City languages

By Simon

There are few cities in Europe where minority languages are used as the main language. Instead they’re spoken mainly in rural areas where jobs can be hard to find, so it’s not uncommon for speakers of such languages to move to cities for work. Not all of them will continue speaking their languages and they may not return to their original homes, at least until they retire.

The strongest minority language in Europe is Catalan, which is the main language of a number of cities, including Barcelona. Other minority languages are not in such a strong position.

So you might say Teanga gan cathair, teanga gan todhchaí (A language without a city is a language without a future) – this is an up-dated version of Pádraig Pearse’s saying Tír gan teanga, tír gan anam (A country without a language is a country without a soul), which I found today on a blog post discussing this topic.

In Ireland, for example, the main places where Irish is spoken by a significant proportion of people, the gaeltachtaí, are in rural areas where jobs tend to be few and far between. As a result, they’re suffering from depopulation. The only gaeltacht in an urban area is in Belfast and it’s apparently thriving.

Mutual intelligibility of languages

By Simon

If you’ve ever wondered just how much mutual intelligibility there between different languages, the sites I came across today will go some way to satisfying your curiosity.

One site is a Wikipedia page which discusses the degree of mutual intelligibility between a wide range of languages for quite a few different language families. It divides languages into those that are mutually intelligible in both their written and spoken forms, their spoken forms only, or their written forms only.

Then there’s a long discussion on this site about the mutually intelligibility of Slavic languages. There seems to be many different opinions on this topic.

I find that with a fairly good knowledge of French and Spanish, plus a basic knowledge of Portuguese and Italian, I can read and sort of understand just about any Romance language, with the exception of Romanian. When I hear unfamiliar Romance languages spoken, I can get a basic idea of their meaning as well.

My German helps me to understand written Dutch and Afrikaans to some extent, and to understand a bit of their spoken forms. In fact I understand slightly more of them than of German regional dialects such as Bavarian.

My limited knowledge of Czech and Russian helps me understand bits and pieces of other Slavic languages, at least when they’re written.

Knowledge of Irish enables me to understand quite a lot of Scottish Gaelic, and some Manx, though as Manx spelling is so different, it takes a lot of decoding.

I can understand some written Cornish thanks to my Welsh abilities, though hardly any Breton.

Talking Taiwanese

By Simon

Talking Taiwanese is the name of an interesting blog I came across today. It’s written by a linguist originally from Belgium who currently teaches English in a university in southern Taiwan, and discusses the Taiwanese language and language education in Taiwan.

The most recent post discusses the current state of the Taiwanese language and suggests that the majority of people in Taiwan are likely to shift to Mandarin within a couple of generations. Apparently many young Taiwanese already prefer Mandarin, and though most speak Taiwanese, few speak it as much or as well as their parents or grandparents. Quite a few Taiwanese-speaking parents are choosing to raise their children as Mandarin speakers as they perceive that Taiwanese is not a useful language to know. Moreover, almost all education in Taiwan is conducted through the medium of Mandarin.

In my own experience, some of my Taiwanese friends spoke Taiwanese at every opportunity, while others only spoke it when absolutely necessary. When I asked the latter group to speak Taiwanese to me so that I could practise it, they often claimed that their Taiwanese wasn’t very fluent and that I should ask people who speak Taiwanese as their first language.

Llygoden wedi ei boddi

By Simon

Nos Sadwrn canais mewn cyngerdd gyda’r côr meibion yn Woodingdean, tref fach ger Brighton. Cyrhaeddais yno mewn amser, ond yn anffodus, es i hollol ar goll ar y ffordd o’r stop bws i’r eglwys lle cafodd y cyngerdd ei gynnal. Ar ôl disgyn o’r bws, sylweddolais mod i’n yn y lle anghywir. Ro’n i’n nabod roedd yr eglwys ar ffordd o’r enw Ridgeway ond doedd dim ond syniad amwys ‘da fi lle roedd honna. Felly cerddais yn ôl i fyny’r bryn yn chwilio am y Ridgeway. Pan cyrhaeddais ar ben y bryn o’r diwedd heb ddod o hyd i’r Ridgeway neu’r eglwys, es i i fyny ac i lawr pob un o’r ffyrdd hyn cyn i mi ddod o hyd i rywun i ofyn cyfarwyddiadau amdano. Dywedodd ef wrthaf lle roedd y Ridgeway a meddyliais fyddwn i’n cyrraedd i’r eglwys cyn bo hir.

