Smiling Hum

One of the Finnish words that I learnt recently and really like is hymy [ˈhymy] which means smile. Apparently it is imitative of the short humming sound associated with smiling. In fact, it’s difficult to say without smiling [source].

Woody smiling

Related words include:

  • hymytä = to smile
  • hymyillä = to smile, beam, smirk, grin
  • hymyilyttää = to make someone smile, to amuse, to feel like smiling
  • hymähtää [ˈhymæht̪æː(ʔ)] = to smile shortly, especially with a short “hm” sound; to scorn, often with ivallisesti (mockingly), to raise a corner of the upper lip slightly, especially in scorn, to sneer
  • hymykuoppa = dimple
  • hymiö [ˈhymiø̞] = emoticon, smiley 🙂
  • hyminä [ˈhyminæ] = a hum
  • hymistä [ˈhymis̠tæ(ʔ)] = to hum
  • hymistellä [ˈhymis̠ˌte̞lːæ(ʔ)] = to hum, to praise

Is hymähtää a particularly Finnish way of smiling?

Are there any other languages in which the words smile and hum are connected?

Incidentally, the English word smile comes from Middle English smilen (to smile), from Old Norse *smíla (to smile), from Proto-Germanic *smīlijaną (to smile), from Proto-Indo-European *smey- (to laugh, be glad, wonder) [source].

In Old English a word for to smile was smearcian, which comes from Proto-Germanic *smarōną (to mock, scoff at, deride), which possibly comes from *smīlijaną (to smile), from Proto-Indo-European *smey- (to laugh, etc) [source].

English words from the same root include smirk, smear, admire, marvel, miracle, and the name Miranda [source].

Singing Cows

What links the word bazooka with Roman trumpets and singing cows? Let’s find out in this blog post.

A bazooka was originally a primitive type of trombone with wide tubes. During World War II it came to refer to a shoulder-held rocket launcher used as an antitank weapon that was developed at the time, and which resembled the musical instrument. Bazooka has other meanings that we won’t go into here.

Bazooka comes from bazoo, an old word for a wind instrument (used in the USA and Canada) and a slang word for mouth (in the USA). That probably comes from the Dutch word bazuin [baːˈzœy̯n] (a medieval trumpet), from the Middle Dutch basune/basine (a kind of trumpet), from the Old French buisine (a type of trumpet used in battle), from the Latin būcina (bugle, curved war trumpet), from bōs/bovi- (cow, bull, steer, ox) and canō (I sing, recite, play, sound, blow [a trumpet]) [source].

Ludovisi Sarcophagus - VI: Bucinator

The būcina was used in the Roman army to announce night watches, to give orders and to summon soldiers. Someone who played it was known as a buccinātor or būcinātor [source].

Words from the same roots include buccina (a curved brass instrument used by the Ancient Roman army), buisine (a medieval wind instrument with a very long, straight and slender body, usually made of metal) and posaune (an old word for a trombone) in English, Posaune (trombone) in German, buse (nozzle, pipe, conduit) in French, buzina (hunting horn, car horn, spokesperson) in Portuguese, and bocina (horn, loudspeaker, conch shell) in Spanish [source].

Incidentally, the word kazoo is possibly based on bazoo, or is of onomatopoeic origin [source]. While similar instruments using a membrane, such as the eunuch/onion flute, have existed since at least the 16th century, the kazoo was patented in 1883 by Warren Herbert Frost, an American inventor [source].

Asunto

A Finnish word I learnt recently is asua [ˈɑsuɑ], which means to live, reside or dwell. I could say, for example, Asun Bangorissa Walesissa (I live in Bangor in Wales).

Julkisivu loppukesästä

It comes from the Proto-Finnic *asudak, from the Proto-Uralic *ëśew- (to camp, remain), from *ëśe- (to exist, be located) [source].

Related words in Finnish include:

  • asukas = resident, inhabitant
  • asumaton = uninhabited
  • asumus = dwelling
  • asunto = home, residence, housing unit, flat, apartment
  • asuttaa = to inhabit, people, populate, settle, colonize, (re)locate

So you could say, Asukas asuu asumattomassa asunnossa (The resident lives in an uninhabited flat/apartment), but that wouldn’t make much sense.

I actually learnt the word asunto first, and when I came across asua, I guessed it meant to live or something simliar. Although Finnish vocabulary is mostly unlike any other language I know, you can find plenty of internal connections like this.

