Take me out to the ball game

For the first time in a long time, I find myself eagerly anticipating a football game. Well, having some interest in it, at least…

Of course, the fact that it’s Gaelic football (and I’m still buzzing from a recent trip to the Emerald Isle) may have something to do with it.

This afternoon is the final of the 2016 All-Ireland Senior Football Championship, which is being contested by Dublin and Mayo. I’m not sure whether to support the Dubs (because I’ve been to Dublin a few times and have at least one fairly good friend from there) or Mayo (because they have nice red and green uniforms which remind me slightly of the Welsh flag). Ultimately I’m not too bothered who wins it but I hope I’ll get a chance to catch some highlights of the game later on, though I’m unlikely to see the whole match.

Gaelic football seems to me to lie somewhere between rugby (a game I love, though I don’t generally follow it all that closely) and association football, aka soccer (a game that doesn’t particularly interest me at all) in terms of its rules and playing style – it uses a round ball (like soccer) and seems to have a bit more kicking than rugby but also allows carrying the ball and is a bit more of a contact sport than soccer, though less than rugby. One interesting feature is that not only are there several different ways to score (like in rugby, though in this case it’s scoring goals by kicking the ball into a fairly small goal area defined by two upright posts and a crossbar or scoring points by kicking or fisting it over the crossbar) but the goals and points scores are recorded separately, e.g. 1-7 would mean a single goal and 7 points; a goal is worth 3 points so that particular score would equal 10 points (a score of 1-7 would beat 0-9 but not 0-11; I think, though I’m not entirely sure, that 1-7 and 0-10 would count as a tie, in which case I think the game would usually be replayed). I’ve only watched a very small amount of Gaelic football so far but I found it quite exciting to watch.

There are several other Gaelic games but the other big one is hurling. I’d say this interests me even more than Gaelic football. The two games are actually quite similar in many respects (e.g. they are played on the same size pitch, both with teams of 15 players, and use the same scoring distinction between goals and points) but hurling is played with sticks and a smaller ball. I have heard hurling described as “a cross between hockey and murder”.

The final of this year’s All-Ireland Senior Hurling Championship took place a couple of weeks ago between Tipperary (who won) and Kilkenny (the previous victors; apparently these two teams and Cork dominate hurling, while there’s a much broader spread in the football world). I watched and enjoyed highlights of that match. I also watched the whole of the All-Ireland Senior Camogie Championship last week; this time Kilkenny beat Cork (the winners for the past two years). In case you were wondering, camogie is the women’s equivalent of hurling (a game played only by men) and is essentially the same apart from a few minor rules differences.

Also in case you were wondering, there is also an All-Ireland Senior Women’s Football Championship, which is due to be taking place next Sunday (I can’t remember the teams involved) and, as with hurling and camogie, there are a few minor differences in rules (though, in this case not in name) between men’s and women’s football.

Lest you think this is turning into a sports blog, I should finish with a couple of linguistic observations.

Firstly, as you will have observed, the titles of the Gaelic football championships don’t actually mention the word Gaelic. I gather that in Ireland, the word “football” on its own is usually taken to mean Gaelic football, just as the bare term is used to mean soccer in the UK (and other parts of the world where it is the dominant football code) or American football in the USA and either Australian-rules football or rugby league in Australia (I gather there are some areas where one is significantly more popular than the other), etc. I’m sure there are plenty of other examples in non-sporting contexts of words where the same generic term is used in different parts of the world to refer to different specific cases (presumably usually the most dominant one in that place), although I can’t immediately think of any clear examples other than football. A non-geographical example would be the use of the word “bass” to refer to tubas in the brass band world, whereas it would refer to double basses in an orchestra or (most likely) a bass guitar in a rock group. The moral of the story is that context is king.

