Tonnmharcaíocht

An interesting word I heard yesterday on Raidió na Gaeltachta was tonnmharcaíocht or surfing – literally “wave riding”. I hadn’t heard it before, but was able to work out the meaning from its component words. Another word for this kind of surfing is tonnscinneadh (wave glancing / skimming). Surfing the internet is scimeáil ar an Idirlíon, and sciméail also means to skim (milk).

Words related to marcaíocht (riding, to ride / drive / lift), include marcach (rider / horseman), marcaigh (to ride) and marcshlua (cavalry). The root of these is marc, the Old Irish word for horse, which is related to the Welsh march, the Cornish margh, and the Breton marc’h, all of which mean stallion.

The words for mare in Old High German (marah), Norse (marr), and Anglo-Saxon (mearh) as well as the English words mare and marshal are also related and can be traced back to the Proto-Indo-European *mark (horse).

Cennin Pedr

Daffodils / Cennin Pedr / Narcissi

Yesterday was St David’s Day (Dydd Gŵyl Dewi), a day when many Welsh people wear daffodils (cennin Pedr) in honour of their patron saint. The daffodil (cenhinen Bedr) is one of the national symbols of Wales, along with the leek (cenhinen), and the Welsh name for daffodil means “Peter’s leek”. The leek has been a Welsh symbol for many centuries and features prominently in traditional Welsh dishes such as cawl cennin (leek soup). The daffodil became popular as a national symbol during the 19th century, especially among women.

The names for daffodil in Irish, Manx and Scottish Gaelic are similar: lus an chromchinn, lus ny cam-ching and lus a’ chrom-chinn, which mean “bent-headed plant”. Alternative names in Manx include lus ny n’guiy (goose plant) and lus yn arree (Spring plant).

The English word daffodil is thought to comes from the Middle English affodill (asphodel), from the Middle Lation affodillus, from the Latin asphodelus, from the Greek asphodelos, the origin of which is unknown. The initial d perhaps came from a merging of the Dutch definite article de with affodil (Source).

According to Plutarch the Latin name for daffodil, narcissus, comes from the Greek ναρκαώ [narkao] (to numb), which is also the root of narcosis, as the plant which produces numbness or palsy (Source). Although other sources claim that the narcissus was named after Νάρκισσος [Narkissos], the character in Greek myths.

The daffodil or narcissus is a symbol of vanity in the West, while in China it’s a symbol of wealth and good fortune.

Croenlun

They were talking about tattoos this morning on Radio Cymru and one of the presenters used the word croenlun, which I hadn’t heard before but could understand from the meaning of its component words – croen (skin) and llun (picture, image). This word doesn’t appear in any of my Welsh dictionaries so I suspect it isn’t very common – the usual Welsh word for tattoo is tatŵ.

Mysterious symbol tattoo

Other Welsh words containing croen include croendenau (skin thin) – touchy sensitive; croendew (skin thick) and croengaled (skin hard) – thick-skinned, callous; and croeniach (skin healthy) – unhurt, unharmed.

The English word tattoo comes from one of the Polynesian languages – perhaps the Tahitian and Samoan tatau or the Marquesan tatu, which mean “puncture, mark made on skin”.

The image on the right was sent in by a visitor to Omniglot who would like to know if anybody recognises the symbol.

It looks like a tattoo and the symbol does look vaguely familiar to me, though I’m not sure where I’ve seen it before.

Word of the day – ig

The Welsh word ig (plural: igion) means hiccough. The verb, to hiccough / sob, is igian, igio or igion.

When I’m singing or playing the tin whistle or other wind instruments I often get hiccoughs, and the other day I was trying to explain this to a Welsh friend in Welsh, but didn’t know the Welsh word for hiccup. So I looked it up.

The English word hiccough (also spelt hiccup) is thought to be an imitation of the sound of hiccoughs, and the Welsh word ig probably is as well.

In other languages hiccough is:
Czech: škytavka
German: Schluckauf
Dutch: hik
French: hoquet
Irish: snag
Italian: singhiozzo
Spanish: hipo

The medical terms for hiccough are synchronous diaphragmatic flutter (SDF), or singultus, from the Latin, singult, “the act of catching one’s breath while sobbing”.

Do you have any good cures for hiccoughs?

I usually hold my breath and/or drink water.

Noel, genes and genius

When singing the Christmas carol The First Noel the other day I started wondering where the word noel comes from. I knew noël was French for Christmas, but wasn’t sure where that came from.

According to the Online Etymology Dictionary, noel comes from the Latin natalis (birth) via the Old French noel (the Christmas season), and the Middle English nowel.

