Sep

Wild and Woolly Wordplay

by Joyce McGreevy on September 24, 2018

A red panda in Wellington, New Zealand reminds the writer that animal idioms continues to influence everyday language. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Red pandas, like this one at the Wellington Zoo, New Zealand, have influenced human language.
© Joyce McGreevy

Animal Idioms Around the World

Animal idioms have burrowed into everyday wordplay since Moses was a pup. It doesn’t take a fisheye lens to get the picture. Animal words prowl the planet.

You don’t have to be a bookworm or wear a deerstalker hat to ferret out examples. A simple mouse click ponies up swarms of animal buzzwords.

Fledgling Phrases

Animal idioms are cross-cultural and nest in every language. Some are as timeless as a phoenix rising from the ashes. Others are newly hatched.

A quail in California reminds the writer that animal names and animal idioms influence everyday language. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Bird idioms abound, so don’t quail. Have a lark and let wordplay take flight!
(Carmel, California)
© Joyce McGreevy

Consider the Red Panda Effect

People who experience this condition see things that aren’t there or misidentify what they do see. The term goes back to 1978 when a red panda escaped from a German zoo. People reported hundreds of sightings—long after the red panda had been found.

Seems our brains construct what we expect to see. Hence, the Red Panda Effect. Proving that’s what red all over isn’t always black and white.

Giraffe Language

Quick—what sound does a giraffe make? I don’t know either, but Giraffe Language is changing the way humans speak across cultures.

In French, peigner la giraffe (“combing the giraffe”) is to do a
pointless task. But that’s a horse of a different color.
© Joyce McGreevy

Giraffes have the biggest hearts of any land animal, a fact that inspired psychologist Marshall Rosenberg. As the founder of the Center for Nonviolent Communication, Rosenberg explored two genres of interpersonal communication:

Giraffe Language, the language of requests, respect, and compassion, and
Jackal Language, the language of demands, insults, and self-interest.

I hope we’ll consider that the next time we tweet or retweet.

A giraffe and an antelope in Wellington, New Zealand remind the writer that animal names, idioms, and terms, such as Giraffe Language, influence everyday language. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

We needn’t be birds of a feather to flock together, or animals of the same stripe to bond.
(Wellington, New Zealand)
© Joyce McGreevy

Weasel Words

Weasel words are all about evasion. They allow the user to avoid giving clear answers, so one might think this term reflects weasels’ ability to navigate tight spaces. In fact, weasel words come from an unproven belief that weasels can suck the insides out of an egg without affecting the shell.

Otters in Wellington, New Zealand remind one that animal idioms, animal names, and animal traits inspire everyday language, including wordplay. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

What member of the weasel family is as slippery as an eel? You otter know.
(Wellington, New Zealand) © Joyce McGreevy

Classic examples of weasel word language include:

“Research shows” (without citing data)
“This product is 30% better” (compared to what?)
“somewhat” or “in most respects” (kinda-sorta-maybe, or maybe not)

A meerkat in Wellington, New Zealand reminds the writer that animal names inspire everyday wordplay. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Weasel-like meerkats are neither weasels nor cats, nor mere. (Wellington, New Zealand)
© Joyce McGreevy

Busy as a Lizard?

Animal traits are often used to describe humans. Accordingly, someone can be as proud as a peacock, slippery as an eel, hungry as a horse, stubborn as a mule, graceful as a gazelle, and drunk as a skunk—though rarely all at once.

Some animal comparisons are less clear. In Australia, the equivalent of being “busy as a bee” is to work “flat out like a lizard drinking.” Huh?

It has to do with how rapidly lizards dart their tongues when drinking water. Oh, I see: Animal idioms can really take you down a rabbit hole.

A lizard in a pet parade in Bend, Oregon reminds one that animal idioms, names, and traits inspire everyday wordplay. (Image © Carolyn McGreevy)

That’s one very chill lizard at the Pet Parade in Bend, Oregon.
© Carolyn McGreevy

And what of “lounge lizard”? It describes a sleazy character who hangs out in bars looking for—well, not love, exactly. That expression seems unfair to real lizards, who are often adorable.

