Here’s a recording in a mystery language.
Can you identify the language, and do you know where it’s spoken?
Standard Writing for Inuit
According to an article I came across today, the Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami / ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᑕᐱᕇᑦ ᑲᓇᑕᒥ (ITK), an organization the protects and advances the rights and interests of Inuit people in Canada, have agreed on a standard way of writing the Inuit languages of Canada.
There are currently nine different ways to write these languages, using either the Roman alphabet (qaliujaaqpait) or the Inkutitut syllabary (ᖃᓂᐅᔮᖅᐸᐃᑦ / qaniujaaqpait).
On 10th September 2019 the ITK decided to adopt a standardised way of writing all the Inuit languages and dialects of Canada using the Roman alphabet known as the Inuktut Qaliujaaqpait writing system. It includes ways to write the sounds found in all these languages, even though some are only used in a few of the languages. More information.
I’m not entirely sure how all the consonants are pronunced – the illustrations of the orthography don’t include pronuciation.
The intention with the new orthography is to provide an alternative, auxiliary writing system that can be used as well as, or instead of, the existing systems. The new writing system will make it easier to produce learning resources and other written material. It is also hoped that more speakers of Inuit languages will write in them, rather than using English.
Eskimo-Aleut languages on Omniglot
Aleut, Alutiiq, Greenlandic, Inuktitut, Iñupiaq, Yup’ik (Central Alaskan), Yupik (Central Siberian)
When is a gate not a gate?
In a Russian lesson I did yesterday, I learnt that a word for gate is ворота (vorota). Then it gave me a phrase using a different word for gate – Где гейт? (Gde gejt?), which means “Where is the gate?”, and refers to the kind of gate you get at an airport. Slightly confusing. So I wondered what kind of gate is a ворота.
Apparently a ворота is a (double) gate, gateway, portal, goal or sluicegate.
Other Russian words for gate include:
- выход (vychod) = egress, exit, gate, orifice, outcome
- вход (vchod) = embouchure, entrance, entry, gate, gateway, ingress, inlet
- шлагбаум (shlagbaum) = gate (of lock, level crossing), tollbar
- калитка (kalitka) = (single) gate, wicket
- шлюз (shlyuz) = flood-gate, gate, lock, sluice
- гейт (gejt) = gate (at an airport)
Below are some illustrations on different kinds of gates I found via Google:
Searching for images of words like this seems is interesting, and may help me to remember them.
Sources: Reverso Dictionary & bab.la
Bilingual Kids
Many families raise their children to be bilingual. This might involve one parent speaking one language, and the other parent speaking a different one. Or maybe the family will speak one language at home, and the children will pick up another at school. The hope is that the children will end up speaking both languages fluently.
Recently I got talking to a Czech woman, who told me that she spoke Czech to her sons for the first year or so, while her husband spoke English to them – he doesn’t know much Czech. After that however, she switched to English, as she found it too hard to speak Czech to them all the time. This surprised me, as you’d think that speaking your mother tongue would be easier than speaking another language, but not in this case, it seems.
As they currently live in Wales, the main languages her boys encounter are English and Welsh. Maybe their mother is the only Czech speaker around – I certainly haven’t come across any others. Maybe she feels more comfortable speaking English than Czech after living here for many years.
She told me that they’re soon moving to Czechia, so her sons will have to learn Czech. They’re young (4 and 2), so will probably soon pick it up. Whether her husband learns it is another matter – it is quite a challenging language to learn as an adult.
Are any of you raising your children bilingually?
What challenges do you face, and how do you deal with them?
Have you become more comfortable speaking a foreign language than your mother tongue?
Language Quiz
Here’s a recording in a mystery language.
Can you identify the language, and do you know where it’s spoken?
Two Left Feet / Dwy Droed Chwith
Last night I wrote a song called Two Left Feet, about someone who believes he can’t dance because he has two left feet – not literally, but in the idiomatic sense of being clumsy and awkward, especally when trying to dance.
I used to feel like this, and still do a bit when I try to learn new dances, or different styles of dancing. I don’t let this stop me though, and dance anyway, which is what the song is all about. I’ll add a link to the song here when I’ve recorded it.
