Category: French (français)

Overflowing Vases

By Simon

The French equivalent of the saying “the straw that broke the camel’s back” or “the last / final straw” is la goutte d’eau qui fait déborder le vase (the drop of water that makes the vase overflow). Which makes as much a sense, and no animals are harmed.

La goutte d'eau qui fait déborder le vase. it's the straw that breaks the camel's back

These sayings mean “The final additional small burden that makes the entirety of one’s difficulties unbearable.” The earliest known version in English appears in a debate between Thomas Hobbes and John Bramhall in 1677: ‘the last Feather may be said to break a Horses Back’.

It is thought to be based on the Arabic proverb: اَلْقَشَّة اَلَّتِي قَصَمَت ظَهْر اَلْبِعِير⁩ (al-qašša allatī qaṣamat ẓahr al-biʕīr), or “The straw that broke the camel’s back”.

Other versions in English include:

  • It is the last straw that overloads the camel (1799)
  • It was the last ounce that broke the back of the camel (1832)
  • The last straw will break the camel’s back (1836)
  • As the last straw breaks the laden camel’s back (1848)
  • This final feather broke the camel’s back (1876)
  • The straw that broke the donkey’s back
  • The last peppercorn breaks the camel’s back
  • The melon that broke the monkey’s back
  • The feather that broke the camel’s back
  • The straw that broke the horse’s back
  • The hair that broke the camel’s back
  • The last ounce broke the camel’s back

There is also “the last drop makes the cup run over”, and variations on that theme in English.

Versions in quite a few other languages also refer to overflowing cups or other vessels, for example:

  • German: der Tropfen, der das Fass zum Überlaufen bringt.
    the drop that makes the barrel overflow
  • Italian: la goccia che fa traboccare il vaso
    the drop of water that makes the glass overflow
  • Russian: ка́пля, перепо́лнившая ча́шу (káplja, perepólnivšaja čášu)
    the drop that made the bowl overflow
  • Turkish: bardağı taşıran son damla
    the last drop that makes the glass overflow

There are, however, quite different versions in some languages:

  • Scottish Gaelic: théid capall don choille ach brisidh aon uallach a chridhe
    the colt will go to the forest, but one burden will break his heart
  • Welsh: pennog gyda phwn dyrr asgwrn cefn ceffyl
    adding a herring to a load break’s a horse’s backbone (not sure of this translation)

Are there interesting equivalents of this saying in other languages?

Sources: https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/the_straw_that_broke_the_camel%27s_back#English
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Straw_that_broke_the_camel%27s_back
https://geiriaduracademi.org/
https://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/the-last-straw.html

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Mud Glorious Mud

By Simon

If you live in a muddy place, or want to describe such a place, you could use the old word lutarious.

cute and muddy

It means “of, pertaining to, or like, mud; living in mud”, and comes from the Latin word lutarius (of or belonging to the mud, living in mud), from lutum (mud, soil, dirt, mire, loam, clay), from Proto-Indo-European *lew- (dirt, mud) [source].

A related word is lutulent [ˈlʌtjʊlənt], which means pertaining to mud, or muddy.

Words for the same roots include:

  • Albanian: llucë = thin or shallow mud, muddy place
  • Portuguese: lodoso = muddy
  • Romanian: lut = clay, loam, mud, dirt, lutos = clayey
  • Spanish: lodo = mud, muck, mire, lodoso = muddy, boddy

Lutetia, the Gallo-Roman town founded in 52 BC that became Paris, gets it’s name from the Gaulish word *lutos (swamp), from Proto-Celtic *lutā (dirt, mud), from PIE *lew- (dirt, mud). It was known as Lutetia Parisiorum by the Romans. The Parisiorum part comes from Parīsiī, the Latin name for the Gaulish tribe who lived in the area. The name Paris comes from the same roots.

You can find more details on Radio Omniglot.

Incidentally, the French word boue [bu] (mud, dirt), also has Celtic roots: it comes from the Gaulish *bawā (mud, dirt), from Proto-Celtic *bowā (dirt, filth, excrement), from Proto-Indo-European *gʷewh₁- (excrement, dung) [source].

The Galician word bosta (dung, manure) comes from the same Celtic roots, as do the Welsh words baw (mud) and budr (dirty, filthy, vile, foul) [source].

Gwineas buoy

The French word boue shouldn’t be confused with the Breton word boue [ˈbuː.e], which means buoy. It comes from Middle English boi(e) (buoy), from Middle Dutch boeye, from Old Dutch *bōcan, from Frankish *baukn (symbol, sign) from Proto-Germanic *baukną (sign, symbol), from PIE *bʰeh₂- (to glow, light, shine) [source].

By the way, do you pronounce buoy [bɔɪ] (boy) or [ˈbu.i] (boo-ee), or some other way?

