Tongue Play

I’ve been a language nerd since I was a child. I was enthralled by instruction manuals in multiple languages that allowed me to directly compare identical phrases in different scripts and vocabularies.

I know what you’re thinking — this guy didn’t have many friends. You’re right, but that’s beside the point.

It all began with a mother who was an English teacher. In grammar school, I had to study both English and Spanish. In high school, my father mandated Latin. In university, I thought it would be fun to go with German and get back to the roots of my native tongue. Out of necessity, I taught myself Indonesian and Javanese. I live in a perpetual state of linguistic confusion, needless to say.

English is a wonderful language. It has the largest lexicon on the planet (over 1 million words including jargon and slang), the easiest grammar of any European language, and the THREE genders only matter in the third person singular present simple aspect of verbs, and the THREE third-person pronouns (he/she/it). These are among the many reasons that English is the most widely spoken language on Earth.

One of the things I find most fascinating in language studies is the words in other languages that can not be translated directly into English, even with its massive lexicon. Like the many descriptors for snow in Aleut, every language has succinct terms that can in English only be described with phrases.

You’d think that with English’s huge vocabulary and rubbery grammar, there’d be a word for every experience a human could have, but thankfully that is not the case. In fact, there is a whole range of emotions you can not have in English.

Since this time of year is particularly emotional, I thought it might be fun to explore some of the emotions and experiences you can only have in other languages.

We’ll start off with a German emotion that is so handy, it was adopted directly into English: Schadenfreude. This is the pleasure derived from someone else’s misfortune, a word that has proved quite useful in the past few years. Another good German emotion is something folks might be feeling at family gatherings this time of year: Fernweh. This is a longing for distant places, the opposite of homesickness, and likely accompanied by Wanderlust. Ach! Toze Chermans, alvays yoking.

The Japanese have concepts that seem pretty Zen. Tsundoku (積ん読) is the act of acquiring books and letting them pile up without reading them. One of my favorite Japanese nouns is komorebi (木漏れ日), which is the sunlight that filters through the leaves of trees. Imagine having a special word just for that.

Leave it to the French to have a clean, concise word for something I’ve often felt, but needed entire English phrases to express — dépaysement. This is the feeling of being out of one’s element, particularly in a foreign place. One imagines the French are feeling this in their own country these days. L’esprit de l’escalier, isn’t a single word, but it’s a handy phrase. It’sthe feeling of coming up with a witty reply too late. Definitely something one might have felt in the presence of Oscar Wilde.

For those aficionados of Spanish poetry, they have some great terms we don’t have in English. Interestingly, sobremesa, the time spent talking after a meal, is the precise original meaning of “gossip,” but we let that one get away. Desvelado, being unable to sleep or staying awake late into the night, might be mistaken for “insomnia,” but there’s a whole dimension of spiritual unease missing from the English term.

The Swedes are very pleasant folks, so naturally they have very pleasant expressions we never feel in English. Lagom, not too much, not too little—just the right amount — would have robbed English of Goldilocks, so probably just as well we don’t feel this one. The British have “tea,” but that’s just adding a definition to an existing word. The Swedes have fika, which is a coffee break with pastries, often seen as a moment to connect with others, thus including a whole social aspect to breaks.

The Portuguese emotion of saudade, a deep emotional state of nostalgic longing for something or someone that is absent, might be similar to “pining” in English, but we certainly don’t feel cafuné, which is the warm, fuzzy feeling of tenderly running one’s fingers through someone’s hair. The English verb “to stroke” has too many unpleasant connotations.

Indonesians have a range of emotions that we should steal into English. Jayus is a joke so poorly told and unfunny that it becomes funny. This perfectly describes Bumbledick humor, and can replace all the overused English slang like “cringe”. An emotion I am constantly getting from Mrs. FarSide is gemes, the overwhelming feeling of wanting to squeeze someone or something because it’s so cute. Ugh, if only I weren’t so cute.

Finnish emotions seem to have a lot to do with cold weather. Sisu is that extraordinary determination, courage, and resilience in the face of adversity, like when you go to the office in a blizzard. Kalsarikännit, drinking at home in your underwear with no intention of going out, is what you’d rather feel instead of sisu.

If you’ve ever read a Russian novel, then you’ve felt toska (тоска), deep spiritual anguish, often without a specific cause, but until now you didn’t have the exact word for it. Pochemuchka (почемучка) is that annoyance you feel with a person who asks too many questions, like Putin with Western “journalists”.

You’d probably have be be Korean to feel han (한), a deep feeling of sorrow, resentment, and longing tied to the history of Korea. On the other hand, an English speaker might know jeong (정), a feeling of deep connection and emotional attachment, by it’s Greek name ἀγάπη (agápē).

Greek “love” is a whole story unto itself.

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