Exploring Pronunciations and the Curious Naming of Lululemon | May 25 2025, 21:23

Today I discovered an interesting story about the name of the brand Lululemon (see below) and it turns out, not only is `ballet` pronounced in English as bal-AY (it seems everyone knows this), but also `cabriolet` as ka-bree-ow-ley, `valet` as val-AY, and even `parquet` as paar-kay. `buffet` is also pronounced as buh-FAY, but there is also the verb `to buffet` which is pronounced as BUH-fit. and `sorbet` is pronounced as sor-BAY. They are all borrowings from French.

It also turned out that aborigine is pronounced as a·buh·ri·juh·nee. `apostrophe` and `catastrophe` are pronounced as uh·po·struh·fee and kuh·ta·struh·fee respectively. `coyote` is pronounced as `kai·ow·tee`. The word `dilettante` (did you know there are two t’s together?) is pronounced as di·luh·tan·tee. Well, about recipe (reh·suh·pe) and fiance (fee-ahn-say) everyone probably knows.

I also read an interesting story about why Lululemon is called just that. Lululemon Athletica founder, Chip Wilson, shared: “The reason the Japanese liked Homeless (his former skateboard brand) was that the name had the letter “L. A Japanese marketing agency would never come up with a brand name containing “L because it isn’t in their alphabet. They find it hard to pronounce. So I thought: next time I have a company, I’ll invent a name with three “Ls and see if I can make three times the money. It’s amusing to watch them try to pronounce it.” (2004 interview with National Post Business Magazine)

Easter Traditions: Påskekrim, Bunnies, and Ancient Pizzas | April 20 2025, 15:24

It turns out that Norway has a unique Easter tradition called “påskekrim (translated from Norwegian as “Easter crime). Every Easter, Norwegians voraciously consume detective novels and thrillers, watch crime series, and listen to audio investigations. This tradition is so well-established that bookstores before Easter create special sections featuring new detective stories (marked as “påskekrim), crime-themed TV series are broadcasted, and sometimes even milk cartons carry short detective tales.

The tradition began in 1923 when two young Norwegian authors—Norrdahl Gryug and Nils Lie—released a detective novel titled “The Train to Bergen Has Been Robbed at Night. On the eve of Easter, the publishing house placed an advertisement for the novel on the front page of one of the largest newspapers, styled it as real news. People mistook it for an actual event, and the book instantly became a hit. Since then, the tradition has taken root.

Additionally, it turns out that the “Easter Bunny” originates from German Lutheran practices, where the bunny initially played the role of a judge, evaluating children’s behavior—whether they had been obedient or disobedient—at the beginning of the Easter period, similar to Santa Claus’s “naughty and nice” list. Moreover, according to lore, this creature carries a basket filled with painted eggs and sometimes candies and toys, which it leaves in the homes of children. Thankfully, not in a stocking!

By the way, it’s sometimes a bunny and sometimes a rabbit. Apparently, it’s not that important.

There’s another dubious but quite popular interpretation. According to it, the name “Easter” comes from Eostre (Eostra), a Teutonic goddess revered as a goddess of spring and fertility. According to Teutonic myth, a little girl once found a dying bird and prayed for assistance from Eostre. The goddess appeared, crossing the rainbow bridge—the snow melting under her feet. Seeing the bird gravely injured, Eostre transformed it into a hare and told the girl that from then on, the hare would return every year, carrying eggs dyed the colors of the rainbow. However, it’s noted that Eostre’s name is only mentioned once—by Bede the Venerable in his work De Temporum Ratione (“The Reckoning of Time”). No other mentions of this name exist. Moreover, there are no tales or legends associated with Eostre; thus, anything told about her is considered apocryphal. Yet, no better explanations seem to exist.

And shifting from hares and goddesses to something more down-to-earth, it turns out that even pizza has an Easter past. The earliest recorded use of the word pizza dates back to May 997 and is found in a Latin notarial document from the city of Gaeta, which was then part of the Byzantine Empire. The text says that a tenant was to annually give the bishop twelve pizzas and a pair of chickens on Easter. So, who knows—perhaps the first festive Easter pizza was not a margarita but something between a ritual and a rent.

Exploring the Intriguing History and Ecology of Kangaroos and Camels | April 17 2025, 22:47

Interesting. It turns out that before Russia imposed a temporary ban on kangaroo meat imports, it consumed 70% of all kangaroo meat produced in Australia.