The other observation is the etymology of the word “camogie”, which seems to bear no relation to the word “hurling” despite the two sports having much the same relationship to each other as (men’s) and women’s (or ladies’, as it seems to be officially called) Gaelic football (and as far as I know, camogie is never – at least officially – referred to as “ladies’ hurling”). I gather that, although the modern games only date back to the late 19th or early 20th centuries, their roots, and especially that of hurling, are quite ancient. The stick used for hurling is known in English as a hurley (hence the name of the sport) and in Irish as a camán; as in English, the Irish name for the sport was related to that of the stick and it was called camánaíocht (I think that -aíocht is roughly the equivalent of “-ing”), although this has mutated to iománaíocht in modern Irish. One of the differences between the men’s and women’s games is that the latter is played with slightly smaller sticks (and balls) and, in Irish, the women’s stick is called a camóg (the -óg bit being a fairly common diminutive suffix in Irish; i.e. it’s a “small hurley”) and hence the game was called camógaíocht. Whereas the men’s game (presumably due to its much older roots) developed a completely separate name in English, the women’s game just borrowed the Irish name and anglicised it to “camogie” (and, unlike the men’s version, has also kept its original form in Irish).

I’ve no idea of the etymology of either “hurley” or camán, but you have to stop somewhere. And so I shall.

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Doing Saturday

Since my visit to Catalonia last August, I have been working quite a bit, if not entirely steadily, on my Spanish, and also having a go at learning some Catalan.

I will shortly be going out there again for another visit, so it will be a good opportunity to assess how much I’ve learned in the past 14 months.  My feeling is that it will turn out to be quite a lot, though there’s still much more to learn of both languages.

When I first started trying to learn Spanish, just over 20 years ago, it was from a book entitled (rather optimistically) Spanish in Three Months.  Suffice it to say that it took me somewhat more than 3 months to get through the book – in fact, I didn’t get round to systematically working through all the chapters until some time after my last visit to Spain.  I don’t suppose many people would buy a book called Spanish in Twenty Years and, to be fair, I don’t think the author or publishers can be blamed for the amount of time it took me to finish the book.  In fact, I’ve used quite a few different resources in my quest to learn Spanish and in many respects this book is probably one of my favourites (though I think that any study of something as complex as a language really needs to make use of multiple sources of information).

After getting back from Catalonia last year, I initially decided that I would concentrate on improving my Spanish for several months, if not years, before taking more than a cursory look at Catalan, but I quickly acquired several Catalan books so that I’d be prepared when the time came.  One of these was Catalan in Three Months, a sister to my first Spanish book.  Several times over the last year I have dipped into this book but about a month ago I decided to systematically work through it (tackling the exercises and writing down vocabulary, etc.) and this time I was able to reach the end within about a fortnight.  Admittedly, it’s a slightly shorter book than the other one (or at least breaks its material into fewer chapters) and I was going at a slightly too fast pace in order to get a broad overview of the language, so I haven’t fully assimilated a lot of the grammar or vocabulary (though the same can be said of Spanish, which I’ve been working at for a lot longer).

The fact that I already knew a reasonable amount of Spanish also helped me to work through the Catalan book much more quickly as, while there are many significant differences between the two languages, there is also a lot of overlap so I had a big headstart in terms of getting to grips with the basic nuts and bolts of the language.  Having a reasonable, if rather rusty, command of French helped quite a bit too, since Catalan falls somewhere between French and Spanish linguistically as well as geographically.

As I was approaching the end of Catalan in Three Months, I had a look round to see what other Catalan resources were available and I came across one in the Dummies series of books that I’ve previously found useful for getting a handle on things ranging from knitting to quantum mechanics.  The twist here was that the book was written in Spanish, and there doesn’t seem to be an English version available.  Still, I reasoned that this might be quite a good way of consolidating my grasp on Spanish as well as learning a bit more Catalan (and, significantly, some more about the culture, which was rather lacking in the other book), so I purchased myself an e-book version of Catalán Para Dummies and have gradually been working my way through it.

