In the Leg

By Patricia Winton

A few years ago, a man trying to convince me to give a class I didn’t want to teach for less money than I wanted to earn, said, “Ma sei in gamba, tu.” I didn’t understand the expression. Literally, it means “but you’re in the leg,” so I knew I was in uncharted territory. The flatterer trying to urge me to accept his proposal, as it were, said it meant, “you’re an expert” or “you’re good at what you do.” I was skeptical, so I asked other people about the phrase.

One man said he might tell a woman that she’s pretty, sweet, and definitely “in gamba.” That might mean she’s smart but also goes a step farther, as in she’s on the ball or on top of things.

A student described her grandmother as 75 years old but still in gamba. That means, I think, that she still has all her marbles. My student was uncertain. Bilie, the word for marbles, didn’t compute for her. “Ah,” she said at last. “Ha tutte le sue rotelle.” That means she has all her castors (wheels on the bottom of rolling chairs). A perfect match. But, we determined, to be in gamba could refer to a physical as well as mental state. Therefore, her grandmother could still be “spry” or “alive and kicking.” By the same token, you could say I feel in gamba like a twenty-year-old to mean I feel as active and alert as a twenty-year-old. The origin of the phrase may come from describing someone’s state of health: he’s been sick in bed, but now he’s in gamba (he’s on his leg or he’s out of bed).

One woman said she’s looking for un uomo in gamba (a man in the leg). That means she’s looking for a man who would make a good husband. “There are lots of men out there,” she said, “who are handsome and fun to spend time with, but who are definitely not in gamba.” She wouldn’t marry one of them.

Another friend told me that Italians often use in gamba to offer encouragement. For example, if someone is going through a bad time or facing a difficult challenge, a friend might offer “mi raccomando…in gamba.” It would mean, “hang in there” or “chin up.”

Mi raccomando is a whole nother expression with endless meanings. A reflexive form of the verb raccomandare (to recommend), it is often used alone, as in mi raccomando. If someone is facing a challenge or a test, you might say “mi raccomando:” good luck, or I’m rooting for you. It could also mean “Do your best.”

Sometimes, it can mean “please.” Be careful, mi raccomando (be careful, please). In fact, it would mean “Do be careful, please,” for emphasis. Or it can mean, I beg you, mi raccmando a te non farlo—I beg you not to do it.

I didn’t teach that class, but I learned something from the negotiation.

Please join me at Italian Intrigues on alternate Thursdays where I write about all things Italian. Next week, guest blogger Estelle Jobson, who blogged for us here on Novel Adventurers earlier this year, joins me to share an excerpt  from her new book, Finding Rome on the Map of Love.

Stone The Crows, I'm Flat Out Like A Lizard Drinking*

By Alli Sinclair


When I send an email to my non-Australian friends, sometimes I think I should include a glossary of terms. It’s common for me to receive a reply with “please explain” asterisks dotted throughout the document. I certainly know what “proper English” is. After all, I’m qualified to teach English as a second language. But when it comes to casual letters or conversations, I let my Aussieness show through and that’s when the fun begins.

In fact, it reminds me of when native Spanish speakers taught me their language and had a ball messing with my head. They’d teach me all sorts of loopy phrases that I innocently learnt and then tried out on their parents. The raised eyebrows and dropped jaws made me realise I’d just made a clanger. Mind you, my friends would be on the floor, rolling around in fits of laughter.

I do get the chance to turn the tables every now and again and yeah, I can see why my Spanish speaking friends found it so much fun. But when it comes to the serious stuff, like my writing, I need to really think about what I want to write and how I need to write it.

My main characters in my novels are Australian. I like putting an Aussie on the world stage as I find their personalities and lyrical way of speaking interesting and fun to play with. But there are some hazards. The last thing I want to do is have my characters sound like Crocodile Dundee. I love that movie and it did do a lot for Australian tourism, but seriously, we don’t speak like that. Nor do we go for a walkabout in the desert. Well, some people do, but it’s not a regular occurrence. I could go on and on about stereotypes, but that’s not this week’s topic so I better move on!

