Category: German (Deutsch)

Achoo!

By Simon

When someboday sneezes, do you usually say anything? If so, what?

In the UK it’s common to say ‘Bless you!’ after a sneeze.

In French they say à tes souhaits or à vos souhaits – souhait = wish, so these mean something like ‘to your wishes’.

In German they say “Gesundheit!” (Health). I’ve heard this used by English speakers as well.

The Welsh equivalents of ‘Bless you’ are:

– Rhad arnat ti! = Bless you! (to one person you know)
– Rhad arnoch chi! = Bless you! (to several people or a stranger)
– Bendith y Tad! = Blessing of the Father!

However I’ve never heard these used in Welsh.

How do you represent the sound of a sneeze writing?

Here are a few ways: achoo, atchoo, ahchoo, ah-choo, a-choo, atishoo, atchoum (French).

Here’s an infographic showing how people respond to a sneeze around the world:

How the world responds to sneezing

How the world responds to sneezing, courtesy of Expedia.ca

Different ways of knowing

By Simon

In English you could say that you know a person, a place, a language or a fact. You could also talking about knowing about things, knowing of people, knowing how to do things, knowing hardship, knowing what’s what, knowing the ropes, and so on.

In Welsh to say you know a person or place you use adnabod or nabod. For exmple Dw i’n ei nabod nhw yn dda (I know them well), Wyt ti’n nabod Caerdydd? (Do you know Cardiff?).

When talking about knowing a fact you use gwybod. For example, Mae hi’n gwybod popeth (She knows everything), Dan ni’n gwybod tipyn bach am weu (We know a little about knitting).

In some cases you can use nabod and gwybod to show how well you know something. If you say Dw i’n nabod y gân ‘ma (I know this song), you mean that you are familiar with it, but can’t necessarily sing it. If you say Dw i’n gwybod y gân ‘ma it means you it well.

There are quite a few ways to say ‘I don’t know’ in Welsh: Dydw i ddim yn gwybod, Dw i ddim yn gwybod, Dwi’m gwybod, Sa i’n gwybod, Wn i ddim, ‘Dwn i ddim, and apparently in Bala they saw Wmbo.

To know how to do something is also medru, e.g. Mae o’n medru darllen (He can/knows how to read), and to not know how to do something is methu, e.g Dw i’n methu siarad Basceg eto (I can’t / don’t know how to speak Basque yet), at least in North Wales. In South Wales they say Mae e’n gallu darllen and Dw i ddim gallu siarad Basceg eto.

Irish equivalents of the above Welsh examples are:

– Tá aithne maith agam acu = I know them well
– An bhfuil tú eolach ar Chaerdydd? = Do you know Cardiff?
– Tá a fhios aici gach rud = She knows everything
– Tá beagán eolas againn faoi chniotáil = We know a little about knitting
– Tá a fhios agam an t-amhrán seo = I know (of) this song
– Tá an amhráin seo ar eolas agam = I know this song (well)
– Níl a fhios agam = I don’t know
– Is féidir leis léamh = He can read
– Níl Bascais agam go fóill / Níl mé abalta Bascais a labhairt go fóill / Ní féídir liom Bascais a labhairt go fóill = I don’t / can’t speak Basque yet

The other Celtic languages have various ways to express knowing, as do quite a few other languages, such as French, Spanish, German, etc.

Incidentally, when asked which languages you ‘know’? How do you answer? At what level would you say that you ‘know’ a language?

Sources: Geiriadur Yr Academi, WordReference.com, Reverso, fócloir.ie

Corrections are always welcome if I’ve made any mistakes.

Portugal oranges and Chinese apples

By Simon

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

Heim aftur / Home again

By Simon

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

Ambling Along

By Simon

Walking stick figure

An Icelandic word I learnt recently is (að) labba [ˈlapːa], which means ‘to walk slowly, to amble, to stroll’ [source].

Here are a few examples of usage:

  • Mér finnst gaman að labba um bæinn = I like to stroll around town
  • Ljúft finnst mér að labba á pöbbinn = I like to walk to the pub [source]
  • Ég labba ein heim eftir myrkur = I walk home alone after dark [source]

Other Icelandic words meaning to walk include:

að ganga [að ˈkauŋka] = to walk, go on foot, to climb; to move, run, go; to go around, be passed on [source].

Here are some examples:

  • að ganga á fjall = to climb a mountain
  • vagninn gengur á 20 mínútna fresti = the bus runs every 20 minutes
  • klukkan gengur = the clock is going
  • vélin gengur vel = the machine is running well
  • sagan gengur = the story is going about
  • þetta gengur vel = this is coming along fine
  • þetta gengur ekki = this won’t work, this won’t do
  • hvað gengur á? = what’s going on?

This word comes from the Old Norse ganga (to go, walk), from the Proto-Germanic *ganganą (to go, walk, step), from the Proto-Indo-European *ǵʰengʰ- (to walk, step) [source]. This is also the root of the Old English words gangan (to go, walk, turn out) and gang (a journey; way; passage), which is used in some northern dialects of English to mean to go – e.g. in Geordie gan yem = go home [source]. It’s modern meaning of a group of people probably comes from the idea of people travelling (ganging) together [source].

að troða [að ˈtʰrɔːða] = to trample, tread on, step on; to tread, walk; to stuff, fill, pack; to press forward, elbow one’s way [source].