A lizard in Wellington, New Zealand reminds one that animal idioms, animal names, and animal traits inspire everyday language, including wordplay. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

No flies on you, Lizard Lips! (Wellington, NZ)
© Joyce McGreevy

Polar (Bear) Opposites?

Other animal idioms are contradictory. “To be an ostrich” is to stick your head in the sand, ignoring what’s going on around you. But ostriches are quick to stick their necks out.

Two ostriches in Wellington, New Zealand remind one that animal idioms, animal names, and animal traits inspire everyday language, including wordplay. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

More fluent in Jackal than Giraffe, these ostriches are mad as wet hens when . . .
© Joyce McGreevy

Ostriches and an antelope in Wellington, New Zealand remind one that animal idioms, animal names, and animal traits inspire everyday language, including wordplay. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

. . .a baby antelope tries to eat like a bird. (Wellington, New Zealand)
© Joyce McGreevy

How did the ostrich idiom begin? Pliny the Elder, an ancient Roman philosopher, believed incorrectly that ostriches hide their heads in bushes. Pliny the Younger would have corrected him but I guess the cat got his tongue.

Then there’s the expression, “to have a monkey on your back.” It means to be addicted or encumbered with a problem. But it could just as easily have meant to protect someone more vulnerable than you.

A mother and baby chimp in Wellington, New Zealand remind one that animal idioms, animal names, and animal traits inspire everyday language, including wordplay. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

In Wellington, New Zealand, Mum’s got your back. And vice versa.
© Joyce McGreevy

Monkeying Around

Speaking of monkeys, some cultures have had more fun than a barrel of ’em when it comes to animal idioms. Take the English expression “The cat is out of the bag.” In Dutch it becomes “Now the monkey comes out of the sleeve.”

Likewise, someone who doesn’t want to get involved in another’s issues might invoke this American colloquialism: “My dog ain’t in that fight.” In Poland, this idiom translates into, “Not my circus, not my monkey.”

Hay, Herd These?

Cows get a leg up in international animal idioms:

In the Netherlands, if you “pull an old cow out of the ditch,” you’re rehashing an old grievance.
In Sweden, “There is no cow on the ice,” means “No need to worry.”
In China, “to play piano for a cow” is like throwing pearls before swine. It means your audience can’t appreciate or understand you.

Cows in Lehinch, Co. Clare, Ireland remind one that animal idioms, animal names, and animal traits inspire everyday language, including wordplay. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

“Okay, now you’re just milking it.” (Lehinch, Ireland)
© Joyce McGreevy

Animal Quackers

Many animal idioms have cross-cultural cousins:

In English, we try to get all our ducks in a row. In Portugal, “paying the duck” means taking the blame for something you didn’t do.
In English, someone who fakes being nice to hide ulterior motives is “a wolf in sheep’s clothing.” In Japanese, such a sneaky person “wears a cat on one’s head.”
The Indonesian equivalent is, “There’s a shrimp behind the rock!” Clearly, Indonesian shrimp are no mere prawns in the shell game.
By contrast, “to slide in on a shrimp sandwich” is how Swedes describe someone born to privilege—those lucky ducks who inherit “the goose that laid the golden egg.”

Linguistic Animal Planet

One could rabbit on till the cows come home about cross-cultural animal idioms. But I don’t want to be like a dog with a bone, so I guess I should clam up.

A lion in Wellington, New Zealand reminds one that animal idioms, animal names, and animal traits inspire everyday language, including wordplay. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

In France, you might “have a cat in your throat.” In New Zealand, this lion
suggests things could go the other way.
© Joyce McGreevy

Just remember: Somewhere in Buffalo, NY someone may be getting into a Bronco and listening to Drake or the Arctic Monkeys. A clothes horse in Chihuahua, Mexico could be swanning about on the dance floor. Someone sailing the horse latitudes might have raided a piggy bank to fly the coop to the Canary Islands.

Ewe never know.

Me, I’m going to squirrel away a few more animal idioms, then make a beeline for a catnap. After all this animal talk, I’m a little hoarse.

