List: '‘20 Awesomely Untranslatable Words from Around the World’

Today’s ‘List Friday’. In Hebrew, the word for ‘Hebrew’ is Ivrit and the word for ‘easy’ (or ‘light’) is kal. In Hebrew the adjective follows the noun. So ‘easy Hebrew’ is Ivrit kala. Which is my standard of Hebrew. And this, with English and a smattering of Latin [1] is, dear readers, the full extent of my meagre linguistic expertise. I envy people who are fluent in two languages. And the more languages they’re fluent in, the greener my envy is. But for practical purposes I’m stuck with English. It could be worse. My only fluent language could be Yagán – which is spoken by only one person on Earth [2]. (I’d be the second one. What conversations I’d have with my buddy.) English’s the language with the third-highest number of first-language speakers [3]. But even so, it has its limitations. English doesn’t have a single word for some concepts or situations, yet other languages do. Today’s list, from matadornetwork.com, is titled ‘20 Awesomely Untranslatable Words from Around the World’ [4]. The list’s fascinating. And so is its preamble: ‘There are at least 250,000 words in the English language. However, to think that English – or any language – could hold enough expression to convey the entirety of the human experience is as arrogant of an assumption as it is naïve’. Actually it can. And as the list’s explanations show, it does. But just not with a single word. Ho hum.
H/t darling Meg for sending me today’s list.

All absurdum

At school in grades 9 and 10 I studied Latin. I wanted to be a dispensing pharmacist, and potions and pastes and pills had Latin names. But in mid grade 12, with pen in hand filling in my university application preferences, I suddenly shuddered at the prospect of a career selling lipsticks to old ladies. So I changed my first choice from Pharmacy to Medicine. And the rest, as they say… Despite this, I’m grateful for my Latin knowledge. Though it’s too basic for me to read the Latin classics, it gives me the key to etymology – of medical terms and non-medical words alike. Recently, in relation to baking, two Latin phrases popped into my mind: Aiming for a thin pizza crust, I’ve been progressively reducing the yeast in each batch. I ended up with a yeastless dough – which I liked but Sweetheart Vivienne didn’t. So now I use ¼ teaspoon per 550 grams of flour (compared with the original recipe’s ¾ tablespoon). Also, noting our diets are oversalted, I’ve been reducing the salt in my bread dough. The UK’s Food Standards Agency’s benchmark’s 1g salt per 100g loaf [1]. I’m already below that. I’m interested to see how low I’ll get before the taste’s affected. Oh, I almost forgot, the two Latin phrases: de minimis [2] and reductio ad absurdum [3]. (The latter’s come to have a technical meaning [4], but its Latin meaning is ‘reduction to the absurd’.) Valete [5].

farmdoc's blog post number 457

It is 384,403 km from Earth – about 30 times Earth’s diameter. Its diameter is 3,474 km – about 27% of Earth’s. It’s almost spherical – its equatorial radius is 1,738 km and its polar radius is 1,736 km. Its volume is 2% of Earth’s. About 59% of its surface can be seen from Earth, but only 50% at any one time. Its force of gravity is about 17% of Earth’s. It orbits Earth each 27.3 days. Its average orbital speed is 1.02 km/second. Its phases repeat each 29.5 days. Its average surface temperature is 107°C during the lunar day and -153°C during the lunar night. It’s responsible for Earth’s tides. Its larger appearance when closer to Earth’s horizon’s an optical illusion. It has no magnetic field, no wind and no water. It’s the inspiration for many songs including these [1, 2, 3]; for the word ‘lunatic’ stemming from the Latin word ‘luna’ denoting the traditional folklore link between madness and its phases; and for a walk made famous by Michael Jackson. The first spacecraft that touched it and photographed its far side in 1959, were Russian. Twelve people – all American men – have walked on it. The last was Eugene Cernan on 13 December 1972. The first was Neil Armstrong (pictured) at 0256 GMT on 21 July 1969 which in Eastern Australia was 12:56 p.m. That was 40 years ago today. And seven days after my father died.

farmdoc's blog post number 372

When I studied Latin in grades 9 and 10, I learnt about ancient Rome and its patricians and plebeians. Despite living in modern Mole Creek (oxymoron intended) and not ancient Rome, I’m a plebeian. When it comes to poetry, that is. I’ve never formally studied it, never understood it, and never loved it. But on reflection, poetry’s not an ‘it’, i.e. a monolithic literary rubric. There are a few poets whose poems speak to me. One’s Leonard Cohen. His songs do too, because they’re poems. The same with Emily Ulman’s songs. For sure. Another poet – I think of the non-singing genus – whose poems I’ve enjoyed recently, is the American Ted Kooser, from 2004-6 the 13th US Poet Laureate. The US has annual renewable terms for its Poets Laureate, compared with the UK where for centuries it’s been a job for life – until 1999 when the incumbent was appointed for 10 years. So since 1986 the UK's had only two Poets Laureate compared with the US's 17. I reckon the US system encourages young poets, raises poetry’s profile, and increases poetical diversity. Sweetheart Vivienne tells me life’s hard for emerging prose writers, but their problems are insignificant compared with those emerging poets face. What a pity, because our sick and sorry world needs more poets and poetry. In the USA, April’s National Poetry Month. How wonderful! It’s my cue to put more poetry into my life. I’m starting here. I’ll never be a poetry patrician. But I’ll do what I can.

farmdoc's blog post number 280

‘Memento’ is the imperative Latin word for ‘remember’. The early fifteenth century Psalm cxxxi in the Canon of the Mass begins with the word ‘memento’, and commemorates the dead. Around 1768, the usage of ‘memento’ widened to include a keepsake or souvenir, i.e. items not specifically related to death. Last Friday Sweetheart Vivienne told me a young relative of hers had become very distressed when one of Lucy’s possessions was given away. Initially I didn’t understand, but now I think that object was a memento – according to the word’s fifteenth century meaning and not its eighteenth century one. Then yesterday I came across this surprising article in Haaretz about the recent phenomenon of the families of fallen Israeli soldiers wanting to keep their sons’ personal weapons. And then there’s the practice, seemingly increasingly prevalent, of road trauma victims’ relatives or friends placing small shrines at the crash locations. Self-evidently those shrines are mementos commemorating the dead. In last Friday’s mail came an exquisite doll (pictured). It’s clasping a heart, and also a note from Harry and Marge Greenberg’s daughter Jo and her husband Jim telling us their love and thoughts are with us at this time. Jo hand-made the doll especially for us (while Jim washed the dishes). Thank you, Jo and Jim. Though a cliché, it’s nonetheless true that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. We will treasure that memento, and also your thoughtfulness and love, forever.