Spreek je Nederlands?

Today’s post comes from an email sent in by James Eglinton.

I have met many non-native English speakers who speak English with no discernible non-native accent. I know Dutch people (with Irish spouses) who can pass themselves off as Irish in Ireland. I know French people who speak faultless British English, I have heard a German speaking Scottish Gaelic and I struggled to tell that he wasn’t a native speaker. I also know various non-native French speakers who have to convince French people that they really are foreigners. I know Scots who can pass themselves off as Germans in Germany. Wherever you go in the world, you meet non-native English speakers with perfect American accents …

In my own situation, I grew up with English and Gaelic, and also learned French while living in Paris. When I was living there, people would ask if I was Belgian or Swiss. My French accent wasn’t quite native enough for them to think I was French, but I spoke it well enough that they generally thought I was a native speaker from somewhere else in French-speaking Europe.

I now live in the Netherlands and have learned Dutch to fluent non-native level. Thanks to my Gaelic background, Dutch gutturals don’t pose any major problems, but although I speak Dutch all day at work, I have found trying to acquire a decent native-like accent astonishingly difficult. I have found Dutch easy to speak well, but thus far impossible to speak perfectly. I regularly ask Dutch people, “Have you ever met a foreigner who speaks such good Dutch that you didn’t know they were foreign?” The universal answer is, “No”.

I’m aware that Dutch has a couple of very tricky features (the klemtone [misplaced stress] and the system of de and het definite articles) that make acquiring native level fluency very difficult (or perhaps impossible?), but I wonder if any Omniglot readers know non-native Dutch speakers who speak faultless Dutch.

If not, why is Dutch so seemingly impossible to learn at that level? Are there sociological factors involved (i.e. very few people learn Dutch, many millions learn English/French etc, which creates a more challenging setting for Dutch learners) or is Dutch just uniquely hard to master due to some subtle grammatical nuances?

Cnaipí & cripio

A story I heard when I was in Ireland featured two characters playing na cnaipí (tiddlywinks) /nə kripiː/ in a graveyard at night. A man who overheard them sharing out the tiddlywinks, saying over and over “one for me and one for you”, and thought they were the devil and god sharing out souls.

When I first heard the story I didn’t know what na cnaipí were, but later disovered that they are buttons or tiddlywinks. The singular of the word is cnaipe /kripə/ or /knapə/* and it means button, knob, key or dot, and can refer to buttons on clothes and to buttons (and keys and knobs) on keyboards and other electronic software and hardware.

* in some dialects of Irish, such as in Ulster and Connemara, cn is pronounced /kr/ while in others it’s pronounced /kn/

Today I discovered some similar-sounding Welsh words, cripio (to scratch) and cripiad (scratch), and wondered if they were related to the Irish cnaipe.

According to Dennis King, cnaipe comes from the Middle Irish cnap, from the Old Norse knappr (button, knob), from the Germanic *kn-a-pp-, from the Indo-European root *gen- (to compress into a ball), which is also the root of the English words knob and knoll, and the Scottish Gaelic word cnap (knob, lump, hillock).

As far as I can discover, there is no link between cnaipe and cripio – their resemblance is a chance one, something you find quite often when comparing languages.

Easy Languages Language Trip Giveaway

Today over on The Language Traveler they’re launching their first ever language trip giveaway. The grand prize is 2 weeks of French lessons, including accommodation, in Brussels in Belgium valued at €795 or approximately US$1,100.

To participate, eligible visitors simply have to leave a comment on the announcement post. The winner will then be randomly selected from all the valid entries.

The Language Traveler is the official blog of Easy Languages, a study abroad agency based in Brussels that can arrange language courses at over 70 destinations around the world.

Crusts, hogwash and turnspits

On the BBC Four programme If Walls Could Talk: The History of the Home, that I watched last night, they discussed the possible origins of a number of expressions, including by hook and by crook, upper crust, hog wash, turnspit and so on.