This word comes from the Old Norse troða (to tread, walk), from the Proto-Germanic *trudaną (to tread, step on), which is also the root of the English words tread and trot.

að rölta [að ˈrœlta] = to stroll, saunter [source].

Incidentally, the English word amble comes from the Old French ambler (to walk as a horse does), from the Old Provençal amblar, from Latin ambulō (I walk) [source], and stroll comes from the German strollen, a variant of the Alemannic German strolchen, from Strolch (vagabond; rascal) [source].

A Telling Chat

By Simon

In interesting word I learnt recently in Icelandic is spjall [ˈspjatl̥], which means chat, converstation, talk or gossip.

It comes from the Old Norse spjall [ˈspjɑlː] (saying, tale, words, tales, tidings); from Proto-Germanic *spellą (news, message, tale, story), from the Proto-Indo-European *spel- (to tell).

A related word is spjalla, which means ‘to converse, to chat’. You could use it like this, I think,

– Ég er að spjalla á íslensku = I am chatting in Icelandic.

The Proto-Indo-European *spel- is also the root of the English word spell, the German -spiel in Beispiel (example – literally “by talk”) There were similar words in Old English: bīspel (proverb, pattern, example), and Scots: byspel (byword, rarety, outcast).

The German word spielen comes from a different root: the Proto-Germanic *spilōną (to play, to dance, to move), from *spilą (game, play, dance).

Icelandic words with related meanings include:

– tal = speech, conversation
– tala = to talk, to speak
– talmál = spoken language
– talsháttur = phrase, idiom
– talsmaður = advocte, spokesperson
– talsmát = manner of speaking, expression
– ræða = speech, address; to speak, talk, discuss
– ræðinn = talkative

Sources: Wiktionary, Íslensk – ensk orðabók / Concise Icelandic – English Dictionary

Sabhal Mòr Ostaig

By Simon

I made it to Sabhal Mòr Ostaig last night. It started to rain very heavily as the ferry arrived in Armadale. Fortunately there was a bus to the college, but I got rather damp just walking from the ferry to the bus, and from the bus into the college.

Sabhal Mòr Ostaig

So far on this journey I’ve heard quite a few different languages, including German, Lithuanian, Mandarin, French, Spanish and Dutch. I’ve had conversations in English, Scottish Gaelic and Irish, and spoken odd bits of Manx, Swedish, Russian and German.

My Scottish Gaelic is a bit rusty, but it’s coming back, and I fill in any gaps with Irish. On the way hear I listened to an audio book and some songs in Gaelic to tune my ears into the language.

Linguistic adventures

By Simon

This week I have been speaking quite a bit of Irish. Even though I rarely speak it at home, it is usually there when I need it. When trying to understand songs or poems in Irish, I realise that there are plenty of gaps in my vocabulary, but I can at least get the gist of them.

On Monday night there was a little Russian-speaking corner in the pub made up of three Belarusians, a Bulgarian, and me. I was able to understand quite a bit of what the others were saying in Russian, and to join in occasionally.

Yesterday I learnt a bit about Finnish language and culture from the Finnish guy who is doing the harp course. He told me that Finns tend to be less talkative than people from other countries, but that there is a lot of non-verbal communication between them.

I have also had opportunities to speak a bit of German, and have learnt a bit about German musical terms. For example, in German musical notes are not A to G, but A to H – H refers to B, and B refers to B♭, which is slighly confusing to someone used to the English system.

Do musical notes have other names in your language, or in other languages you know?

Turrys foddey / Turas fada / A Long Journey

By Simon

Last night I arrived safely in Glencolmcille in Donegal in the northwest of Ireland. I left Peel at 8am, went by bus to Ronaldsway airport, flew to Dublin, then took buses all the way to Glencolmcille, arriving just before 8pm, so it took nearly 12 hours.

Sunset in Gleann Cholm Cille

I met people I know from previous visits to Ireland along the way – at Dublin airport, in Donegal town, and in Killybegs – so the journey didn’t seem quite so long as I had people to talk to. As they say in Irish, bíonn siúlach scéalach (travellers have tales to tell), and giorraíonn beirt bóthar (two people shorten a road).

On the road and after I arrived in Glencolmcille I had conversations in English, Irish, German, Welsh, and spoke odd bits of Russian, French, Romanian, Swedish and Manx.

Today the courses start – there are courses in Irish language, translation, flute and whistle player, and harp playing (that’s the one I’m doing), and also a group going hill walking every day.

There are people here from many countries, including Ireland, the UK, the USA, Australia, France, Belgium, Luxembourg, Finland, Germany, Switzerland, Belarus, Brazil and Slovakia. So I will have plenty of opportunities to practise my languages.

An Clachán, Gleann Cholm Cille