Amongst the things I’ve learned from studying this book are the following two gems that I wanted to make a note of:

Firstly, the Catalan word for a pestle (as in pestle & mortar) is, apparently, la mà de morter, which means “the hand of the mortar”.  Apart from being quite poetic, I find this useful because I’ve always had trouble remembering which one is the pestle and which one is the mortar.  Somehow I find the idea of thinking of the pestle as the hand of the mortar seems to make it easier to remember that it is the one shaped roughly like a small club (or perhaps an arm with a fist on the end of it), while the mortar is the bowl shaped bit.  Incidentally, I gather that the Spanish is similar (el mortero for mortar and la mano for pestle, although both Spanish and Catalan seem to have at least one other word – el pilón / el piló respectively – for the latter).

Secondly, there is a lovely Catalan idiom – fer dissabte (literally, “to make/do Saturday”) – which essentially refers to pottering round the house, doing cleaning and such other tasks as are often done on Saturdays but may equally be done at other times when you’re at home rather than out at work.  Another source I found (also in Spanish – I’ve not yet managed to track down any in English) to explain this phrase seems to suggest that it’s more about an intensive cleaning session rather than pottering around.  In either case, it’s based around the home and not necessarily confined to Saturday.  A literal translation into Spanish would be hacer sábado but this would, apparently, make as much sense as “to do Saturday” in English, so it is a Catalan-only idiom (but it joins the likes of the German word ausschlafen – literally “to sleep out” but meaning to sleep until you wake up naturally, rather than using an alarm – on my list of words or phrases that we really ought to adopt into English).

Let me diarise that…

This morning I came across a new word. That is to say, one I’ve not previously come across (or at least not registered), though I think it’s actually been around for quite a while.

The word is diarise (also, apparently spelt diarize) and, as you can see from the link, it’s sufficiently well-established to have its own entry on Wiktionary, though sadly without any etymological information. I haven’t got round to checking it out in any of my bigger dictionaries but it doesn’t appear in the Collins Gem English Dictionary (1988 edition – a souvenir from my school days) — that’s probably more due to the diminutive size of the dictionary than a reliable indication that the word didn’t exist 25 years ago.

The word, according to Wiktionary, means “to record (events) in a diary”. I suppose it could refer to keeping a journal (à la “January 9th – today I learnt an absolutely spiffing new word…”) but in the context in which I discovered it (a work-related email) it referred to making a note of the dates of several forthcoming events.

Although I’ve managed to get through several decades of life without knowing this word, it strikes me as one that, now I know it, will be very useful.

Working back to happiness

Tonight I shall be playing a gig with the Menai Bridge Intermediate Brass Band.

Unfortunately I only found out yesterday that I would be playing this gig, and only got the music for one of the pieces to look at today. So I have just been doing some fairly intensive practice.

Most of the pieces are ones I’ve played plenty of times before, so they shouldn’t cause me any great trouble. The highlight of the set, though, will be the world’s second ever complete live performance of The Great War Suite by Hannah Retallick (our conductor). The first perfomance took place at the North Wales Rally last week and, since that was a youth band competition with an upper age limit of around 20 for the performers, I was unable to take part (I was playing with our senior band in their section of the competition, which didn’t have age restrictions; I was also able to watch the intermediate band performance, so at least I have an idea of what the music sounds like).

The suite is based on a number of tunes from the First World War and was written to commemorate the centenary of the start of the war. We played the first movement of it in our Anniversary Concert at the start of November, so I have played that movement. I also played an early draft of the third (and final) movement in a rehearsal a couple of months ago, but it has been extensively rewritten since then (and now includes a fairly prominent trombone/horn section solo) and I haven’t played the second movement at all until today.

The first two movements present no particularly great problems but the third is a bit tricky, so I concentrated most of my practice time on that (being aware of the need to balance doing sufficient practice to get a handle on the music and avoiding doing too much and wearing out my lip before the performance). In particular I’ve been concentrating on the 8 or so bars of the trombone / horn solo, since there will apparently only be two of us in that section tonight and I won’t be able to hide behind the rest of the band for it).