By hook and by crook – by whatever means necessary.
In medieval times peasants were only allowed to take wood from the trees – any wood on the ground belonged to the lord of the manor – and they gathered the wood with reapers’ billhooks or shepherds’ crooks. According to The Phrase Finder, this is the most likely origin of this phrase, though there are other suggestions: that it comes from Hook Head and Crooke, villages on opposite sides of the Waterford channel in Ireland, and Cromwell apparently said that Waterford would fall ‘by Hook or by Crooke’, i.e. by a landing of his army at one of those two places. Another possibility is that the phrase comes from two judges from the early 17th century, called Hooke and Crooke, who were called on to solve difficult legal cases.

Upper crust – the aristocracy.
The folk etymology of this phrase is that only the nobility were given the upper, unburnt part of the bread, while the peasants got the bottoms of the loaves that had sat on the oven floor and got burnt. According to The Phrase Finder though, there is no evidence for this explanation. They cite one reference from The boke of nurture, folowyng Englondis gise by John Russell (circa 146): “Kutt ye vpper crust for youre souerayne.” (iCut the upper crust [of the loaf] for your sovereign). The term upper crust wasn’t used to refer to the aristocracy, at least in writing, until the early 19th century and previously referred to the outer crust of the Earth’s surface and, more frequently, a person’s head or hat.

Hogwash – nonsene.
In Victorian times, and probably before, any food waste that couldn’t be made into soup or otherwise reused was called ‘wash’ and was sold to farmers to feed their pigs or hogs, hence ‘hogwash’, which is also known as pigswill. By the later 19th century and mainly in the USA hogwash came to mean nonsense, especially ridiculous, worthless or nonsensical ideas.

Turnspit – a person whose job it was to keep a roasting-spit turning, or a dog that kept the spit turning by running in a wooden tread-wheel to which it was attached. Such dogs were also known as turnspit dogs or turn curs and a breed (now extinct) was developed specifically for such work. Such a dog first appears in writing in Of English Dogs in 1576 with the name Turnespete. Other names for them include the Kitchen Dog, the Cooking Dog, the Underdog and the Vernepator.

Red herrings and white elphants

Today I came an interesting site called Phrases, Expressions & Sayings that provides information about the origins of sayings, proverbs and other expressions in English.

Here are a few examples:

Red herring
Red herring
Meaning: A false trail; something that provides a false or misleading clue.

Example: The hounds followed the scent of the red herring rather than that of the fox.

Origin: This phrase refers to smoked herring. In many parts of 19th century Britain such fish have a very strong smell and were usually known, not as kippers, but as red herrings. Because of their smell, they were good at masking other smells. As a result, they could easily cover the scent of a fox. A red herring pulled across the trail could divert the hounds onto a false path. Thus, by analogy, the phrase came to be used to describe any false trail.

According to the OED however, red herrings were used to lay trails for hounds to follow, which enable the hunters to exercise their horses by following the hounds. There is apparently no evidence that false trails were laid using red herrings to distract the hounds. This was a idea that emerged during the 19th century.

White elephant
White elephant
Meaning: Something which is a liability – more trouble than it’s worth.

Example: The London Bridge became a white elephant. The bridge was relocated to Havasu City Arizona, where it now remains as a tourist attraction.

Origin: From the Burmese belief that albino elephants are sacred. They can’t be used for work and they must be lavished with the ultimate amount of care. If the King of Siam wished to get rid of a particular courtier, he gave a gift of a white elephant. The courtier dared not offend the King with a refusal although he was fully aware that the cost of upkeep of such an animal was ruinous.

The OED doesn’t mention whether albino elephants are considered sacred in Burma, but does have the story about the King of Siam giving troublesome or obnoxious courtiers the ‘gift’ of a white elephant which would ruin the recipient due the costs of maintenance.

At coffee mornings, fetes and similar events in the village where I grew up there was often white elephant stall, which had all sorts of odds and ends that people want to get rid of.