A Cooper’s hawk in Carmel, California reminds one that animal idioms, animal names, and animal traits inspire everyday language, including wordplay. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

That bird was watching me like a hawk. (Cooper’s hawk in Carmel, California)
© Joyce McGreevy

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Nature Discovery/Proverbs & Sayings/Worldwide Sites

Aug

Rendezvous à la Turk

by Joyce McGreevy on August 27, 2018

A young Turkish American girl celebrates her heritage at the Turkish Arts and Culture Festival in Monterey, California. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Derya Bolgün, age 10, welcomes you to the Turkish Arts and Culture Festival
in Monterey, California.
© Joyce McGreevy

A Cultural Festival Calls Forth Memories

You won’t need sugar in your fincan kahve (cup of coffee) this morning. Şekerpare, a delicate cookie made with semolina, almonds, and love, delivers the sweetness. So, inhale the rich aroma and galvanize your senses with robust brew. If you closed your eyes, you could be in Istanbul.

But you’re at a Turkish cultural festival in Monterey, California.

Pastries like Sekerpare and irmik helvasa connect Turkish Arts and Culture Festival in Monterey, California to the author’s memories of Istanbul. (Images © Joyce McGreevy/ Ceren Abi)

Is baklava Turkish or Greek? Depends on whom you ask. Şekerpare (center) and irmik helvasa (right)
reflect culinary traditions of Turkey’s Ottoman Empire.
© Joyce McGreevy (L)/ Ceren Abi (R)

Re(sound)

Oh, I see: At cultural festivals, details evoke worlds. At Monterey’s Custom House Plaza, the percussive rhythm of the davul and the string-song of a bağalama become a soundtrack for Turkish memories.

Young women at the Turkish Arts and Culture Festival in Monterey, California reflect the exuberance of Turkish line dancing and inspire memories of Istanbul. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Young women in Monterey, California reflect the exuberance of Turkish line dancing.
© Joyce McGreevy

Every note I hear is layered with sounds remembered:

The singsong pitch of street vendors and the sonorous calls-to-prayer of the muezzin; the miyav (meow) of sociable kediler (cats); the sparkling humor and plaintive beseeching of TV soap operas; the clatter of plates and clink of glasses at a meyhane; the buzz and bump of motorbikes on cobbled alleys; the banter of fishermen at the Galata Bridge amid the commentary of seagulls.

As if on cue, a colony of seagulls above Monterey Bay choruses raucously, bringing my senses back to California.

Re(scene)

At a cultural festival a single image can reassemble memory’s mosaic. I spot a display of nazar boncuğu, blue glass eye beads. Traditionally, these talismans warded off misfortune’s “evil eye” by staring boldly back, commanding misery to come no closer. In reality, Turks collect them mostly for their beauty and to give as gifts.

A display case of nazar boncuğu, blue glass eye beads, connect a Turkish Arts and Culture Festival in Monterey, California with the author’s memories of Istanbul. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

The eyes have it: Shown here in Monterey, nazar boncuğu are everywhere in Turkey.
© Joyce McGreevy

Seen in Monterey, the blue beads trigger a montage of memories: The blue-tiled Rüstem Paşa Mosque, bluer even than Istanbul’s more famous Blue Mosque. The azure blue of summer sky as you ferry across the steel blue Bosporus from Istanbul’s European side to its Asian side. The intense dark blue of lapis lazuli in a jeweler’s window. The shimmering blue of peacocks in a palace garden. Blue-black figs at an open-air market.

Re(word)

One 15th-century word encapsulates the entire spectrum of blues that first dazzled travelers in Turkey. The French pronounced it tur-KWAZ.

Yes, turquoise, or literally, “Turkish.” Today, we reserve that word for the bluish-green stone mined in arid regions of Turkey, America’s Southwest, and elsewhere. “Phosphate of copper and aluminum” lacks a certain poetry.

A collage of scenes in Istanbul and Bodrum reflects the prevalence of the color blue in Turkish arts and culture. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

A Thirst for Memories

Turkish wines are superb, but it’s too early to sample them. And other beverages offer their own complexities. A glass of gold is made using two stacked kettles, the lower kettle to boil the water, the top to warm the loose-leaf çay, or tea. Tulip-shaped glasses are essential.