In order to nail this solo, or at least pin it down, I’ve employed a combination of tricks such as the standard ones of breaking it down into small chunks and repeating it (both in chunks and in toto) ad nauseam, at various speeds up to and including the 132 bpm indicated on the score (the movement is quite fast, which is one of the reasons why it’s a bit harder than the others; hopefully Hannah won’t take it significantly faster than it’s marked as I can still barely play it at that speed!). I also tried an idea I customised from a language-learning tip I read about the other day.

The tip was originally aimed at learning long, complicated words or phrases. You break your target word / phrase up into smaller chunks and learn it bit by bit, starting with one chunk and adding more until you can say the whole thing. That much is a fairly obvious approach to the problem. The twist is to start with the end of the word and work backwards. The idea behind this is essentially that each time you add a bit to the word, you start with the unfamiliar bit and get it out of the way, allowing your brain to coast along more or less on autopilot with the rest of the word. Allegedly (and plausibly, IMHO) this is more efficient and effective strategy than starting with the “easy” bit that you’ve already learned and taking a run up to the more difficult end.

I’ve not yet tried applying this idea to language learning but it occurred to me that a similar trick might work for music. So, I broke my 8 bar phrase up and tackled it one bar at a time, starting with the last bar. After playing that a few times (until I could play it fairly comfortably), I added the penultimate bar and repeated the two bars a handful of times, before trying it with the antepentultimate bar added, then the preantepenultimate, the propreantepenultimate and so on (I hope you get the idea, because Wiktionary doesn’t list anything beyond “last but four” 🙂 )  Occasionally, when I hit a particularly tricky bar, I’d repeat that on its own a few times before prepending it to the growing phrase.

Before I tried this I had made several attempts to play through the phrase from the beginning but hadn’t managed to get very far with it.  I found that this approach worked quite well in enabling me to play it much more competently and confidently.  I’m still not sure that I’ll be able to play this solo as well as I’d like tonight, but I’ve got a much better chance of getting it more or less right than I had before.

Incidentally, this afternoon’s practice session has also reminded me of the importance of practising scales and arpeggios, even in keys that you often don’t play in.  There is one bar in the third movement (which is in C) that is effectively an A major arpeggio (actually, A dominant seventh, as it starts with a G) and would be much easier for me to play if I’d practised that key a bit more (we don’t often get pieces in A, at least not in the junior band music), especially when it comes to finding the right slide position for low C#.  Quite a lot of the other passages would also be a lot easier if I wasn’t having to think quite so consciously about where to locate the notes or how to run between them.

PS in case you’re wondering, this whole post wasn’t just an excuse to use the word “propreantepenultimate” – in fact, I didn’t even know that the word existed until I went to Wiktionary to look up the spelling of “antepenultimate” (and I didn’t know I’d be using that word, or even plain old boring “penultimate” until I was half-way through writing that paragraph).

How black is my Friday?

This morning, I discovered that there are two different days that are both referred to as Black Friday.

Up until now, I’ve always understood Black Friday to be the last Friday before Christmas (or possibly before Christmas Eve), which is the traditional night for office Christmas parties and hence a particularly busy night for pubs, clubs, restaurants and the emergency services. This indeed appears to be the more traditional British English usage of the term. According to Wikipedia, the day is known in South Yorkshire as Mad Friday. Interestingly this is also a direct translation of the name used for the same night in Welsh – Nos Wener Wallgo. As a consequence, I often tend to think of it as Mad Friday myself (since I first learnt about the concept in Welsh rather than English) and I have been known to confuse people by calling it Mad Friday when I’m speaking English.

It turns out that in the United States they mean something quite different by the term Black Friday. Over there, it refers to the day after Thanksgiving Day (itself the fourth Thursday in November), which is taken as the beginning of the Christmas Shopping season and, in recent years, has become a popular day for shops to offer promotional sales (with extended opening hours). According to an article on the UK edition of the Huffington Post this morning, this idea has now spread to our shores, although we still don’t celebrate Thanksgiving itself. I can’t say I’ve noticed it at all (except on Amazon, who have been having a Black Friday promotion – I didn’t pay much attention to the advance advertising and assumed they were getting ready for 19th December), but it’s possible it just hasn’t reached North Wales yet.

