Word of the day – seandálaíocht

seandálaíocht, noun = archaeology (lit. “old data study”)

Related words:
seandálaí = archaeologist
seanda = old, ancient, archaic
seandacht = antiquity
seandachtaí = antiquities

The equivalent word in the other Celtic languages is:
Manx: shenndaaleeaght
Scottish Gaelic: àrsaidheachd
Welsh: hynafiaeth, archaeoleg

I’m currently learning some more Irish with RTE’s excellent course, Turas Teanga. This week’s lesson is about education. The course is an intermediate-level one based on a popular TV series and consists of a textbook, CDs and DVDs. The textbook contains dialogues, activities, grammar notes, vocabularly and reading passages. Recordings of all the dialogues and some of the exercises can be found on the CDs.

On the DVDs the presenter travels to a different part of Ireland in each programme, chats with various interesting people and explores a bit. There are also people acting out the situations in the dialogues, and even a mock ‘reality’ show called ‘An Grá Faoi Ghlas’ (Love Locked Away).

For more information about Turas Teanga, see:
http://www.rte.ie/tv/turasteanga/

Balaclavas and wellies

Continuing the clothing theme, today we’re looking at articles of clothing named after people or places.

Our first exhibit is the wellington boot, a type of knee or calf-length rubber boot named after the 1st Duke of Wellington (Arthur Wellesley), the commander of the British forces at the battle of Waterloo in 1815. Wellingtons are affectionately know as wellies or welly boots, and in some parts of the UK welly chucking/throwing is a popular pastime.

Our second exhibit is the balaclava helmut, a close-fitting woollen hood that covers the ears and neck, as originally worn by soldiers in the Crimean War, and named after Balaklava, a small port in South Crimea.

In Terry Pratchett’s Monstrous Regiment, there’s a running gag involving soldiers dreaming of the an article of clothing being named after them.

Are there any others you can think of?

By the way, does anybody have any suggestions for reducing comment spam? The spammers have been hitting this blog a lot.

Word of the day – туфля

туфля (tuflja), noun = shoe

This week’s Russian lesson is about clothes and this word just appeals to me. It sounds a bit like “tooth fly” – my way of remembering it is to imagine my shoes being full of flies with big teeth. This is quite a strange image, but that helps it to stick in my memory.

I also like the Welsh word for shoe – esgid – it sounds like skid, so to remember it, I think of people skidding around in their shoes. The word for a horseshoe is pedol, which conjures up images of horses pedalling bicycles.

Anois tá mé ag dul níos mó Gaeilge a fhoghlaim (Time to learn some more Irish now).

White rabbits

Saying “white rabbits” on the first day of each month apparently brings you luck, at least that’s what I was told as a child. I have no idea why – it’s just a superstition. Any suggestions why white rabbits might be lucky? Do you do or say any other things on the first of each month to bring to luck?

Rabbit

Today is May Day and a bank holiday in the UK. Traditional activities on this day include Morris dancing, a form of folk dancing that dates back to at least 1448 and that is praticed mainly in England. It involves a bunch of blokes in unusual costumes dancing around, waving handkerchiefs and attacking each other with sticks. This is often perpetrated in the vicinity of a pub so that the participants can refresh themselves after their exertions.

Morris dancers at Kirkstall Abbey

Word of the day – dreich

dreich, adjective = cold, wet, dismal, dull, bleak, misearable, dreary, overcast, drizzling

Origin: from Middle English dreig, drih (enduring), possibly from Old English drēog. Related to the Old Norse drjugr – lasting.

Examples of usage: It’s gey dreich the day (It’s very dismal today). Which it was, in Brighton at least.

It can also mean lang, borin and uninterestin. In the auld days, whan services in the kirk gaed on for oors and oors, ye micht hae fund the sermons a bittie dreich.
It can also mean long, boring and uninteresting. In the old day, when services in the church went on for hours and hours, you might have found the sermons a bit boring.

This is one of the many wonderful Scots words for describing the weather. It doesn’t always rain in Scotland, but you certainly have plenty of opportunities to use this word. On all but one of my many holidays in Scotland it has rained every day or most days. The only rainless holiday was a wonderful trip to the Inner and Outer Hebrides in September 1996.

