Keeping on with the disgusting theme of my last post, I thought I’d share a whiff of Polish with you: In Poland, where this candy bar is marketed, the name translates to something like Lucky Streak and the word orzechowy means nutty. It does not help to think of it as a nutty lucky streak with the name association in English, especially with an elephant as the logo…
Filed under Humor, Mistranslations, Signs, Translations
Unless you’ve been living under a rock, chances are you’ve heard of Alice in Wonderland; at the least your curiosity might have been piqued enough to read it after seeing The Matrix, or be mistaken in thinking that you don’t need to read the book if you saw Tim Burton’s film with Johnnie Depp. The sequel to Lewis Carroll’s most famous work (mentioned above), called “Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There“, written in 1871, contains the famous nonsensical poem called the Jabberwocky, which I present here:
‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! and through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
He chortled in his joy.
‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
Many of the nonsensical words are what Lewis Carroll (aka Charles Lutwidge Dodgson) coined 
as “portmanteau words” meaning the combination of both sound and meaning of two words into one; e.g. frumious being “fuming” and “furious”. Some of the words have since made it into the English language, such as galumph or chortle, while some were words he revived, such as gyre and beamish. And personally I think some of his words deserve wider use, such as brilling, slithy, snicker-snack and Bandersnatch! Click on the photo to the right to hear the poem read.
Now… “what is the Totemügerli,” I hear you ask? It is the Swiss-German version – not a translation, but an original story by Franz Hohler, a Swiss cabaret performer; Bernese German, to be more precise. Bern is the political capital of Switzerland, and historically has one of the richest, most colourful dialects of all the Swiss German dialects; I am fluent in the Zürich dialect, and can understand all the other Swiss-German dialects, including Walliserdïïtsch, which is the oldest of all Swiss dialects; and I can guarantee you that the Totemügerli story is 90% nonsense, and yet tells a clear tale! For those of you interested in the text, here it is:
von Franz Hohler
Gäuit, wemer da grad eso schön binanger sitze, hani däicht, chönntech
vilicht es bärndütsches Gschichtli erzelle. Es isch zwar es bsungers
uganteligs Gschichtli, wo aber no gar nid eso lang im Mittlere
Schattegibeleggtäli passiert isch:
Der Schöppelimunggi u der Houderebäseler si einischt schpät am Abe,
wo scho der Schibützu durs Gochlimoos pfoderet het, über s Batzmättere
Heigisch im Erpfetli zueglüffe u hei nang na gschtigelet u gschigöggelet,
das me z Gotts Bäri hätt chönne meine, si sige nanger scheich.
«Na ei so schlöözige Blotzbänggu am Fläre, u i verminggle der s Bätzi,
dass d Oschterpföteler ghörsch zawanggle!»
«Drby wärsch froh, hättsch en einzige nuesige Schiggeler uf em Lugipfupf!»
U so isch das hin u härgange wie nes Färegschäderli amene Milchgröözi,
da seit plötzlech Houderebäseler zu Schöppelimunggi:
«Schtill! Was ziberlet dert näbem Tobelöhli z grachtige n uuf u aab?»
Schöppelimunggi het gschläfzet wie ne Gitzeler u hets du o gseh. Es
Totemügerli! U nid numen eis, nei, zwöi, drü, vier, füüf, es ganzes
Schoossinjong voll si da desumegschläberlet u hei zäng pinggerlet u
globofzgerlet u gschanghangizigerlifisionööggelet, das es eim richtig agschnäggelet het.
Schöppelimunggi u Houderebäseler hei nang nume zuegmutzet u hei ganz
hingerbyggelig wöllen abschöberle. Aber chuum hei si der Awang ytröölet,
gröözet es Totemügerli:
«Heee, dir zweee!»
U denen isch i d Chnöde glöötet wie bschüttigs Chrüzimääl dure Chätschäbertrog.
Düpfelig u gnütelig si si blybe schtah wie zwöi gripseti Mischtschwibeli,
u scho isch das Totemügerli was tschigerlisch was
pfigerlisch binene zueche gsi. Äs het se zersch es Rüngli chyblig u
gschiferlig aagnöttelet u het se de möögglige gfraget:
«Chöit dir is hälfe, ds Blindeli der Schtotzgrotzen ueche z graagge?»
Wo der Schöppelimunggi das Wort «Blindeli» ghört het, het em fasch
wölle ds Härzgätterli zum Hosegschingg uspföderle,
aber der Houderebäseler het em zueggaschplet:
«Du weisch doch, das men imene Totemügerli nid darf nei säge!»
U du si si halt mitgschnarpflet.
«Sooo, dir zweee!» het ds Totemügerli gseit, wo si zum Blindeli cho si,
u die angere Totemügerli si ganz rüeiig daaggalzlet u hei numen ugschynig ychegschwärzelet.
Da hei die beide gwüsst, was es Scheieli Gschlychets ds Gloubige
choschtet u hei das Blindeli aagroupet, der eint am schörpfu, der anger a de Gängertalpli.
