Posts from June 2009

You may have noticed Transparent’s recent Word of the Day, bliain (year) or an bhliain (the year).  Care to guess how many forms of this word are in common use?

 

Well, there’s the lenited form (an bhliain), the special form used after the numbers 3, 4, 5, and 6 (bliana), the eclipsed “special” form used after the numbers 7, 8, 9, and 10 (mbliana), the possessive form (also bliana), and the plural form (blianta). 

 

Examples, you cry?  Coming up!

 

Tá mo hamstar bliain d’aois.  My hamster is a year old. 

Tá mo hamstar bliain amháin d’aois.  My hamster is one year old (emphasizing the “one” bit)

Tá mo hamstar dhá bhliain d’aois.  (dhá bhliain, two years).

Tá mo hamstar trí bliana d’aois.  Just like I promised, a change kicks in at number three.

Tá mo hamstar seacht mbliana d’aois.  (seacht mbliana, seven years, showing “eclipsis” or covering of the letter “b”). 

 

How long do hamsters live anyway?  Maybe I’d better switch to pearóidí (parrots).

Tá mo phearóid trí bliana déag d’aois.  My parrot is thirteen years old. 

Tá mo phearóid fiche bliain d’aois.  My parrot is twenty years old. Time for an osna faoisimh (sigh of relief) – no change to the word “bliain” for multiples of ten!

 

And how about that possessive form?

Beidh sé anseo go ceann bliana. He’ll be here for a year (lit. “until the head of a year”)

 

And the plural:

Ní fhaca mé le blianta é.  I haven’t seen him for years.

 

And speaking of not seeing someone le blianta (for years), one phrase that has “years” in English but not in Irish, is “donkey’s years.”  As in, “I haven’t seen a Slinky in donkey’s years.”  For all of the presence of Equus africanus asinus in Ireland, this particular idiom doesn’t have an exact equivalent in Irish.  To say “I haven’t seen him for a long time,” you just substitute “fada” (long) in the phrase “le blianta,” giving:

 

Ní fhaca mé le fada é.  Literally, I didn’t see him with “long.” 

 

So why do we drag the word “donkey” into expressions like this in English. It’s sort of like rhyming slang, although in this case almost a reverse rhyming slang. The idea behind the expression is “donkey’s ears,” which are, well, you guessed it, long. Add a little word play to the mix and you have “donkey’s years.”  Maybe there’s also a little insinuation that donkeys may take a long time to move along, or, if not a long time, their own sweet time. 

 

It wouldn’t hurt to learn the actual phrase for “donkey’s ears:” One of these days, I plan to blog about the tearmainn asail, donkey sanctuaries in Ireland, which I hope to visit sometime, so I’m sure we’ll return to the topic of donkey’s ears eventually.  At that point we can discuss more features of donkeys – ears, fur, hoofs, their vulnerable hind legs, etc.*

 

The phrase “donkey’s ears” is basic enough as far as vocabulary goes:

 

cluas, ear

cluasa, ears

cluasa asail, donkey’s ears

 

 I just read in one of the documents for University College Cork’s Irish Department that, “… is fada siar a théann an ceangal idir chluasa asail agus rí.”  That means “The connection between donkey’s ears and kings goes back a long time,” and on that intriguing nóta, I’ll leave you for now.  Slán ach ní go ceann fada!

 

Leideanna Fuaimnithe (Pronunciation Tips)

 

bhliain – VLEE-in, the “bh” is pronounced like a “v”

mbliana – MLEE-un-nuh

ní fhaca – nee AHK-uh, the “fh” is completely silent

 

*I’ll have to remember to keep the “hupcoming” donkey blog short and succinct, otherwise I might be accused of “talking the hind leg off the (proverbial) donkey.”  By the way, the Irish for “hup!” is (drumroll) “hup!”  ‘Nuff said! 

 

 

Here are a few of the traditional dishes, and a few not so traditional

 

Arán donn: brown bread.  An maith leat arán donn?  Do you like brown bread?

 

Arán sóide: soda bread.  An ndearna tú féin an t-arán sóide seo?  Tá sé an-bhlasta!

Did you yourself make this soda bread.  It’s very tasty!

 

Im: butter.  Dhéantaí im i gcuinneog.  Butter used to be made in a churn. 

 

Ime: of butter. 

 

Prionta ime: a pat of butter.  Tá an prionta ime seo an-fhuar.  Tá sé deacair é a smearadh ar an arán.  This pat of butter is very cold.  It’s hard to spread it on the bread.

 

Subh bhiabhóige: rhubarb jam.  Bíonn arán donn an-bhlasta le him agus le subh bhiabhóige air.  Brown bread is very tasty with butter and rhubarb jam on it. 

 

Ubh: egg.  Ubh bhogbhruite.  A soft-boiled egg.

 

Uibheacha friochta: fried eggs.

