Tag: language

7 Reasons Rome Clearly Had It In For Me

As an Englishman, when I travel abroad I like to cause as little trouble as possible. Sadly, when I went to Rome, trouble looked for me.

1. Roads. Now, call me a traditionalist, but I like two things from my roads. One: they should be fit for vehicles to manoeuvre up and down, and two: there should be occasional sets of traffic lights where those who have decided to travel upon foot can cross the road safely. While Rome provides both roads and traffic lights, it seems as if someone forgot to tell the drivers to stop when the little green man appears. As a result my holiday was nearly abruptly ended by six cars, two buses, fourteen mopeds and one skater.

2. Maps. I know it sounds like a cliche, but when one sees a free map, they should pick it up. I did just that. And for most of the first day I was able to understand it – we were still in Rome at least. That was until I started walking back to the hotel. The designers, in their Italian wisdom, had decided to mark the main tourist attractions on the map using small, 3D illustrations. And, to be fair to them, they did resemble the real-life draws. Unfortunately, they rarely appeared on the map facing the right direction. Consequently, I spent much of the walk home looking for the steps leading to the Campidoglio on the wrong road. To cut a long story short, we ended up back where we had started an hour earlier and I never held possession of the map again.

3. Wine. It is a well known fact in 7 Reasons circles that I am something of an amateur tea connoisseur. Sadly this is the only liquid based-substance that I have such a relationship with. Wine, for example, is something of an unknown quantity to me. There are three things I know about it. One, it comes in white; two, it comes in red; and, three, it should not be thrown over your girlfriend. Sadly, while Rome offered both white and red varieties, it also offered the opportunity for me to knock a glass over. Which I promptly accepted.

4. Gladiators. They’re an amorous lot. Even the fake ones hanging around the Colosseum, the Roman Forum, the Pantheon. Actually, let’s just call it Rome. They’re everywhere. And they took far too much of a liking to my girlfriend. If they weren’t trying to kiss her they were calling her Princess or offering to slay me. Yes, I know, it’s enough to make one quite nauseous. I mean, it was the type of behaviour I’d expect from the French or Piers Morgan.

5. String Sellers. Standing at the top of the Spanish Steps I was accustomed by two gentlemen, who – without invitation – decided to wrap string around my wrist. I was rather taken with the colours so allowed them to continue. ‘How nice,’ I thought, ‘no one has ever tied my wrists up in England before.’. As the string wound it’s way around my wrist to form a bracelet, I was told to make three wishes. ‘How nice,’ I thought, ‘this chap is certainly more friendly than that genie in a bottle.’. When he had finished, the other nice man decided to open his wallet to show me all the lovely notes inside. Initially I thought I got to choose which denomination of Euro I’d like, but after asking for €20 he became a bit grumpy. For a minute I thought he was asking me for money. Then I realised he actually was. At which point we became embroiled in a bitter stand off. They both wanted money for a bit of string, I wanted the string but not at a price. Sadly this story comes to a hugely anti-climatic end as, instead of letting me enjoy a bit of a fracas with Mussolini and Pinocchio, my girlfriend decided to gallop over and drag me away. At which point Pinocchio got all precious, whipped out his toe-nail clippers and cut the string. In doing so all my wishes were cast aside. Which just goes to show, in Rome you have to pay at least €5 for a yacht, a unlimited supply of tea-bags and a speaking dolphin.

6. Sarah. If I were a woman, and I can’t in all honesty say I have ever considered it as a career option, I suspect Sarah would be a name I would strongly consider. Or at least it would have been had I not been called it dozens upon dozens of times in Rome. On the first night, I assumed I had just done something effeminate with my hair, but, having altered my style every night thereafter, the Sarah-tag just wouldn’t leave. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Then I discovered they were actually saying, ‘Sera’. It means, ‘Evening’. I felt silly.

7. Hotel. I chose our hotel, so, upon arrival, I was somewhat relieved to find that I had indeed booked us into somewhere quite nice. There were no tea and coffee facilities, but on the plus side we did get slippers. The hotel carried on being pleasant until our final night when we suddenly noticed dozens of blue flashing lights creeping through the shutters in our room. Upon moving to the window, we opened the shutters to see the street lined with Police. And looking to our left we saw the start of a protest rally. Half an hour later the rally was holding a noisy, sit-down protest. In the road. Right outside our hotel. Like I say though, we did have slippers.