Are there any similar expressions in other languages?

Making friends around the world

The other day I met a fan of Omniglot from Spain who told me how much she loves Omniglot, especially the phrases section because it helps her make friends all round the world. It was wonderful and encouraging to hear this.

Some other nice things people have said about Omniglot.

The phrases section actually started with phrases like “My hovercraft is full of eels“, and other ‘useful’ phrases like:

Sot oc’h gant ar binîoù? – Are you fond of bagpipes? [Breton]
Ha’aheo no paha ‘oe i kena papale kupalaka, pehea la – You must be very proud of your large hat [Hawaiian]
Îmi poţi împrumuta puţin spatula ta? – Can I borrow your spatula? [Romanian]

The kinds of phrases that you use every day, of course 🙂

Then I thought it might be a good idea to add some somewhat less ‘useful’ phrases like Hello, How are you? and Where are you from? – the kinds of things you might just use now and then.

I often use the phrases pages for opening and closing greetings when writing emails and other messages, and for sending birthday and Christmas greetings. Also, whenever I meet people who speak a language I don’t know, I’ll try to learn at least a few phrases in that language, which is a great way to start conversations.

For example, there’s a Bulgarian lass who works at the hotel I stayed in Douglas in the Isle of Man a few weeks ago. The first time I stayed there two years ago I discovered that she was from Bulgaria, so this time I went back armed with a few Bulgarian phrases, much to her surprise. I think she expected me to continue in Bulgarian after I’d said hello (Здравей [Zdravej]), but I had to explain that my knowledge of Bulgarian is limited.

Do you use the phrases in this way, or in other interesting ways?

The Endangered Alphabets Project

Today we have a guest post by Tim Brookes

Example of Tim Brookes carving in Lontara

The Endangered Alphabets Alphabets Project is expanding in several directions at once, and at times my head spins.

The original exhibition of 14 carved version of Article One of the UDHR (thanks to Omniglot) is venturing farther and farther afield. It’s currently in the spacious and airy Sachem Library on Long Island, and is about to be the subject of a profile in the New York Times. You can also find a nice piece in The Atlantic.

The Endangered Poem Project is nearing its goal of having my short poem (on the importance of traditional scripts) translated into 20 endangered writing systems. Ten of those are already carved. This part of the project got a huge boost recently while I was visiting Bangladesh, and made contacts that should produce no fewer than three versions in indigenous languages/scripts from the Chittagong Hill Districts: Chakma, Mro, and Marma.

The most ambitious feature of the Alphabets project, though-and the one that has me sweating-is the World Tour fundraiser. When I started this whole enterprise I thought it would be amazing to be able to take the carvings back to their various countries of origin, so as to raise awareness and discussion on the issue of cultural preservation. Needless to say, I can’t afford to do that on my own, so I’m trying to raise funds on Kickstarter.com to do so. I could really, really use some backing on this, especially as the fundraising window closes in three weeks. Anyone who is interested in helping out (and each backer receives a reward for support) should go to Kickstarter.com. Or at least forward the link to anyone who might be interested.

Thanks!

Tim Brookes

Peu profond

Last night I discovered that there doesn’t appear to be a separate French word for shallow, at least when you’re talking about shallow water, dishes or graves – the term peu profond (‘not very deep’) is used in these cases. If you’re talking about a shallow person, mind, writing, novel, film or conversation though, the word to use is superficiel(le), or you can say that they manque de profondeur (lack depth).

This got me wondering whether there is a Latin word for shallow, when referring to water, etc, which didn’t end up in French. According to my Latin dictionary, shallow is brevis, vadōsus or levis. Another Latin dictionary I checked defines brevis as short, vadōsus as “full of shallows, shallow, shoal” and levis as “light, not heavy” or “smooth, not rough”.

The English word shallow first appeared in writing in the early 15th century schalowe, and is possibly related to schald (Old English sceald) – shoal.