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Did you get here through LINGO? Be welcome, dear reader! Have a leisurely look around the blog, and be sure to check out the app.

Did you end up here without reading LINGO? Feel equally welcome. But if you’re even remotely interested in languages, do yourself a favour and get your hands on the book…

My hellish hometown

Moenen and Mariken. Woodcut from 1518.

Moenen and Mariken.
Woodcut from 1518.

I’m not very superstitious, I’m even less religious and I’m not in the least Norwegian. Even so, if given the choice, I’d rather not live on Devil Street, Beelzebub Crescent or Satan Square.

But surely such names don’t exist, you may say – and what has Norway to do with it anyway?

You’re right: as far as I’m aware (I haven’t googled for fear of spoiling my story) there are no such overtly diabolically named streets. But this morning, while delivering some books to buyers here in Amersfoort, I came across Moenenstraat (MOO-nen-straht, Moenen Street). Moenen is a character from the late medieval play Mariken van Nieumeghen. Calling him the bad guy in the story would be understating it: he’s no less than the devil himself, the prince of darkness, the monarch of hell, evil incarnate. Moenenstraat – some street to live on!

Could the committee that decided on the name have had a different, altogether more good-natured Moenen in mind, one that I’ve never heard of? No such escape, I’m afraid, seeing that the neighbourhood is full of street names inspired by medieval literature. There is an Everyman Lane, a Ballade Avenue and more of the same ilk.

Incidentally, Amersfoort is good at bad street names. A few miles north of Moenenstraat, there is a Laan van Duurzaamheid or ‘Sustainability Avenue’: a straight, wide road without pedestrian crossings between houses without solar panels. Damn you, committee. Better call it Hypocrisy Heights.

And why should it matter that I’m not from Norway? It’s because the devil seems to be more present in swear words there than anywhere else in Europe. While speakers of most languages let off steam by invoking a divine being or the human body (its parts and excretions, its functions and malfunctions), Norwegians have a particular fondness for words like faen, satan, djævelsk and helvete (‘devil, ‘satan’, ‘devilish’ and ‘hell’). Which leads me to think that in the land of trolls and utepils, Moenen Street would not have found favour with any committee.

LOGIN

You won’t be surprised to learn that I’m a reader and listener rather than an ever-alert observer. My world is made up mostly of words, with pictures a far second.

Yet even somebody like me can see that Lingo has the sort of graceful cover design that catches the eye and lifts the mood – I liked it as soon as I saw it. Still, what got me playing with it was, once more, the word, the letters, the fivefold repetition of l-i-n-g-o.

What could they mean, I wondered? Largely Independent Non-Governmental Organisation? London International New Grammar Observatory? Lascivious, Indecent… stop right there. Perhaps the letters could be re-arranged? Loing – older French for ‘far’. Gnoli – sounds like an Italian specialty, but isn’t. Login – … Hey, login!

Which resulted in:

LINGO-leus

The week as a rainbow

Int Colours Day bigWhat is it about days and colours that makes them such happy pairs? Journalists, marketers, idealists, they all love to give the days of the week a dab of paint: just google for Black Monday, Yellow Tuesday, Red Wednesday and Green or Purple Friday, and you’ll find all sorts of catastrophes, sales campaigns, football matches, environmental activism and gay solidarity.

Most of these are recent inventions, but others have long become household terms, in English or other languages. Here’s an incomplete list – feel free to add.

Blue Monday
Long before becoming a popular meme for a day in late January, claimed to be the gloomiest of the year, ‘blue Monday’ was already a well-known idiom in Dutch: blauwe maandag. Somebody who read philosophy ‘for a blue Monday’ studied it for a very short period and unsuccessfully. As for why a Monday and why blue, nobody is sure, though theories abound. Continue reading

False loans

Two weeks ago, the website Futility Closet reproduced a 1969 language puzzle that may be futile but certainly not uninteresting. It can only be solved if you know a thing or two about foreign languages. Personally, I managed to identify the languages 1, 3, and 5 correctly, while for 2, I was in doubt between two possibilities. I had no idea what number 4 might be (though of course, upon seeing the answer, it seemed obvious).

The puzzle inspired me to design one along the same lines myself. Continue reading