Felly ro’n i’n ar y ffordd gywir, o’r diwedd, ond ar ben anghywir hi. Felly cerddais i lawr y ffordd, a nid ffordd fyr roedd hi. Pan cyrhaeddais i’r ben arall heb weld yr eglwys, meddyliais wrtho fy hun mod i wedi blino, yn wlyb dros ben – roedd hi’n bwrw glaw trwm trwy’r amser – ac mae’r cyngerdd wedi dechrau yn barod, felly mae’n well ‘da fi mynd adref. Ond yna weles i’r eglwys, es i mewn, a llithrais i mewn sedd yng nghefn hyd at yr egwyl – roedd yr hanner cyntaf bron wedi gorffen hyd hynny. Dyma’r tro cyntaf mod i wedi clywed y côr fel aelod o’r cynulleidfa a swniodd yn wych.

Ces i canu yn ail hanner y cyngerdd o leiaf.

Cynghorodd ein arweinydd mod i’n gorfod cael lifft i gyngherddau yn y dyfodol rhag ofn i mi cyrraedd yn edrych fel ‘llygoden wedi ei boddi’. Cyngor da! Dod â’r map byddai yn syniad da hefyd.

Luchóg báite

Oíche Shatharn chan mé i gceolchoirm le cór Breatnach i Woodingdean, baile beag i aice le Brighton. Shroich mé ansin in am, ach ar an drochuair, chuaigh mé ar seachrán idir stad na mbus agus an eaglais cá raibh an cheolchoirm ar siúil. I ndiaidh an mbus a fhágáil, shíl mé go raibh mé san áit mícheart. Bhí fios agam go raibh an eaglais ar bóthar dar bh’ainm an Ridgeway, ach ní raibh mé cinnte cá raibh an bóthar sin. Mar sin de shiúl mé air ais suas an cnoc agus mé ag lorg an Ridgeway. Nuair a shroich mé ar bharr cnoic gan tar ar an Ridgeway nó an eaglais, chuaigh mé suas agus síos gach bóthar ansin roimh tháinig mé ar duine agus chuir mé faisnéis an bhealaigh air. Dúirt sé liom cá raibh an Rideway agus shíl go shroichfinn mé ann gan mhoill.

Raibh mé ar an bóthar ceart ar deireadh, ach ag barr an cnoic in áit bun an cnoic, cá raibh an eaglais. Mar sin de shiúl mé síos an bóthar, agus ní raibh sé bóthar gearr. Nuair a tháinig mé ag bun an cnoic gan an eaglais a fheiceáil, dúirt mé liom féin go raibh mé tuirseach agus fliuch go craiceann – bhí sé ag cur báisteach an t-am ar fad – agus go mbeidh an cheolchoirm ag tosú cheana, agus rachaidh mé abhaile anois. Agus ansin, chonaic mé an eaglais, chuaigh mé isteach agus shuigh mé síos ag cúl na lucht féachana – bhí an chéad leath thart faoin am sin. Sin é a chéad uair atá mé an cór a chluinstin mar ball na lucht féachana agus bhí sé go hiontach.

Ar a laghad chan mé sa dara leath.

Dúirt ár stiúrthóir liom gur cheart dom síob a fháil agus mé ag dúl chúig cheolchoirmeacha as seo amach, nó tiocfaidh mé ann ag féachaint mar luchóg báite. Comhairle mhaith! Mapa a thógáil bhiodh smaoineamh maith freisin.

