Phrasemes

From a new article that I added to Omniglot today – How to Avoid Phraseme Goofs in Other Languages, I learnt a new word, phraseme. I hadn’t encountered before, so I thought I’d find out more about it.

According to Wiktionary, a phraseme is:

An utterance, consisting of multiple words or morphemes, at least one of whose components is selectionally constrained or restricted by linguistic convention such that it is not freely chosen.

One type of phraseme is idioms, such as to hit the sack (to go to sleep), under the weather (sick, unwell). Idioms are also known as non-compositional phrasemes, as their meanings cannot be determined from the meanings of their component words.

Another example is the compositional phraseme, which consists of words that normally appear together, such as heavy rain, strong wind and bright sun (you wouldn’t usually say heavy wind).

More information about phrasemes

Toe cozy

My new ToeCozy

How do you find something if you don’t know what it’s called or even if it exists?

This is the problem that faced me yesterday when I started looking for something to cover the toes of my left foot that stick out of my plaster cast. I was using a sock, but it didn’t fit very well, and kept on slipping off, so I thought I’d try to find a better alternative.

I went on Amazon (other online retailers are available), and searched for cover for plaster cast, or something similar, I soon found what I was looking for – the toe cozy or ToeCozy. Like a tea cozy, but it fits on your toes rather than on your teapot.

I think it’s a brand name rather than a generic name. Is there a generic name for such things? Maybe toe cover.

When you’re learning a foreign language you often faced a similar situation, especially when you start, as you have only limited vocabulary. You just have to use the words you do know to describe things you don’t have words for. Or maybe you have other ways to get round this.

London’s Euston

Last week when I was waiting on Bangor station for the train to London, I heard announcements that referred to the London station that trains from Bangor go to as “London’s Euston“, rather than the usual London Euston or just Euston. I hadn’t heard it referred to in that way before so noticed it and thought it strange.

Euston station was built on land owned by the Dukes of Grafton, and named after Euston Hall his ancestral home in Suffolk, near the village of Euston, a name first recorded in Domesday Book, and possibly of Anglo-Saxon origin, maybe from “Efe’s Tun” (Efe’s farmstead).

There are a number of mainline railway stations in London that serve different parts of the country. As well as Euston, which serves northwest England and north Wales, there’s Victoria (for south and southeast of England, and an English queen); Paddington (for the southwest of England and south Wales, and for small Peruvian bears); Waterloo (for south and southwest England, and an ABBA song), and so on.

Details of how the major railway stations in London got their names.

Up North

The view from the window nearest me in Lancaster Royal Infirmary

After being discharged from St Mary’s Hospital yesterday, I took a taxi to Euston, with a Somali driver. I managed to get myself to the ticket hall and bought a ticket. Then asked for assistance to get to the train – I can’t put any weight on my broken ankle at the moment so have to hop everywhere with the crutches, which is tiring and tricky, especially up and down steps. Fortunately there was a train in the station and I only had to wait about 5 minutes before it left.

It was a direct train and took about three hours to get to Lancaster. I just sat, looked out of the window, dozed off a bit, and eavesdropped on the conversations around me. There was a family in front of me who were speaking in a mixture of English and maybe a language from India – I don’t know which one. Behind me were a Russian-sounding mother and son who spoke mainly in English, but the mother occasionally slipped into Russian.

My mum met me at Lancaster station and took me to the local hospital – Lancaster Royal Infirmary, which is just down the road from where I went to school. We waited for quite a while, saw various doctors and nurses, I had some more x-rays, then they decided to admit me rather than letting me go home and come back in a few days. We waited some more while they found me a bed.

This morning they told me that they won’t be able to operate on my ankle until tomorrow, so I’ve been taking it easy, doing a bit of work, listening to podcasts and snoozing. My mum came to visit this afternoon and brought me some grapes, awfully clichéd I know, but nice and tasty.

This hospital is a lot less multilingual than St Mary’s in London. So far the only language I’ve heard here is English, mainly with a Lancashire accent. I’ve found myself speaking with a bit of Lancashire accent as well. Even though I grew up in this area, I never had much of a local accent. However it sounds familiar and pleasant to my ears, and comes easily to my tongue.

Multilingual hospital

The staff and patients in the hospital are from many different places and speak a variety of languages.