Incidentally, house in Finnish is talo [ˈtɑlo], which comes from the Proto-Finnic *taloi (farm, house). It is cognate with the Estonian talu (farm) and the Northern Sami dállu (house, farm) [source].

The word asunto [aˈsunto] also exists in Spanish and Galician. In Spanish it means matter, issue, (romantic) affair, or business, [source] while in Galician it means matter, issue or business [source].

It comes from the Latin assūmptus (received, adopted, accepted), from assūmō (I take up, receive, adopt or accept), from ad- (to) and sūmō (I take, catch, assume) [source].

Words from the same roots include assume in English, assumer (to embrace, accept, own) in French, assumere (to take on, employ, consume) in Italian, asumir (to assume, take on) in Spanish [source].

Attics

The attic in my house is currently being converted into a usable space, so I thought I’d look into the origins of the word attic and related ones.

Attic

An attic is:

  • The space, often unfinished and with sloped walls, directly below the roof in the uppermost part of a house or other building, generally used for storage or habitation.
  • A person’s head or brain (slang)

It comes from the French attique (penthouse flat/apartment; Attic, delicate, elegant), from the Latin atticus (Attic – relating to Athenian culture or architecture), from the Ancient Greek Ἀττικός [at.ti.kós] (Attic, Athenian). Apparently the name is related to the practice of decorating the top storey of building facades in the Attic architectural style [source].

Another word for attic is loft, which used to mean air, sky or the heavens. It comes from the Middle English lofte (air, sky, loft), from the Old English loft, a version of lyft (air, atmosphere, sky), from the Proto-West-Germanic *luftu (roof, air). from the Proto-Germanic *luftuz (roof, firmament, heavens, sky, air) [source].

Words from the same roots include lift and aloft in English, lucht (air) in Dutch and Luft (air) in German.

Attics might also be known as garrets, which comes from the Middle English garett (watchtower, turret, attic), from the Old French garite (watchtower), from guarir (to protect, save, cure, heal), from the Frankish *warjan (to ward off) , from the Proto-West Germanic *warjan (to ward off, defend against), from the Proto-Germanic *warjaną (to ward off, defend against, thwart, stop) from the PIE *wer- (to heed) [source].

Words from the same roots include weir in English, weren (to hold back, keep out, defend oneself) in Dutch, wehren (to fight, defend) in German, guérir (to cure, heal) in French [source].

Are there interesting words for attics in other languages?

Moon’s Ear

What do you call the symbol @?

at sign

I would call it at or at sign. Other names are available, and it’s used in various ways.

The oldest known appearence of @ in writing was in 1345 in a Bulgarian translation of a Greek chronicle by Constantinos Manasses. It was used as the first letter of the word Amen – @мин (@min) in the manuscript.

In Catalan, Spanish and Portuguese @ has long been used to refer to a unit of weight know as arroba, which is equal to 25 pounds. This name comes from the Arabic الربع (alrubue – quarter).

In Venitian @ was used to represent the word anfora (amphora), a unit of weight and volume equivalent to the standard amphora.

In accounting, @ means “at a rate of” or “at the price of”, for example, 5 widgets @ £5 = £25.

These days it most commonly appears in email addresses, a usage that dates back to 1971, when it was introduced by Ray Tomlinson of BBN Technologies. Online it may be omitted or replaced when listing email addresses to trip up spam programs trawling for email adresses. That’s why I give my email as feedback[at]omniglot[dot]com, or as an image. This practise is known as address munging. A better way to trip up the spam bots is apparently feedback@omniglot.com.

Some names for @ in English include: ampersat, asperand, at, atmark, at symbol, commercial at, amphora and strudel.

Ampersat comes from the phrase “and per se at”, which means “and by itself @”, and was how it was originally referred to in English.

Some interesting names for @ in other languages include:

  • Afrikaans: aapstert (monkey tail)
  • Armenian: շնիկ (shnik – puppy)
  • Belarusian: сьлімак (sʹlimak – helix, snail)
  • Chinese: 小老鼠 (xiǎo lǎoshǔ – little mouse)
  • Danish & Swedish: snabel-a (elephant’s trunk A)
  • Finnish: kissanhäntä (cat’s tail), miuku mauku (miaow-meow)
  • Greek: παπάκι (papáki – duckling)
  • Kazakh: айқұлақ (aıqulaq – moon’s ear)
  • Korean: 골뱅이 (golbaeng-i – whelk)
  • Polish: małpa (monkey, ape)
  • Welsh: malwoden (snail)

Do you know any other interesting names for this symbol?