Interlinguistic Conflicts

By Simon

Is it a good idea to study two or more closely related languages at the same time?

dominance

Perhaps. If you can devote more or less the same time to each one, and are able to keep them separate in your head, then there are certainly advantages to doing so. However, if you spend more time with one of them, it might interfere with the other(s), and they could end up fighting for dominance.

Many years ago, I started learning Irish and Scottish Gaelic. At first, I listened to songs in them which I tried to sing, even though I didn’t understand most of the words. Later, I started studying the languages, on my own at first, then I took some classes.

From 2005 to 2019, I spent a week or two every summer studying, speaking and singing in Irish in Donegal in the northwest of Ireland. I’ve also taken part in short courses in Scottish Gaelic songs at a college on the Isle of Skye in Scotland quite a few times between 2008 and 2022.

Until recently, I felt more fluent and confident in Irish, and it was my default Gaelic language. When I spoke Scottish Gaelic, I tended to fill in any gaps in my vocabulary and knowledge with Irish, which often works, as the two languages are closely related.

Over the past year though, I’ve been learning more Scottish Gaelic, and now feel a lot more confident with it. When I started brushing up my Irish this month, I realised that Scottish Gaelic is now the dominant form of Gaelic in my head, and Irish feels like a slightly deviant relative.

This happens with my other languages as well. Especially with closely related languages like German and Dutch (Dutch is currently winning), Swedish and Danish (Swedish is dominating at the moment), and French and Spanish (they’re fairly evenly balanced, although I feel more confident with French).

I studied (Mandarin) Chinese and Japanese at university, and became fluent in Chinese during the 5+ years I spent studying and working in Taiwan. However, I only spent one semester studying Japanese in Japan, and didn’t become as fluent in Japanese.

When I tried to read Japanese texts, I could recognise many of the kanji (Chinese characters) and knew what they meant and how to pronounce them in Mandarin, but not necessarily in Japanese. Recently I’ve been learning more Japanese and am getting better at reading it and speaking it. When I see kanji know, the Japanese pronunciation often comes first rather than the Mandarin pronunciation. I haven’t forgotten my Mandarin, but it is not as dominant as it was.

Are there interlinguistic conflicts in your head?

Laxness

By Simon

During the days between Christmas and New Year things may seem a bit more lax than usual, so I thought I’d look into the origins of the word.

lazy

Lax means lenient and allowing for deviation, not strict, loose, not tight or taut, lacking care, neglectful or negligent. It comes from the Latin laxus (wide, roomy, loose), from Proto-Indo-European *slǵ-so (weak, faint) [source].

The English word leash comes from the same roots, via the Middle English lesse (a leash for holding a coursing hound or watchdog) [source], the Old French lesse (leash, lead), and the Latin laxā (thong, a loose cord), from laxus [source].

The English word lease also comes from the same roots, at least partly: from Middle English *lesen, the Anglo-Norman lesser/lasier (to let, let go), from Latin laxō (to loose) from laxus, and partly from Old High German lāzan (to let, let go, release) [source].

Related words in other languages include laks (lax, slack) in Dutch, lâche (loose, slack, coward(ly), low, lazy) in French, lax (lax, easy, loose) in Geman, and llaes (loose, slack, free, trailing, flowing, low) in Welsh [source].

Decals

By Simon

Are you familiar with decals? Or maybe, like me, you call them stickers.

Sitckers / Decals
One of my ukulele cases with some stickers on it

Whatever you call them, they are “a design or picture produced in order to be transferred to another surface either permanently or temporarily.” or in other words, a decorative sticker. Apparently decal can be used as a verb as well, meaning to apply decals to (sth) [source].

I’ve come across the word decal in novels and other texts by American writers, but I hadn’t heard anybody use it in speech. Yesterday I watched a video made by a Canadian woman in Japan in which she talks about decals, and pronounces it [ˈdɛkəl] (deckle). This surprised me as I assumed it was pronounced more like [ˈdiː.kæl] (dee-cal).

Apparently, both pronunciations are used: [ˈdiː.kæl] in central Canada and Australia, and [ˈdɛkəl] in the USA, western Canada and Australia. If you use this word, how do you pronounce it, and where are you from?

Decal is an abbreviation of decalcomania (The process of transferring decorative designs onto surfaces using decals; a decal), from French décalcomanie (same meaning), décalquer (to trace, transfer [a design]), and -manie (a compulsion, obsession, a place where something can be found in great amounts).

A word that possibly comes from the same root is cockamamie, which means a foolish or ridiculous person; ridiculousness, folly or foolish nonsense; foolish, ill-considered, silly, unbelievable, triffling, and used to mean a decal [source].

Are there any words that aren’t pronounced as you’d expect based on their written forms?

