Category: Japanese (日本語)

Hat Tricks

By Simon

A hat trick usually involves achieving three things in a row, and has little or nothing to do with hats. So where does this expression come from?

hat-trick

A hat trick (also written hat-trick or hattrick) can refer to

  • Any magic trick performed with a hat, especially one involving pulling an object (traditionally a rabbit) out of an apparently empty hat.
  • (sport) Three achievements in a single game, competition, season, etc., such as three consecutive wins, one player scoring three goals in football or ice hockey), or a player scoring three tries in rugby
  • Three achievements or incidents that occur together, usually within a certain period of time. For example, selling three cars in a day
  • Historically, it referred to a means of securing a seat in the (UK) House of Commons by a Member of Parliament placing their hat upon it during an absence.

The sporting senses of the expression come from cricket – in the past, a bowler who took three wickets in three consecutive balls would be presented with a commemorative hat as a prize. It was first used in this sense in 1858, when H. H. Stephenson (1833-1896) achieved such as feat in a game of cricket at Hyde Park in Sheffield. On that occasion, fans held a collection and presented Stephenson with a hat, or possibly a cap – I like to think it was a bowler hat, but haven’t been able to confirm this.

So in the magical sense, the sporting sense, and the political sense, hats were originally involved.

Hat trick has been borrowed into many languages. In Czech, Danish, Dutch, Faroese and Swedish it’s hattrick. In Portuguese, Romanian, Slovenian and Vietnamese it’s hat-trick, in German it’s Hattrick, in Japanese it’s ハットトリック (hatto torikku), in Korean it’s 해트트릭 (haeteuteurik), and in Greek it’s χατ τρικ (khat trik).

In Welsh, it’s hat-tric, camp lawn (in rugby and football), or trithro (in cricket). Camp means feat, exploit, accomplishment, achievement, game, sport, etc., and llawn means full, complet, whole, etc., so camp lawn could be translated literally as “a full feat”. Trithro also means three turns, three times or three occasions, and comes from tri (three) and tro (rotation, turn, lap, etc).

Are there interesting expressions in other languages with similar meanings?

Incidentally, the practise of awarding people caps for representing a team in a particular sport comes from the UK as well. In the early days of rugby and football, players on each side didn’t necessarily all wear matching shirts, and they started wearing specific caps to show which team they were on. From 1886, it was proposed that all players taking part for England in international matches would be presented with a white silk cap with red rose embroidered on the front. These were known as International Caps. This practise spread to other sports, although the caps in question are often imaginary rather than real.

Sources: https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/hat_trick#English
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hat-trick
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/H._H._Stephenson
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cap_(sport)

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Jack Of All Trades

By Simon

If someone described you as a jack of all trades, would you see it as a compliment or an insult?

One man band

These days, this phrase might refer to someone who has some ability in a variety of things, but doesn’t excel at any of them. Or in other words, a generalist with superficial knowledge / ability in various areas, rather than a specialist who focuses on becoming expert at one thing.

The earliest known version of the phrase in English, Jack-of-all-trades, appeared in print in 1618 in Geffray Mynshul’s book Essayes and Characters of a prison and prisoners in the following passage:

Now for the moſt part your porter is either ſome broken cittizen, who hath plaid Jack-of-all-trades, ſome pander, broker, or hangman, that hath plaid the knaue with all men, and for the more certainty his embleme is a red beard, to which ſacke hath made his noſe couſin german.

Key: ſt = st, ſ = s, moſt = most, cittizen = citizen, hath = has, plaid = played, knaue = knave, noſe = nose

A longer version of the phrase is jack of all trades, master of none – the master of none part, or something similar, was added in the 18th century. It first appears in the Gnomologia: Adagies and Proverbs; Wise Sentences and Witty Sayings, Ancient and Modern, Foreign and British as:

Jack of all Trades is of no Trade

Sometimes the phrase is made less insulting by adding an extra part: Jack of all trades, master of none, but better than a master of one, or Jack of all trades, master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one. These are modern additions to the phrase, although some people claim that the ‘original’ version included something like them [source].

