lproven: (Default)
Tomorrow is my third Czech lesson. Yes, I have been procrastinating wildly, but I have at least started.

And my friend and housemate Otto, who has always been extremely supportive of me learning Čeština, has been helping me again with my homework tonight.

Lots of new words. Some I use often enough to stick. I can now make a few different simple conjugations of half a dozen verbs, ask very simple questions, parse a simple sentence with an unknown noun and invert it into a grammatical question while preserving gender. Really baby steps and not much to show for nearly two years here, but I'm making progress.

Alongside the myriad complexities -- I've never studied a language with such baroque grammar; I didn't know the Indo-European family even included languages with such complex grammar* -- there is also, even with my very meagre vocubulary, the problem of untranslatable words. I've just learned a new one and it's interesting.
Read more... )
lproven: (Default)
Czech seasonal greetings are quite a mixed bag, and some are... challenging.

But I have noticed a short phrase used widely, even as an abbreviation: PF, standing for "pour féliciter". It's a French phrase and it means, roughly, "for congratulating" -- it originally referred to greetings cards, as in, it's something you'd use to describe them, rather than something you'd put on them.

It's quite ubiquitous as an abbreviation, but I only found out what it stood for today.

It's... odd.

More conventionally, "Veselé Vánoce" is "happy Christmas". Vesela means happy (it's declined in this form, don't ask me how) and "Vanoce" is a corruption of the German "Weihnachten".

"Happy new year" is the significantly more challenging "Veselé Vánoce a šťastný Nový rok!" Even after 6 months of practice, the few unfortunate victims at whom I have essayed this phrase have given me a sort of pitying look and told me that I was almost right. I fear I suffer a sort of pile-up of diacritical marks on "šťastný" and my speech centres faceplant.

So, hey, given that, I might just stick with "pour féliciter"...
lproven: (Default)
As I've doubtless bored people silly with for years, another of my non-computery interests is languages and linguistics. One subsection of this is conlangs: constructed languages, as opposed to natural languages.

There are 2 conlangs that virtually anyone moderately well-read has heard of, even prior to the Lord of the Rings films: Esperanto and Klingon.

There is a pervasive urban myth that winds me up about their relative success: that more people speak Klingon fluently than Esperanto. This is very far off the mark: there are a hundred or so fluent Klingon speakers and several million Esperanto speakers, including several thousand native Esperanto speakers, the children of parents who share no mutual natural language and were thus raised speaking Esperanto.

It is a testament to the success of Esperanto that it is so well-known, even if it is widely regarded as a failure.

What is less well-known is that Esperanto is just one of dozens of conlangs. It succeeded the previous most successful one, Volapük, a late-19th century conlang that at one time had many thousands of speakers.
Read more... )
lproven: (Default)
How I Met My Wife

It had been a rough day, so when I walked into the party I was very chalant, despite my efforts to appear gruntled and consolate. I was furling my wieldy umbrella for the coat check when I saw her standing alone in a corner. She was a descript person, a woman in a state of total array. Her hair was kempt, her clothing shevelled, and she moved in a gainly way. I wanted desperately to meet her, but I knew I'd have to make bones about it, since I was travelling cognito. Beknownst to me, the hostess, whom I could see both hide and hair of, was very proper, so it would be skin off my nose if anything bad happened. And even though I had only swerving loyalty to her, my manners couldn't be peccable. Only toward and heard-of behavior would do. Fortunately, the embarrassment that my maculate appearance might cause was evitable. There were two ways about it, but the chances that someone as flappable as I would be ept enough to become persona grata or sung hero were slim. I was, after all, something to sneeze at, someone you could easily hold a candle to, someone who usually aroused bridled passion. So I decided not to rush it. But then, all at once, for some apparent reason, she looked in my direction and smiled in a way that I could make heads or tails of. So, after a terminable delay, I acted with mitigated gall and made my way through the ruly crowd with strong givings. Nevertheless, since this was all new hat to me and I had no time to prepare a promptu speech, I was petuous. She responded well, and I was mayed that she considered me a savory char- acter who was up to some good. She told me who she was. "What a perfect nomer," I said, advertently. The conversation became more and more choate, and we spoke at length to much avail. But I was defatigable, so I had to leave at a godly hour. I asked if she wanted to come with me. To my delight, she was committal. We left the party together and have been together ever since. I have given her my love, and she has requited it.

- Jack Winter, Shouts & Murmurs




A Very Descript Man

I am such a dolent man,
I eptly work each day;
My acts are all becilic,
I've just ane things to say.

My nerves are strung, my hair is kempt,
I'm gusting and I'm span:
I look with dain on everyone
And am a pudent man.

I travel cognito and make
A delible impression:
I overcome a slight chalance,
With gruntled self-possession.

My dignation would be great
If I should digent be:
I trust my vagance will bring
An astrous life for me.

- J H Parker




Both from the A Word A Day newsletter
lproven: (Default)
(Prompted by this story in the Wall St Journal, found via an entertaining post on Language Log.)