Drowned rat

On Saturday evening I sang in a concert with the Welsh choir in Woodingdean, a small town near Brighton. I arrived there on time, but unfortunately got completely lost between the bus stop and the church where the concert was taking place. After getting of the bus I realised that I was in the wrong place. I knew that the church was on a road called the Ridgeway but only had a vague idea where that was. So I marched back up the hill looking for the Ridgeway. When I finally arrived at the top of the hill without finding the Ridgeway or the church, I went up and down all the roads there before finding someone to ask for directions. He told me where was the Ridgeway and I thought that I’d soon be arriving at the church.

I was on the right road at last, but at the wrong end of it. So I off I went down the road, and it wasn’t a short road either. When I finally arrived at the other end without seeing the church, I thought to myself I’m tired, soaked – it was raining heavily all this time – and the concert will have already started, so I might as well go home. But then I saw the church, went in and slipped into a seat at the back until the interval – the first half was almost over by then. This was the first time I’d heard the choir as part of the audience and it sounded great.

At least I got to sing in the second half of the concert.

Our conductor advised me to get a lift to future concerts so that I don’t turn up looking like a drowned rat. Good advice! Taking a map would also be a good idea.

Language Evolution

By Simon

Language Evolution

Yesterday I finished reading Language Evolution by Morten H. Christiansen and Simon Kirby. The book contains 17 chapters written by scholars from a range of fields, including archaeology, biology, cognitive science, linguistics, neuroscience and psychology, and discusses the latest theories and current controversies in the field of language origins and evolution.

It’s very interesting and I’d certainly recommend it. However, quite a few of the chapters contradict previous ones or seek to prove them wrong, and by the time I’d finished it, I wasn’t at all sure which of many theories to believe.

They’re definitely a lot more sophisticated than the old bow-wow, ding-dong and yo-he-ho theories, which suggest that we got language by imitating animal noises or other natural sounds; that language began as instinctive responses to stimuli; or that it began as a way to facilitate cooperative labour.

Language quiz

By Simon

Here’s a text in a mystery language sent in by Renato Figueiredo. Any ideas which language it’s in and where it’s spoken?

Papa tumus su in kosao, E’los oal payi. Togusaï lalos tuku. Orok ma nu fwalu, ou elos oru in kosao. Kite kit len si ini ma kut mono misini: A nunok munas nu ses ke ma koluk las, oanu kut nunok munas sin met orek ma koluk nu ses. A tiu kol kit kut in mel, a es kit la liki ma koluk, to togusaï lalos, a ku, a mwolanu, ma patpat. Amen.

Accents and the brain

By Simon

A researcher at University College London who is looking into how we come by our accents, among other things, has found that more of the brain is involved in speech than previously thought.

An article in The Times explains how the brain of an impressionist was scanned while he was saying short phrases in a variety of accents, or as an impersonation of someone famous. The scan revealed that not only was he using the parts of the brain known to be involved with language, but also other parts involved with movement: one for visualising images and one for body movement. The conclusion was that he was “literally thinking himself into someone’s skin when he was adopting a different accent.”

It is suggested that this research could lead to new ways to help people with communication problems.

The question at the beginning of the article – “Why do some people hold on to their accents all their lives while others drop them overnight?” is no really discussed.

Do you still have the accent you had as a child? Or has it changed? Do you slip into other accents from time to time?

I used to have a bit of a Lancashire accent, but it now closer to RP and tends to vary depending on whom I’m talking to. I often slip into other accents, especially Scottish, Irish and Welsh ones.

Irish language resources

By Simon

Here are a couple of online resources I came across today for learning Irish:

Everyday Irish – a series of Irish language lessons by Liam Ó Maonlaí, lead singer of the Hothouse Flowers, and offered for free by the Irish Independent. The lessons are in the form of mp3s with accompanying worksheets in PDF format. They are available for beginners and more advanced students.

Talk Irish – a new Irish language learning project which will offer free Irish word-a-day emails, podcasts and flashcards. At the moment only the word-a-day is available, once you’ve joined the site.

Emperors, antiquarians and elephants

By Simon

What do the above have in common?