Synonyms for jack of all trades include:

  • generalist = a person with a broad general knowledge, especially one with more than superficial knowledge in several areas and the ability to combine ideas from diverse fields.
  • polymath = a person with extraordinarily broad and comprehensive knowledge. From Ancient Greek πολυμαθής (polumathḗs – having learnt much).
  • Renaissance man/woman/person
  • factotum = a person employed to do all sorts of duties, a general servant, a person having many diverse activities or responsibilities. From Latin faciō (do, make) & tōtum (everything).
  • sciolist [ˈsaɪəlɪst] = one who exhibits only superficial knowledge; a self-proclaimed expert with little real understanding. From Late Latin sciolus, a diminutive of scius (knowing).
  • multipotentialite = a term coined by Emilie Wapnick in 2015 to refer to people with many interests and creative pursuits. See: https://puttylike.com

Here are some equivalent phrases in other languages:

  • 万事通 [萬事通] (wànshìtōng) = jack of all trades, know-it-all: “10,000 things expert” (Chinese)
  • duizendpoot = a person of many talents; a centipede: “1,000 leg” (Dutch)
  • touche-à-tout = jack of all trades: “[who] touches everything” (French)
  • 何でも屋 = (nandemoya) generalist, jack of all trades: “anything-er” (Japanese)
  • hombre orquesta = one-man band, factotum: “man orchestra” (Spanish)

Are you a generalist, or more of a specialist?

I’m more of a generalist with a variety of interests, skills and knowledge. For me, one language is never enough, and neither is one instrument, one type of music, or one type of juggling or other circus skill.

Sources
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_of_all_trades
https://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/jack-of-all-trades.html
https://english.stackexchange.com/questions/408782/is-jack-of-all-trades-master-of-none-really-just-a-part-of-a-longer-proverb

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New Old Words

By Simon

I spent last week in Donegal in the northwest of Ireland learning some more Irish, and learning about the area where I was, Glencolmcille (Gleann Cholm Cille in Irish). I had a great time, met some interesting people, and saw some beautiful places.

Gleann Cholm Cille

The course I did this time is called Language and Landscape: The Heritage of Gleann Cholm Cille / Teanga agus Timpeallacht: Oidhreacht Ghleann Cholm Cille. It involves Irish language classes in the mornings, and walks, talks, trips and other activities in afternoons and evenings. It’s run by Oideas Gael, an Irish language and culture centre in the southwest of Donegal which is celebrating its 40th year this year. I’ve been there for 16 of those years: every year from 2005 to 2019, and in 2024.

In previous years I’ve done courses there in Irish language, harp and bodhrán playing, and Irish sean-nós singing. I always enjoy my time there, which is why I keep going back. Most of the people there were from Ireland, and there were also people from the USA, UK, France, Canada, Portugal, Austria and Russia.

Slieve League / Sliabh Liag

So, as well as practising my Irish, I got to speak other languages like French, German and Japanese. In class our teacher also taught as a few interesting words in Ulster Scots.

These include:

  • gollumpus = an ungainly person; a large, loutish, uncoordinated person
  • gomeral = a fool, simpleton lout
  • glype, glipe = a stupid and annoying person
  • clart = mud, mire; a lump or clot of something disagreeable or distasteful; a big, dirty, untidy person

Gomeral is a diminutive of Middle English gōme (man, warrior, husband, male servant), from Old English guma (male, hero), from Proto-Germanic *gumô (man, person), from Proto-Indo-European *ǵʰmṓ (man, person) [source].

Clart comes from Middle English *clart, from biclarten (to cover or smear with dirt) [source].

I’m not sure where the other words come from.

Sunset / Luí na gréine

One thing we did in class was to come up with some new proverbs in Irish. Incidentally, the Irish word for proverb is seanfhocal, which literally means “old word”. So here are a few new old words:

  • Ní aon maitheas an chomhad a shabháil agus an riomhaire múchta agat.
    There’s no good in saving the file when you’ve turned off the computer.
  • Ní léiríonn solas an scáileáin bealach éinne.
    The light of the screen shows no one the way.
  • Is fearr traein amháin ná míle gluaisteán.
    One train is better than 1,000 cars.

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Spreading Sweetness

By Simon

Foods, and the words that describe them, can travel around the world. For example, tea comes from China, and so do words for tea in many languages. Similarly, avocado, chocolate, tamale, tomato come from Mexico (both the words and the foods).

Those words came to Europe from other continents, and I recently discovered some words that travelled from Europe, or Western Asia, to many other parts of the world.

Honey

It started with the Proto-Indo-European word *médʰu (honey, mead), which spread throughout Europe and Asia, and possibly as far as China, Korea, Japan and Vietnam [source].

