Posts under Vocabulary

Polish Homonyms (or is it homophones?)

Posted by Anna Ikeda
Nov
5
2009

Just yesterday someone asked me for examples of words (Polish words, of course) that sound the same, are spelled the same, but mean something totally different. You know, like in English light, and right, and stuff like that. Can’t think of more examples right off the bat. Oh yeah, and a bat.

But suddenly, when I had to give some examples in Polish, I was stumped. The fact that I’m very easily stumped you all know already very well. So, I decided to take the easy way out and say that in Polish we have different words for different things. Yeah, that was lame, I know. And totally not true.

But apart from prawo and lewo, I couldn’t come up with any other examples.

Prawo could be either a noun or an adverb.
As a noun, it’s neuter in gender and it means “law”, as in “I’m studying law” – Studiuję prawo.
As an adverb, it means “right” as in “to turn right” – skręcić w prawo.
Lewo is an adverb too, and it’s the opposite of prawo, as in “to turn left” – skręcić w lewo.
But if you use it in a phrase like “załatwię to na lewo”, it means something like “I’ll get it done, but not quite legally, under the table, etc…” Which smells of kombinowanie, in a rather negative way, so there you have it.
OK, what else? Niebo (noun, neuter) can mean either “sky” or “Heaven”.
Tępy (adjective, feminine singular: tępa, neuter singular: tępe, pl masc personal: tępi, all others plural: tępe) can mean either blunt, dull (as in not sharp) or stupid. There is even a noun derived from tępy to describe a particularly dumb and uncouth person: tępak.
And here I draw a blank…

So, please, by all means, feel free to add to the list. Or else we’ll have to stick with the version that in Polish we have all sorts of different words for all sorts of different things.

 
Posted under Polish Language, Vocabulary
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Poles and kombinowanie

Posted by Anna Ikeda
Oct
27
2009

Today we will tackle something that is a bit controversial. Or maybe not, I guess it all depends on your point of view. But we’ll see.

I really don’t like sweeping generalizations, though that doesn’t stop me in making them myself from time to time, to be perfectly honest. So most of the time when I hear such a general comment, I just take it with a grain of salt. But when those sweeping generalizations begin to include me, well, that’s a whole another story. It’s personal then, and for me that’s when the gloves come off.

But yeah, what kind of generalizations are we talking about here? You know, those broad comments that encompass perhaps an entire nation or an ethic group, like that the French are generally rude (not true) and the Americans fat (again, not true). So why am I getting all worked up about it today? Somebody has told me recently, and to my face no less, that Poles are a conniving, dishonest bunch that can’t be trusted. As a proof of those national characteristics, the person used the famous Polish art (or is it a skill?) of kombinowanie.

Now, I know those comments have been around for centuries, and I know that Poles made kombinowanie into a whole new art form in its own right (that much is true), but when someone says it to my face, that makes it personal.

And personally, some of the most dishonest and untrustworthy people I’ve met in my life were single males between the ages of 22 and 32, university educated, no less. Does that mean that I’m going to pass sweeping generalizations that all single males between the ages of 22 and 32 are dishonest pricks? Of course not. So it really bothers me when narrow-minded people apply such generalizations to whole nationalities and ethnic groups.

I explained as much to the person I was talking with, and his response was “but you guys (meaning Poles) have a bad reputation everywhere you go.”

Oh really? Is that true? Am I that out of touch with how the Polish people are perceived by foreigners?

And is “kombinowanie” really all that bad? I’m as good at it as the next Pole, and yet I’ve never used it for nefarious purposes. Quite the opposite in fact.

But what is that “kombinowanie” anyway?
Some of my fellow countrymen will tell you that it’s one Polish word that can’t be translated into English. I disagree. It can be translated, but how you do it depends on the context.

The verb “kombinować” can mean many things. It can be used as in “to scheme”, “to fix”, “to sort out”, “to arrange” and so on. You get the idea. Nothing wrong with a little “kombinowanie” itself, it’s why you want to kombinować that might be perceived as less than honest by some people.

So yeah, we are the masters of kombinowanie, but does that immediately mean we are dishonest and untrustworthy as a nation?
Your opinions please. Honest opinions, of course.

PS. I apologize for the recent lack of comments from me, but we’re moving again and have internet issues.

 
Posted under Culture, Vocabulary
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Readers Ask - I Answer: Counting Things in Polish

Posted by Anna Ikeda
Oct
22
2009

I was going to stay in bed and marinate under the covers for one more day (yes, my cold has morphed into a full-blown bronchitis now) but a reader’s email made me crawl out to face the enemy. The email had that panicky and ominous tone making it sound as if the intergalactic victory of good over evil (read: Polish grammar) depended solely on me.

So here I am, at your service.

What the reader wanted was this: please tell me how to count (in Polish, of course) the following nouns: dziecko (child, neuter), nauczycielka (teacher, female), pisarz (writer, masculine), jesień (autumn, feminine), mysz (mouse, feminine), and słoń (elephant, masculine). Though I am not entirely sure if the reader wanted słoń (elephant) or słońce (sun), so just in case I think I’ll do both.

Initially, I wrote back and told him to look up my previous posts on this subject, but he responded that this is the time when grammar explanations are not enough, he needs to see how it’s actually done in practice. OK, fine by me. And actually, I just wanted to throw those words at you (all my readers in general) and see what you could come up with in terms of counting them from one to five. But since the email had the “the world is going to end on Thursday at 3PM if you don’t help me” tone, I thought I’d just get up and do it myself.

But why do I have this strange feeling that I’m doing somebody’s homework here, huh?

