Gloopy!

An interesting Russian word I learnt this week is глупый (glupyj) [ˈɡlupɨj], which means silly, stupid, foolish or inane, but sounds like one of the seven dwarfs.

The Russian name for the dwarf dopey is actually Простак (Prostak), which means simpleton.

Глупый comes from the Proto-Slavic *glupъ (stupid, foolish), which possibly comes from a Germanic source. Cognates in Germanic languages include glópr (idiot) in Old Norse, and glópur (fool, idiot) in Icelandic.

Cognates in Slavic languages include:

– Bulgarian глупав (glupav) = stupid, silly, foolish, fool, unwise, sappy
– Croatian glup = stupid, dumb, silly, dull, brainless, dense
– Serbian глуп = stupid, dumb, silly, dull, dense, obtuse
– Slovene glúp = dumb, stupid, moronic
– Slovak hlúpy = stupid, silly, foolish
– Czech hloupý = stupid, silly, foolish

A related word in Russian is тупой (typoj) [tʊˈpoj], which means ‘dull, blunt; obtuse; dull, stupid’. It comes from the Old East Slavic тупъ (tupŭ), from Proto-Slavic *tǫpъ, and sounds like the Welsh word twp [tʊp], which means stupid. Is there any connection?

The word stupid comes from the Middle French stupide (stupid), from the Latin stupidus (struck senseless, amazed), from stupeō (to be amazed or confounded, to be struck senseless), from the Proto-Indo-European *(s)tup- / *(s)tewp- (to wonder), from *(s)tu- (to stand, stay).

I thought I’d made up the word gloopy, but it does exist, and means ‘Having a glutinous, sloppy consistency’.

The Friday of Stupid Spending

Today is apparently Black Friday, a custom that originates in the USA and which has been adopted in the UK. It falls the day after Thanksgiving, which hasn’t been adopted in the UK, and many shops and online retailers offer special deals at this time.

I don’t have any deals for you, as I don’t sell anything, but what I can offer you is the Welsh term for Black Friday – Dydd Gwener y Gwario Gwirion, or “the Friday of Stupid Spending”, which seems to sum it up nicely. Mwy o wybodaeth.

November is also known to some as Movember, the month when some men grow moustaches and rise money for charities related to men’s health. The word was first used in Adelaide in Australia back in 1999, when a group of blokes grew moustaches during November and raised money for an animal charity. Another group of men did something similar in Melbourne in 2004, and later set up the Movember Foundation charity.

The Welsh version of Movember is Tashwedd, which combines mwstash (moustache) and Tachwedd (November).

Moustache comes from the French moustache from the Italian mostaccio, from Ancient Greek μουστάκιον (moustákion), a diminutive of the Ancient Greek μύσταξ (mústax – upper lip), from the Proto-Indo-European *mendʰ- (to chew).

There was another word for moustache in English: kemp, from the Old English cenep (moustache), from Proto-Germanic *kanipaz (mustache, beard), from the Proto-Indo-European *ǵenu- (jaw) [source].

Diolch i Meinir a Josef am y geiriau

Les mots de la semaine

français English Cymraeg
indépendant; travail à son propre compte self-employed hunangyflogedig
le glissement de terrain landslide tirlithriad, tirgwymp, cwymp
obtenir un raz-de-marée en sa faveur to win by a landslide ennill yn ysgubol
risqué dodgy (risky, dangerous) amheus, perig, peryglus, pethma
nourrir à la cuillère;
mâcher le travail à qqn
to spoonfeed rhoi bwyd llwy; bwydo â llaw
l’abat-jour (m) lampshade lamplen, cysgodlen, mantell
l’abat-vent lean-to; windbreak; chimney cap; cowl cysgod rhag gwynt, atalfa wynt
parer à toute éventualité to be ready for every eventuality barod am bopeth
porte coupe-feu; porte pare-feu fire door drws tân
détrempé soggy (ground) corslyd, dyfrllyd, soeglyd
trempé soggy (clothes) corslyd, dyfrllyd, soeglyd
mou soggy (food) soeg, soeglyd, toeslyd
mouillé jusqu’aux os soaked to the skin gwlyb diferol, gwlyb at y croen

Funambulists

I discovered an interesting word the other day funambulist [fjuːˈnæmbjʊlɪst], which is someone who funambulates, or performs funambulism on a tightrope or slack rope. Or in other words, a tightrope walker.

Slacklining in the park

It comes from the Latin fūnambulus (tightrope walker), from funis (rope) and ambulare (walk), either directly, or via the French funambule (tightrope walker).

Other words from the same ambulatory root include:

– to amble = an unhurried leisurely walk or stroll; an easy gait
– to ambulate = to walk
– ambulant = able to walk; walking, strolling
– ambulation = walking around
– ambulator = a walker, one who walks
– ambulophobia = a morbid fear of walking
– ambulomancy = a form of divination involving walking, usually in circles
– noctambulo = a noctambulist; a sleepwalker
– somnambulism = sleepwalking
– perambulate = to walk through; to inspect (an area) on foot
– ambulance

In French a tightrope is une corde raide, to walk a tightrope is marcher sur la corde raide, and a tightrope walker or funambulist is funambule, danseur de corde, équilibriste or fil-de-fériste.