Descendants of *médʰu include:

  • մեղու [meʁú] = bee in Armenian
  • мед (med) = honey in Bulgarian
  • mõdu [mjøːd] = mead in Estonian
  • Met [meːt] = mead in German
  • μέθη (méthi) = drunkenness in Greek
  • מותק (mótek) = sweetness in Hebrew
  • मॊदुर / مۆدُر (modur) = sweet, tasty, delicious in Kashmiri
  • medus [mædus] = honey, mead in Latvian
  • މީރު [miː.ɾu] = pleasant, sweet, agreeable, savoury in Maldivian
  • medveď [ˈmɛdvɛc] = bear (“honey-eater”) in Slovak
  • mjöd [mjøːd] = mead in Swedish
  • மதுரம் [mɐd̪ʊɾɐm] = sweetness in Tamil
  • medd [meːð] = mead, and meddw [ˈmɛðu] = drunk in Welsh

The Irish name Méabh (Maeve) also comes from the same roots, via Middle Irish medb (intoxicating) [source]. For more details of related words in Celtic languages, see this Celtiadur post: Honey Wine

It also reached China, where it became mīt (honey) in Tocharian B, and was possibly borrowed into Old Chinese as *mit (honey), which became 蜜 (mì – honey) in Mandarin, 蜜 (mat6 [mɐt˨] – bee, honeybee) in Cantonese, 蜜 (mitsu – honey, nectar, moasses, syrup) in Japanese, 밀 (mil – beeswax) in Korean, and mật (honey, molasses) and mứt (jam) in Vietnamese [source].

Evolution of the Chinese character for honey (蜜)

Evolution of the Chinese character for honey (蜜)

See also: https://hanziyuan.net/#蜜

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Sabhal Mòr Ostaig

By Simon

Oban / An t-Òban
A sunny morning in Oban / Madainn ghrianach anns an Oban

The trip from Oban to Skye went smoothly, and I bumped into a couple on the bus who I met at SMO last year. There were several other SMO-bound people on the bus, but I didn’t know them at the time. We arrived safely at Broadford on Sunday afternoon, and got a lift to the college from there. Along the way, there was sunshine, lots of rain and some high winds, and the views from the bus were beautiful.

Tyndrum / Taigh an Droma
Changing buses in Tyndrum / Ag atharrachadh bhusaichean ann an Taigh an Droma

So far, the Gaelic song course has been a lot of fun. There are eleven of us in the class from Scotland, England, Ireland, Switzerland and Germany. Some are here for the first time, others have been here before. Most speak at least some Gaelic, and there’s one native speaker. For me, it’s my 10th time here doing Gaelic song courses, and the 7th course I’ve done with Christine Primrose – the other song courses were with Joy Dunlop, Margaret Stewart and Mary Ann Kennedy.

Sabhal Mòr Ostaig
Àrainn Chaluim Chille – the newer part of the college / Am pàirt as ùire den cholaiste

We learnt five songs on Monday, eleven yesterday, and another four today. Some of them I already know, or have at least heard before, which makes it easier to pick them up. Others are a bit more challenging with lots of verses, and complex melodies that change with every verse to fit to the words. Everything is taught by ear, and Christine likes to tell stories about the songs, the people who wrote them, and how life was at the time they were written. A lot of the songs are relatively old – from the 17th or 18th centuries, and have been passed on orally since then.

Sabhal Mòr Ostaig
Àrainn Ostaig – the older part of the college / am pàirt as sine den cholaiste

On Monday night there was a pub quiz, which was good fun. The team I was in didn’t win, but we were only one point behind the winning team.

The people who study here and work here come from many different places and speak a variety of languages. I try to speak as much Scottish Gaelic as I can while I’m here – that’s one of the reasons why I come here – and I’ve also had conversations in French, Irish and Mandarin Chinese, and spoken odd bits of Welsh, German, Portuguese, Japanese, and even a bit of English.

Sabhal Mòr Ostaig
The views from here are quite nice / Tha na seallaidhean às an seo gu math snog

Last night there was a concert featuring Eilidh Shaw and Ross Martin, a husband and wife duo – he plays the guitar, and she sings and plays the fiddle. They write interesting songs and lively tunes in a traditional Scottish style and sounded great. It was also a nice way to celebrate my birthday.

We have a bit of time off today, and there’s a music session in the bar tonight. I was planning to go for a walk, but it’s raining quite a lot, so I’m spending my free afternoon relaxing in my room, learning a bit more Gaelic, writing nonsense like this, and reading.

Giving Up

By Simon

I have some news – I’ve had enough of learning languages and am giving up, throwing in the towel, putting the fiddle in the roof, throwing a spoon, and throwing the axe in the lake.

