Word of the day – moustache

Moustache

Today’s word, moustache, (mustache in American English) comes via the French moustache, the Italian mostaccio or the Spanish mostacho, from the Medieval Greek moustakion, a diminutive of mystax, “upper lip, moustache”, which is related to mastax, “jaws, mouth”, lit. “that with which one chews”.

This week there have been quite a lot of blokes with huge beards or impressive moustaches wandering round town. I’ve been wondering why – ZZ Top aren’t performing here, as far as I know. Today I discovered the reason – the World Beard and Moustache Championship is currently being held at the Brighton Centre (I kid you not). I saw some impressive beards and moustaches (attached to their owners, of course) when I went past earlier.

Here are a couple of facial hair-related factoids for you: shaving become general among the Romans in 450 BC, partly to avoid being held by the beard during close combat, and ever since Pope Leo III shaved off his beard in 795 AD, most Roman Catholic clergy have been clean shaven.

Source: Online Etymology Dictionary

Barfau a mwstashis

Yn ystod yr wythnos hon, mae llawer o ddynion gyda barfau hir iawn neu mwstashis nodedig wedi bod yn crwydro o amgylch y dre. Dw i wedi bod yn meddwl pam? Dydy ZZ Top yn performio fan hyn, hyd y gwn i! Heddiw darganfodais i y rheswm – cynhelir Bencampwriaeth Barf a Mwstas y Byd yn y Canolfan Brighton ar hyn o bryd. Pan cerddais heibio yn gynt a gweles i rhai o farfau a mwstashis nodedig iawn.

Féasóga agus croiméil

I rith an seachtain seo, bhí go leor fir atá féasóga iontach fada nó croiméil suntasach acu ag falróid timpeall an baile. Nach raibh fhios agam cén fáth atá siad ann. Níl ZZ Top ag seinn ansin, go bhfios dom! Inniu fuair mé amach an fáth – coinnítear an Craobhchomórtas Féasóg agus Croiméal an Domhain san Ionad Brighton ar faoi láthair. Chonaic mé roinnt féasóga agus croiméil an suntasach ar fad nuair a shiúl mé thart níos luaithe.

Beards and moustaches

This week there have been quite a lot of blokes with huge beards or impressive moustaches wandering round town. I’ve been wondering why. ZZ Top aren’t performing here, as far as I know. Today I discovered the reason – the World Beard and Moustache Championship is currently being held at the Brighton Centre (I kid you not). I saw some impressive beards and moustaches (attached to their owners, of course) when I went past earlier.

Maori language in Hawaii

According to a news item I found today, it’s possible to study the Maori language at the University of Hawaii. The Maori courses, which are taught at the Manoa campus, are popular with Hawaiian students, who are interesting in Maori because it has many similarities with the Hawaiian language and they are curious to find out what it’s like. They are also interested in other Polynesian languages.

Another article I came across today compares the Cree, Hualapai, Maori, and Hawaiian indigenous language programs. The writer describes common components and problems of implementation, and concludes that successful programs need to link language and culture, need written teaching materials, and need community support and parental involvement.

Hualapai, a.k.a Walapai, is spoken in parts of Arizona, in case you’re wondering.

Found fiction

There’s a genre of poetry known as ‘found poetry’ which involves take words, phrases and sometimes longer chunks of text from various sources and arranging them in a poetical way. Here’s a blog called simply ‘found poetry‘ with the subtitle ‘pulling poetry from pages of prosaic piffle’ which features many examples.

There’s a short story called Useful Phrases by Gene Wolfe based on the phrases found in a phrasebook, including such gems as Pava pacch, tîsh ùtra. Neéve sort dufji. (How like a ghost are the fountain’s waters! The flood carries away my riches), and Semphonississima techsodeliphindera lafiondalindu tuk yiscav kriishhalôné! (How delightful to discover in the shrinking sea a crystal blossom of home!”) – I suspect these phrases come from an imaginary phrasebook in a made-up language, but could be wrong. The story appears in Wolfe’s collection of short stories: Strange Travellers.

After discovering this today on this blog, I started thinking whether it would be possible to construct a story entirely or mainly from the phrases in a phrasebook, or maybe using a language textbook or grammar book as your source. Stories put together in this way might be called ‘found fiction’. Phrasebooks and other language books would probably be a good source of found poetry as well.

Word of the day – 月食 (yuèshí)

Today one of my Chinese contacts asked me the meaning of 月食 (yuèshí). It’s not a word I’ve come across before and I wasn’t able to guess its meaning from the meanings of the individual characters, so I had to look it up. It means ‘lunar eclipse’ and the individual characters mean ‘moon’ and ‘to eat’. I suppose it does look like part of the moon has been eaten during an eclipse. A solar eclipse is 日食 (rìshí).

Gŵyl y banc

Oedd hi’n braf ddoe – heulog a phoeth gyda gynt ysgafn – er oedd hi’n gŵyl y banc. Oedd hi’n braf dros y sul hefyd – newid neis ar ôl y tywydd diflas y gawson ni’n ddiweddar. Nes i cryn dipyn o bethau ar Omniglot yn y boreau, ac yn prynhawniau bues i ar y promenâd yn sglefrolio neu yn siwglo.