A few other Scots weather words include: mochie – warm and damp; rumballiach – tempestuous; gandiegow – a squall or heavy shower, and smirr – light rain. The idea that Eskimos (Inuit) have many words for snow is a myth, but the Scots certainly have many words and phrases to describe wet stuff falling from the sky.

Sources:
http://www.rampantscotland.com/parliamo/blparliamo_weather.htm
http://www.scuilwab.org.uk/WirdOTheMonth/Feb2004.htm

Code switching

If you speak two or more languages fluently it’s quite natural to switch between them occasionally or frequently when chatting with other people who speak the the same languages. This type of behaviour is known as code switching.

For example, as I mentioned in a previous post, we used to switch between English and Mandarin all the time in the office where I worked in Taipei, and also with bilingual friends.

It seems that if you spend a lot of time in a bilingual or multilingual environment, you get used to switching from one language to another smoothly. However, if you only use your languages occasionally, it can be more difficult to move between them.

I find switching between languages that I don’t speak fluently and/or don’t use regularly quite difficult. When I tried to speak languages other than English or Mandarin while in Taiwan, and for quite a while after I returned to the UK, my sentences tended to come out using Mandarin word order and with some Mandarin words in them. At that time, the dominant foreign language in my brain was Mandarin and this affected my other languages. At the moment there are several languages competing for dominance in my head – Welsh, Irish, Scottish Gaelic, Manx, Russian and Spanish. My Mandarin seems to be firmly established, but the position of my other languages is less secure.

When studying Irish in Ireland last year, I tried to talk to some of my fellow students in Welsh, French or German. At the time my brain was in Irish mode and I found myself trying to construct sentences in those languages using Irish word order, Which sounded very strange. Similarly, while on holiday in Mexico last year, my efforts to speak French to a guy from Belgium were less than successful. I ended up speaking to him in a mixture of French, Spanish and English, all of which he spoke.

Although I can slip into Mandarin without difficult, it usually takes me a while to warm up my other languages. Once they’re up and running though, they tend to flow freely.

There’s an interesting article about code switching at:
http://iteslj.org/Articles/Skiba-CodeSwitching.html

Word of the day – dialect

dialect, noun = a form of a language which is peculiar to a specific region or social group (from: Compact Oxford English Dictionary). Another definition, from Wikipedia, is “a complete system of verbal communication (oral or signed but not necessarily written) with its own vocabulary and/or grammar.”

Origin: from the Greek διάλεκτος (dialektos) – discourse, way of speaking.

Deciding whether a particular form of speech is a language or a dialect is a task fraught with difficulties. As well as linguistic criteria, there are also political, geographic and cultural issues to be considered. For example, closely related languages spoken in different countries, such as Norwegian, Swedish and Danish, might be considered dialects of one language if they were all spoken in a single country. There is considerable mutual intelligibility between these languages, but each of them has its own written standard, or two written standards in the case of Norwegian, which seems to be a good criterion for distinguishing languages. Perhaps you could define a language as a dialect with a standardised written form.

In the case of Arabic, there is one standard written form: Modern Standard Arabic, and many colloquial spoken forms, all of which are considered dialects of Arabic and are rarely used in writing. Though there is a high degree of mutual intelligibility between neighbouring colloquial forms of Arabic, for example, Jordanian and Syrian Arabic, speakers of these dialects have difficultly understanding the Arabic spoken by Moroccans and Algerians. This is an example of a dialect continuum.

Where do dialects come from?
When groups of people are isolated from others, the way they speak tends to drift away from mainstream forms of their language. Changes in the mainstream forms may not occur in the isolated form, and vice versa. Over time, the isolated form develops into a distinctive dialect, and if the isolation continues for long enough, that dialect may eventually become a language with it’s own written standard.

Another source of the differences between dialects comes from the languages once spoken in the regions where the dialects are now spoken. When people shift from one language to another, they usually carry over some features of their original language, including pronunciation, vocabulary and grammar. The dialects of English spoken in Ireland, for example, retain quite a few features of Irish. Similarly, substrates of the languages once spoken in the different regions of England can be found in some of today’s regional dialects. Moreover, the modern Celtic languages may contain substrates of the languages they replaced, whatever they were.