Because I want to dominate the world and have my books available in every country... actually, scrap that. I want to have them available in every galaxy (yes, sarcasm is a major part of being an Aussie), I have to make sure people can actually understand what I’m writing. If I fill the pages with Australian phrases and terms, no one will understand what I’m writing about. But if I don’t add the odd Aussie saying in, then people think my character is English or American. It’s a fine balance and that’s why I’m so thankful for my wonderful critique partners. They read my work with a non-Australian slant, and they’re smart enough to get what the slang means. But every now and then I put in a curly one that leaves them scratching their heads. It’s a constant balancing act and one I think I’ve got a pretty good grasp on—now.

A lot of Australian slang derives from England, and of course there are many phrases and terms we use that are North American. As you know, Australia is a multi-cultural country, so we also have a lot of words that have been adapted from a myriad of nations. We enjoy adopting foreign words and turning them into our own. I do, however, feel for people who grace our shores for the first time, especially those who have English as a second language. Lina wrote a wonderful post about her adventure in learning English and how difficult it was. Throw some Aussie slang and a thick accent in, and you have a recipe for disaster. But rest assured, Aussies are a friendly bunch who are accustomed getting blank looks after we speak, so we’ll find another way to get the message across, even if it means getting out a piece of paper and crayons.

And of course, I couldn’t finish the post without sharing some of my favourite words and sayings. But be aware, some of these haven’t been used for decades. Go on, give them a whirl!

Cactus: something that is dead, e.g. the bloody TV is cactus

Chook: chicken

Cleanskin: A bottle of wine bought without the label on it. Usually bought from companies that have an abundance of a certain vintage of wine.

Coathanger: Sydney Harbour Bridge

Mad as a cut snake: very angry

Dag: technically the yucky bit that hangs off a sheep’s bum, but in Australia a dag is a funny person

Earbashing: nagging

Feral: hippie

Furphy: false or untrue e.g. she’s told the biggest furphy

Grundies: underwear

Mystery bag: a sausage (also called a snag)

Nuff-nuff:  not very intelligent

Rack off: go away (not that polite)

Root rat: someone constantly looking for sex

Screamer: someone who gets drunk easily e.g. “She’s a two pot screamer” refers to someone who gets drunk on two glasses of beer

Show pony: someone who dresses to impress

Tall poppies: successful people 

Tall poppy syndrome: someone who talks badly about those successful people

Woop Woop: invented name for a small, unimportant town e.g. he lives out near Woop Woop

*Oh my, I am very busy

“Don’t Hurt Your Hand”

Photo by Hamed Saber

By Heidi Noroozy

When my Iranian in-laws first came to stay with us, I decided I needed to learn a few words of Farsi so we could communicate without requiring constant translation. So I asked my husband to supply a few useful phrases—hello, goodbye, please, and thank you, for starters.

What I didn’t anticipate was the slew of options he offered for “thanks”—mersi, mamnoon, motshakkeram, to name but a few. Who knew that there were so many ways to express gratitude?

“Just say mersi,” he advised.

I could get my mind around that one. It was easy to pronounce. Better yet, it was already familiar, having been borrowed from French. But soon I realized that the word sometimes came up a bit short. In a culture that has had millennia to perfect the art of gratitude, often what is said is less important than what is left unspoken. Mersi just doesn’t say enough.

Then I learned this useful phrase: dast-e shoma dard nakoneh. It covers many situations but is usually offered at the end of a meal to thank a hostess for preparing the delicious feast. Literally, it means “don’t hurt your hand.” And the phrase even has a standard response: sar-e shoma dard nakoneh, or “don’t hurt your face.” At first, I thought this was a joke. “Don’t hurt your face?” It sounds like something Groucho Marx might say.

But it’s meant quite seriously. In fact, the exchange is far more than “thank you” and “you’re welcome.” The guest is acknowledging how much hard work went into preparing the meal, which, in Iran, probably took all day and multiple sets of helping hands to prepare. The hostess, in turn, is graciously accepting the praise and expressing her joy at the opportunity to provide such a satisfying meal.