It is probably well-known now that I like to dabble in foreign languages. I can make polite noises in more than half a dozen, though, alas, often not a lot more than polite noises. The hardest of any one I've tried so far, by a country mile - or perhaps I should say, by a li - was Mandarin, the official dialect of the People's Republic of China. (And the Republic of China, too, come to that. But most people call that bit Taiwan.)

Mandarin isn't really a dialect, as such; the different flavours of Chinese are as different as English is from German, Italian and Romanian. All the Indo-European languages share roots, but today sound and work radically differently, and so does Mandarin compared to Cantonese, Hakka and Wu, say.

But it's hard to understand how very differently they work. For my travels in China 12y ago, I memorized a few useful phrases:
• "Ni hao" (hello)
• "Zai jian" (goodbye)
• "Xiexie" (thank-you)
• "Qing wen, ni hui jiang yingyuwen ma?" (Excuse me, do you speak English?)
• "Wo yao pijiu" (I want beer)
• "Wo shi chiisude" (I am a vegetarian)
• "Wo bui yu fu haishi rou" (I do not eat meat or fish)
• "Wo shi foujian" (I am a Buddhist)
(Accuracy by no means guaranteed; it was 12y ago!)

I'd have added "yes" and "no" to that list, but they don't have words for them, any more than Irish does. (This is why even non-Gaelic-using Irish people stereotypically tend to use verb phrases instead of a simple affirmative or negative: "Are you going to the pub?" "I am." Started in Gaelic, now a regional habit even in English.)

From this, it's fairly straightforward to assemble a few more handy ones - "wo bui jiang zhongwen" (I don't speak Chinese) and the essential for dealing with importunate street vendors, especially hordes of underage ones: "women bui yao!" (We don't want!)

The only snag being that Mandarin is tonal, and every syllable means something different depending on whether you say it with a low-then-rising tone, a high-then-falling tone, a falling-then-rising tone, a high tone or a normal tone. Get one tone wrong, the whole sentence falls apart into noise. For instance, "ma" means "mother", "hemp" or "torpid", "scold", "horse" or is a sort of spoken question mark, depending on the tone of voice in which you say it. Thus a hapless Chinese speaker really cannot guess what a foreigner mangling their language means. It's not like "Allo allo": we can decode "good moaning" into "good morning" easily in English, but in Chinese, just get one tone wrong and an otherwise perfect utterance becomes "whoops my antelope is inside the hatstand". Great fun!

Thus I was intrigued to read an academic paper on the introduction of what might reasonably be called "polite noises" into spoken Chinese. Apparently, a number of these phrases of mine, along with one I'd forgotten - "dui bu qi" (excuse me) - are recent modern introductions being pushed by the government in an effort to make Chinese people seem less impolite to foreigners, a problem anticipated to be a big one during the Olympics.

The phrases all have completely different original meanings - everything does in Chinese, it is probably the world's best language for puns and wordplay - but they were never used like this in normal life. It's a strange new idea, imitating foreign languages' strange meaningless little words which indicate courtesy to strangers. I feel like I've paid for a forgery; it's very odd. I always try to be polite and use Chinese in Chinese restaurants, even though 90% of them or more are Cantonese owned and run, but all I'm doing is - well, as the paper says:
Used by a foreigner, ni hao says, “Greetings, I am a foreigner.”
lproven: (Default)
The International Phonetic Alphabet is a wonderful thing, and like sign language, not nearly widely enough used.

(I mean, imagine if we learned BSL (British Sign Language) in school. (ASL - American Sign Language, a totally different and mutually incomprehensible form, for Colonials.) It would be immensely handy, for instance, in noisy pubs and clubs, for communicating a round, or for silently discussing something in a live gig. If hearing people had it, I'm sure they'd find a way to use it. Also, in the early days, a great private language for kids, upon which parents couldn't eavesdrop. And in the longer run, what a great way to promote the inclusion of Deaf people in hearing society.)

But anyway. Splendidly amusing little piece on IPA in daily use in one narrow walk of life: opera.

IPA in the USA.

Great art

May. 5th, 2008 05:04 am
lproven: (Default)
Narafala dei, mo narafala dei, mo narafala dei
Wokabaot snel spid dei long dei
Long laswan hafwud blong evriwansamting bagarup ded finis yeh taem;
Mo olgeta yestedei blong yumifala
Oli bin laetem kranke hafmadfala
Long griri tata. Nomo no faea nao lilfala kandel!
Laef emi sado blong wokabaot, emi konset rabisman
Nao i singsing mo humbugum wan hoa antap bokis
Nao yumi nomo harem em. Emi storian
Blong longlong kukiboe, fulap mekanois,
Saenem nating.

Pardon? )

This is, genuinely, one of the most famous passages in the English language, only translated (magnificently) into something that is descended from English but isn't English any more. The accent in which it's pronounced has distorted the spelling almost beyond recognition, thus the transliteration.

Hint later as to the source material.

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Liam Proven

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