Sources and further information:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/At_sign
https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/at_sign
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Address_munging

Croissants and Cereal

What links the words croissant and cereal, apart from them often being eaten for breakfast?

Croissant

A croissant is a flaky roll or pastry in a form of a crescent. Although they’re associated with France, they’re based on the Viennese kipferl, a crescent-shaped pastry dating back to at least the 13th century. They became popular in France after August Zang, an Austrian artillery officer, set up a Viennese bakery in Paris in 1839 which sold Viennese pastries, including the kipferl. Other bakers copied this and created the croissant [source].

The word croissant comes from French, and is the present participle of the verb croître (to increase, grow), from the Old French creistre (to grow), from the Latin crēscō (I grow, from the Proto-Indo-European root *ḱer- (to grow, become bigger) [source].

The word cereal comes from the same roots, via the French céréale (cereal), the Latin Cerealis (of or relating to Ceres), from Ceres (Roman goddess of agriculture), from the Proto-Indo-European root *ḱer- (to grow, become bigger) [source].

Other words from the same roots include create, creature, crecent, crew, increase and sincere [source].

Sincere? That comes from the Middle French sincere (sincere), from the Latin sincerus (genuine), from the Proto-Indo-European roots *sem- (together) and *ḱer- (to grow). So you could say that being sincere involves growing together, perhaps. [source].

It doesn’t come from the Latin sine (without) and cera (wax). That is a popular folk etymology. One story is that dishonest Roman and Greek sculptors covered flaws in their work with wax. A sculpture “without wax” was therefore an honest or sincere one. Another story is that Greek sculptors made fake marble statues out of wax to offer as tribute to their Roman conquerors [source].

Roses (薔薇)

The Japanese word 薔薇 (bara) means rose. If you asked random Japanese people to write these kanji (characters), many would struggle. However, they would be able to read them.

Rose, バラ,

The word for rose is normally written with katakana – バラ, and the kanji version 薔薇 is not in everyday use, so it’s not surprising if people cannot write it. These kanji can also be pronounced shōbi or sōbi.

薔 (mizutade) on its own means Persicaria hydropiper, water pepper or marshpepper knotweed (see below). It is also known as 柳蓼 (yanagitade) in Japan, and can be used as an ingredient in various dishes such as sashimi, tempura, sushi and wasabi.

2012.08.22_17.29.38_IMG_9439

薇 (zenmai) means Osmunda japonica, a.k.a. Japanese/Asian royal fern (see below). Parts of the plant are used as a vegetable in parts of China and Japan.

Osmunda japonica

Other words that Japanese people might struggle to write in kanji include 忍者 (ninja), 肘 (hiji = elbow), 挨拶 (aisatsu = greeting), 帽子 (bōshi = hat) 餅 (mochi = sticky rice cake), as you can see in this video:

This phenomena is common among Japanese (and Chinese) speakers who use computers, phones and other devices to type and input text rather than writing it by hand. You could call it character amnesia or kanji amnesia, or perhaps 漢字忘失 (kanji bōshitsu = “forgeting kanji”) in Japanese. I just made this up. Is there an official/standard term for it?

This doesn’t happen in languages with alphabetic or syllabic writing systems. Even if you do most of your writing on computers and other electronic gizmos, and your handwriting is poor, you don’t forget how to write any of the letters. You might forget or not know how to spell particular words, especially in languages like English with inconsistent and eccentic spelling systems, but you can at least have a go, and spell check and auto correct help.

People in Japan are apparently starting to realise that it is more important to be able to recognize kanji rather than learning to write them all by hand, at least according to this article on Tofugu. More kanji have been added to the everyday use list as they are easy to input on phones and other devices, even if they are hard to write by hand.

Perhaps the ability to write kanji by hand will become something that only calligraphers and other specialists do, while other people just input them on electronic gadgets.

When I was learning Chinese and Japanese, in the pre-interweb / smartphone age, I spent a lot of time writing the characters by hand, and found this helped me to remember them. I still write them down sometimes and enjoy doing so, but I mostly write them on my phone or computer, often using voice input.

By the way, here’s a rose-related song by Deai, a Russo-Japanese duo, called 百万本のバラ / Миллион алых роз (Million Scarlet Roses):

Tarn

In the north of England, particularly in Cumbria, the word tarn is used to refer to a small mountain lake. It is also apparently used in the USA, mainly in Montana, to refer to small mountain lakes or ponds.