A similar expression took me longer to figure out, partly because it means something different in every situation: khasteh naboshi (literally “don’t tire yourself out”). If followed by a request for a favor, it means “I hate to trouble you, but…” On another occasion, it might be offered in acknowledgement of a favor rendered, in which case it’s more like, “you shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.” And you might say this even if you were the one asking the favor in the first place.

Things get even more complicated in a situation like this: Last year, when my mother-in-law was recovering from knee surgery and hobbling around with a cane, she couldn’t do her household chores for several months. I pitched in with the cooking and cleaning. At the end of the day, I’d sit down with a glass of tea after the washing up was done, and she’d give me a sad look and say, “khasteh naboshi.” Translation: “thank you and I’m sorry I couldn’t help out.” Gratitude and apology rolled up into one convenient phrase.

Try to pack all that meaning into a simple, easy-to-pronounce mersi.

I Say Tomate, You Say Tomato – English, Arabic, and Spanish Word Migration

Photo by Fastily Talk

It wasn’t until I started learning Spanish as an adult that I realised a lot of words used in English were, in fact, of Spanish origin. I grew up with words such as cargo, chilli, chocolate, and oregano, using them in the English sense but not having a clue about their beginnings.

English and Spanish are both part of the Romance language family (along with Italian, Portuguese, French, Romanian, and Catalan), so once I got my head around learning a new language, Spanish didn’t feel so hard (except for the grammar, don’t get me started on the grammar!). Since becoming fluent in Spanish, I’ve found I can read or hear other romance languages and get the general gist. And when words from one language are used in another in the same context (or at least sounds similar), then it makes life a lot easier.

American English (as most of you know) comprises of a lot of Spanish words passed to us from Mexican and Central and South American immigrants. This influence dates back to the days of the Gold Rush, and with more adventurous palates, Spanish words are used to describe certain dishes of which there is no English equivalent. Sometimes we adapt a foreign word even though there is a version in English – coriander is often substituted with cilantro, a Spanish word of French origin.

But it’s not just Spanish that influenced the English language. A lot of Spanish words have strong ties to Arabic, harking back to the occupation of the Iberian Peninsula in the 5^th century and continuing on into the 8^th and 9^th centuries. Many people of Islamic descent occupied this region, and as time went on, many Arabic words migrated into the Spanish language. You’ll find many words in English that begin with al have Arabic origins and commonly a Spanish influence. Classic examples are alcove and alfalfa.

The Internet and increasing travel opportunities have opened up new worlds of language, so it's no surprise that words from numerous languages are adopted across borders. Perhaps one day, there will be a single common language, such as Esperanto (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Esperanto), but in the meantime, English will continue to adopt new words from different cultures and put its own spin on it.

Photo by Enzik

Here some examples of Spanish to English (with a bit of Arabic, Caribbean, Nahuatl, Quechua, and Arawak thrown in):

adios

aficionado

alcove (Arabic al-qubba)

alfalfa (Arabic al-fasfasah..)

alligator (from el lagarto, "the lizard")

alpaca (Aymara allpaca)

armada

armadillo (means "the little armed one")

banana (originally an African word but was adopted in Portuguese and Spanish then English)

barbecue (Caribbean barbacoa)

barracuda

bonanza

bravo (Italian and old Spanish)

cafeteria (cafetería)

canyon (cañon)

cargo (Spanish meaning to load -- cargar)

chaps (chaparreras)

chihuahua (dog breed named after Mexican city and state)

chocolate (Nahuatl language xocolat)

cigar, cigarette (Spanish cigarro)

cilantro

cinch (Spanish word cincho)

condor (Quechua)

conquistador

corral

el Niño (means the child and this weather pattern was named this because it appeared close to Christmas)

enchilada (Spanish participle enchilar which means to season with chili)

fajita (In Spanish faja means a sash or belt which best describes the cut of meat)

fiesta

flan

flotilla

Picture by John Ryan M. Debil

galleon (Spanish galeón)

garbanzo

guacamole (Nahuatl ahuacam, "avocado," and molli, "sauce")