It turns out that not only do camels roam in Australia, but there are more of them than in Central Asia and the Middle East, and Australia actively sells them to Saudi Arabia, for instance. Moreover, camels were introduced to Australia from the Middle East by Afghans, who left quite a significant (and positive) mark on the history of Australia.

For example, here’s a photo of the Ghan train — it features a camel on its logo. This is no coincidence; it is actually named after those Afghans who brought the camels.

Also interesting is that camels are originally from our regions. Yes, the USA is, in fact, the homeland of camels. According to some estimates, camels first appeared in North America between 40 and 50 million years ago, and 3 million years ago, they crossed into Asia via a land bridge in the Bering Strait area, and then made their way to Africa. In recent years, convincing evidence has been found that these animals inhabited almost all of North America. And of course, the climate was different back then.

Moreover, I read that there is such a thing as “kangatarianism” — a practice of following a diet that excludes the meat of all animals except kangaroo, for environmental and ethical reasons.

Also, it turns out that there are tree kangaroos (Tree-kangaroo). Also, in English, a group of kangaroos is called “a mob” – a gang 🙂 However, in Australian English, mob is not used in the same connotation as “mafia” or “gang”. Indeed, a group of crows with their “murder of crows” isn’t too far off either.

Oh, how could I not mention etymology! There is a legend that the word “kangaroo” means “I don’t understand”. I thought so too until I looked into it.

Actually, “kangaroo” originates from the Guugu Yimithirr language, an Indigenous language of northern Australia, where gangurru specifically refers to a type of kangaroo. But it’s not that simple 🙂

It all starts when James Cook asked the Guugu Yimithirr what the animal was called — they answered gangurru, which did indeed denote it. The English borrowed this word as kangaroo.

Latter, half a century later, the etymology starts to get tangled. In 1820, a certain Philip King sailed along a river near Cook’s landing place and recorded a list of words from the local Guugu Yimithirr dialect. Everything matched Cook’s records — except for one word. When asked “what is that animal called?”, they didn’t answer gangurru, but minha. It means that Cook clearly made a mistake. If minha is “kangaroo”, then what is gangurru?

This is where the myth begins. Some begin to think: maybe Cook misunderstood? Maybe he asked about the animal, and they didn’t understand him — and gangurru meant “I don’t know”? This version is a fabrication, and it didn’t go further than speculation, but it’s a funny story, historically plausible, and it began to be repeated. Thus, it turned into a persistent legend.

Then the confusion reversed. “Kangaroo” — then and now — became the stereotypical word from the “aboriginal language”. Every European settler coming to Australia knew exactly one word from Guugu Yimithirr — and only that one. The problem is that there were hundreds of languages in Australia, many of which were weakly or not at all related to Guugu Yimithirr. They simply did not have the word gangurru or its equivalent.

That’s where the problems arose. For example, settlers arrived in the area of modern Sydney and tried to “communicate” with the local people, i.e., they just yelled “kangaroo” at them. This would hardly have helped, but it is important to remember the geography: the Guugu Yimithirr lived on the Cape York Peninsula, in the far north of Australia, and the Sydney aborigines — the Iora people, speaking Dharuk language — lived almost at the other end of the continent. They didn’t know what the word “kangaroo” meant, so they assumed the Europeans were particularly interested in their domestic livestock. When cows began to be unloaded from the ship, the locals asked: “Is this your ‘kangaroo’?”

Such is the story.

Also, it turns out, kangaroos are good swimmers. In the second photo, a kangaroo tail sold in our town. For the dogs to gnaw on.

Unveiling Surprising Etymological Connections | April 11 2025, 17:22

The seventh day of etymological excavation. Possibly the last—but who knows. The script still churns through dictionaries, and I continue to be amazed at how words distant in meaning can be close in origin.

Let’s start with something vivid. The words “peacock” and “crimson” are etymological relatives. “Peacock” entered Russian through German Pfäulein ← Pfau ← Latin pavō — “peacock.” And “crimson” is the color of a poppy in French ponceau, derived from paon (“peacock”), which also comes from pavō. Thus, “crimson” is essentially “peacock” color. Who would have thought.

“Apothecary” and “boutique” are etymological cousins. “Apothecary” comes from the Greek ἀποθήκη (“storehouse”). “Boutique” through Occitan and French, also from Greek, through Latin. One is about medicines, the other about dresses. But both are about “a place where something is stored and sold,” and both share the same ancestor.