I like to translate the titles of my songs and tunes into Welsh, so I looked for Welsh equivalents of this idiom. These include:
- bod â dwy droed chwith = to be with two left feet
- bod yn drwstan eich traed = to be clumsy of foot
- bod yn drwstan ar eich traed = to be clumsy on one’s feet
- bod yn lloglog = to be clumsy / awkward
Drwstan [ˈtrʊstan] is a mutated form of trwstan which means clumsy, awkward, unsteady, bungling, unpolished, shoddy, unfortunate, unlucky, unhappy, sad or wretched.
Lloglog [ˈɬɔɡlɔɡ] means clumsy, awkward, untidy or baggy.
Trwstan and Lloglog might be good names for characters in a story or song – maybe I’ll use them in my next song.
Incidentally, trwstan is not related to the name Tristan, which comes, via Old French, from the Celtic name Drystan, from drest (riot, tumult).
Other Welsh words for clumsy and awkward include:
- trwsgl, afrosgo, lletchwith, trwstan, ysgaprwth, clogyrnaidd, anfedrus, di-lun, annehau, anneheuig, ysgafnrwth
annosbarthus, annechau, clemog, sgrongol, siagal
The word awkward comes from the awk, an old word meaning odd, wrong, clumsy or uncomfortable, and the adjectival suffix -ward.
Awk comes from the Old Norse ǫfugr / ǫfigr / afigr (turned backwards, unkind, harsh).
Sources: Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru (A Dictionary of the Welsh Language), Geiriadur yr Academi (The Welsh Academy English-Welsh Dictionary Online), Wiktionary
Aprosdoketons & Malaphors
I came across quite an interesting word on Twitter the other day – aprosdoketon [ˌæp.ɹəsˈdɑ.kɪˌtɑn], which is defined as “a figure of speech in which an expected word in an idiom is replaced with an unexpected one – e.g. ‘Rome wasn’t built in a teacup'”.
According to Wiktionary, it can also refer to “any surprising use or interpretation of language”, and comes from the Ancient Greek ἀπροσδόκητος (aprosdókētos – unexpected).
Theres a collection of unintentional blended idioms and phrases on the Malaphors blog – it seems that malaphor is another name for this blending of metaphors, idioms and other sayings. It was apparently coined by Lawrence Harrison in the Washington Post in 1976 [source].
So remember not to count your chickens before they’ve crossed the road, and there’s no point in closing the stable door after leading a gift horse to water. Make sure to get all your ducks in one basket, and don’t let the pig out of the poke.
Look before you leap from the frying pan to the fire, or you might find yourself in deep custard without a paddle. It’s not rocket surgery! In fact it’s as easy as falling off a piece of cake.
The early bird in the hand catches two worms in the can, unless it’s barking up the wrong end of the stick.
I’m sure you can come up with many more examples of aprosdoketons / malaphors.
Language Quiz
Here’s a recording in a mystery language.
Can you identify the language, and do you know where it’s spoken?
Stronger unpacked felicity
This is the text of an email I received the other day. It appears to make no sense at all to me. Can you find anything in it that makes sense?
Had you him humoured jointure ask expenses learning
Cultivated who resolution connection motionless did occasional
Attachment companions man way excellence how her pianoforte
Garrets because elderly new manners however one village sheHe ye body or made on pain part meet
Speaking ladyship yet scarcely and mistaken end exertion dwelling
Longer ladies valley get esteem use led six
Stronger unpacked felicity to of mistaken
Behind sooner dining so window excuse he summer
Goats and Cabbages
If you’re not sure about something, or don’t want to commit yourself to something, you’re said to be sitting on the fence.
In French you’re said to be ménager la chèvre et le chou (“to look after the goat and the cabbage”). Another translation of this phrase, according to Wiktionary, is to run with the hare and hunt with the hounds. Has anyone heard this expression?
Are there other ways to refer to fence-sitting?
A related word is: chèvrechoutisme (“goat-cabbage-ism”), which is apparently an expression used in Belgium to mean “A policy of attempting to please everybody or reconcile conflicting options.” [source]. A person who persues such a policy is known as a chèvrechoutiste (“goat-cabbage-ist”) [source].
The word ménager means to handle carefully, to treat considerately, to use sparingly, to take care of, to look after, to arrange, to put in or to make. The reflexive version of the verb, se ménager, means “not to push oneself too hard”. As an adjective ménager means household, domestic, housewife or canteen, and ménage means housework or (married) couple, as in ménage à trois [source]