guerrilla

hacienda (silent H in Spanish)

incomunicado

jalapeño

llama (Quechua)

machete

machismo

maize (Spanish maíz but originally from the Arawak mahíz)

mariachi (a Mexican musician that performs a special type of music)

matador (in Spanish it means a person who kills)

mosquito

nacho

oregano (from orégano)

papaya (Arawak)

patio (often means courtyard in Spanish)

piñata

plaza

poncho (originally Araucanian, an indigenous South American language)

potato (Caribbean batata)

puma (Quechua)

rodeo

salsa (In Spanish this word refers to any sauce or gravy)

sassafras (sasafrás)

savvy (Derives from sabe which means to know)

siesta

silo

sombrero (The Spanish version of this means any hat, not just the Mexican hats most people think of. The word originates from sombra, which means shade)

stampede (estampida)

tango

tequila (named after a Mexican town that makes this drink)

tobacco (Caribbean tabaco)

tomatillo

tomato (Nahuatl tomatl)

tornado (tronada which means thunderstorm)

tortilla (in Spanish, an omelette is called a tortilla)

tuna (atún)

vanilla (vainilla)

vigilante

yucca (Caribbean yuca)

The Symbolic World Of The Maya

As a kid, Egyptian hieroglyphics captured my imagination. I spent hours poring over books, trying to recreate the symbols and create messages only me and my friends would understand. At high school, the Mayans caught my attention for the exact same reason as the Egyptians – they had a written language that not only looked beautiful, but each symbol held a story of its own.

One of the features that distinguishes the Maya from other cultures in Mesoamerica is their development of a written language, often called Maya Hieroglyphic Writing, or Glyphs. This complex system of symbols has baffled scientists for years, and it wasn’t until the mid-twentieth century when Mayanist, Tatiani Proskouriakoff, had a major breakthrough that finally had people agreeing that the glyphs were a fully functional system based on phonetic signs.

While English is simple and comprised of only 26 letters (signs), the Maya symbols are made from various combinations of nearly 800 signs. Each one represents a full syllable, and so the system is called a syllabary, not an alphabet like we use.

Mayan writers had a vast selection when it came to choosing a symbol to represent one sound. For example, there might be five different signs that all sound the same. Sounds confusing? Yes. Fascinating? Absolutely, yes! Imagine having artistic licence to create your own writing style. No wonder the experts have had so much trouble deciphering the meaning behind each of the Mayan symbols.

Scientists believe the codices and other important texts of the Mayans were written by scribes who were usually members of the Mayan priesthood. The glyphs themselves were painted on ceramics and walls, carved in wood, and moulded in stucco or on bark-paper codices.

With all the advances in technology and the countless hours scientists have put into studying the Maya Glyphs, 90% of Mayan writing can now be read with accuracy. The glyphs are written in blocks that consist of two columns and are read from left to right, top to bottom.

In Mexico, during the era of the Spanish Conquistadors, the Bishop Diego de Landa ordered the collection and destruction of all written Maya works, including codices. His bright idea came back and bit him in the butt later when he tried to convert the Mayans from their own religion to Christianity. Because he’d destroyed most of their written works, he had to develop a new way of communicating with them. The de Landa Alphabet was invented to help with his “teachings.” Although it wasn’t a true representation of the Mayan’s written language, it became an important key for scientists years later when they started to decipher the Maya script. The biggest problem was there wasn’t a direct relation between de Landa’s Alphabet and the Mayan Glyphs. No doubt, the Mayan scientists probably invented a few choice words of their own during the process.

Unfortunately, only four Maya codices survived the destruction of the conquistadors but other text has been found on pottery found in Mayan tombs or on monuments that had been buried long before the Spanish arrived.

These days, Mayan writing is taught in public schools and universities in the Mayan speaking regions in Mexico and is supported and promoted by the Mexican government. It’s encouraging to see that we have finally realised how precious our history, and culture, is and how important it is to preserve it not only for now, but for future generations. Mistakes are only worthwhile if we learn from them.