Here’s a recording in a mystery language.
Do you know, or can you guess, the language?
One of the words that came up in my Spanish lessons today was limpiaparabrisas, which means windscreen / windshield wiper, and struck me as a relatively rare multi-word compound in Spanish.
Unlike the Germanic languages*, Spanish doesn’t seem to have a lot of words like limpiaparabrisas made up of several words joined together, at least that’s my impression. It’s made up of limpia, from limpiar (to clean, wash, wipe), and parabrisas (windscreen, windshield), which is made up of para, from parar (to stop), and brisas (breezes) [source]. A related word is lavaparabrisas (screen wash, windshield washing fluid) [source].
*For example, in German there are words such as: Grundstücksverkehrsgenehmigungszuständigkeitsübertragungsverordnung (Regulation on the delegation of authority concerning land conveyance permissions), and Rindfleischetikettierungsüberwachungsaufgabenübertragungsgesetz (Beef labeling supervision duties delegation law), which are of course used in everyday conversation. If not, they should be [source].
Spanish does have plenty of words made up of a stem plus prefixes and/or suffixes, or compounds of two words. For example, the word mesa means table, desk, bureau or committee. Related words with affixes include mesero (waiter), mesilla (bedside table, stall), and mesita (small table). Related compound words include sobremesa (tablecloth, desktop) and tornamesa (turntable, record player) [source].
Other two-word compounds in Spanish include abrebotellas (bottle opener), cortarcésped (lawn mower), cortafuego (firewall), lavaplatos (dishwasher), portaaviones (aircraft carrier), quitamanchas (stain remover), sacacorchos (corkscrew) and salvavidas (life jacket) [source].
In fact, limpiaparabrisas and lavaparabrisas are really two-word compounds, but look like three-words compounds. So, maybe they’re not that unusual.
Do you know of any interesting multi-word compounds in Spanish or other languages?
Are the words string, strong, strength, strait, stretch and strict related? Let’s find out.
String comes from Middle English streng (rope, cord, line, thread, string, ribbon, muscle, tendon, ligament, filament), from Old English strenġ (string, rope, cord), from Proto-West Germanic *strangi (string), from Proto-Germanic *strangiz (string), from Proto-Indo-European *strengʰ- (to twist; rope, cord), possibly from *sterh₃- (to spread, extend, stretch out) [source].
English words from the same roots include constrict, constrain, restrict, strong, strength, strain, strait, stress, strict, stricture and stringent.
Words from the same roots in other languages include stringere (to clasp, grasp, squeeze) in Italian, étreindre (to hug, clutch, grip) in French, streng (strict, severe, rigorous, unbending, cruel) in Dutch, sträng (strict, stern, severe) in Swedish, strangs (brave, brisk, fresh) in Latvian, rankka (burdensome, hard, intense, harsh, tough) in Finnish [source].
So, the odd one out in the list above is stretch, which comes from Middle English strecchen (to stretch out, spread, extend), from Old English streċċan (to stretch, extend, spread out, prostrate), from Proto-West Germanic *strakkjan (to stretch, make straight), from *strak (stretched, straight), from Proto-Germanic *strakaz (stretched, straight) from Proto-Indo-European *(s)treg- (stiff, rigid).
Words from the same roots include stark in English, stark (strong) in German, strak (taut, tight) in Dutch, strække (to stretch) in Danish, and shtriqem (to stretch) in Albanian [source].
Here’s a tune from the music session I went to last night called The Bishop of Bangor’s Jig. It’s played on string instruments (fiddle, guitar and banjo), so is sort connected to the theme of this post.
You can find the dots: https://www.folktunefinder.com/tunes/94828
Here’s a recording in a mystery language.
Do you know, or can you guess, the language?
These quizzes are normally published every Sunday, and the answers are given the following Saturday here in the comments.
Was the b in climb ever pronounced? Or was it added by interfering busybodies to make it more like a Latin root? Is it related to clamber? Let’s find out.
Climb comes from Middle English climben [ˈkliːmbən] (to scale, scale, soar, extend, reach), from Old English climban [ˈklim.bɑn] (to climb), from Proto-West Germanic *klimban (to climb), from Proto-Germanic *klimbaną [ˈklim.bɑ.nɑ̃] (to climb), possibly from *klibaną/*klibāną (to stick, cleave), from Proto-Indo-European *gleybʰ- (to stick, cling to) [source].
So the b was pronounced in Middle and Old English, and maybe it became silent when the word lost its en ending.
Words from the same roots include climbing, cleave, cliff and maybe clamber in English, klimmen (to climb) and kleven (to stick, glue, be sticky) in Dutch, kleben (to glue, stick) in German, and klífa (to climb) in Icelandic [source].
A word for to climb in Latin was scandere / scandō, which also means to ascend, mount or clamber. It comes from Proto-Indo-European *skend- (to jump, dart, scale, scan). Words from the same roots include ascend, descend, transcend, scale, scan, and possibly scandal and slander in English, ascendere (to go up, ascend, rise) in Italian, skandera (to chant) in Swedish, and esgyn (to ascend) in Welsh [source].