Actually, there is also a third (though technically, this usage predates the other two) Black Friday – the name has sometimes been used as a synonym for Good Friday, i.e. the Friday before Easter, which commemorates the crucifixion of Jesus (Easter itself, if you didn’t know, celebrates his resurrection; it’s not just an excuse to eat too much chocolate). I was vaguely aware of this usage although I don’t think it’s very common these days. Probably just as well, as it’s confusing enough having two different days with the same name.

Technology-assisted language learning #1

Recently I’ve been quite busy with language-learning related stuff (mostly Spanish, but also bits of several other languages) and I’ve been exploring some technological aids to help me.

My previous language learning efforts have mostly focused on traditional media such as books and tapes/CDs, although I have made a fair amount of use of things like flashcard software (Anki is my favourite) and internet radio stations.

In the past couple of years, I have explored some of the language apps available for my Android phone.  However, this is a device of fairly limited capacity running on an old version of the Android OS (2.something) so there were several apps I’d heard of from friends (including Simon who runs the Omniglot website) and other sources that I wanted to check out but couldn’t get to run on my phone.

A few weeks ago I got myself a reconditioned Samsung Galaxy Tab 3 tablet.  This has a much beefier processor than my phone, as well as a lot more memory and storage space, and runs Android 4 (the wonderfully named Ice Cream Sandwich), so should have no trouble running the pick of the current crop of apps, language-related or otherwise.

Since then I’ve been trying out several different apps for Spanish and other languages.  I will probably write about some of them in forthcoming posts.  For now, though, I want to talk about the latest one I’ve been checking out: Duolingo, which exists as both a website and an Android app (I think there’s also an iPhone version).

As far as I can make out, Duolingo is basically a community-driven project.   On their website I found the slogan “We believe everyone should have access to education of the highest quality – for free”, which is a sentiment I share.  As the name suggests, their particular focus is on language education.  They provide courses in a variety of languages, both as source (the language via which instruction is given) and target (the language you’re learning).

A couple of the friends with whom I went to Spain in August used Duolingo to pick up a bit of Spanish in advance of our trip (the most notable result of which was one of them declaring “Yo soy una manzana”, which means “I am an apple”) and have been continuing to use it since then.  At the time, I didn’t check it out myself, partly because I didn’t have my tablet and didn’t know if my phone could handle it (nor that there was a website interface) and partly because I mistakenly assumed it would only be a beginner level course that wouldn’t have anything useful to teach me.

Yesterday, I got round to installing Duolingo on my tablet for a closer look and I was pleasantly surprised.  There are courses for English-speakers on about 8 or 9 languages at present (though a few of them only seem to be available via the website), as well as courses aimed at speakers of other languages.  One nice feature is that when you start a course you can either go from the beginning or take a placement test to assess your existing level of knowledge of the target language and fast-track you to a suitable starting point.

Out of curiosity (and a desire to learn/improve all the languages I can) I started the courses not only for Spanish but also French, German, Dutch, Italian and Irish, opting for the placement test in each case.

I was quite gratified to reach Level 10 in Spanish (I’m not sure how many levels there are, and it may vary between languages, but I seem to have ended up about three quarters of the way through the available units, and poised ready to start a lesson on the subjunctive).   There seems to be a reasonable variety of different lessons and exercises, with a combination of reading, writing, listening and even speaking, so I expect that working my way through the rest of the course should be quite useful. Apparently it is based on a generalised Latin American version of Spanish, in contrast to the peninsular Spanish focus of most of the instructional material I’ve used to date, but I don’t think that should be too much of a problem.

Given that I still consider my French to be a lot stronger than my Spanish (and I can generally string together a vaguely correct sentence in French much more easily than in Spanish) I was moderately surprised that I only reached Level 7 in French.  This is probably largely due to mistakes with accents, which are generally much harder in French than Spanish (as there are more to choose from and they aren’t always entirely obvious from pronunciation) as well as the fact I’ve done a lot more writing in Spanish than French recently (I think it was mostly the written exercises that let me down in the French test).