Saturn’s Bathing Day

By Simon

The English word Saturday comes ultimately from the Proto-West Germanic *Sāturnas dag (Saturn’s day), which is a calque (translation) of the Latin diēs Saturnī (day of Saturn).

Saturday

There are similar words in other West Germanic languages, such as West Frisian (saterdei), Low German (Saterdag), and Dutch (zaterdag), all of which mean Saturday [source].

There German word for Saturday, Samstag, comes from Middle High German sam(e)ztac, from Old High German sambaztag (Sabbath day), from Gothic *𐍃𐌰𐌼𐌱𐌰𐍄𐍉 (*sambatō), a version 𐍃𐌰𐌱𐌱𐌰𐍄𐍉 (sabbatō – Saturday, the Sabbath day), from Koine Greek σάββατον (sábbaton – Sabbath), from Hebrew שַׁבָּת‎ (šabbāṯ – Sabbath), possibly from Akkadian 𒊭𒉺𒀜𒌈 (šapattum – the middle day of the lunar month).

Words from the same roots include samedi (Saturday) in French, sâmbătă (Saturday) in Romanian, and szombat (Saturday, Sabbath) in Hungarian [source].

In northern and eastern Germany, another word for Saturday is Sonnabend (“Sunday eve”), as apparently in Germanic recking, the day begins at sunset. It a calque of the Old English sunnanǣfen (Saturday evening) [source].

Words for Saturday in the North Germanic languages have a different root, however. These include lördag in Swedish, lørdag in Danish and Norwegian, leygardagur in Faroese and laugardagur in Icelandic. They all come from the Old Norse laugardagr, from laug (pool) and dagr (day), so literally “bathing day” [source].

These words have also been borrowed into Finnic languages: Saturday is lauantai in Finnish, laupäev in Estonian and lavvantaki in Ingrian.

Are there any other languages in which Saturday means something like “bathing day”, or something else interesting?

See also: Days of the week in many languages on Omniglot.

Catty-cornered

By Simon

If you’re sitting catty-corner from someone, what does that mean?

kitty corner

This is an expression that has come up a number of times recently in books I’m reading and which puzzles me a bit. So I thought I’d find out what it means and where it comes from.

Catty-corner means “diagonally across from (one another)” or “located diagonally in relation to something, especially across an intersection.”, and is used in the USA and Canada. It is also written cattycorner, catty-cornered or kitty-corner. It makes me think of a cat in a corner.

It’s apparently a corruption of cater-corner(ed) with influence from catty (cat-like). Cater-corner(ed) means “something at a diagonal to another; of four corners, those diagonal to another.” in the USA and is an old dialect word in the UK meaning “uneven, not square, as mislaid stones or people with a limping gait.” It comes from cater, and old word for four, particularly in card and dice games, from the French quatre (four), and cornered (possessing corners or angles) [source].

According to the Grammarist, the cater in cater-cornered originally referred to the four spots on a die, or the four legs of a beast, and came to refer to the corners of four city blocks meeting. Over time it came to mean something positioned diagonally from something else. Another version of it is caddy-corner.

Are there words or phrases in other languages that have similar meanings?

Losing the North

By Simon

If you are lost, you might say in French “j’ai perdu le nord”. It means literally that you have lost the north, and can also be translated as to lose one’s way or one’s bearings, to become dazed and confused, or to lose one’s marbles, to lose one’s head or to lose contact.

Compass

Alternatively you could say “je suis à l’ouest” (“I am in the west”), which means to be spaced out, to not be with it, or to lose one’s bearings.

Other words for confused in French include confus, perplexe and désorienté.

Confus (confused, confusing, ashamed, embarrassed), comes from Latin cōnfusus (mixed, united, confounded, confused), from cōnfundō ( to pour together, mix), from con- (with, together) and fundō (to pour, shed).

English words from the same roots include confound, confuse, diffuse, found, fuse and profound.

Perplexe (puzzled, perplexed, confused) comes from Latin perplexus (entangled, involved, intricate, confused), from plectō (I weave, I twist), from Proto-Indo-European *pleḱ- (to fold, weave). The English word perplexed comes from the same roots, via Old French.

Désorienté (disorientated, bewildered, confused) comes from désorienter (to disorientate, confuse), from dés- (dis-/de-) and orienter (to orientate, set to north, guide), from Old French oriant (Orient, the East), from Latin oriens/orentem (rising, appearing, originating, daybreak, dawn, sunrise, east), from orior (I rise, get up, appear, originate), from PIE *h₃er- (to stir, rise, move).

The English words disorentated and orientated come from the same roots, as do such words as orient, origin, random and run.

So when you’re disorientated, you’re not sure where the east is. These days maps are generally orientated towards the north, or in other words, north is at the top. However, in Medieval times, maps made by European cartographers were orientated towards the orient or east in the direction of Jerusalem and the Holy Land. Other orientations were and are available.

