Foreign words

Ice, ice baby

A very long time ago (2015, to be specific), I had a holiday in Iceland. And while I was there I learnt three things.

Iceland: it’s flippin’ cold

  1. It’s very expensive.

  2. There are hardly any trees (there’s a joke in Iceland that goes ‘What should you do if you get lost in a forest in Iceland? Stand up’).

  3. When Icelanders want to add a new word to their language, for example, for a new technology, they don’t just adopt the English word as a lot of languages do (called ‘loanwords’). They create a new word (or neologism) by using or combining existing ones from Old Icelandic and Old Norse roots. And they do that in a super-organised way.

It’s of course number 3 that we’re going to be talking about today (as this is a blog about words, not trees or money).

Wait, why Don’t They just use the English version?

Today, only around 330,000 people speak Icelandic, a unique language derived from Old Norse (Old Norse is a Scandinavian language spoken during and before the Viking age, and until the 15th century). Iceland wants to keep their language pure and distinctive, while also making sure it evolves in line with the modern world. That’s why they create their own words, rather than just using our boring old versions.

Because of this, the Icelandic language has been relatively unchanged for centuries. That means Icelanders can still read the original sagas – a collection of medieval prose narratives written in Old Norse over 800 years ago – with very little difficulty. To put that into perspective, Chaucer wrote ‘The Canterbury Tales’ about 640 years ago. And I definitely couldn’t read that with very little difficulty (‘Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote/The droghte of March hath perced to the roote’. WTF, Geoff?).

How do ICELANDERS coin new words?

It all starts with the Árni Magnússon Institute for Icelandic Studies. It’s their job to preserve and develop the Icelandic language, and come up with new words when needed. So when a new concept or technology appears that they need a term for, they’ll either:

  • combine existing Icelandic words to create a new term (called ‘compounding’)

  • translate parts of the foreign word directly into Icelandic (called ‘calques’)

  • revive old archaic or obsolete words and give them a new meaning so they work in contemporary contexts.

The Institute also takes suggestions and feedback from specialists and from the public to make sure that any new words they come up with are both linguistically appropriate, and will work in real life.

Once the committee has approved a new term, they’ll use official channels, media, educational institutions, etc., to get it out to the public.

Icelandic neologisms in action

Here are some examples of new Icelandic words, along with a bit of explanation about how they were formed.

  • Tölva for computer – a combination of ‘tala’ meaning ‘number, and ‘völva’ (stop it) meaning ‘prophetess’ or ‘seeress’. This combines the concept of numbers with a sense of mystical insight or prediction, showing the computational power of computers (also, how mystified I am when mine doesn’t do what I want it to).

  • Sími for telephone – this is an old Icelandic word for ‘thread’ or ‘wire’ which was revived to describe phones. The word for mobile phone is ‘farsími’, which adds ‘far’ meaning ‘travel’ or ‘journey’ to ‘sími’.

  • Geimfar for astronaut – from ‘geim’ meaning ‘space’ and ‘far’ for ‘traveller’. So it literally means ‘space traveller’.

  • Þyrla for helicopter – derived from ‘þyrill’ which means ‘whirlwind’.

  • Sjónvarp for television – from ‘sjón’ meaning ‘vision’ and ‘varp’ meaning ‘casting’ or ‘projection’. ‘I’m off to do some vision casting’ sounds SO much better than ‘I’m going to watch telly’, doesn’t it?

  • Rafmagn for electricity – from ‘raf’ meaning ‘amber’ (this is because amber was historically associated with static electricity) and ‘magn’ meaning ‘power’ or ‘force’.

