Chionnee mee ukelele jea, as riyr hie mee dys yn Bangor Uke Club, possan noa y ghow toshaight kuse dy çhiaghteeyn er dy henney. Honnick mee posteyr my-e-chione, as smooinee mee dy beagh vooar yn spoyrt eh, as dy beagh eh taitnyssagh – as va eh. Va tree deiney elley ayn riyr – ta unnane oc jannoo ukeleleyn, ta unnane troggal pannylyn greiney, as er lhiam dy vel unnane jannoo studeyrys er yn kiaull.
Yesterday I listened to an interesting episode of Word of Mouth, BBC Radio 4’s programme about language, which looked at academic English. They talked to staff and students in Swedish universities about how English has taken over from Swedish as the main language of higher education and research in Sweden. One researcher explained that if you want an international audience to read your research, you have to write it in English, and that it can be a challenge to get research papers in Swedish published, so most people don’t bother. As a result, many academics are unable to discuss their work in Swedish as they’re so used to doing so in English and don’t have all the relevant vocabulary in Swedish.
The students said that most of their textbooks and classes are in English, especially at postgraduate level, and that most of their written work has to be in English, which can be quite a challenge, even though their spoken English is very good.
This is an example of domain loss, i.e. in the domain of higher education and research in Sweden Swedish is being replaced by English. This is a common occurrence when languages are endangered and in decline, and Sweden isn’t the only place where this is happening – the situation is similar in Denmark, according to this paper, and probably in a number of other countries.
The presenter of the programme also pointed out that even native speakers of English may need help with Academic English, the particular style of writing used in higher education and research. This made me think that the current position Academic English is similar to that occupied by Latin until the 18th century.
An seachtain seo cheannaigh mé rothar nua, agus seo an chead uair atá mo rothar féin agam le blianta. Nuair a d’fhág mé Téaváin, dhíol mé an rothar a bhí agam ansin, agus cúpla bliana i ndiaidh tháinig ar ais go Sasana, cheannaigh mé unicycle. Bháin mé úsáid as rothar infhillte mo dheartháir le tamall, agus an seachtain seo cheannaigh mé rothar nua go críochnaitheach.
Here’s a recording in a mystery language.
Can you identify the language, and do you know where it’s spoken?
Calembour /kalɑ̃buʀ/, nm – Jeu de mots fondé sur la différence de sens entre des mots qui se prononcent de la même façon (ex. : personnalité et personne alitée) (de Larousse).
This is a French word I learnt last night that means pun or, “a play on words based on the difference in meaning between words that are pronounced the same”. The example above doesn’t work as a pun in English – personnalité = personality and personne alitée = a bedridden person.
Calembour first appears in a letter by Denis Diderot from 1768. According to Webster’s Online Dictionary, it comes from a character known as “der Pfaff vom Kahlenberg” (the Jester of Kahlenberg), a.k.a. Wigand von Theben, in a German story called Tyll Eulenspiegel (Owl’s Looking-glass). The Jester of Kahlenberg, or Calembourg in French, spent time in Paris during the reign of Louis XV and was known for his puns and blunders.
The English word pun (/pʌn/, /pən/) is of uncertain origin. The OED suggests that it possibly comes from punctilio (a minute detail of action or conduct). Other possible origins of pun, discussed in The Pun Also Rises by John Pollack, include:
– pundit, from the Sanskrit पण्डित (paṇḍita – “a learned Hindu versed in Sanskrit”), although the Sanskrit word for pun is श्लेष (śleṣa)
– pun, Old English for “to pound”
– पुण्ड् (puṇḍ), a Sanskrit word meaning “to heap up together”
– punctilio, Latin for “fine point”
– pun, an Anglo-Indian word meaning “a stake played for a price; a sum” – named after a type of Indian coin.
There’s also discussing of the etymology of pun on the OUPblog.
The Pun Also Rises is an interesting and pun-filled history of puns and punning which suggests that they have been around perhaps since language first emerged, and that the dismissive attitude and groans which they often evoke are a relatively recent development. The author argues that by forming links between unlikely things, puns can stimulate creative thinking and mental agility, and that they can also help children to develop their linguistic skills – knock knock jokes (invented by William Shakespeare), are perennial favourites for this.
Last week I started learning Hindi – I was offered a free subscription to a Rocket Languages course in return for writing a review, which will appear here and on Omniglot once I’ve completed the course.
I thought that I should choose a language I hadn’t studied before, and of the languages they teach (Spanish, Korean, Japanese, Italian, Hindi, German, French, Mandarin Chinese, Arabic, ASL and English for Spanish speakers), the only ones I haven’t studied, or at least dabbled with, are Hindi and ASL. I chose Hindi because I thought it would be interesting to have a go at an Indo-Aryan language and to learn a new alphabet, and because I have a number of Hindi-speaking friends.