Giving up

This is something I’ve been thinking about for a while. I like speaking other languages, at least sometimes, but the process of learning them can be a bit tedious. I already speak some languages reasonably well and don’t currently need to learn any more, so maybe my time would be better spent doing other things.

My other main passion is music – I like to sing, to play instruments, and to write songs and tunes. I’ll be spending more time doing this, and will maybe even focus on one instrument, at least for a while, and learn to play it better.

The question is, which instrument? I have a house full of them, including a piano, harps, guitars, ukuleles, recorders, whistles, ocarinas, harmonicas, melodicas, a mandolin, a bodhrán and a cavaquinho.

The instrument I play most often at the moment is the mandolin, so maybe I should focus on that.

If you’ve noticed the date, you may realise that this post is in fact an April Fool. I’m not giving up on learning languages, and actually do enjoy the process, most of the time, and while I do want to improve my mandolin playing, I also want to improve my playing of other instruments.

Incidentally, let’s look at some ways to say that you’re giving up.

In English you might say you quit, you’re calling it a day, you’re calling it quits you’re throwing in the towel or the sponge or the cards, or you’re throwing up your hands.

Equivalent phrases in other languages include:

  • hodit flintu do žita = to throw a flint into the rye (Czech)
  • jeter le manche après la cognée = to throw the handle after the axe (French)
  • leggja árar í bát = to put oars in a boat (Icelandic)
  • do hata a chaitheamh leis = to throw your hat in (Irish)
  • gettare le armi = to throw away your weapons (Italian)
  • 匙を投げる (saji o nageru) = to throw a spoon (Japanese)
  • подня́ть бе́лый флаг (podnjat’ belyj flag) = to raise the white flag (Russian)
  • leig an saoghal leis an t-sruth = to let the world flow (Scottish Gaelic)
  • baciti pušku u šaš = to throw a gun into the sedge (Serbian)
  • kasta yxan i sjön = to throw the axe into the lake (Swedish)
  • rhoi’r ffidl yn y to = to put the fiddle in the roof (Welsh)

More details of these phrases can be found on Wiktionary.

Do you have any others?

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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?

Roses (薔薇)

By Simon

The Japanese word 薔薇 (bara) means rose. If you asked random Japanese people to write these kanji (characters), many would struggle. However, they would be able to read them.

Rose, バラ,

The word for rose is normally written with katakana – バラ, and the kanji version 薔薇 is not in everyday use, so it’s not surprising if people cannot write it. These kanji can also be pronounced shōbi or sōbi.

薔 (mizutade) on its own means Persicaria hydropiper, water pepper or marshpepper knotweed (see below). It is also known as 柳蓼 (yanagitade) in Japan, and can be used as an ingredient in various dishes such as sashimi, tempura, sushi and wasabi.

2012.08.22_17.29.38_IMG_9439

薇 (zenmai) means Osmunda japonica, a.k.a. Japanese/Asian royal fern (see below). Parts of the plant are used as a vegetable in parts of China and Japan.

Osmunda japonica

Other words that Japanese people might struggle to write in kanji include 忍者 (ninja), 肘 (hiji = elbow), 挨拶 (aisatsu = greeting), 帽子 (bōshi = hat) 餅 (mochi = sticky rice cake), as you can see in this video:

This phenomena is common among Japanese (and Chinese) speakers who use computers, phones and other devices to type and input text rather than writing it by hand. You could call it character amnesia or kanji amnesia, or perhaps 漢字忘失 (kanji bōshitsu = “forgeting kanji”) in Japanese. I just made this up. Is there an official/standard term for it?

This doesn’t happen in languages with alphabetic or syllabic writing systems. Even if you do most of your writing on computers and other electronic gizmos, and your handwriting is poor, you don’t forget how to write any of the letters. You might forget or not know how to spell particular words, especially in languages like English with inconsistent and eccentic spelling systems, but you can at least have a go, and spell check and auto correct help.

People in Japan are apparently starting to realise that it is more important to be able to recognize kanji rather than learning to write them all by hand, at least according to this article on Tofugu. More kanji have been added to the everyday use list as they are easy to input on phones and other devices, even if they are hard to write by hand.

Perhaps the ability to write kanji by hand will become something that only calligraphers and other specialists do, while other people just input them on electronic gadgets.

When I was learning Chinese and Japanese, in the pre-interweb / smartphone age, I spent a lot of time writing the characters by hand, and found this helped me to remember them. I still write them down sometimes and enjoy doing so, but I mostly write them on my phone or computer, often using voice input.

