Culottes: ce n'est pas tres chic, d'accord?
Mostly Americans seems to enjoy British pronunciation. Indeed they find it adorable. Although often they fail to understand me when I request simple, everyday items such as "water" or "rootbeer" (warder and roobeer are the correct terms, one has discovered). However there is at least one exception, and that is the way we say "Maryland" i.e. Mary + Land. To the American ear this sounds absurd and ignorant. It has taken me literally years to work this out, but with assistance from fellow ex-pat Jo, we've finally pinned it down to Meralnd i.e. 'mera' as in ths middle part of America, plus 'lnd' as indeed we pronounce the land in England. So there you have it. There is still quite a lot of mutual incomprehension around the word squirrel however, which they pronounce something like "squirl", apparently missing at least one vital syllable.
Of course omitting syllables is one thing, adding superflous words quite another. For example I heard a teenager on the MAX (which I now understand to be a rather forced acronym for Metropolitan Area eXpress) say, "I thought it was like downtown or something" as a synonym for "I thought it was downtown." I believe one could even say, "I thought it downtown," thus saving 50% of sentence with no loss in meaning. Yet I'm certain the correct interpretation for "I thought it was like downtown or something" ought to be "I found it evocative of the city, or perhaps some other equally fabulous destination."
Another unpleasant feature common amongst certain sections of Portland youth, along with their absurd facial hair, is their inclination towards baggy-ass shorts which extend below the knee. It is hard to imagine a more distasteful garment (beyond the confines of some of the more outre custom leatherware retailers, perhaps), which, given my Seventies upbringing I know only as culottes, although synthetic sk8ter-boi plus-fours would perhaps be a more accurate description. Back when I was a nipper these items of clothing were restricted by EEC mandate to awkward French teenagers on exchange trips, before being banned outright in 1986. Of course, for what seems like centuries now the American male has needed very little excuse to don a pair of shorts, but this latest trend is, for me, a bridge too far. Although, given the government's ever more liberal policies on widening participation, I expect it's already a common enough site across the campuses and sink estates of the UK, let me assure you that I for one intend to embrace the classical school of thought on this matter, which states that a true Englishman never relinquishes his trousers.
Some truly excellent news this week came in the confirmation of Jason and Jane's visit to our humble abode for ten days in June. I have arranged a week off work (yes, a whole week, imagine that!) and we intend to take a tour down 101, taking in the Oregon and California coastline, Crater Lake, the Giant Redwoods, Lassen Volcanic National Park, the Sasquatch / bigfoot museum near Eureka and so forth until we've had enough. I am like so looking forward to it! Also my parents have confirmed their visit for three weeks in September, which is marvelous as my Mum's never been one for aeroplanes. Roll on Summer!
Meanwhile, they say a picture says a thousand words. Of course this one didn't, so I had to add a few of my own...
Of course omitting syllables is one thing, adding superflous words quite another. For example I heard a teenager on the MAX (which I now understand to be a rather forced acronym for Metropolitan Area eXpress) say, "I thought it was like downtown or something" as a synonym for "I thought it was downtown." I believe one could even say, "I thought it downtown," thus saving 50% of sentence with no loss in meaning. Yet I'm certain the correct interpretation for "I thought it was like downtown or something" ought to be "I found it evocative of the city, or perhaps some other equally fabulous destination."
Another unpleasant feature common amongst certain sections of Portland youth, along with their absurd facial hair, is their inclination towards baggy-ass shorts which extend below the knee. It is hard to imagine a more distasteful garment (beyond the confines of some of the more outre custom leatherware retailers, perhaps), which, given my Seventies upbringing I know only as culottes, although synthetic sk8ter-boi plus-fours would perhaps be a more accurate description. Back when I was a nipper these items of clothing were restricted by EEC mandate to awkward French teenagers on exchange trips, before being banned outright in 1986. Of course, for what seems like centuries now the American male has needed very little excuse to don a pair of shorts, but this latest trend is, for me, a bridge too far. Although, given the government's ever more liberal policies on widening participation, I expect it's already a common enough site across the campuses and sink estates of the UK, let me assure you that I for one intend to embrace the classical school of thought on this matter, which states that a true Englishman never relinquishes his trousers.
Some truly excellent news this week came in the confirmation of Jason and Jane's visit to our humble abode for ten days in June. I have arranged a week off work (yes, a whole week, imagine that!) and we intend to take a tour down 101, taking in the Oregon and California coastline, Crater Lake, the Giant Redwoods, Lassen Volcanic National Park, the Sasquatch / bigfoot museum near Eureka and so forth until we've had enough. I am like so looking forward to it! Also my parents have confirmed their visit for three weeks in September, which is marvelous as my Mum's never been one for aeroplanes. Roll on Summer!
Meanwhile, they say a picture says a thousand words. Of course this one didn't, so I had to add a few of my own...
posted by Richard Tammar at 9:41 AM
2 Comments:
I thought Englishmen were acculturated into dropping their trousers at any opportunity?
Your mutual incomprehension issues remind me of trying to get meals in Hong Kong. I always ended up being served a carton of milk with Hello Kitty on the side, but no food.
RN
Mutual incomprension continued:
ponder my increasing dismay when ordering a "ricard" (ubiquitous Gallic aniseed aperitif)at my local PMU bar when doing the horses on a Saturday morning and being constantly served a "deca" (IE decafinated coffee)
HW
Post a Comment
<< Home