There you have it. Before I sign off though, here are a few more Iceland facts for you:

  • over 90% of Icelandic homes are heated with geothermal energy, making it one of the most environmentally friendly countries in the world when it comes to producing energy

Drinking a Viking ale in Iceland (although it could be anywhere, frankly)

  • Iceland is on the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, where the Eurasian and North American tectonic plates meet. For that reason it’s home to about 130 volcanoes, several of which are still active. The most well known is probably Eyjafjallajökull, which became the bane of every newsreader’s career after it erupted and caused havoc in 2010 (it’s pronounced ‘EY-ya-fyat-la-YO-kuhtl’, apparently)

  • Iceland is one of the few countries in the world without a standing army (or a sitting-down army BOOM BOOM)

  • Icelandic horses are a unique breed known for their small size, their strength and their ability to perform five gaits, including the tölt, a smooth, four-beat lateral gait (I don’t know what any of that means or why it’s good, sorry). To stop disease, it’s illegal to import horses to Iceland. And, if a horse leaves the country, it can’t ever come back. Aw. Also, more importantly, I’m sure someone in Iceland told us that Icelandic horses have a great sense of direction and can carry their blind-drunk owners home from the pub without any human intervention (apart from getting on the horse, obvs) **immediately googles how to buy an Icelandic horse**

  • the Althingi, Iceland’s national parliament, is one of the oldest in the world. It was established in 930 AD at Þingvellir (went there! It was bloody freezing)

  • many Icelanders believe in the ‘huldufólk’ (‘hidden people’) AKA elves. So much so that some road-construction projects have been changed to avoid disturbing these mythical (or are they…?) creatures’ habitats. When my sister and I were in Reykjavik, we visited the Icelandic Phallological Museum, which boasts the world’s largest display of penises, including an elf’s. Sadly, like Icelandic elves and trolls themselves, it’s invisible.

Turning Japanese*

There are lots of lovely foreign words which don’t have an English equivalent (I already wrote a post about this – my favourite is baggerspion, which is the desire to peek into a boarded-up building site). But it turns out that Japanese is particularly prolific when it comes to creating words to describe very specific feelings or activities. One of the better known ones is ‘suzushii men’, which is used to describe the cool side of the pillow when you turn it over.

Here are seven more lovely Japanese words with no English equivalent.

1. Tsundoku (積ん読)

The act of buying books then letting them pile up without reading them.

I’m so guilty of this – there are eight on my bedside table alone.

2. Irusu (居留守)

When you pretend to be out when someone’s at the door or calling you on the phone.

I do this every single day.

3. Wasuremono (忘れ物)

This refers to things you’ve forgotten or left behind, like when you stand up on a train and your phone falls off your lap and you don’t notice. Obviously we just say ‘lost stuff’ of ‘FFS’ in English, but wasuremono adds an extra sense of carelessness or absent-mindedness.

This is also me. Maybe I actually am Japanese…?

4. Shinrinyoku (森林浴)

Taking in the forest atmosphere. This one’s all about when you walk through woods and use all five senses to immerse yourself in nature. It’s supposed to be very relaxing and good for the soul.

This is another one I do every day, although picking up my dog’s poo while screaming his name and sprinting after him as he runs off after yet another squirrel isn’t particularly relaxing…

5. Mono no aware (物の哀れ)

A term for a sensitivity to the transience and impermanence of life and the world around us. This one’s deeply rooted in Japanese culture and aesthetics, particularly in literature, art and philosophy. It’s all about embracing the fragility and beauty of life, and finding meaning and depth in the transient nature of existence.

I can’t think of a silly joke to make about that one, so I won’t.

6. Komorebi (木漏れ日)

We’re back in the woods again. This word describes the dappled sunlight that dances and flickers on the ground beneath a canopy of branches and leaves. Lovely, right?

‘Leave it, Gus, LEAVE IT!’

7. Kuidaore (食い倒れ)

To eat oneself into bankruptcy. The concept of kuidaore isn’t just about stuffing your face – it’s also about enjoying food with abandon, even if it means you won’t have any money left for rent or bills, or anything else. Just your average trip to Tescos at the moment, then.

*This song apparently has a very rude meaning, which I’ll leave to your imagination**.

**Okay, I won’t. It’s supposedly about wanking.