Dog Weather

When it’s raining heavily and the weather is particularly unpleasant, it is known as hondenweer [ˈɦɔn.də(n)ˌʋeːr] (“dog weather”) in Dutch, as you would only go out in it if you had to walk your dog.

Walking in the Rain

This is a phrase I learnt last week from a Dutch friend. According to Wiktionary it means “particularly bad or rough weather, the kind of weather when it is raining cats and dogs”.

The equivalent in French is temps de chien [tɑ̃ də ʃjɛ̃] (“dog weather”), which refers to filthy, dreadful or awful weather [source].

If the weather is even worse, you might say that it’s weer om geen hond door te sturen (“weather through which not to send any dog”) [source]. There is an equivalent in English: I wouldn’t send a dog out in this.

Are there any interesting dog-related expressions in other languages?

Gaelic Song / Òrain Gàidhlig

My course at Sabhal Mòr Ostaig finished today, and I’ll be leaving tomorrow. I’ll stay at my Mum’s for a few days on the way home, and should be back in Bangor next Monday.

The course has been a lot of fun, and Joy Dunlop is a really good teacher. She’s strict about getting the pronunciation right, which is important, and uses interesting ways to describe the particular sounds of Scottish Gaelic. If we all knew phonetics and the IPA, it would be much easier.

We learnt 16 songs altogether in 5 days, which is plenty – in previous years here we’ve learnt over 30 songs in a week, which was maybe slightly too many. I like all the songs we did this time, and plan to continue singing at least some of them.

There were 16 of us in the class, although not everyone was there every day. I already knew some of the people from other courses I’ve done here, and it was nice to see them again, and to meet new people. Most were from Scotland, and other parts of the UK, plus two from Ireland, one from France and one from the Netherlands. We got on well together, and I think singing together is a great way to bond.

The class was taught mainly in English, with some bits of Scottish Gaelic now and then, and only a few of us speak much Gaelic. Outside the class I got to speak quite a bit of Gaelic with people who were studying and working here. I also spoke some French, Irish and Dutch.

Here are a few photos and videos from this year and previous years at Sabhal Mòr Ostaig:

Sabhal Mòr Ostaig

Slán abhaile

My week in Gleann Cholm Cille comes to an end today and I’m off to Limerick. I’ll stay there tonight, then travel back to Bangor tomorrow via train and boat.

Gleann Cholm Cille

It’s been a very enjoyable week. I learnt some new songs, met some interesting people and caught up with old friends, and got to practise various languages, especially Irish, French and Swedish.

The weather has been very variable, as it usually is here, with blue skies and sunshine one minute, and heavy rain the next.

Last night there was a great concert with John Spillane, a singer-song writer from Cork. He sang songs that most of us know, and we all joined in. He also told some very interesting and funny stories about the songs – he calls himself a song detective, or bleachtaire amhrán in Irish.

After that I went to a singing circle / ciorcal amhránaíochta in Carrick / An Charraig, the nearest town, with some friends.

On Thursday we were treated to an evening of sean-nós, which involved music, singing, dancing and story telling. The sean-nós class took part, as did the set dancing class, and it was great fun.

Oíche sean-nós evening

You can see more photos and videos from this year and previous years in Gleann Cholm Cille on Flickr.

I haven’t managed to do much work on Omniglot while I’ve been here, but normal service will be resumed next week.

By the way, Omniglot now lives on a new, faster and more powerful server, so hopefully there won’t be any more problems like there have been over the past few weeks.

In case you’re wondering about the title of this post, slán abhaile means “safe home” in Irish. It’s what you say to people who are leaving a place.

Gleann Cholm Cille

I arrived safely in Glencolmbcille (Gleann Cholm Cille) on Saturday night. As we went further west the skies got darker, and when we arrived in Donegal the heavens opened, and it rained almost non-stop until this morning. I don’t come here for the fine weather, but this was a bit extreme, even for this part of the world. Today the sky cleared for a while, and the sun even put in a welcome appearance.