Little Langdale Tarn
Little Langdale Tarn

According to Wikipedia, “a tarn or corrie loch is a mountain lake, pond or pool, formed in a cirque excavated by a glacier. A moraine may form a natural dam below a tarn.”

Tarn comes from the Middle English terne/tarne (lake, pond, pool), from the Old Norse tjǫrn (small lake, pond, pool), from the Proto-Germanic *ternō (a mountain lake without tributaries, watering hole, small pool), from the Proto-Indo-European *der (to split, separate, tear, crack, shatter) [source].

Words from the same Old Norse root include tjörn (pond) in Icelandic, tjørn (pond) in Faroese, tjärn (small forest lake) in Swedish, and tjern (a small forest or mountain lake) in Danish and Norwegian [source].

English words from the same PIE root include (to) tear, derma (the inner layer of the skin), and dermic (of or relating to the dermis or skin) [source].

Other words from the same PIE root, via Proto-Celtic, include: darn (piece, fragment, patch, part) in Welsh, darn (fragment, part) in Breton, and possibly dréacht (part, portion, draft) in Irish and dreuchd (job, occupation, role, function) in Scottish Gaelic [source].

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Semesters

While putting together a Celtiadur post today about words for six and related things in Celtic languages, I noticed that in Cornish a semester is hweghmis and that it’s c’hwec’h-miz in Breton. Both mean “six months”. This lead me to wonder about the origins of the word semester. Does it have anything to do with six?

public lecture, local historical personage revisited

In English the word semester means half a school year or academic year, or a period or term of six months. It was borrowed from the German Semester (semester), from the New Latin sēmestris (lasting six months), from sex (six) and mēnsis (month) [source].

In the UK, academic years used to be divided into three terms. However, these days many UK universities divide their academic years into two semesters, like in the USA.

Another word for term is trimester, which also means a period of (about) three months, or a (financial) quarter. It was borrowed from the French trimestre (quarter [period of 3 months], term, trimester [of pregnancy]), from the Latin trimēstris (three months), from trēs (three) and mēnsis (month) [source].

Incidentally, the word six comes ultimately from the Proto-Indo-European *swéḱs (six) [source]. Words from the same root include:

  • sixfold = having six component parts; times/multiplied by six
  • sixsome = a group of six persons or things
  • senary = of sixth rank or order; of, pertaining to, or based on six.
  • sexennium = a period of six years
  • sextant = a navigational device for deriving angular distances between objects so as to determine latitude and longitude; one sixth of a circle or disc
  • sextet = a group of six people or things; a composition for six voices or instruments; a group of six singers or instrumentalists.
  • sextuple = a sixfold amount, having six parts, having six beats to a bar
  • sextuplet = a group of six objects; one of a group of six persons or animals born from the same mother during the same birth; a group of six notes played in the time of four
  • hexad = a group of six; an element or radical with the combining power of six units
  • hexaglot = in six languages
  • hexahex = a polyhex composed of six hexagons
  • hexahectaenneacontakaiheptagon = a polygon with 697 sides. Coined humorously to describe the shape of the US state of Colorado. [source]

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Joyful Delight

One of the interesting words that came up in my Finnish lessons recently is iloinen [ˈilo̞i̯ne̞n], which means happy, cheerful, glad or merry.

Iloinen Eevi

It comes from ilo (joy, happiness, delight, pleasure, love, lover) from the Proto-Finnic *ilo (joy, delight, happiness), and the adjective suffix -inen [source].

Some related words include:

  • iloisuus = joyfulness
  • iloista = to be happy, glad, cheerful
  • iloiesti = happily, merrily, gaily
  • iloistua = to become delighted
  • iloittelu = frolicking
  • iloistutta = to delight, cheer up
  • ilottomuus = joylessness
  • iloton = gloomy

Related words in other languages include: ilo (joy, happiness) in Ingrian, ilo (fun, joy) in Veps, ilo (joy, elation, happiness, celebration) in Votic, and illu (happiness) in Northern Sami, which was borrowed from Finnish [source].

A related word in Estonian, ilu, used to mean joy delight, happiness or glee, but now means beauty, splendor or ornament [source].

Incidentally, the word ilo (tool) in Esperanto is completely unrelated [source]. It’s a back-formation from the suffix -ilo, which means an instrument or a tool for performing the action of the root. For example, tondilo (scissors) comes from tondi (to shear), and komputilo (computer) comes from komputi (to count, compute) [source].

Ilo can be combined with other suffixes to make words such as ilaro (a set of tools), ilujo (toolbox), and ilarujo (a toolbox for a toolset) [source].

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