Quite a few other words for Christmas probably come from the same root – Natale (Italian), Navidad (Spanish), Natal (Portuguese), Nadal (Catalan/Galician/Occitan/Romansh), Nadolig (Welsh), Nedeleg (Breton), Nadelik (Cornish), Nollaig (Irish/Scottish Gaelic), and Nollick (Manx).

natalis comes from natus, the past participle of nasci (to be born), which comes from the Old Latin gnasci (to be born), which is cognate with the Latin genus (race, stock, kind), and the Greek γένος [genos] (race, kind) and γόνος [gonos] (birth, offspring, stock), the reconstructed Proto-Indo-European root of which is *gen-/*gon-/*gn- (to produce, beget, be born).

Other words derived from that PIE root include genius, gene, king and kin in English, gentis (Lithuanian – kinsman), Kind (German – child), geni (Welsh – to be born), and I’m sure there are plenty of others.

Word of the day – cawl

Today’s word, cawl /kaul/, is a Welsh word meaning soup, broth, gruel or a mess.

Cawl is also a traditional Welsh stew made with meat and vegetables. It’s the kind of dish that’s made from whatever is available so the exact ingredients vary, but it often includes lamb and leeks, and is often served with bread and cheese. There a recipe for cawl and more information here.

The word cawl probably comes from the Latin caulis, which means the stalk of a plant, a cabbage stalk or a cabbage. It is related to the Irish cál, the Scottish Gaelic càl, the Cornish caul, the Breton kaol, the German Kohl, the English cole, as in coleslaw, and the Scots kail, all of which mean cabbage. The Welsh word for cabbage is completely different – bresychen.

The Proto-Indo-European root of caulis is *kaw(ǝ)l, which means tubular bone or pipe.

Word of the day – gwrthryfel

The Welsh word gwrthryfel means rebellion or mutiny. I heard it while listening to a programme on Radio Cyrmru about the The Chartists. I worked out what it meant from its roots: gwrth (against) and rhyfel (war), and this got me thinking about how Welsh words like this are easier to understand than their English equivalents as they’re made up of Welsh roots rather than borrowing from Latin, Greek or other languages.

Then I thought that maybe the English word rebel has the same structure as the Welsh word -I knew that the bel part had something to do with war in Latin and guessed that re meant against. I checked this and found that it comes from the Latin rebellare, to rebel, wage war against, which is made up of re (opposite, against), and bellare (to wage war), which comes from from bellum (war).

Knowing Latin certainly can help you understand the etymology of many English words, and knowing Welsh can also be useful in unexpected ways.

Word of the day – moli

Today’s word, moli, is the Welsh for ‘to praise’ and appears in a song we’re learning at the Welsh learners’ choir. I don’t think it’s commonly-used in modern Welsh, but does appear in some songs and maybe in poems. The more common word for to praise is canmol, which appears to come from the same root.

Related words include moliannus, praiseworthy; molianrwydd / moliant / molud, praise.

The words for ‘to praise’ and ‘praise’ in Irish and Scottish Gaelic are simliar to the Welsh: moladh, and mol, in Manx they’re moylley and moyll, and in Breton they are meuliñ and meuleudi.

Another meaning of moli is ‘to gather scurf in the eyes’. Scurf, or môl, is a word I haven’t come across before and means the stuff that appears in the corners of your eyes during sleep. There’s probably another name for it – does anybody know?

Word of the day – gliniadur

Gliniadur / laptop computer

Gliniadur is a Welsh word for laptop computer. It combines (pen-)glin, knee, with iadur from cyfrifiadur, computer, and could be translated as “kneeputer”. It is similar to the Irish for laptop, ríomhaire glúine (knee computer).

Other Welsh words for laptop include cyfrifiadur côl (lap computer), sgrin-ar-lin (screen on the knees) and cyfrifiadur cludadwy (portable computer).

The suffix adur denotes a tool or thing and also appears in geiriadur (dictionary, “word tool”), gwniadur (thimble, “sewing tool”), teipiadur (typewriter, “type tool”), and termiadur (a dictionary of terminology).

This word came up last night at the French conversation group when we were discussing how to say laptop in French (ordinateur portable) – are there any other words for laptop in French?

Do any other languages have interesting words for laptop?

Language modes

I’ve just returned from a wonderful week of Irish language and culture in Gleann Cholm Cille in Donegal, Ireland. This was my fifth visit to Gleann Cholm Cille, and my third time at the summer school – I enjoy it so much that I keep going back. And I’m not the only one – many of the people I met there last year and the year before were there again this year, and many of the first-time visitors said that they’d be back.

I spent most of my time there immersed in Irish language, songs and music. Although this week is the only one during the year when I get to speak much Irish, my proficiency in the language does seem to be improving. I still make plenty of mistakes, of course, but am getting better as expressing myself in the language without resorting to English very much.

One thing I noticed was that when I tried to think of Welsh equivalents some of the Irish words and phrases I encountered, they often refused to surface from wherever it is they lurk in my memory. I suspect this was because my brain was in Irish mode and this suppressed my other languages to some extent.

Have you had any similar experiences with languages?

By the way, apologies for Omniglot being down temporarily – it was something to do with the firewall, which I think I fixed now.