Uuuh, isch das e botterepfloorigi Schtrüpfete gsi!
Die zwee hei gschwouderet u ghetzpacheret, das si z näbis meh gwüsst hei,
wo se der Gürchu zwurglet.
Daa, z eis Dapf, wo si scho halber der Schtotzgrotzen
uecheghaschpaaperet si, faht sech das Blindeli afah ziirgge u bäärgglet mit
schychem Schtimmli:
«Ooh, wie buuchet mi der Glutz!»
Jetz hets aber im Schöppelimunggi böös im Schyssächerli gguugget.
Är het das Blindeli la glootsche u isch der Schtotzgrotz abdotzeret,
wie wenn em der Hurligwaagg mit em Flarzyse der Schtirps vermöcklet hätt.
«Häb dure, Münggu!» het em der Houderebäseler na naagräätschet;
u de het er nüt meh gwüsst.
Am angere Morge het ne ds Schtötzgrötzeler Eisi gfunge, chäfu u tunggig
wien en Öiu, u es isch meh weder e Monet gange,
bis er wider het chönne s Gräppli im Hotschmägeli bleike.
Totemügerli u Blindeli het er keis meh gseh sis Läbe lang, aber o der
Schöppelimunggi isch vo da a verschwunde gsi.
S git Lüt, wo säge, dass sider am Schtotzgrotzen es Totemügerli meh desumeschirggelet.
If you’d like to hear it read out by Franz Hohler himself, in a cabaret show recorded during the ’80s, just click on the image below.
Have you ever stopped to consider the handshake? It is a non-verbal form of communication, and it can tell you volumes about a person. It is usually the first contact in a face-to-face transaction, used not only as a greeting form, but as an aid in assessing the other person’s confidence, assertiveness, aggression, or social skills. What if the handshake is weak or strong, clammy or crushing? Is it too short (which sends the signal that the person who breaks off the touch either disdains or disrespects the partner), or too long (which is an invasion of private space, too intimate, or disconcerting – it can even interrupt verbal exchange if it’s too awkward)? Is it a neutral-valued exchange, or does the touch signify some ulterior motive (power-play, intimidation, invasion of the partner’s intimate sphere, a sexual connotation, etc.)? What difference does it make for any of the above factors to take place between partners of the same sex vs. the opposite sex? In other words, if two men shake hands and one is crushing, what message comes across differently if the partner being crushed is a woman? Different cultural interpretations enter into the equation as well, as touch signifies various things in various cultures. What difference is there to a handshake with a superior or authority figure to that of a peer or inferior? What if the superior is a woman shaking the hand of a man of lower rank? Or a woman of lower rank? Or a man from a culture that does not recognize women as authority figures?
When developing a character for a novel, the handshake can be a telling gesture. Even if none of the above questions are answered explicitly in your manuscript, just answering the questions for yourself can go a long way to your own understanding of the character, and how you want to express them to your readership. So the next time you shake someone’s hand, alert your writer’s mind to take notes – putting those feelings into words develops your senses far more than simply identifying those feelings. There have been a lot of studies on body language, particularly in the field of international business. For a humorous yet telling video of the “Top Ten Bad Business Handshakes”, click on the image above.
Filed under Articles, Nuts & Bolts, Plot Thots & Profiles, Research, Videos
I recently came across a very interesting TED video addressing the differences between the American and British cultures on the specific aspect of politeness. I grew up in the Midwest of America, emigrated to Scotland, lived in England for a while as well, and have friends scattered all over the “British Empire” & Commonwealth; I now live in Switzerland (adding several “Germanic” mentalities to my experience in that process!). What the speaker (Lynne Murphy) observes makes a LOT of sense on both sides of the Puddle (Atlantic). I share it with you because as a writer I know that those subtle, unspoken, unwritten differences in the ways people interact with each other and show their masks, or as Lynne calls them “faces”, make or break the authenticity in writing both prose and dialogue. Click on the image below to watch the video; it’s 18 minutes long, so please watch it when you have time to focus! (By the way, the two cartoons below illustrate perfectly the difference between the “positive” face and the “negative” face.)
The internet is amazing. You can find everything useful, useless, educational and brain-cell poisoning, all just a click away. Just for the fun of it, when you really want to find out something about another culture’s mentality and way of looking at things, try Wikipedia in another language! Click on the photo below to try it out in modern Scots. And if you’re having trouble reading it, trying reading it aloud.
Filed under History, Nuts & Bolts, Research
What happens when complete strangers, from enemy-nations, meet face to face? Or in this case, screen to screen? Smiles, and the realisation that at the core, humanity transcends race, colour, creed, nationality, culture and language. Coca-Cola engineered the experience; unfortunately it’s not a permanent installation due to the complex technology involved, but what if it one day could be a permanent fixture? So many people are alone in a crowd; it would be a possibility to connect with a stranger face to face, and maybe in the process, even meet a new friend. To read the article and see the video, please click on the image below.
Stephanie Huesler 