October 25, 2010
7 Reasons My Italian Self-Teaching May Get Me Into Trouble

Hello. I’m on a plane. At least I am if you are reading this at 9am on Monday morning. If you are reading it at 9pm on Monday evening then I bloody well hope I’m not on a plane and if you are reading it in June 2014, well, I couldn’t really care less. I’m assuming, as I write, that it is 9am on Monday morning and I am currently on a plane that is destined for Italy. Yes, I’m going on holiday. I thought you’d be pleased. Over the last week, I have done a little language based learning. And, in what is quite a coincidence, I have been learning Italian. Unfortunately, I am not the best when it comes to languages. Partly because I always sound a bit Indian when speaking with another tongue and partly because I just can’t be bothered with it. Which, I admit, is an abysmal attitude to have, but I will gladly take any applause you are prepared to give me for honesty. As a result of these two factors, the Italians might be in for something of a shock. Here’s why:

1. Accents. My Italian accent isn’t very good. Unless you like Italian accents that sound Indian. I imagine the Italians don’t.

2. What A Mistaka To Maka. I can’t help it. Without a teacher I revert to learning my Italian from Allo! Allo! clips on YouTube. I keep adding the letter ‘a’ onto anything I say. Oh, and I’m speaking English.

3. Roma! Lazio! The only words I can pronounce with any confidence are the names of football clubs or, indeed, names of footballers. I may get away with randomly shouting ‘Cannavaro!’ and ‘Del Piero!’ but I imagine I would not with ‘Totti!’. And, talking about football, Italy are playing Serbia tomorrow night. Along with many people in the 1990s, I watched Football Italia on Channel 4. And, along with many people, I always assumed the phrase uttered at the end of the opening credits – ‘Golaccio!’ – meant…

4. ‘Goal Lazio!!’. That’s what it sounded like after all. You can see it here if you need reminding/have no idea what I’m going on about. Now ‘Golaccio’ may seem like a sensible thing to say if Lazio’s Sergio Floccari finds the back of the net for his national side. But it wouldn’t be. For the simple reason that the word is actually ‘Golazo’. And it’s Spanish. And despite finding this out, I know it’s not going to make any bloody difference. I am still going to shout ‘Golazo!’ if Italy score. Or Spain. Or Serbia. Or England. Because that’s me. And no one would have me any other way.

5. French. The only language I have ever learnt – apart from English and Latin obviously – is French. And, despite years of trying to forget such nonsense, I still seem to remember a fair bit of it. And the reason I know this is because unwelcome words keeps slipping into my otherwise expertly recited Italian phrases, ‘Buon giorno. Parla inglese, s’il vous plaît?’. If someone started asking me a question in English and then slipped in something about frogs-legs, I’d be furious. I would expect the Italians to be similar.

6. Hands. Whether it’s a myth or not, Italian’s are famous for their hand gestures. So I’ve been practising mine too. So far, I have the ‘bang on desk’, the ‘I’ve got the whole world in my hands’ and the ‘bunny shadow’ gestures in my repetoire. And they make very little sense with my Italian/French/Indian speil.

7. Pizza. I spent much of my time in the week before Rome, practising the pronunciation of pizza names using a Pizza Express menu. As a result I am unlikely to be able to eat anything other than pizza for the whole week. While this is not a problem in itself, the fact that I can only pronounce Margherita with any confidence, could be.

October 11, 2010
7 Reasons You Should Choose Your Holiday Read Carefully

There’s so much to think about when choosing your holiday read and so much can go wrong. Here are seven reasons that you should do it carefully.

1. The Cover. People say you should never judge a book by its cover. But they do. Which is why everyone who sees your choice of book will automatically form an opinion of you. And it will probably be the wrong opinion. Take Anthony Burgess’s A Clockwork Orange for example. The Penguin Modern Classic version depicts a glass of milk. If I see someone reading a book that has a cover featuring milk I immediately think, ‘Cows. The reader likes cows’. They probably don’t. In fact, had I asked them, they would have probably shrugged with indifference. But that’s the peril of the book cover. To me, that person will always be a cow lover.

2. Trilogies. These are a big no-no. No one reads more than one book on holiday, so never start on a series that is going to take you a further two holidays to finish. By the time the second holiday comes around you’ll have forgotten what happened in the first book. This means you’ll have to read it again, only for the process to repeat itself on the next holiday. Basically, you’ll spend the rest of your life holidaying with the same book. And you’ll never find out who kills who or what the wizard said to the pixie or why the girl next door is so addicted to sex with vampires.

3. Love. Lots of people meet the love of their lives (or their night) on holiday. The last thing you need – having plucked up the courage and charmed a beautiful lady at the bar – is for her to come back to your suite and see your copy of How To Talk Women Into Bed resting on your pillow. That kind of behaviour is strictly frowned upon by the fairer sex. Apparently.