 

Ispíní: sausages

 

Putóg bhán: white pudding

 

Putóg dhubh: black pudding

 

The above ingredients would make a tasty Irish bricfeasta.  Except perhaps for the puddings, which are, to put it mildly, an acquired taste.  Much more popular it seems among the native Irish than even the most intrepid Gael-Mheiriceánaigh.  But one can at least say that these are breakfast puddings, not like a milseog, which would be a dessert pudding. 

 

And here are some of the less traidisiúnta:

 

Ceapaire im píseanna talún agus subh: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  Just make sure you say “jam” instead of “jelly” in English if you’re in Ireland or the U.K., or you’ll get a peanut butter and Jell-O (gelatin) sandwich.  And perhaps a strange look!  Note also that the phrase for “peanuts” is based partly on another name for the same food, groundnuts (talún means “of ground” or “of the ground”).     

 

Spaigití: An bhfuil an spaigití réidh?  Is the spaghetti ready? 

 

Píotsa: Tá an píotsa seo an-te.  This pizza is very hot. 

 

Curaí: Tá an curaí seo an-spíosrach.  This curry is very spicy.

 

And, finally, green bagels redux, béigil uaine! 

What better place to begin a discussion of Irish cuisine than with the potato?  Still one of the príomhbhianna (staple foods) of Ireland, potatoes may be served in two or even three different ways in one béile (meal).  Typical styles of preparation would include: prátaí bruite or beirithe (boiled), prátaí friochta (fried), and brúitín (mashed potatoes). 

 

You might have noticed that the last term doesn’t actually have the word “potato” in it.  Brúitín is generally understood to be mashed potatoes, not anything else mashed.  Perhaps a bit of foreshadowing of your local diner offering you “meat loaf and mash, hon.”  Context tells us that your server doesn’t likely mean mashed tornapaí, ionaim (yams), tarónna (taro), or casabhaigh (cassava). 

 

“Mash,”  you might ask, “what about “mash” as food for animals?”  No worries – Irish can distinguish that as “maistreán” (mash of boiled bran or grain).  And if it’s the stuif coipthe (fermented stuff) you’re thinking of, Irish has you covered, with the word “braichlis” (beer wort, derived from the word for “malt,” braich). I don’t suppose, by any seans caol (slim chance), that there are any readers in bhur measc (amongst you) who would like to know some more Irish terms for brewing or distilling, are there?  But if there are, do let me know and the topic will be froth-, whoops, forthcoming. 

 

Pé scéal é (anyway), back to potatoes.  And not surprisingly, it looks like this particular blog won’t get much beyond potatoes, due to considerations of length..  But that’s been many people’s experience with bia Éireannach (Irish food), so here, with various dialect variations indicated in parentheses, is the not-so-lowly potato.  Práta” is probably the most widespread and is used in “An Caighdeán” (the official standard form of the Irish language):

 

práta (Mumhain / Munster)

fata (Connacht)

préata (Ulaidh / Ulster, and closest to the Hiberno-English “praties”)

buntáta (mostly Scottish Gaelic but may occur in Irish, presumably in the areas where the language most resembled Gàidhlig or Gaeilge na hAlban, that is Gleannta Aontroma, the Glens of Antrim, or Reachlainn, Rathlin Island)

 

And yes, an official term was finally concocted in Irish for “couch potato,” but it contains neither the word for “couch” (tolg) nor the word for potato (práta).  The word is “sámhaí,” literally a “placid person” or “restful person,” based on the adjective “sámh” (peaceful, tranquil, placid, restful).  Personally, I don’t think the word has quite the panache of “tolgphráta” or “práta toilg.” Those are the phrases I had adopted some years back when the term first came into English and students would ask me what it was in Irish.  On that note, slán go fóill.     

Are you working ar do chraobh ghinealaigh (on your family tree)?  Are you interested i nginealeolaíocht (in genealogy)?  If so, these terms could be useful.  They are shown as vocabulary items and with sample phrases or questions. 

 

ainm (name): Cén t-ainm atá ort?  What’s your name? 

 

sloinne (surname): Cén sloinne atá ort?  What’s your surname?

 

sloinne (…)  roimh phósadh (maiden name): Cén sloinne a bhí ort roimh phósadh?  What was your maiden name?

 

céile (spouse, partner, mate, plus many idiomatic uses):  Bhí sé i bhfad óna dhaoine céile.  He was far from his own people.   

 

bean (woman, wife):  Seo í bean Liam.  This is Liam’s wife.

 

bean chéile: wife (a slightly more formal term):  Seo í bean chéile Liam.  This is Liam’s wife.

 

fear (man, husband): Seo é fear Aoife.  This is Aoife’s husband.

 

fear céile (husband, a slightly more formal term).  Seo é fear céile Aoife.  This is Aoife’s husband.

 

dáta breithe: date of birth.  Cad é dáta breithe do mháthar?  What is your mother’s date of birth?

 

clann (one’s own children, clan, sept, offspring, descendants):  Is iad Clanna Mhic Ruairí iad.  They are the McRorys.

