, for free; in vain. From the Turkish caba (effort)
– liliac = lilac; bat. From the Turkish leylak (lilac)
– murdar = dirty. From the Turkish murdar (uncleanly)

Sources: Wiktionary, Google Translate