“Lasso” and “lapel” are two words with opposite aesthetics, but share a common Latin ancestor laqueus — “noose, loop.” “Lasso” came through Spanish lazo → French lasso — pure cowboy stuff. “Lapel” came through the German Lätzchen, also pulling a thread from laqueus.

“Church” (kostel) and “chateau” might sound like the first is about Vilnius, the second about Bordeaux. In reality—both words come from the Latin castellum (“fortress”). “Church” came through Polish kościół — a church as a fortified building. “Chateau” — French castle, from the same source. Knights and priests—in the same etymological boat.

“Blackmail” and “chanson” have different meanings, but a common past. Both words trace back to Latin canō — “I sing.” “Chanson” directly means song. “Blackmail” through the French chantage, literally “singing” in the sense of “public disclosure” of something—i.e., compromising material. Didn’t know that, there’s a connection.

“Hyphen” and “motto” come from the Latin dīvidō (“to divide”), through different languages. “Hyphen” — “divider,” borrowed through German Divis. “Motto” — “slogan,” came from French devise. Both originally about division, but one divides words, the other—meanings.

“Sole” and “soil” are etymological twins. Both words come from Old Slavic подъшьва — “base, bottom.” One is in footwear, the other underfoot. Basically, the same: what you stand on. Come to think of it—logical.

“Hussar” and “course” are unexpected comrades in etymology. “Hussar” through Serbian gusar (“brigand”), from Latin cursus — “run, course.” Thus first: “fugitive,” then: “raider,” then: “hussar.” “Course” directly from cursus. All from the Latin verb currō — “to run.” Knights, universities, the currency market—all running.

The words “know,” “note,” “noble,” “cognition,” “notorious,” “gnosis,” etc., all in one form or another trace back to the Proto-Indo-European root ǵneh₃- — “to know, to recognize.”

“Cow” and “beef” are also twins: one from the Germanic root through Old English, the other from Latin bos through French boeuf. Historically from gʷṓws.

Decided to look for words ending in “age,” but not French. Found a dozen, but only “инструктаж” (“briefing”) passed the check. No instructage, of course, in French. More French morphology than French meaning.

Thank you for reading these posts all seven days. I think we can continue periodically, as more material accumulates.

Remember, all this was extracted through the automatic processing of an etymological dictionary. The script found words that were maximally distant in meaning but shared a common ancestor, plus filtered somewhat frequent words. Unfortunately, the dictionary is not perfect in marking and very much was omitted, but the result could be unhurriedly and not without pleasure processed.

Read more good stuff by clicking here –> #RaufLikesEtymology

Exploring Words with Distant Meanings Through Their Common Roots | April 07 2025, 16:32

I wrote a script that finds pairs of words connected by a common origin but have evolved to differ significantly in modern meaning.

I actually came up with this project an hour and a half ago, between meetings I threw together something using Python and ChatGPT, and here are the first results. Importantly, these results come not from ChatGPT, but from the script working with dictionaries.

For example, grammar – glamour. The word glamour originates from the Scottish pronunciation of the word grammar (meaning “knowledge,” especially magical). The early association of grammar with secret knowledge transformed into “glamour” as “magical enchantment.”

It turns out that Jack is a diminutive form of John, evolved through Jankin.

It turns out that espresso and sprain share a common root—the Latin exprimere, meaning “to press out, extract.”

debut and butt. They share a common root: Old French but—”goal.” Debut: from French débuter—”to start a game,” literally “to make the first strike at the goal.” Butt: in the sense of “target” (e.g. the butt of a joke), also from but—”goal, target.”

Technical details: What does the script do?

1. First, it downloads a vast array of data from the English Wiktionary (Kaikki) and a large language model FastText, which knows the “meaning” of words in the form of vectors.

2. Then it analyzes the etymology (origin) of words, finding their common “ancestors”—ancient words (etymons) from which the modern ones derive.

3. It then selects only those words that are full dictionary entries in Wiktionary and are commonly found in modern English (filtering out very rare or archaic words).

4. Then it measures the “distance” between meanings using word vectors (word embeddings) from FastText. By comparing these vectors, the script calculates how far the meanings of words with a common root have diverged. Low similarity in vectors indicates a significant difference in meaning.

5. It then finds “distant relatives”: Ultimately, the script searches for and displays pairs of common words that were once “relatives” but today their meanings are as distant from each other as possible.

The script still generates quite a lot of “noise,” but I have a clear idea of how to clean it up.

Read more of such goodness by clicking here –> #RaufLikesEtymology