A glass of Turkish tea at a cultural festival in Monterey, California inspires memories of Istanbul, Turkey. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Now let’s order lunch and ayran (EYE-rahn), a salty, ice-cold yogurt drink. It’s an acquired taste, but a refreshing one, too. The savory, restorative counterpart to the American milkshake.

Two men cook Turkish food, one at a cultural festival in Monterey, California and one in Istanbul. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Ne yemek istersin? “What would you like to eat?” Turkish cuisine goes way beyond doner kebap. It reflects two continents, a host of regional, seasonal variations, and the experiences of 2,000 centuries. From palatial restoranları to rickety stands on street corners, Turkish kitchens produce some of the world’s most splendid fare.

uyers, sellers, and Turkish ceramics at at a cultural festival in Monterey, California form a colorful collage of Istanbul street scenes. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

The Taste of Memories

Turkish breakfast is a lavish affair, a beautifully constructed spread of the finest regional cheeses, cured olives, egg dishes, rose jam, and more. But nothing inspires morning rapture quite like simit. It is to Turkey what the croissant is to Paris—deceptively simple and simply superb.

To find simit in Turkey, just look for the man wheeling a red trolley or balancing a tray stacked ten tiers high. In the U.S., simit is increasingly available at Mediterranean delis and bakeries, including Monterey’s International Market.

Served fresh and warm, simit are downright inspiring. They have even inspired the noun can simidi (jahn SIH-mihd-ee)—the name for the ring-shaped life preservers on Turkish ferries.

Simit at a cultural festival in Monterey, California inspires memories of Istanbul, Turkey. (Image © Ceren Abi)

Turkish Memory Lane

By now even a passing California car inspires Turkish reverie: While driving from Istanbul to Bodrum, my Turkish relatives and I stop at the town of Ortaklar. Ortaklar’s main street is lined with carwashes, but each represents only half of a family-owned business. I discover the other half when we pull into Necati’nin Yeri.

While the car is seen to, we join festive diners at long tables under shade trees and canopies. Dish after exquisite dish arrives, and a young man slides flat rounds of dough into an outdoor oven, where they puff up like balloons. This is lavas (lah-VAHSH), so irresistible it’s a wonder the customers don’t puff up like balloons, too.

Recalling this feast, I momentarily conflate thoroughly Turkish fare and American thoroughfares. Oh right, I’m in Monterey, California, not Ortaklar. But everything is redolent with the sweet confusion of memories.

Two street scenes, one during a cultural festival in Monterey, one in Istanbul, celebrate Turkish culture. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

The Taste of Turkish Words

I savor, too, the taste of Turkish words. A cultural festival offers the chance to practice. The Turkish language is considered fiendishly difficult to learn, but I disagree. Difficult to master, sure, but that’s true of any language. The spelling of modern Turkish is largely phonetic, so once you recognize differences in the alphabet and get the hang of certain sounds, you might be surprised at how quickly you catch on.

It begins with Merhaba (MEHR-hah-bah). Hello!

Fisherman’s Wharf Monterey inspires a visitor to a nearby Turkish cultural festival ito recall a similar scene at the Bosporus in Istanbul. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Learning to say hello, surely that’s the takeaway of cultural festivals. Hello to the connections between here and there, past and present, you and me. Merhaba to families strolling along the Bosporus and families strolling along Monterey Bay. Hello, Merhaba, and Welcome to whatever connects us all.

Thank you to Ceren Abi for contributing to this article. Seni seviyorum, Ceren!

See more of the Monterey Turkish Arts and Culture Festival here.

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Crossing Cultures/Language & Culture/Turkey/USA

Aug

Memorable Moments: Let’s Have a Word

by Your friends at OIC on August 20, 2018

It’s no secret that here at OIC Moments, we love language! And with a name like “OIC,” our passion for language includes the love of using letters and words in amusing ways. While we give our bloggers a well-deserved break from putting words together (as they so adeptly do), we hope you’ll have f-u-n with our favorite wordplay posts from the past.

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