Fox paths

Language quiz image

The other day I saw post on the Omniglot fan club on Facebook about fox-related idioms. The discussion started with a fox-related Swedish idiom: Ha en räv bakom örat (“to have a fox behind one’s ear”) = to be cunning like a fox.

I found a few of interesting fox-related expressions in Welsh:

  • Cysgu llywnog [kəsgɨ ɬʊɨnɔg] (“fox’s sleep”) = simulated sleep to deceive the onlooker
  • Llwybr llwynog [ɬʊɨbr ɬʊɨnɔg] (“fox’s path”) = a secret path used by quarrymen when late for work to avoid being seen by the steward
  • Tywydd llwynog [təʊɨð ɬʊɨnɔg] (“fox weather”) = unsettled weather

I particularly like the second one.

In English you might someone is a sly fox, or as sly/cunning as a fox if they’re particularly cunning and/or clever. This association is an old one mentioned in folk tales such as Aesop’s Fables, and also in Shakespeare’s plays [source]. You can also outfox someone when you outwit them, especially if you’re a wily old fox.

Do you know any other interesting fox-related idioms?

International Mother Language Day

International Mother Language Day Poster

As you might know, today is International Mother Language Day. The theme this year is “Linguistic diversity and multilingualism: keystones of sustainability and peace”.

To do my bit for multilinguism, I’m currently learning Swedish, Russian, Romanian and Slovak, and practising other languages, especially French and Welsh. So far today I’ve learnt a bit more Romanian and Russian, listened to some Welsh language radio, and read a bit of Swedish.

Tonight I studied some Swedish and Slovak, spoke English and Laala, read in English, Latin and Scots, and sang in English, Welsh, French, Zulu and Church Slavonic.

What languages have you spoken, read, heard, written, sung and/or studied today?

Come to mind

One way to say remember in Swedish is komma ihåg, which literally means “to come to mind”. It also means to recall; to recollect; to retain, or to bear in mind.

Komma [ˈkɔmːa] means ‘to come, arrive, move nearer’. It comes from the Old Norse koma (to come), from the Proto-Germanic *kwemaną (to come), from the Proto-Indo-European *gʷem- (to step).

ihåg [ihoːg] means ‘to (one’s) mind’. håg means ‘mind, mindset, temper, inclination’, and comes from the Old Swedish hogher, from Proto-Germanic *hugiz (mind; thought; sense; understanding), which is also the root of the English words high, how, Hugh and Hubert.

Related words include:

  • ihågkomma = to memorialize
  • ihågkommande = recollection; reminiscent
  • hågkomst = to recall; recollection; remembrance
  • håglös = apathetic; grey; indolent; listless
  • håglöshet = apathy
  • hågad = agreeable; inclined; minded

Other words for remember include:

  • minnas = to recall; to remember; to retain; to come back; to recollect
  • erinra sig = to place; to recall; to recollect; to remember
  • lägga på minnet = to memorize; to register; to remember
  • dra sig till minnes = to remember

Are these words for remember used in different contexts?

Sources: bab.la, Wiktionary

Snail houses and creeping things

Snigelhus

An interesting Swedish I learnt recently is snigelhus, which means shell, or literally “snail house”. Snigel is a snail or slug, and hus is house, case or residence.

The word snigel comes from the Old Norse snigill (snail), from the Proto-Germanic *snagila (snail), from the Proto-Indo-European *sneg- (to crawl, creep; creeping thing), which is also the root of the English words snail and snake.

Some related words include:

  • snigelfart = snail’s pace, e.g. att gå framåt i snigelfart = to proceed at a snail’s pace
  • snigelpost = snail mail
  • snigelaktig = snail-like
  • snigelgång = snail time
  • snigeltempo = snail pace

Another name for snail is snigel med skal (snail with shell), and another name for slug is snigel utan skal (snail without shell).

So it seems that skal is another word for shell. It also means coat, paring, rind, jacket or peel. A snail’s shell is not snigels snigelhus but snigelskal.