Ok, but here we go.

  • dziecko (child) from one to five:
  • jedno dziecko, dwoje dzieci, troje dzieci, czworo dzieci, pięcioro dzieci
  • nauczycielka (female teacher) from one to five:
  • jedna nauczycielka, dwie nauczycielki, trzy nauczycielki, cztery nauczycielki, pięć nauczycielek
  • pisarz (writer, male) from one to five:
  • jeden pisarz, dwóch pisarzy, trzech pisarzy, czterech pisarzy, pięciu pisarzy
  • jesień (fall/autumn, feminine) from one to five:
  • jedna jesień, dwie jesienie, trzy jesienie, cztery jesienie, pięć jesieni
  • mysz (mouse, feminine) from one to five (this is a tricky one and I hope I got it right):
  • jedna mysz, dwie myszy, trzy myszy, cztery myszy, pięć myszy
  • słoń (elephant, masculine) from one to five:
  • jeden słoń, dwa słonie, trzy słonie, cztery słonie, pięć słoni (and we have a whole circus!)
  • słońce (sun, neuter) from one to five:
  • jedno słońce, dwa słońca, trzy słońca, cztery słońca, pięć słońc

OK, dear reader, I hope this is what you had in mind. And I hope I managed before your doomsday deadline.

 
Posted under Grammar, Vocabulary
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Przeziębienie - a common cold strikes again

Posted by Anna Ikeda
Oct
18
2009

I’m so sorry this post is late, but I have a very good excuse – I’m sick. Totally and utterly sick. Not the new flu (thankfully), but the whole nine yards nevertheless: katar (runny nose), kaszel (cough), ból gardła (sore throat) and everything else that comes with it. In other words – przeziębienie (a common cold) at its finest.

I can’t eat much, can’t drink much (which is bad, I know, because the first treatment option for a cold is to hydrate the body as much as possible) and I am generally miserable.

But what can I do? This is the cold and flu season and we just need to get through it.
I’ve tried various remedies and nothing seems to work. And as my dad is fond of saying: katar leczony trwa siedem dni, nieleczony – tydzień (runny nose lasts 7 days if treated, and a week if not). And since I’m almost at the seven day mark, I hope I will get better soon.

And in the meantime, I can honestly say I did what I could. I tried czosnek (garlic), probably the most vile food I’ve ever met. I drank syrop z cebuli (onion juice), which along with garlic is something I don’t wish upon my worst enemies. I consumed copious amounts of sok pomarańczowy (orange juice), which did nothing but gave me acid reflux, and took more vitamins (witaminy) that has been clinically proven safe. And nothing.

I drank ziółka (herbal teas), ate rosół (chicken soup), snacked on grejpfrut (grapefruit), and felt like I was single handedly keeping the company that makes Fervex in business.

And I wasn’t a nice person to be around. But still, the doc said – nie ma gorączki, nie ma grypy (no fever, no flu) and I was felt to suffer all by myself.

I know it’s irrational to demand antybiotyki (antibiotics) for a common cold, but I just wanted to get something. Anything. Even if it technically shouldn’t work, because the placebo effect alone can do wonders for a tortured patient. But no such luck, unfortunately.

So now, if you excuse me, I have więcej ziółek (more herbal tea) to drink.

 
Posted under Vocabulary
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What do you call a person who lives in Bielsko-Biała?

Posted by Anna Ikeda
Oct
12
2009

In his comment to the Bielsko-Biała post Mchl posed an interesting question: what do you call a person who lives in Bielsko-Biała? Yeah, indeed…

An inhabitant of Gdańsk is called gdańszczanin (masculine; gdańszczanka – feminine). A person who lives in Warsaw? Warszawiak or warszawianin, if a male, and warszawianka, if a female.
In Kraków? Krakowiak, or krakowianin, if a guy, and krakowianka, if a woman.

There’s really no rhyme or reason to how those names are formed. And those are just the easy ones. It gets a lot more complicated when you’re talking about a person who lives in Pruszcz Gdański, for example. Or Bielsko-Biała.

And yes, if we’re back on the subject of people who live in Bielsko-Biała, what do you call them? Hmmm… Bielsko-bialski, if a guy, and bielsko-bialska, if a woman. Yeah, where did that come from I have no clue, but that’s what it says in my dictionary. Many people mistakenly assume, it’s bielszczanin and bielszczanka, but those are people who live in Bielsk Podlaski.

And since we’re gluttons for punishment (and because we love Polish), we might as well go all the way and figure out how to call an inhabitant of Białystok. Białostoczanin, if a male, and białostoczanka if a female.

And maybe you noticed one thing – all those nouns are not capitalized. If you see “Krakowianin” that means a person who lives in Krakowskiem, which is a general area where Kraków is located. But an inhabitant of a city is always written using a small letter.

So yeah, what do you call an inhabitant of Pruszcz Gdański? I think I’ll stick with “an inhabitant of Pruszcz Gdański” (mieszkaniec Pruszcza Gdańskiego).

And since we’ve been talking about Bielsko-Biała a lot lately, I thought I’d show you some photos from that city. All photographs were taken by Artur Guzy and you can see more of them on his blog – Bielsko-Biała i wszystko jasne.

Pretty, isn’t it?

And I don’t know about you, but I had no idea that Bielsko-Biała was such a lovely town.

And for those who complained about the rain, here’s złota polska jesień, also in Bielsko-Biała.

For more photos, go to Artur’s blog and practice your Polish!

 
Posted under Grammar, Polish Language, Vocabulary
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