4. Language. When you take a book abroad, it’s disrespectful to your hosts to read an English translation of a book originally written in their language. In Barcelona, several people were upset to see me reading a translation of Lorca’s Yerma, but that was nothing compared to the reaction of Berliners to my English version of Mein Kampf. Never read a translated work. They were livid.

5. Practicality. The Da Vinci Code is the ideal book to take on holiday. If the weather takes a turn for the worse you can use it as kindling; if you spill your drink on the table, it’s quite absorbent; if you need to hold a door in your villa open, you can fashion a papier-mache doorstop from it; if you find that people are trying to engage you in conversation, you can pretend to read it (they’ll soon leave you alone). There’s almost nothing that this versatile book can’t be used for. Except as reading material, obviously. That would be stupid.

6. The Lord Of The Flies. If you have teenage children, do not take this book on your island-break with you. Okay, so it’s pretty unlikely that they’ll put down their iPods and PSPs for long enough to read it, but if they do, they may descend into savagery before you know it. And savages do not make relaxing holiday companions. As anyone that has vacationed in Ayia Napa will testify.

7. Airports. A copy of Frank Barnaby’s How to Build A Nuclear Bomb and Other Weapons of Mass Destruction would be a particularly poor choice of holiday read. It’s sobering, serious and thought-provoking; none of the things that are conducive to the holiday mood as you attempt to relax and get away from it all in your detention cell at Heathrow Airport.

September 8, 2010
7 Reasons 7 Reasons Will Always Be Written In English

One of the questions we never get asked is, ‘Why do you always write in English?’ Here’s the answer.*

1. Francais. Même si je été dans le décodeur pour le français tout le chemin jusqu’à mes 16 ans, ma connaissance de la langue, maintenant que je suis 27 est assez pauvre. Ou, pour quelqu’un qui n’a absolument aucune intention de se rendre en France, sacrément bon.

2. Deutsch. Vorcestershire schlagen Varvickshire von zehn vickets. Alle deutschen weiß ich whacking beinhaltet ein “V” oder ein “Z” auf der Vorderseite jedes Wort. Es ist ziemlich plump und obwohl Jürgen Klinsmann es macht eine Menge über die BBC, ich kann nicht sicher sein, es ist die Genauigkeit.

3. Italiano. Dato che sembra sempre torto a me che ‘Ciao’ significa ‘Ciao’ e non ‘Goodbye’, è un linguaggio penso sempre destinato a lottare con. Questo, e il fatto che la Mafia parlano italiano. Se sono stato rapito dalla Mafia, davvero non voglio sapere che cosa stanno andando a fare per me. Preferirei che appena successo.

4. Española. “No tengo una vaca, pero tengo un asno”. Es decir todos los españoles que conozco. Significa: “Yo no tengo una vaca, pero tengo un asno.” Lamentablemente, a pesar de ser todos los españoles que conozco. También es inexacta de los hechos. No, no tengo una vaca, pero ni tengo un burro. No puedo escribir 7 razones que no tienen una vaca o un burro. No sé los españoles para eso.

5. Cymru. Er fy mod yn gwerthfawrogi y dyffryn Rhonda, ni allaf ond teimlo Cymraeg yn iaith hynod arwyddocaol meddwl i fyny gan y rhai sydd hefyd yn ystyried ei bod yn briodol i bobl dalu dod i Gymru, ond yn ddigon hapus i adael iddynt adael am ddim.

6. 中。我有一個英文鍵盤。它沒有任何對這些有趣的彎曲線的事情，中方稱為’字母’。我拒絕買中文鍵盤，因為我已經擁有英文鍵盤是在中國。

7. Zomerzetish. Moy noledge of wes cernty diolec is limiturd to sayin ‘cumbine arvester’. There r ownlee a limiturd numbur of posts I curn wroite aboot ‘cumbine arvesters’. An dis is won of dem.

*Google Translate can not be held responsible for any inaccuracies.**

**Neither can I.

July 6, 2010
7 Reasons To Invade France

1. Riots. There is nothing the French like more than a riot. Half the time it doesn’t have to be about anything particular, they just like getting out there and giving it a go. They haven’t had one for a while so let’s give them something to riot about. I suspect, us invading – and the French Army waving us through – will work.

2. Language. French is just very silly. What is it with everything having to be masculine or feminine? In no other language do you refer to a male cat as feminine. In no other language is my toothbrush as masculine as Freddie Mercury. In no other language is my tool box as feminine as Alan Carr. It’s a load of nonsense. Let’s get rid of it.