Cwrddais i âr un o’r nghyfeillion – hogyn sy’n chwarae y ffliwt – a phenderfynon ni’n cael sesiwn fach yn ei fflat bob Nos Iau. Gobeithio bydd ei gyfeillion sy’n chwarae y ffidl a’r gitar yno hefyd. Byddan ni’n ceisio dysgu o leiaf un dôn newydd bob wythnos.

Ddoe dw i’n wedi penderfynu gwneud cwrs mewn canu caneuon o Iwerddon yn y Canolfan Iwerddon yn Hammersmith, Llundain. Bydd y cwrs yn dechrau yng nghalon mis Medi, bydd e’n para am ddeng wythnos, a bydd e’n digwydd bob Nos Fawrth. Dw i’n edrych ymlaen yn eiddgar ato fe.

Lá saoire banc

Bhí lá breá ann inné – grianmhar agus te le gaoth éadroma – cé go raibh lá saoire banc ann. Bhí an aimsir go breá ag an deireadh seachtaine chomh maith – athrú deas i ndiaidh an aimsir uafásach a bhí ann le déanaí. Rinne mé cuid mhaith rudaí ar Omniglot ar maidin, agus tráthnóna bhí mé ag scátáil agus ag déanamh lámhchleasaíocht ar an promanád.

Bhuail mé le cara – buachaill a bhíonn ag seinm an fheadóg mhór – agus bheartaigh muid seisiún ceoil beag a dhéanamh gach oíche Déardaoin in ar árasán. Tá súil aige go mbeidh ar chara eile ann – fidléir amháin agus giotáraí. Bhain muid triail as port nua amháin ar a laghad a fhoghlaim gach seachtaine.

Inné bheartaigh mé cúrsa amhránaíocht sa Lárionad Gaelach i Hammersmith, Londain a dhéanamh. Beidh an cúrsa ag tosú i mí Mheán Fómhaira agus beidh sé ann gach oíche Mháirt ar feadh deich seachtaine. Tá mé ag súil go mór leis.

Bank holiday

It was a nice day yesterday – sunny and warm with a light breeze – even though it was a bank holiday. The weather was good over the weekend as well – a nice change after the horrible weather we’ve been having recently. I did quite a few things on Omniglot in the mornings, and spent the afternoons skating or juggling down on the seafront.

Yesterday I met up with a friend who plays the flute and we arranged to meet up at his place on Thursday evenings for a music session. He hopes to persuade some other friends to come as well – a fiddler and a guitarist – and we’ll try to learn at least one new tune a week.

I’ve also decided to sign up for a course in Irish singing at the Hammersmith Irish Centre in London. The course starts in September, takes place on Tuesday evenings and will last for ten weeks. I’m really looking forward to it.

Winged words and chocolate interrobangs

I came across a couple of interesting-looking linguablogs today: Epea pteroenta, which discusses language, linguistics, literature, and film; and The Chocolate Interrobang, where the numerous contributors “savor discussions about language & grammar & syntax, and sometimes reminisce about diagramming sentences…”.

The phrase Epea Pteroenta (Επεα Πτεροεντα) comes from Homer’s Odyssey and means “winged words”. When I first saw it, I realised is was Greek and thought it had something to do with birds – ptero as in pterodactyl – until discovering it’s real meaning. My Greek obviously needs more work.

The titles of both these blogs appeal to me, especially the latter. I think titles are important and often spend a while trying to come up with good titles for blog posts and web pages, and even good subjects for emails. I like punning titles and those containing combinations of words not normally seen together, like chocolate and interrobang.

Books with unusual or amusing titles also tend to catch my attention, and my choice of reading material is sometimes based mainly on a quirky title. Here are a few examples: The War of Don Emmanuel’s Nether Parts, the first of Louis De Bernieres’ triology or novels set in an unnamed country in South America; The Bank Manager and the Holy Grail, a travel book in which Byron Rogers explores the “wilder reaches of Wales”, and The Sprouts of Wrath, the forth book in Robert Rankins’ Brentford trilogy.

Before the 20th century, many books had very long titles which tried to explain the contents of the book in detail. Here, for example, is the title of Dr Johnson’s famous dictionary:

A
DICTIONARY
of the
English Language:
in which
The WORDS are deduced from their ORIGINALS,
and
ILLUSTRATED in their DIFFERENT SIGNIFICATIONS
by
EXAMPLES from the best WRITERS.
To which are prefixed
and AN ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
By SAMUEL JOHNSON, A.M.
In TWO Volumes

Crocodiling

To crocodile, or krokodili, means to speak one’s native language at a gathering of Esperantists, a practice generally frowned on by Esperantists, according to an article I found today.

The article gives an interesting account of the history of Esperanto and the life of it’s inventor, Ludwig Lazarus Zamenhof. For a while Zamenhof apparently considered trying to make Hebrew and/or Yiddish into international languages, but later changed his mind as he considered a revival of Hebrew futile. He also urged Yiddish speakers to adopt the Cyrillic alphabet.

The article also mentions two other interesting Esperanto words: aligatori (to alligator), which means to speak one’s native language with someone speaking it as a second language, and kajmani (to cayman), which means to converse in a language that’s native to neither speaker.