Irish language classes started yesterday afternoon, and the cultural workshops started this afternoon. I’m doing the sean-nós singing, as usual, and am enjoying it, and the Irish classes very much.

There are plenty of people here who I know from previous visits, and quite a few new faces as well. So far I spoken a lot of Irish, and bits of French, Breton, Swedish, German and Czech – people come here from all over the world, so it’s a great place to practise languages.

Last night we were treated to some excellent music and poetry from Bríd Harper and Diarmuid Johnson. Here they are playing some Welsh tunes. Tonight there is some more poetry, this time from Áine Ni Ghlinn.

Scrupulous Scruples

Scruple

A scruple can be a doubt, hesitation or unwillingness to do something due to uncertainity about what is right, or to show reluctance on grounds of conscience [source].

When scruple first appeared in English in the 14th century [source], it referred to a unit equal to ¹/₂₄ of an apothecaries ounce, ⅟288 of a pound, twenty grains, one third of a dram or 1.3 grams. As a liquid measure it was ¹/₂₄ of a fluid ounce, ⅓ of a fluid dram, 20 minims, ¼ of a teaspoon, or 1.23mm [source]. It could also refer to a minute part or quantity of something.

The symbol for a scruple is ℈ (see top right), which was used by alchemists and apothecaries. Related symbols include ℥ = apothecary ounce and ℨ = dram or drachm [source]. More alchemical symbols.

By the 15th century a scruple was “an ethical consideration or principle that inhibits action” or a “mental reservation” [source]

Scruple comes from the Old French scruple (scruple, compunction, qualm), from the Latin scrūpulus (a small sharp or pointed stone; ¹/₂₄ of an ounce; uneasiness of mind, anxiety, doubt, trouble; scruple), a diminutive of scrūpus (a rough or sharp stone; anxiety, uneasiness).

Out of a clear blue left field

When something comes out of left field, it is comes from an unexpected place or direction, or is surprising or unexpected, and something that is left field is uncommon, unpopular or strange [source].

This phrase comes from baseball and refers to the left side of a baseball field, although why something coming from this part of the field is unexpected or surprising is uncertain, according to Know Your Phrase.

More about the possible origins of this phrase.

Lightening out of a blue sky

Another way to say that something is unexpected is that it came out of the blue, which apparently comes from the phrase a bolt out of / from the blue. This refers to the unlikelyhood of lightening coming out of a clear blue sky (another version of the idiom).

A bolt out of the blue was first used in writing in The Standard in 1863, and out of the blue first appeared in The Spectator in 1879 [source].

In French an equivalent of like a bolt out of the blue is comme un cheveu sur la soupe (like a hair on the soup) [source], although I don’t know why. A hair in your soup is more likely than lightening from a clear blue sky, I would think.

Are there interesting equivalents of these phrases in other languages?

Winning One’s Steak

An interesting French expression I learnt last night was gagner son bifteck, which means literally “to win/earn one’s steak”, and is the equivalent of “to bring home the bacon” [source].

The French word bifteck [bif.tɛk] comes from the English beefsteak, and means steak.

Related expressions in French include:

  • gagner sa vie = to earn one’s living
  • gagner de quoi vivre = to earn one’s keep
  • gagner sa croûte = to earn one’s crust
  • gagner une misère = to earn a pittance

Similar phrases in English include:

  • to keep the wolf from the door
  • to put food on the table
  • to keep clothes on your back
  • to keep a roof over your head

Do you know any others?

In Welsh equivalent expressions include:

  • ennill eich tamaid = to earn one’s living (“to achieve/win/earn one’s bite”)
  • ennill eich bara (menyn) = to earn one’s bread (and butter)

What about in other languages?

By the way, if you’ve been unable to access this blog, or other parts of Omniglot recently, this is because of my inept attempts to make it secure with SSL, etc. Fortunately the good people at Kualo, where this site is hosted, were able to sort things out quickly, and normal service has now been resumed, hopefully.