 

treibh (tribe, clan, people): Cérbh iad treibheanna na Gaillimhe?  Who were the tribes of Galway?  Seo na sloinnte a bhí orthu.  Here are their surnames: Átaoi, de Bláca, Bóidicín, de Brún, Ó Dorchaí, Ó Déin, Fant (Fónt), Frinse, Seoigh, Ó Ciarubháin, Ó Loingsigh, Ó Máirtín, Ó Muiris, Sciréid.

 

Did you recognize the tribal names of Galway?  Here they are in English, but guess what, the order is scrambled – just for a little more dúshlán (challenge): Bodkin, Joyce, ffont (de Fuente), D’Arcy, Skerrett, Lynch, Martin, Blake, Morris, Athy, Deane, Browne, ffrench, Kirwan.

 

Leideanna fuaimnithe (pronunciations tips):

dúshlán [DOO-hlawn, the “s” is completely silent]: challenge

craobh [kreev]: this word usually means “branch” (not “tree”)

do chraobh [duh khreev; after the word “do” (your), craobh changes to chraobh] your tree

ginealach [GIN-yal-ukh, that’s “gin” as in “begin,” not as in “gin and tonic”]: genealogy, pedigree

ghinealaigh [YIN-yal-ee]: of genealogy

craobh ghinealaigh [kreev YIN-yal-ee] family tree, lit. tree of genealogy

 

Tuilleadh téarmaí ginealeolaíochta, le do thoil!  More genealogy terms, please!  If that’s do mhian (your wish), just let me know in the “comments” box.  Those of you reading this in your email may have to go to Transparent’s website to get to the “comments” box.  You can just cut and paste that request, or be more specific, if you like (like “How do I say ‘the wife of my great-great-great-great-grandfather?”).  Slán go fóill (goodbye for now). 

There are several ways to ask in Irish if someone plays music.  Probably the most general is “An bhfuil ceol agat?”  This literally means “Is there music at you” and refers to playing or singing.  The construction where an activity is “at you” is widely used to ask about skills or abilities.  Some more examples of the construction are “An bhfuil snámh agat?” (Can you swim?) and “An bhfuil Gaeilge agat?” (Do you know Irish?).  The “yes” answer for these is “” and the “no” answer is “níl.”  Many people will tend to modify the answer a bit, as in, “Tá beagán Gaeilge agam” (I know a little Irish). 

 

The verb “ag seinm” (playing) is specifically used for playing music.  Unlike English, Irish doesn’t use a single word for playing music, sports (ag imirt) and in general (ag súgradh).  If you’re asking someone if they play an instrument, the question starts “An seinneann tú …?”  The positive answer will be “seinnim” and the negative answer “ní sheinnim.” 

 

Here are some samples.  See if you recognize the instruments:

 

An seinneann tú an giotár?  Seinnim.

 

An seinneann tú an basúcaí?  Ní sheinnim.

 

An seinneann tú an tiúba?  Ní sheinnim, ach seinnim an súsafón.

 

An seinneann tú an fhidil?  Seinnim.

 

Here are a few more examples that combine saying what music you like and the instrument you play:

 

Is maith liom rac-cheol agus seinnim an dordghiotár.

 

Is maith liom ceol clasaiceach agus seinnim an pianó.

 

Is maith liom ceol Ceilteach agus seinnim an chláirseach.

 

Is maith liom ceol traidisiúnta agus seinnim an giotár, an fhidil, an maindilín, agus an bainseó.

 

And yes, for the teideal of this blog, I was looking for a musical instrument that would begin with the letter “z” in Irish, to get the full sense of “a to z,” but there doesn’t seem to be any, ní nach ionadh.  Even the “z” of “zither” gets converted to an “s” in Irish, giving “siotar,” a frequent occurrence with “z”-initial borrowings.  Cf. séabra, sinc and sip for more examples.  Tá an Béarla atá orthusan thíos.  Níl mórán focal a thosaíonn le “z” sa Ghaeilge ar chor ar bith ach seo ceann acu: zú (zoo).

 

Nóta deireanach amháin: Normally after the prefix “alt-“ there would be séimhiú (lenition), but remember that generally the letters d, t, and s do not lenite after d, t, and s.  So for other instruments, like “fliúit” or “clairnéid,” what would the “alto” forms be?  (See freagra, thíos).

 

This blog has mostly focused on instruments.  For all you amhránaithe out there, Á.B.E.

 

Béarla: zebra, zinc, zip

Freagra: altfhliúit, altchlairnéid (Since both of these are feminine nouns, you’d say “an altfhliúit” and “an altchlairnéid” for the definite forms.  With “sacsafón,” you add the letter “t” since the noun is masculine, giving “an t-altsacsafón” or, if capitalized, as in a title, “an tAltsacsafón”).

Pronunciation Tips: bhfuil – sounds like “wil”; an fhidil – sounds like “un idj-il” (the “fh” is silent). 

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