What do you do for a living?

Continuing yesterday’s theme of identity, describing what you do for a living can be tricky if you don’t work in a well-known profession. If someone tells you they’re a doctor, teacher, lawyer or police officer, you have a pretty good idea what their job entails. However, if you work in such professions as web development, computer programming, management consultancy, etc, many people don’t really understand what you do.

Many of us define ourselves by our jobs. We say “I am an X” or “I work as a Y”. We also define ourselves in other ways, including by sex, race, age, nationality, language(s) spoken, interests, and/or in terms of our families and our position/roles therein.

In my case, my current job title is “Web Developer”, but few people understand what that entails. There are in fact many different specialisms under the umbrella of web development – my particular specialism is building multilingual websites. So I usually just tell people that I build and translate websites. This often prompts questions like “Do you design the sites as well?”, and “Are you a translator then?” – in answer to which I explain that someone else usually does the design and translation. My role is to turn the designs into websites, and to add the translations to them, which involves a lot of copying and pasting. I think my parents just tell people that I work with computers and/or do something with websites.

The company I work for (Study Group) is even more difficult to describe, so usually I just say that I work for a college.

Sometimes I tell people I’m a circus performer or translator. I could also claim to be a musician or teacher. I do occasionally do translations and act as an interpreter, and used to do these things more often. I did work as a teacher (of English) for a while in Taiwan, and sometimes help friends with various languages. I also teach juggling and other circus skills to anybody who wants to learn them, on an informal basis, and occasionally perform in public. I play, or used to play, the clarinet, saxophone, tin whistles, and a few other instruments. I used to play with wind bands, big bands and an orchestra, and have performed with these groups in parts of England and France.

Where are you from?

The answer to this question may depend on who’s asking it, where you are at the time, and what and how much you want to reveal about yourself. In many countries it’s rare to meet people who have lived all their lives in one place. Most of us move, at least a few times, to different parts of our countries and possibly to other countries.

We might choose to identify ourselves with our place or country of birth, the place or country where we grew up, or our current place or country of residence, or even the place or country from where our anscestors originated.

I myself currently live in Brighton in the southeast of England, was born and grew up in Lancashire in the northwest of England – specifically I was born in Morecambe and grew up in Silverdale. I’ve lived in various parts of the UK, and also in France, the Channel Islands (Jersey), Taiwan and Japan. So when asked “Where are you from?”, my answer might be Silverdale, Lancashire, the northwest of England, England, the UK, Britain, Brighton, the southeast of England, or somewhere near London. It all depends. Sometimes I mention the Welsh origins of my mother’s side of the family if I want to emphasise my Welshness and/or to establish my Celtic credentials.

If we ever colonise other planets, we will a new layer of identity as citzens of the Earth.

Language choice

If you’re with a group of people who speak various languages, which language do you all choose? In some cases you may switch between several languages, in others you may all settle on a single language. In many parts of the world, English is used as a lingua franca, though it is not the only language to be used in this way.

When studying Mandarin in Taipei, I had classmates from all over the world. The one language we all could speak, with varying levels of proficiency, was Mandarin. One interesting thing I noticed was that we were generally able to understand one another without too much difficulty, but talking to native speakers was a different matter: they weren’t always as tolerant of mistakes, dodgy pronunciation and incorrect tones.

The common languages of the office Where I worked in Taipei were Mandarin and English. Most of the Taiwanese staff spoke fluent English, though some only had basic English and weren’t very confident about speaking it, and some were more comfortable speaking Taiwanese. Many of the non-Taiwanese staff, a mixuture of Brits, Aussies, Canadians, Dutch, and Spaniards, spoke fluent Mandarin, though some spoke none at all or only a little bit. We used to switch between Mandarin and English all the time, though if anyone present couldn’t speak or wasn’t confident about speaking one of those languages, we all spoke in the other language. Sometimes I ended up speaking Mandarin to non-Taiwanese colleagues, which felt quite strange.

The other day I was hanging out with some friends from the Czech Republic and Slovakia. I don’t speak Czech, yet, so they were all talking to me and amongst themselves in English. Though they sometimes swtiched to Czech or Slovak when they got excited.