Yesterday I overheard a consultation involving a man from Afghanistan who spoke no English, so his relatives were interpreting. I couldn’t tell if he was speaking Dari or Pashto or another language, as I’m not familiar with languages from that region.

When I was chatting with the ambulance crew, who were all from Australia, and mentioned that I speak a variety of languages, one of them joked that she barely speaks English. This seems to be quite a common reaction when monolinguals encouter polyglots.

One of the doctors I saw yesterday told me that they often need interpreters in the hospital and frequently use phone-based ones. The languages most in demand at the moment are Arabic and Farsi.

I’m going home in a little while, which will be an adventure and challenge, and will get my ankle fixed properly tomorrow in Ysbyty Gwynedd in Bangor, hopefully.

Change of plan – I will have the operation in Lancaster, then stay with my Mum, who lives nearby, while recovering.

Homeward bound

Yesterday I had a good time in London with a Russian-speaking friend. We talked mainly in English with a sprinkling of Russian from time to time. In the morning we went to the Design Museum and saw a special exhibition about Moscow, which was interesting. Then had a wander around Holland Park, which is beautiful, especially at this time of year when lots of trees are in blossom (see below).

A photo of the Kyoto Garden (京都庭園) Holland Park in London

After lunch in Hammersmith we played mini golf in Acton Park, which was great fun. Neither of us were very good, but I did manage to get one hole in one. In the evening we went tango dancing, then watched a Russian film – an interesting re-telling of the Beauty and the Beast story called Аленький цветочек (The Scarlet Flower). There were no subtitles, and my Russian isn’t yet good enough to understand much, so my friend translated for me. The Russian they use in the film is old-fashioned, and they speak in a very dramatic, almost operatic way, so it’s not easy to understand.

Сегодня я еду домой or I’m going home today (“Today I go/travel homeward”). The word домой [dɐˈmoj] is one I learnt and used quite a bit yesterday. It means home, homeward or to the house, and related words/forms include:

дом [dom] = house, home, family, household
дома [ˈdomə] = at home (genetive singular)
домашний [dɐˈmaʂnʲɪj] = home, household, house; private; domestic, family; home-made, homespun
домовой [dəmɐˈvoj] = house; a house spirit or sprite
домосед [dəmɐˈsʲet] = stay-at-home, homebody

Source: Wiktionary

Languages of London

Last night I went to the first Languages of London meetup – it’s the same group I’ve been going to for a few months (the Polyglot Pub), but with a new name and venue, and more participants.

Some happy polyglots at the Languages of London meet-up in the Wellcome Collection café

The meetup was supposed to take place in the Institute of Education in UCL, which is a good location in central London near Russell Square and Euston. Unfortunately they were closed for the Easter holidays, even though they had confirmed in advance that the venue would be available. So we had to find somewhere else in a hurry. Fortunately we found a good alternative in the café in the nearby Wellcome Collection.

There were more people there last night than have been at any of the Polyglot Pub meetups I’ve been to, from various countries. We chatted about languages, and other things, in a variety of languages, and generally had a good time. I had conversations in English, Welsh, French and Japanese, and spoke odd bits of Spanish and Portuguese. There were also conversations in Mandarin, Arabic, Russian, Thai and a few other languages.

These meetups happen once a month and if you’re in London for the next one. Do come along. They’re for anybody who is learning a language or two, who speaks a few languages, and/or is interested in languages.

Tuning into languages

Yesterday I did an interview on Skype with a student of linguistics in Germany who is writing a thesis about acquiring native-like pronunciation in foreign languages. I talked about the methods I used to try to do this – listening, mimicing, learning about the phonology of a language, recording my voice and comparing to native speakers, and so on.

While we were chatting, it occured to me that speaking a foreign language is somewhat like playing a musical instrument, or to singing in tune with others. It particularly resembles playing an instrument like a violin or a trombone, which require you to constantly monitor whether the notes you’re playing are in tune with each other, and with other instruments, if you’re playing in an orchestra or other group, and to make adjustments as necessary.

Your voice is your instrument, and learning to pronounce a foreign language is like tuning your instrument. It’s not something you can do once then forget – to acquire native-like pronunciation you need to do a lot of listening and make lots of little adjustments to your pronunciation. It also helps if you understand how the sounds are produced, especially ones that don’t occur in your mother tongue – studying phonetics and phonology can help.