In German, I achieved Level 5 – not too surprising considering my German was never quite as strong as my French (though in theory I studied them to the same level) and is much rustier.  I was pleasantly surprised to get up to Level 3 in Dutch since, although it’s less than a year since I last had a go at learning it, I didn’t get very far in my lessons then. Both my Irish and my Italian are languishing down at Level 1.

My main goal remains to focus primarily on Spanish for the moment but also to do some gentle revision of French and German and probably do a bit of Dutch, using Duolingo alongside various other tools for each language.  Doubtless I’ll do at least a bit with both Irish and Italian too, although those are definitely lower priorities at the moment.

Amongst the other languages apparently in development (for English-medium courses) on Duolingo are Swedish, Russian and Hungarian.  All three have for some time been on my shortlist of languages to work on (I speak some Russian, though considerably less than German or French, and a little bit of Hungarian, though only a negligible amount of Swedish as yet), so I’m looking forward to trying out those languages when they go live.

There’s no sign, yet, of any courses in English for non-Indo-European languages on Duolingo, which is a shame as I’d definitely like to break further out of the Eurocentric mould in my language studies (Swahili being the non-IE language that interests me most, though there are plenty of others).  For now, at least, it looks like I’ll have to stick with other tools for explorations in that direction, as well as for IE languages such as Catalan that are not on the Duolingo menu.  However, for the languages that are available I think Duolingo will be a very handy addition to the toolbox.

 

Another blog is born

Just over a year ago, I started a second blog.  The purpose of that one was to enable me to write in Welsh (mainly for the sake of practicing my written language skills) without cluttering up this blog with posts that most of my readers couldn’t follow (I’m assuming that most vistors here can speak English but not that many will know Welsh).

As I expected, my writing on that blog has been much sparser than on this one.  In fact, I only wrote my 5th post there yesterday, after a gap of over a year!  Still, it’s nice to have the blog and feel I’m doing a little bit to increase the amount of Welsh in cyberspace as well as keeping my own language skills reasonably rust-free if not exactly finely honed.

Last week I had my second ever visit to Spain – a lovely week in Catalonia with some most excellent friends (including some I’d never met before I went there).  In preparation for this, I’ve spent quite a lot of my linguistic energy over the past few months on trying to brush up on my (woefully limited) Spanish.  I got plenty of opportunity to speak Spanish (and learn a few words of Catalan) while I was there, and this has fired my enthusiasm to keep working on the language, partly in the hope that I’ll be visiting the area again before too long; I also hope to be able to visit other bits of Spain and perhaps Latin America and to continue to explore Spanish literature and films, as well as being able to talk to Spanish speakers who cross my path in North Wales or elsewhere.

I was very conscious while I was in Spain that, although I could understand a reasonable amount of written and (to a lesser extent) spoken Spanish, I was severely limited in what I was able to say (or write, not that I had very much occasion to write while I was there).

Therefore, I have just started yet another blog.  This one is similar to the Welsh one but in Spanish and purely to give myself *cough* regular practice at actively using the language.  Since I speak a lot less Spanish than Welsh, the posts are likely to be fairly short and I’ll try to keep them simple.  I’m hoping that I might get some useful feedback from Spanish speakers but even if I don’t, the simple act of forcing myself to write (and as far as possible, think) in Spanish on a fairly regular basis should be immensely helpful in my efforts to learn to speak and not just vaguely understand it.

As with the Welsh blog, this is actually my second attempt at a blog in Spanish.  (One of my first posts on this blog was a potted history of my earlier blogs, including both of these, if you’re interested.)  Similarly, the posts on the Spanish blog, like the Welsh ones but unlike the posts on this blog, won’t be automatically publicised on Facebook or Twitter but can be accessed via an RSS feed if you want to be able to follow them.