By the way, here’s a rose-related song by Deai, a Russo-Japanese duo, called 百万本のバラ / Миллион алых роз (Million Scarlet Roses):

Rumbling Carts

By Simon

The Japanese word 轟々 / ごうごう / ゴーゴー (gōgō) means thundering, roaring, rumbling or booming. The kanji 轟 (gō/kō/todoro) is made up of three carts (車), and is also used as a surname, which is pronounced Kuruma, Gō or Todoroki.

Rumbling Carts 轟轟 (gōgō) - thundering, roaring, rumbling, booming

This kanji also appears in words like:

  • 轟音 (gō’on) = thunderous roar, roaring sound
  • 轟く (todoroku) = to roar, reverberate, be well-known, be famous, palpitate, throb
  • 轟かす (todorosu) = to make a thundering sound, to make (one’s name, etc.) widely known, to make (one’s heart) pound
  • 轟然 (gōzen) = roaring, thundering, thunderous, deafening, ear-splitting
  • 轟き (todoroki) = roar, peal, rumble, booming, beating, pounding

In Mandarin Chinese the character 轰 [轟] is pronounced hōng and means explosion, bang, boom, rumble, to attack, shoo away, expel.

It appears in words like:

  • 轰动的成就 [轟動的成就] (hōngdòng de chéngjiù) = a howling success
  • 轰动全世界 [轟動全世界] (hōngdòng quánshìjiè) = to set the world on fire
  • 轰隆 [轟隆] (hōnglōng ) = to rumble
  • 轰轰烈烈 [轟轟烈烈] (hōnghōnglièliè) = vigorously, grand and spectacular, fiery
  • 轰赶 [轟趕] (hōnggǎn) = to drive off, shoo away

I like these compound characters that are made up of several duplicated characters. Other examples include

  • 林 (hayashi – wood, forest), and 森 (mori – forest) which are made up of several 木 (ki – tree, shrub, bush, wood, timber). Put them together and we get 森林 (shinrin – forest, woods).
  • 炎 (honō – flame, blaze, passion), which are made up of two 火 (hi – fire)
  • 品 (hin – elegance, grace, article, item), which are made up of several 口 (kuchi – mouth)
  • 龖 (tà – flight of a dragon), 龘 (tà – the appearance of a dragon walking) and 𪚥 (zhé – verbose) which are made up of several 龍 [龙] (lóng – dragon).

The dragon examples are rare and in Mandarin, the rest are in Japanese.

Sources: jisho.org, mdbg.net, Line Dict CHINESE-ENGLISH

Falling Apples

By Simon

A friend asked me to look into the origins of the saying An acorn doesn’t fall far from the tree. I can only find a few examples of this saying online, but lots of examples of the apple never falls far from the tree and similar sayings. It refers to the idea that people inevitably share traits with or resemble their parents or family.

Apple Tree

According to The Phrase Finder, the origins of this saying are uncertain. The earliest known example of its use in English appears in 1830 in Benjamin Thorpe’s translation of Rasmus Rask’s Grammar of the Anglo-Saxon Tongue:

Traces still exist in the daily language of the Icelanders, for instance in the proverb, eplit fellr ekki lánt frá eikinni the apple falls not far from the tree (the oak!).

In a letter by Ralph Waldo Emerson published in 1839, he quotes the German proverb ‘der Apfel fällt nicht weit von Stamm’ – “As men say the apple never falls far from the stem.”

In 1843, The Bible in Spain by George Henry Borrow includes the line:

“The apple”, as the Danes say, “had not fallen far from the tree;” the imp was in every respect the counterpart of the father, though in miniature.

According to English Language & Usage, a Welsh version of this saying appears in A Dictionary of the Welsh Language, Explained in English:

Ni fell zygwyz aval o avall
The apple will not fall far from the tree

The spelling here is unusal and non-standard: z = dd and v = f, so in modern standard spelling it would be “Ni fell ddygwydd afal o afall”, I think.

There are also versions of this saying from Turkish – Iemisch agatsdan irak dushmas (The apple does not fall far from the tree), and Old English – Se æppel næfre þæs feorr ne trenddeð he cyð hwanon he com. (The apple never rolls so far that it does not make known whence it came.)

子狐

I also found an idiom with a similar meaning in Japanese: 狐の子は頬白 (kitsune no ko wa tsurajiro), which means “fox cubs have white cheeks” [source].

Do you know of examples of this saying in other languages?