Are there interesting words for tightrope walking in any other languages?

Have any of you ever tried tightrope, slack rope of slackline walking?

Sources: Wiktionary, Reverso Dictionary, The Free Dictionary

Parasols, umbrellas and gobos

A parasol

At the French conversation group last night, one of the words that came up was parasol, which is used in English and French to refer to a small umbrella used as protection from the sun.

Parasol comes from the Italian parasole (parasol, sunshade), from para- (to shield) and sole (sun) [source].

Related words include:

– parapluie = umbrella
– para-soleil = sun visor, sunshade
– pare-son = gobo – a device placed around a microphone to shield undesirable sounds

The French word parer (to ward off; to protect; to adorn; to parry) seems to be related as well.

The word gobo is one I haven’t come across before. It is defined by Wiktionary as:

“a disc placed between a light and the illuminated object or actor in order to diffuse the glare; a template inserted over a light source in order to control the shape of the thrown light; a device used to shield a microphone from extraneous sounds.”

Gobo may be an abbreviation of go between, goes before optics,or graphical optical black out [source].

Other names for devices attached to microphones to shield unwanted sounds include pop filter, condenser windscreen, windscreen pop filter, windjammer, microphone cover, microphone wind shield, microphone windscreen muff, and acoustic screen [source]. Some may be brand names.

Have you heard of gobos? Do you have other names for them?

Troupers and Troopers

One of the songs we sang last night in the ukulele group was Abba’s Super Trouper. One member of the group wondered whether trouper was spelled correctly, thinking that it should be trooper.

We discovered that they are in fact two different words:

Trouper = a member of a theatrical company (a troupe); a veteran performer; a reliable, hard-working and unselfish performer [Source].

Trooper = a soldier of private rank; a cavalry horse; charger; one who endures adversity or hardship with an attitude of stoicism and persistence [Source].

Both words come from the French word troupe (troop), from the Old French trope (band, company, troop), from the Frankish *thorp (assembly, gathering), from Proto-Germanic *þurpą (village, land, estate), from the Proto-Germanic *treb- (dwelling, settlement) [source].

However, the word trouper in the song has nothing to do with the above words – “Super Trouper” actually refers to spotlights used in stadium concerts [source]. So now the first line, “Super Trouper beams are gonna blind me”, makes sense.

This is a version of Super Trouper in Swedish:

Heim aftur / Home again

The Polyglot Conference is over now for another year, and I arrived back to Bangor yesterday. Although the conference only lasted two days, a lot was packed into that time.

On the Friday I went on a Golden Circle tour with two coach loads of other polyglots. Unfortunately it was a wet, cloudy and cold day, so the views were not great, but the landscape we could see was rather fine.

The first stop was Þingvellir (Thingvellir), a World Heritage Site where the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates meet. It is also where the Iceland parliament (Alþingi) met from AD 930 until 1798.

Þingvellir / Thingvellir

Next we went to Geysir, and area of volcanic activity with a number of sprouting hot springs, including the famous Great Geysir, which is currently inactive, and Stokkur, which erupts every few minutes (see photo below). We also had lunch here – there are a number of eating places and souvenir shops in the complex near the hot springs. I was expecting the whole place to stink of sulphur, but it didn’t really.

Þingvellir / Thingvellir

Our final stop was Gullfoss (“Golden Falls”), waterfalls in the canyon of Ölfusá river. They were spectacular, and well worth seeing.

Gullfoss

In the evening, after we arrived back in Reykajvik, I went for dinner at an Indian restaurant with a few other polyglots.

The conference started on Saturday morning with interesting speeches by Dr Sebastian Drude, the director of the Vigdís International Centre for Multilingualism and Intercultural Understanding, and Vigdís Finnbogadóttir, the former President of Iceland and UNESCO Goodwill Ambassador for languages.

Vigdís Finnbogadóttir opening the 2017 Polyglot Conference in Reykjavik

Then there were talks on a variety of topics, with themes including Icelandic language and culture, bilingualism and autism, and maintaining ‘small’ languages. Some of the speakers were lecturers or researchers in universities, others were language enthusiasts. The talks I found most interesting were the one by Daniel Tammet and Sigriður Kristinsdóttir about how he learnt Icelandic in a week with her help; one about bilingualism and autism, one about the cognitive effects of language learning, and one about Mongolian.

The 2017 Polyglot Conference in Reykjavik

There was plenty of time between the talks and at lunch to catch up with old friends, meet new ones and practise languages. During my time in Iceland, I had conversations in English, Welsh, French, German, Spanish, Italian, Russian, Mandarin, Japanese and Irish, and spoke bits of Czech, Scottish Gaelic, Breton, Manx, Swedish and Icelandic.