One of the tunes that was played at the music session I went to last night is called If you do not love me, go climb a tree (it may have other names) and goes something like this:
It inspired me to write this post. If you recognise the tune and know it by another name, do let me know.
This week my Danish lessons have been focusing on idioms, and an interesting idiom that came up is sluge en kamel, which literally means ‘to swallow a camel’, but what other meanings does it have? Let’s find out.
According to Wiktionary, this idioms means ‘to accept a change or amendment (to a proposal)’ or ‘to agree to something one would not have if one had fully understood the implications from the beginning’.
According to Den Danske Ordbog, it means ‘acceptere eller gå med til noget der egentlig strider imod ens idealer og ønsker’ (to accept or agree to something that actually goes against one’s ideals and desires), and another version of the idiom is sluge kamelen (to eat the camel).
According to SpeakAndLearn.dk, it means ‘to admit that you are wrong, even though you have clearly stated that you were absolutely sure, that you were right’.
So it seems it has a variety of meanings. Are there similar idioms involving camels in other languages?
In English, you might liken doing something unpleasant or undesirable to swallowing a frog – Mark Twain is sometimes quoted as having said or written “Eat a live frog first thing in the morning and nothing worse will happen to you the rest of the day.” There’s apparently no evidence that he did in fact say or write this. The idea of eating a frog in the morning possibly comes from Nicolas Chamfort, a French writer, who wrote in the 1790s:
… il faudrait avaler un crapaud tous les matins, pour ne trouver plus rien de dégoûtant le reste de la journée, … (it would be necessary to swallow a toad every morning so as not to find anything else disgusting during the rest of the day)
[source]
Other interesting Danish idioms involving animals include:
Here’s a recording in a mystery language.
Do you know, or can you guess, the language?
If you need a clue, listen to or read the Omniglot News on Radio Omniglot.
These quizzes are normally published every Sunday, and the answers are given the following Saturday here in the comments.
The other day I was looking for how to say confusion in Welsh, and one of the translations I found was (‘roedd popeth) fel tŷ Jeroboam, which means ‘(everything was) in confusion’, or literally ‘(everything was) like the house of Jeroboam’. This got me wondering who was Jeroboam, and way was his house in confusion?
According to Wikipedia, Jeraboam I, a.k.a. Jeraboam som of Nebat, was the first king of the northern Kingdom of Israel between c. 931/22-910/901 BC. During his 22-year reign, there was continual war between him and Rehoboam (רְחַבְעָם), the first king of Judah. So perhaps that’s why Jeraboam is associated with confusion.
The name Jeroboam comes from Hebrew יָרָבְעָם (Yārŏḇʿām), which comes from רִיב (rīḇ) and עַם (ʿam). Possible meanings of the name include “the people contend”, “he pleads the people’s cause”, “his people are many” or “he increases the people”.
The word Jeroboam can also refer to a 3 litre bottle of champagne or Burgundy wine (a.k.a. double magnum), or a 4.5 litre bottle of Bordeaux wine (a.k.a. Rehoboam) [source].
Other names for wine / champagne bottle sizes include: Piccolo (0.1875 litres), Chopine (0.25 litres), Demi (0.5 litres), Magnum (1.5 litres), Imperial / Methuselah (6 litres), Salmanazar (9 litres), Balthazar / Belshazzar (12 litres), Nebuchadnezzar (15 litres), and Melchizedek / Midas (30 litres) [source].
Other ways to refer to confusion in Welsh include: dryswch, penbleth = confusion (of mind); anhrefn, tryblith, llanast(r), cybolfa, annibendod = confusion (disorder).
Other Welsh phrases that mean ‘(everything was) in confusion’, like (‘roedd popeth) fel tŷ Jeroboam, include:
Sources: Geiriadur yr Academi and Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru.
Coming across the phrase (‘roedd popeth) fel tŷ Jeroboam also inspired me to write this song in Welsh called ‘Tŷ Jeroboam’. Here are the words – I’m still working on the tune:
Mae popeth yn garlibwns
yn garlibwns, yn garlibwns
Mae popeth yn garlibwns
yn tŷ Jeroboam
Mae popeth yn blith draphlith
yn blith draphlith, yn blith draphlith
Mae popeth yn blith draphlith
yn siop hen siafins
Mae popeth yn siang-di-fang
yn siang-di-fang, yn siang-di-fang
Mae popeth yn siang-di-fang
ar hyd y lle
Mae popeth yn gabwdwl
yn gabwdwl, yn gabwdwl
Mae popeth yn gabwdwl
yn tŷ Jeroboam
Are there interesting ways to talk about confusion in other languages?
By the way, this blog features on a list of the 100 Best Language Learning Blogs and Websites in 2025 compiled by FeedSpot.