3. Riviera. I don’t mind the fact that the French have a Riviera. What I do mind is that it is British water they are using. It comes from the South coast of England. I have seen it go out with the tide. It slips down past the West coast of France, past Portugal, sweeps under Spain and then heads up to the South Eastern corner of France. Now, as far as I am aware, the French don’t pay us for it. Nor have they even thanked us. Well if that is their attitude, it’s time to go and get it back.

4. Liberate The Fake Named. Don’t you feel sorry for all those otherwise normally named people trapped in Frenchness. I’m referring to all the Jack’s trapped as Jacques. And the John’s as Jean. And the Peter’s as Pierre. And the Luke’s as Luc. These are men. Or at least they would have been had they not been effeminate-d upon the completion of a birth certificate.

5. Liberate Brittany. Only the bloody French could name a place after a country they pretend to hate. Brittany quite clearly belongs to Britain. In the same way that the vast majority of New England belongs to England. And the vast majority of Koreans belong to Jonathan Lee.

6. Reduce The Cost Of Onions/Garlic/Tights. I bet you didn’t even realise that onions, garlic and tights were that expensive? Well they are. And the reason for that is because the French hoard 98% of the world’s stock. The rest of the world have to fight over the remaining 2%. Of course this means the demand inflates the price to excessive levels. It’s not fair.

7. Take Down The Imitation Blackpool Tower. What is it with the French? Why can’t they have any of their own ideas? I applaud their bottle for sticking a metal pointy thing in the middle of their capital city, but it is clearly a rip-off. It’s time it came down and was replaced by a burger van.

March 18, 2010
Guest Post: 7 Reasons Great Britain is Better Than the United States of America

Today’s guest post comes courtesy of globe-trotting, observation-jotting, ale-totting, train-riding man of both style and substance, Simon Best. The last guest post that he wrote for us, 7 Reasons the United States of America is Better Than Great Britain, was such a success that Simon has come back to wholly contradict himself. Based on this evidence, it may appear to those who don’t know Simon, that he could start a fight in an empty room. This is not true. Simon is a pacifist and, as such, would probably give himself a stiff talking-to and then reconcile with himself over a nice cup of tea – which would also be the ideal accompaniment to this.

1. Tea. Quintessentially British. We displayed our attitude to tea by naming a type of tea after a nobleman, the Americans showed theirs by chucking box-loads into grimy water – without stopping to boil it first or add milk once it had brewed. This attitude has continued and most of the tea you find in America is herbal, fruity, decaffeinated and an abomination. Tea was what started the American war of independence, I know it led to the loss of a large colony but quite frankly, if they were prepared to do that with tea rather than sit down and have a chat over a cuppa then we’re better off without them. Fast food, instant coffee, drive-through restaurants, shock and awe – all American inventions and all about speed. In Britain we stop for tea. It’s an occasion and one the world’s only superpower could learn from. I think that pretty much every world problem could be solved by sitting down and talking over tea and cucumber sandwiches. President Obama take note, now you’ve won the Nobel Peace Prize you need to start having afternoon tea – it is the next step to world peace.

2. Language. The use of different phrases; trash can, for example, or parking lot is understandable and forgivable – after all, different parts of Britain use different words and phrases to refer to the same thing. What is not acceptable is spelling favourite without a ‘u’ or pronouncing ’herb’ as ‘erb’ unless they are talking about an elderly gentleman in a Hawaiian shirt. American readers, look at the word again – there is a letter ‘h’ at the front. Pronounce it. It really isn’t that difficult.

3. Cricket. America has three huge sports, and a few people play ice hockey too. American football, baseball and basketball are skilful and exciting sports. They even play football (or soccer) in America, and I’m not going to say anymore about that in case they beat England in the World Cup. What Americans don’t do is play cricket. I thought I didn’t need to say more than this, but I was told I couldn’t just stop there, so here goes; cricket is more stylish, more testing, requires greater all round ability, patience and superior tactics worked out with military precision – all of which can be thrown out by the weather. The closest America comes is baseball, which is essentially cricket for people with ADHD.

4. Monarchy. Having written this about a month ago I could reasonably be accused of treason against Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second, by the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of Her other Realms and Territories Queen, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith. This reason isn’t an attempt to make amends for that because I’m not talking about the current royal family who, quite frankly, I have little time for. I know that Americans love our royal family, they loved Princess Diana so much that 64% of their citizens wanted to crown her Queen of Rhode Island*. However, I am talking about Kings and Queens past: Canute who demonstrated he was only human by proving to his subjects that he couldn’t turn back the sea, Alfred who inspired the invention of the oven timer, Henry VIII who (allegedly) wrote Greensleeves and Victoria who was grandmother to most of Europe’s monarchs at the time of World War I. Americans would love to have that kind of heritage.