Even if you know nothing about music, you can probably hear when an instrument or voice is very out of tune. It just sounds wrong and clashes with the other instruments / voices. Similarly if your pronunciation of a foreign language is very different from native speakers, i.e. you have a strong accent, it will sound odd to them, and they may have trouble understanding you. The closer you can get to native-like pronunciation, the easier it will be to communicate.

Do you aim for native-like pronunciation in languages you’re learning?

How to go about this?

Just simply

A useful Russian word I learnt this week is просто [ˈprɔstə], which means easily, simply or just.

Here are some examples of how it is used:

– Нам просто надо выезжать немного раньше обычного.
= We just have to leave, you know, a little earlier than usual.

– я зашёл просто повидаться = I just popped in to see you

– Уж слишком просто запихать матрас сзади.
= It’s way too easy to fit a mattress in the back.

– всё это просто недоразумение = all this is simply a misunderstanding

– Мы просто собираемся выпить = We’re just going in for a drink

– Мне просто не хочется притворяться кем-то другим.
= I just wish I didn’t have to pretend like I was someone else.

– Мне просто нужно включить свои мозги.
= I just need a minute to get my head in gear.

Just, a very useful little word, can also be translated as только [ˈtɔlʲkə], for example:

– Только все это так сложно = It’s just all so complicated
– Они только что забрали их = They just took them
– Он только что ушёл = He’s just left
– Только не сейчас = Not just now

In other contexts there are other ways to translate just:

– Как я и ожидал = Just as I expected
– Это как раз то, что надо = It’s just right
– Ровно два часа = Just two o’clock
– Я уже собрался позвонить = I was just about to phone
– Она столь же умна, как и ты = She’s just as clever as you
– Как раз когда он собрался уходить = Just as he was leaving
– Перед самым Рождеством = just before Christmas

Sources: Reverso and Reverso Context

Abounding in fish

The Mill Pond and River Dart

I spent the weekend in Devon with my brother and his family. It was my nephew’s first birthday yesterday and I was there mainly to celebrate that. My journey, a long and meadering one, took me through some places with interesting names, such as Exeter, Teignmouth, Dawlish and Paignton.

As well as admiring the scenery, I started wondering about the origins of these names, and in the case of Teignmouth, how to pronounce it.

Exeter comes from the Old English Escanceaster, and is named after the River Exe, with the Old English suffix -ceaster (fortres, fortified town). So the name means “fortress on the Exe”. The Welsh name for the city, Caerwysg, means the same thing.

The River Exe gets it’s name from the Latin isca, which is what the Romans called the fort they built where Exeter is now, in 55AD. They later called it Isca Dumnoniorum (Watertown of the Dumnonii), to distinguish it from Isca (Augusta) or Caerleon in South Wales.

The Latin name isca is a modified form of a Brittonic root meaning “water” or “abounding in fish”. Other river names from the same root include Esk, Axe and Usk. I think the root referred to is the Proto-Celtic *udenskyos (water), from the Proto-Indo-European *wódr̥ (water) [source].

The Proto-Indo-European *wódr̥ is also the root of words for water in Germanic, Slavic, Baltic, and Goidelic Celitic languages. It is the root of words for wave in the Romance languages (onda, unda, onde, etc), and of an obsolete English word for wave, und, from the Middle English unde (a wave), via the Old French unde (wave).

Teignmouth is pronounced [tɪnməθ] and comes from the Old English Tengemuða (mouth of the stream) [source].

Dawlish, according to Wikipedia, comes from a Welsh river name meaning ‘black stream’. In Roman times it was known as Dolfisc (dark river or the devil’s water). According to dawlish.com, Dawlish was originally spelt Deawlisc, a Celtic (Brythonic) word meaning ‘Devil Water’, or from a word meaning “black stream”, which is cognate with Welsh du (g)lais (black stream).

Paignton [ˈpeɪntən] comes from an Anglo-Saxon name meaning Paega’s town.

In case you’re wondering, the photo is of the mill pond and River Dart in Stoke Gabriel, where my brother lives. Stoke comes from the Old English word stoc (place), which also has two two specialised meanings: (1) a religious place and (2) a secondary settlement [source], and Gabriel is a saint/angel associated with the area. The Dart apparently gets its name from a Brythonic Celtic word meaning ‘river where oak trees grow’ [source]. If you click on the photo you can see a larger version, and some of my other photos from Stoke Gabriel.