Lunch was provided – small sandwiches and wraps, though didn’t appeal to me, so I bought something else in a supermarket.

A panel discussuion at the 2017 Polyglot Conference in Reykjavik

There weren’t any organised activities in the evenings, as there are at the Polyglot Gatherings. Instead babbles of polyglots went off to do their own thing. I went for dinner with some polyglot friends and had very interesting discussions about all sorts of things, not all of which were related to languages – we do have other interests.

The annoucement of where the Polyglot Conference will be in 2018

The next Polyglot Conference will be in Ljubljana in Slovenia from 5-7 October 2018 (as you might have guessed from this photo). So next year I will learn some Slovenian before the conference in Ljubljana, and some Slovak before the Polyglot Gathering in Bratislava in Slovakia.

On Monday I did some work on Omniglot in the morning, explored Reykjavik a bit, had lunch in a restaurant in the old harbour area of Reykjavik, did some more work, then explored a bit more with the two Russian teachers who were staying in the same place as me.

Iceland is a very expensive place, which I expected. Meals in restaurants cost at least twice as much as in the UK, as do most other things. It wasn’t as cold as I expected – about 7-10°C during the day and 2-5°C at night. All the locals I met speak very good English, but if you speak Icelandic, they’re happy to speak it with you. There are apparently quite a few people who have moved to Iceland recently for work, most don’t speak Icelandic. On a clear, dry day, the scenery is spectacular. Even on grey, wet days, it’s still impressive and dramatic.

There are some more photos on Flickr:

Iceland / Ísland

Café Lingua – lifandi tungumál

Yesterday evening I went to Café Lingua – lifandi tungumál at the University of Iceland / Háskóli Íslands. It’s a regular meet-up for language enthusiasts, and last night there were a lot of extra people there who are in Reykjavik for the Polyglot Conference. It was great to see lots of familiar faces, and to meet new people.

I had conversations in English, Welsh, Irish and Mandarin, and spoke odd bits of Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Cantonese, Swedish, Icelandic, Czech, Russian, Finnish and French. Other languages were available.

Today I’m going on a Golden Circle tour with other Polyglot Conference participants.

Ounces, drams and pennyweights

Weighing scales

How many drams are there in an ounce?

If you are familiar with the British Imperial System of measurement, you might know that there are 16 drams (dr) to an ounce (oz), and 16oz to a pound (lb).

There is an even smaller unit, the grain: there are 27.344 grains to a dram, 437.5 to an ounce, and 7,000 to a pound.

I knew about pounds and ounces, but hadn’t come across drams before, except as a Scottish word for a measure of whisky. Grains are also new to me as a unit of measurement.

When talking about weight, particularly people’s weight, using the imperial system, the stone is used, at least in the UK (1 stone = 14 pounds). For example, you might weigh 9 stone 7 (pounds). In the USA you would say 133 pounds, and in metric it would be 60.3kg. So if you want to weigh less, just give your weight in stones and pounds.

The next unit after the stone is hundredweight (cwt). In the UK a (long) hundredweight = 112 pounds, and in the US a (short) hundredweight = 100 pounds. Then there are 20cwt in a ton, so a UK (long) ton 2,240 pounds (160 stone), and a US (short) ton is 2,000 pounds.

The above are known as avoirdupois measurements. To weigh precious metals, troy units are used: 1 pound = 12 ounces. 1 ounce = 20 pennyweight. 1 pennyweight = 24 grains. Slightly simpler, but still more complex than the metric system.

Avoirdupois comes from the Old French avoir + du + pois (good of weight)

Troy comes from Anglo-Norman via the Middle English troye, and is possibly named after Troyes, a town in France where such weights were first used.

Pound comes from the Old English pund (a pound, weight), from the Proto-Germanic *pundą (pound, weight), from the Latin pondō (by weight), the ablative form of pondus (weight), from the Proto-Indo-European *pend-, *spend- (to pull, stretch).

Ounce comes from the Middle French once (ounce, a little bit), from the Latin uncia (1/12 part), from ūnus (one).

Dram comes from the Old French dragme, from the Late Latin dragma, from the Ancient Greek δραχμή (drakhmḗ – unit of weight, a handful), from δράσσομαι (drássomai – I hold, seize).

Source: Wiktionary

Thanks for Ellen Jovin for inspiring this post.

Autos and bils

Yesterday I discovered that the Swedish for car is bil [biːl], which is related to the Icelandic bíll [bɪtl̥]. At first I wasn’t sure where these words came from, then realised that they are probably abbreviations of automobile.

The Swedish word does in fact come from automobil, according to Wiktionary. The same word is also found in Danish and Norwegian. In Faroese the word for car is simliar: bilur [ˈpiːlʊɹ].

The word automobile comes from the French automobile, from Ancient Greek αὐτός (autós – self) & the French mobile (moving), from the Latin mobilis (movable). In French this can be shortened to auto [source].

For details of the word car, see this post.