Why is north usually up on maps? The Map Men explain in this video:

Do you have any other interesting ways to say you’re lost or confused?

Here’s a song called “Ai-je perdu le nord ?” (Have I lost the north?) by Clio, a French singer:

Sources:
https://dictionary.reverso.net/english-french/confused
https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/confus#French
https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/perplexe#French
https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/désorienté
https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/Category:English_terms_derived_from_the_Proto-Indo-European_root_*h₃er-

Gaga

By Simon

Last night some actual French people came to the French conversation group – a couple (Giles et Carmen) from Saint-Étienne in the southeast of France who are friends of a friend.

One interesting thing they said is that there is a local form of speech unique to Saint-Étienne and the surrounding area which they refer to as patois. Apparently it doesn’t have any other names they’re aware of.

Habitat

The city of Saint-Étienne is part of the Loire département and is home to about 174,000 people, and the metropolitan area it’s part of, Saint-Étienne Métropole, has about 497,000 inhabitants. It was an industrial city and a major coal mining centre, and has become a centre for design [source].

The population apparently comes from many different places, so the local speech includes words from various regional forms of speech. The city is named after Saint Stephen, a.k.a. Sanctus Stephanus de Furano (Saint-Étienne of Furan) [source], and the local people are known as Stéphanois (masculine) and Stéphanoises (feminine). So perhaps the local dialect could be called Stéphanais (Stephenish)?

I should have done this before, but I just searched for “patois de Saint-Étienne” and discovered that it does have a name (several, in fact): le gaga, le parler gaga, le parler stéphanois or l’arpitan stéphanois in French, and Parlâ Gaga in the language itself. These refer to a variety of Franco-Provençal / Arpitan spoken in the area, and a regional form of French spoken there that has influences from that language [source].

Here’s an example of Parlâ Gaga:

Lou rat de villa et lou rat dos champs
Djins lou tchion, ün rat de villa
Doutà de noblous ponchants,
Fit dj’una façonn civila,
Mandâ soun frâre dos champs.

Un repas de bateyailles
Serre fat djïns sa meissoun ;
Par assures les voulailles
Vou’erre dounc bion de seisoun.

Here it is in the original French:

Le rat des villes et le rats des champs
Autrefois le Rat de ville
Invita le Rat des champs,
D’une façon fort civile,
A des reliefs d’Ortolans.

Sur un Tapis de Turquie
Le couvert se trouva mis.
Je laisse à penser la vie
Que firent ces deux amis.

Source: http://gagaweb.chez.com/ratville.htm

Here are examples of spoken Parlâ Gaga:

More information about Parlâ Gaga:
https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parler_gaga
https://fr.wiktionary.org/wiki/Annexe:Glossaire_du_parler_gaga
http://gagaweb.chez.com/

Pens and Pencils

By Simon

The words pen and pencil appear to be related, but are they? Let’s find out.

Pens and Pencils

The word pen, as in a writing implement, comes from Middle English penne (pen, quill, wing, feather), from the Anglo-Norman penne, from Latin penna (wing, feather, quill pen), from Proto-Italic petnā (feather, wing), from Proto-Indo-European *péth₂r̥/pth₂én- (feather, wing), from *peth₂- (to spread out, to fly) [source].

Words from the same roots include petal, petulant, petition, plume, plumage, fathom, feather and helicopter in English, adar (birds) and adain (wing) in Welsh, and Faden (yarn, thread, fathom, suture) in German [source].

The word pen, as in an enclosure for animals, comes from Middle English pen(ne) (enclosure for animals), from Old English penn (enclosure, pen, fold), from Proto-Germanic *pennō/*pannijō (pin, bolt, nail, tack), from Proto-Indo-European *bend- (pointed peg, nail, edge).

The English word pin comes from the same PIE root, as does the Dutch word pin (peg, pin), the German word Pinne (pin, pivot, tiller), and the Swedish word pinne (stick, peg, pin) [source].

The word pencil comes from Anglo-Norman, from the Old French pincel (paintbrush), from the Vulgar Latin *penicellum, from the Latin pēnicillum (a painter’s brush, (style of) painting), a diminutive of pēniculus (brush, sponge), a diminutive of pēnis (tail, penis), from the Proto-Italic *pesnis, from the Proto-Indo-European *pes-ni-s, from *pes- (penis) [source].

Words from the same roots include penicillin in English and other languages, pincel (paintbrush) in Spanish and Portuguese, pinceau (paintbrush) in French and Pinsel (paintbrush) in German [source]. Penicillin and penicillium are apparently so named because the spore of the fungi resemble brushes [source].

Incidentally, the French idiom s’emmêler les pinceaux means to get one’s wires crossed to get things all mixed up, to get in a muddle or to misstep. Literally it means “to get tangled in the paintbrushes” [source].