5. Trains. I know First Capital Connect are rubbish and Southeastern Trains couldn’t organise a piss-up in a brewery, but the British rail network is infinitely better than that in America. Yes we have delays, and being sat for half an hour in a siding outside Grantham is frustrating, but when travelling in Britain I’ve never been delayed by 17 hours – as I was when on a train from New Orleans to Los Angeles. Americans claim to have conquered the West with the railroad, but modern trains and railways in America are rubbish; there are huge cities like San Francisco, Phoenix and Boulder, Colorado with no station. That’s like there being no station in Glasgow, Bristol or Cardiff. Services are also ridiculously infrequent; there is one train a day between Chicago and Los Angeles. Imagine missing the 16:04 from Paddington to Exeter and being told that the next train is at 10:37 tomorrow morning. In Britain we have bad railways and complain about them, giving us something to talk about. In America they have bad railways and fly everywhere.

6. Religion. Like the worst dinner party guest, I am going to address one of the subjects you are supposed to avoid in polite company. In Britain, religion is a nice add-on to life, a way of people coming together to eat scones and have jumble sales with a bit of (usually insipid) singing thrown in. It is comfortable, like a favourite cardigan or a pint of ale. In America, religion is full-on – fire and brimstone – like being forced to wear a hair shirt in 90 degree heat (which if you are Amish you probably are). Religion is still just as important to British people as it is to Americans – we just handle it better. We don’t care which church our politicians go to, or even if they go at all. We, rightly, have little interest in their Sunday morning activity (providing it doesn’t involve cruising on Clapham common or snorting cocaine with prostitutes). In America, the thought that an elected official might not be a regular churchgoer would be scandalous and there are frequent and heated debates about whether to allow prayers in state schools, or if it is ok to have the ten commandments on tablets of stone in a courtroom. In America, the separation of church and state has happened in law; in Britain, it has happened in reality.

7. Breakfast. America has perfected the breakfast egg, which is available in a bewildering variety of styles, but we have something wonderful over here; something that transcends mere bread, a brilliant, culinary exemplification of form following function and the perfect accompaniment to an egg – the toast soldier. Simple, tasty, ingenious; the toast soldier is guaranteed to enliven any eggy breakfast – it also turns up in time for the start of the breakfast, not several years after it has begun.

*This figure isn’t statistically verifiable.

February 27, 2010
7 Reasons That English Pronunciation is Difficult.

So, you want to learn English as a second language? Good idea. We’re here to help, so welcome to the 7 Reasons Language School. We’ll start things off simply, with a bit of pronunciation.

Lesson One: Pronouncing words that end with “ough”.

1. Through (throo). Okay, this is the first word you’ve seen that ends o-u-g-h. Now you know that “ough” can be pronounced “oo”. Simple.

2. Rough (ruff). You may imagine, based on the prior example that “rough” is pronounced “roo”. It isn’t, it’s pronounced “ruff”. This means that o-u-g-h is more complicated than you initially supposed. You’re probably thinking that “ough” must be pronounced “oo” if preceded by th, and “uff” if not preceded with th. That’s wrong, but we like your reasoning. Don’t worry, you’ll soon get the hang of it.

3. Dough (doe). Nope, it’s not pronounced “duff”, or even “doo”; it’s pronounced “doe”. That’s a third pronunciation of “ough” to remember. We realise that there’s no apparent pattern and that this English lark may be harder than you supposed, but do carry on. If small children can manage this, then so can you.

4. Plough (plow). Did we mention there’s a fourth pronunciation? I know it may seem a trifle excessive, but the English are aware that their language is sometimes illogical and impenetrable, and are tolerant of people’s attempts to learn it. We’re not the sort of people who will spit out warm beer and roll around the floors of our country pubs guffawing if you order a ploomans lunch. Oh no.

5. Lough (lock). Why is this word pronounced “lock”, but spelled l-o-u-g-h? Why isn’t it spelled l-o-c-k? Er…good questions. We’re not sure. Perhaps the Scots hate you too.

6. Cough (coff). Yes, that is a sixth way to pronounce the same thing. You may be thinking that learning Klingon would make more sense than this. It probably would, but then you’d have to converse about dilithium crystals and the climate of the planet Qo’noS with a man named Terry.

7. Hiccough (hiccup). What happened to “oo”, “uff”, “o”, “ow”, “ock” and “off”? Well, it’s now pronounced “up”. What do you mean you give ough? Come back!

February 26, 2010