Other Swedish words for shell include:

  • balja = shell, tub, tubful, bowl, pod
  • snäcka = shell, helix
  • musselskal – clamshell, scallop, shell
  • snäckskal = scallop, scollop, seashell, shell
  • ärtskida = shell
  • ärtbalja = shell

Sources: bab.la, Wiktionary, Online Etymology Dictionary, and Linguee

Average dainty sandwiches

Recently I learnt the Swedish word genomsnitt [jèːnɔmˌsnɪt], which means average or approximately. I thought I’d write about it as I like the way it sounds.

It comes genom (though, across) and snitt (a cut, an average). Genom comes from the Old Norse gegn (through), and snitt comes from the Proto-Germanic *snit (cutting, pruning, harversting).

Genom also appears in other words, including:

  • genombrott = a breakthrough, a breakdown
  • genombruten = openwork, lace, laced, transparent
  • genomföra = carry out, realize, accomplish, execute
  • genomgående = throughout
  • genomgång = a walkthrough, a briefing, a summary
  • genomskinlig = translucent; transparent
  • genomslag = impact
  • genomsnittlig = average, mean

Genom also means genome.

Snitt also means dainty sandwich, fashion, incision, cut, section.

Related words, and other words containing snitt include:

  • snida = to carve
  • snidare = cutter
  • snideri / snidande = carving
  • snitta = averaging, dollar cost averaging, to gash
  • snittning = averaging
  • kägelsnitt = conic section
  • avsnitt = section, part, sector
  • kejsarsnitt = cesarean
  • tvärsnitt = cross section
  • träsnitt = woodcut

Sources: bab.la, Wiktionary

Portugal oranges and Chinese apples

An orange

In Romanian the word for orange (the fruit) is portocală [portoˈkalə]. This comes from the Greek πορτοκάλι (portokáli – orange), from the Venetian portogallo (orange), from the Italian Portogallo (Portugal).

An number of other languages get their word for orange from the same root:

– Albanian: portokall
– Amharic: ብርቱካናማ (biritukanama)
– Arabic: برتقال (burtuqaal)
– Azerbaijani: portağal
– Bulgarian: портокал (portokal)
– Georgian: ფორთოხალი (p’ort’okhali)
– Macedonian: портокал (portokal)
– Persian (Farsi): پرتقال (porteghâl)
– Turkish: portakal

Portuguese merchants were probably the first to introduce oranges to Europe, hence the link between oranges and Portugal.

In some languages oranges are known as “Chinese apples”: Apfelsine (German), appelsien / sinaasappel (Dutch), apelsin (Swedish), etc. This makes sense as oranges were first cultivated in China in about 2,500 BC.

Words for oranges in some Slavic languages come from the Old French pomme d’orenge: pomeranč (Czech), pomaranča (Slovene), pomarańcza (Polish).

The word orange derives from नारङ्ग (nāraṅga) – “orange tree” in Sanskrit, which is probably of Dravidian origin. The word for orange in Portuguese, laranja, comes from this root.

The colour orange was named after the fruit. In Old English the colour orange was referred to as ġeolurēad (yellow-red), or ġeolucrog (yellow-saffron) [source].

Souces: Wiktionary, WordReference.com, Google Translate, Wikipedia, Flickr

Sounds good to me

Have you ever learnt a language just because you like the way it sounds?

This is one of the reasons for learning a language discussed by John McWhorter is this TED talk:

He talks about the joys of getting your tongue round the sounds of other languages, and mentions Khmer, with its large inventory of vowels.

Which languages sound good to you?

Are there any particular sounds or combinations of sounds that really appeal to you (in any language)?

I like listening to languages with clicks, such as Xhosa and Zulu, and also to ones with ejectives, such as Georgian. I also like listening to and speaking tonal languages, like Mandarin and Cantonese.

At the moment, my favourite language in terms of sounds, is Swedish.

Other sound favourites include Japanese, Finnish, Italian, Icelandic and Swahili.

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:

To write like a crow

An example of my handwriting

If your handwriting is difficult to read, you apparently write like a crow, at least you do in Swedish – skriva som en kråka.

That’s one of things I discovered today when putting together a new page of Swedish idioms.

If your spelling is poor, you spell like a crow – stava som en kråka.

Why is this? Are crows known for their poor writing and spelling in Sweden?

I found “to have (hand)writing like chicken scratch” in English [source], though haven’t come across it before.

Are there equivalent idioms in other langauges?

The image is an example of my handwriting. I can write more neatly than this, though rarely write by hand these days anyway.

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