If you’re looking for somewhere to host your website, I would definitely recommend Kualo. Their service and technical support are excellent, and their prices are reasonable. They also use renewable energy as much as possible.

Polyglot Cruise

Costa Pacifica

On 18th April 2020 the good ship Costa Pacifica will set sail from Barcelona with 100 polyglots on board. They will be taking part in the first Polyglot Cruise, which is organized by Kris Broholm of the Actual Fluency Podcast.

The cruise is open to anybody interested in languages, whether you consider yourself a polyglot or not. During the week-long event there will be presentations, discussions and workshops every day, and plenty of time to enjoy the ameneties of the ship, and to explore the places it visits, including Palma (Mallorca), La Valetta (Malta), Catania and Genoa (Italy).

For a shared cabin it costs US$897 (about €788 / £704) for the week, which includes participation in the polyglot activities, accommodation, meals, entertainment, and use of other facilities on the ship. It’s more if you want a single cabin, or a travelling as a couple or family.

This may sound like a lot, but I think it’s worth it, and I signed up yesterday. I’ll giving a short presentation on the old Mediterranean Lingua Franca (Sabir), a pidgin that was used by sailors and others around the Mediterranean from about the 11th century to the 19th century. It was based particuarly on Venetian, Genoese, Catalan and Occitan, and also contained words from French, Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, Greek, Turkish, Arabic and Berber.

If you book within the next 5 days, you can enjoy early bird prices, and if you use the offer code OMNIGLOT, you can get a further US$50 discount.

More details of the cruise.

If this doesn’t appeal, maybe you’ll be interested in other polyglot events.

Note: as an affiliate, I will get a small commission if you register via a link in this post, or on my events page.

Spread

Imagine you’re driving through the English countryside and you get a bit lost. You might spread out a map to find out where you are, and when you reach your destination, you might decide to have a picnic, or a nice spread (meal).

After spreading out a rug, or even a bedspread, on the ground to sit on, you spread your legs a bit, then start spreading butter, cheese spread and other things on bread to make sandwiches.

After your picnic, maybe you and your companions spread out to explore the area. As you do so, you notice a farmer spreading muck on a nearby field, and another spreading seeds. You think they are growing genetically modified crops, and start spreading rumours about this. Before you know it the rumours turn into a double-page spread in the local newspaper, and you end up spreading fear and confusion.

The word spead can obviously be used in a variety of contexts and has various meanings. In French, however, there is a different word for most of these meanings:

  • étendre = to spread / open out (a towel, cloth, map)
  • écarter = to spread / strech out (arms, hands, legs)
  • étaler = to spread (butter, jam)
  • répandre = to spread (rumour, lies, fear, confusion, fertilizer)
  • propager = to spread (disease, infection)
  • disséminer = to spread (pollen, seeds)
  • échelonner = to spread (repayments)
  • répartir = to spread (wealth, workload)
  • se disperser = to spread out
  • le fromage à tartiner = cheese spread
  • le chocolat à tartiner = chocolate spread
  • une double page = a double-page spread
  • un repas = a spread (meal)
  • le couvre-lit = bedspread

Source: Reverso

Time is pouring

This week I learnt the Russian expression до сих пор ― (do sikh por), which means still, hitherto, up to now, thus far, or literally “until this time”.

The пор comes from пора (pora – time, season, weather, period), which appears in such phrases as:

  • пора́ идти́ (pora idti) = it’s time to go
  • в са́мую по́ру (v samuju poru) = in the nick of time
  • до каки́х пор? (do kakikh por?) = how long?
  • с каки́х пор? (s kakikh por?) = since when?
  • до тех пор, пока́ (do tekh por, poka) = so long as
  • с тех пор, как (s tekh por, kak) = ever since
  • на пе́рвых пора́х (na pervykh porakh) = at first

Source: Wiktionary

It’s interesting that пора means both time and weather – some other languages also have one word for both: temps in French, amzer in Breton, aimsir in Irish. Do you know of others?