Rocket Langauge courses are online and audio-based courses with downloadable mp3s of the lessons, each of which is about 30 minutes long – I’m assuming they all follow the same format as the Hindi one. I’ve only done two lessons so far and have learnt some useful basic phrases in Hindi. Each lesson starts with a short conversation which is presented in spoken and written form (in the Devanagari and Latin alphabets), and the written material also includes new words and phrases not included in the conversation. The recordings feature an American narrator and two native speakers of Hindi (a man and a woman), and explain new words and phrases, go over things from the previous lesson, and give you alternative ways of saying things. You are also encouraged to try to make your own sentences.
When you have completed the lesson to your satisfaction, there’s a short written quiz, and also a review at the end of the recording. You can save words and phrases into a personal dictionary, and there are forums where you can discuss your studies and ask for clarification of anything that’s not clear.
I haven’t found any lessons on the Devanagari alphabet within the course yet, but there may be some. In the meantime, I’ve used the SOAS Hindi Script Tutor to help me learn how to write the letters and their sounds. I already recognise quite a few of them and know how the alphabet works.
In case you’re wondering, the title of this post means “Do you speak Hindi?” (kyā āp hindī bolte haiṅ?) – I can now answer this with, मैं थोडी सी हिन्दी बोलता हूँ (maiṁ thoḍī sī hindī boltā hūṁ), or “I speak a little Hindi”.
I’ve always thought that the word golem was pronounced /ˈgɔləm/ with a short o as in doll, probably influenced by Tolkein’s gollum, and my preference for northern vowels. Yesterday however, while watching Going Postal, a film based on the Terry Pratchett’s book by the same name, I noticed that some other people pronounce it /ˈɡoʊləm/.
According to Wikipedia, golem /ˈɡoʊləm/ comes from Hebrew and appears as גלמי in the Bible (Psalms 139:16) and means ‘my unshaped form’. This became the Yiddish word גולם (goylem), and in Modern Hebrew גלמ (golem) means “dumb” or “helpless”.
According to the OED, golem is pronounced /ˈgəʊləm/ or /ˈgɔɪləm/ and comes from Hebrew גלמ (gōlem – shapeless mass) via the Yiddish גולם (goylem).
I pronounce troll /tɾɔl/, rhyming it with doll, whereas I’ve heard other people pronounce it /tɾəʊl/, rhyming it dole.
Troll /trəʊl/, a being from Norse mythology, comes from the Old Norse trǫll, though only arrived in English, probably from Swedish, during the 19th century.
How do you pronounce golem and troll?
Ddydd Mercher yr wythnos hon mi wnes i dringo’r Wyddfa am y tro cyntaf. Roedd hi’n heulog a gynnes, roedd ychydig o niwl a’r y mynyddoedd, ac roedd gwynt ysgafn yn chwythu ar y copa. Mi es i ar y bws i Lanberis yn gyntaf, ac ar ôl crwydro o gwmpas y lle am sbel, mi wnes i dal y bws i Ben-y-pass.
Yn dilyn Llwybr y Mwynwyr, ac yn aros am damaid o fwyd ar lan Llyn Llydaw, mi wnes i cyrraedd y copa o fewn dwy awr. Wrth i mi dringo rhan serthach y llwybr, ro’n i’n teimlo yn flinedig ac yn meddwl fydda i’n mynd i lawr y mynnydd ar y trên, ond mae’r tocyn yn ddrud iawn – £18 am docyn un ffordd – ac nag oedd tocynnau ar gael beth bynnag, felly mi wnes i penderfynu cerdded i lawr.
Roedd y copa yn tyrru efo torf mawr o bobl, ac roedd y golygfeydd yn ysblennydd, er gwaetha’r niwl. Ar ôl saib byr, a rhywbeth i fwyta ac i yfed, mi wnes i ailddechrau efo mwy o ynni, ac ro’n i’n ôl yn Llanberis trwy’r Llwybr Llanberis o fewn awr a hanner. Roedd mond ychydig o funudau i aros am y bws yn ôl i Fangor.
Mae mwy o ffotograffau ar gael ar flickr.
A friend of mine in Hong Kong has set up a virtual world called GC Life which is designed as a place for people to learn and practise using their languages, and to explore and chat.
There are regular meet ups within GC Life for various language, including French, Mandarin, Cantonese, Hungarian, Italian and German, and other languages could be added if there is demand for them.
This could be a useful language learning tool, if you enjoy spending time in virtual worlds.
Have you used anything like this for language learning and/or for practising your languages?