Well, believe or not they’re different sizes of paper in the English Imperial system. An emperor is the largest size – 72 × 48 (all measurements in inches), an antiquarian is 53 × 31, and an elephant is 28 × 23. There are also double elephants (40 × 27) and grand eagles (42 × 28 ¾), while the smallest size of writing paper is the pott (15 × 12 ½). A bit more interesting than A4, A3, etc!

Quantities of paper also have special terms to describe them:

  • quire = 24 sheets of paper
  • ream = 480 or 516 sheets of paper, or 20 quires
  • bundle = 2 reams
  • bale = 5 bundles

Quire comes from the Latin quaternī, set of four, four each, via the Vulgar Latin quaternus, the Old French quaer and the Middle English quayer.

Ream comes from the Arabic rizma, bundle, via Old Spanish resma, Old French reime, and Middle English reme.

Sources: The Free Dictionary and Paper measures

Sesiynau cerddoriaeth

By Simon

Yn ddiwethar dechreuais mynd i sesiwn cerddoriaeth mewn tafarn yn Rottingdean, pentref ger Brighton, pob nos Sul. Rhwng deg o gerddorwyr sy’n chwarae yn y sesiwn ‘ma ac maen nhw’n i gyd yn dalentog iawn. Mae’r mwyafrif ohonynt yn chwarae dau neu fwy offeryn cerddoriaeth yn dda, ac mae rhan ohonynt yn canu hefyd. Dan ni’n chwarae alawon o Iwerddon yn bennaf, a dw i’n nabod cryn dipyn onhonynt, ond llawer mwy o ymarfer sy’n angen cyn i mi gallu chwarae’r alawon yn gyflym ac yn dda heb gamgymeriadau. Dim ond chwarae’r darnau mod i’n gallu chwarae ydw i.

Dw i’n ceisio dysgu mwy o alawon wrth fy nghlustiau heb wrando ar y gerddoriaeth. Sgil defnyddiol iawn yw ‘ny, a gobeithio bydda i’n gallu dysgu bron unrhyw alawon ar ôl wrando arno tipyn o weithiau. Ar hyn o bryd dw i’n gorddibynnu ar gerddoriaeth ysgrifenedig. Dw i’n gallu dysgu caneon fel ‘ny yn barod, ond mae alawon symlach ‘da nhw.

Seisiúin Ceoil

Le déanaí thosaigh mé páirt a ghlachadh i seisiún ceoil i dteach tabharine i Rottingdean, sráidbhaile in aice le Brighton gach oíche Dhomhnaigh. Bíonn thart ar deich daoine ag sheinm sa seisúin seo agus is ceoltoirí ildánach iad – bíonn an chuid is mó acu ag sheinm dhá uirlis ceoil nó níos mó, agus bíonn chuid acu ag canadh freisin. Bíonn muid ag seinm poirt as Éirinn go príomha, agus tá aithne agam ar go leor acu, ach tá orm i bhfad níos mó cleachtadh riomh gur féidir liom iad a sheinm go mhaith, go tapaigh agus gan botúin. Níl ach seinm na páirt gur féidir liom atá mé.

Bhainím triail as páirt a fhoghlaim gan feachaint ar an ceol. Is scil an úsáideach sin agus tá súil agam go mbeidh mé in ann páirt a fhoghlaim i ndiaidh iad a chloisteáil cúpla uair. Ar faoi láithair bhainím an iomarca úsáid as ceol scríofa agus mé páirt a fhoghlaim. Is féidir liom amhrain a fhoghlaim trí mó cluais, ach bíonn fonn níos simplí acu.

Music sessions

Recently I’ve started going to an Irish music session at a pub in Rottingdean, a village not far from Brighton every Sunday evening. About ten or so people go to this session and they are all very talented musicians. Most of them play two or more instruments and some of them sing as well. We play mostly tunes from Ireland and I know quite a few of them, though a lot more practice is needed before I can play quickly and well without mistakes. I just play the bits I can.

I’m trying to learn more tunes by ear without looking at the music, a very useful skill which will hopefully develop over time until I can pick up more or less any new tune after hearing it only a couple of times – I tend to rely too much on written music at the moment. I can already do this for songs, though they tend to have simpler melodies.