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(I apologize for the unavoidable car noises in the background of the recording. There’s no getting away from it right now because there’s a very busy avenue right outside my room here in Mexico.)
The Panama Canal runs through the narrowest part of the “isthmus” of Panama.
isthmus — a narrow strip of land connecting two larger land masses
istmo — the Spanish cognate of the same meaning
An “isthmus” can also be a “narrow anatomical part” that connects larger parts. Perhaps that makes you think of your “neck.” If so, good for you because the words “isthmus” and “istmo” come to English and Spanish via the Greek word for “neck” which is (ισθμός) “isthmόs.”
I’ve never been a fan of the word “isthmus” due to its strange spelling and pronunciation. Now I can just blame the Greeks for that. Ha ha.
I came upon the Spanish cognate in the Spanish version of Isabel Allende’s novel, “Zorro,” which I’m reading for my next column during my stay in Mexico. In it, the two main protagonists travel down from the region of California to the “istmo de Panama” to then traverse that narrow strip of land and board a ship bound for Barcelona.
Seeing the Spanish cognate got me wondering where the word came from because it doesn’t look Spanish, and it certainly doesn’t look English, so I looked it up and learned that it comes from Greek. It’s a classic example of how languages borrow words from each other when there’s a need to name something.
While reading the novel, I came upon the word “nuca” a few times. I had to look it up to see what it meant and found that it means the “nape” of one’s neck. Something about the word made me wonder if we had a cognate for it.
We do! It’s “nucha.”
Never heard of it? Don’t feel bad; I hadn’t either. If you know the word, then reach back and below your “nucha” and give yourself a well-deserved pat on the back.
“Nucha” and Spanish’s “nuca” come from Latin, but Latin took the word from an Arabic one meaning “spinal marrow.” In English, we used to use “nucha” to refer to the “spinal cord,” but that meaning is now obsolete. I suspect that “nucha” for “nape” will become obsolete at some point, too, because most English speakers use “nape.” The word “nape” comes to us directly from Middle English, too, so that explains why it’s more commonly used.
Our word “neck” comes down to us from Old English, but it is akin to an Old High German word for “nape.” The Spanish word for “neck” is “cuello,” and it comes from Latin’s collum. When I taught Spanish, I would tell my students to think of the “cuello” as the place where the “collar” goes because “collar” and “cuello” come from the same Latin word.
This is the free “Cognate Cognizance” post for November. If you missed getting these little info-bytes each week, please consider upgrading to “paid,” so you don’t miss out on any more. Additionally, with a paid subscription, you have access to the full archive.
Until next time.
Tammy Marshall
By Tammy Marshall(I apologize for the unavoidable car noises in the background of the recording. There’s no getting away from it right now because there’s a very busy avenue right outside my room here in Mexico.)
The Panama Canal runs through the narrowest part of the “isthmus” of Panama.
isthmus — a narrow strip of land connecting two larger land masses
istmo — the Spanish cognate of the same meaning
An “isthmus” can also be a “narrow anatomical part” that connects larger parts. Perhaps that makes you think of your “neck.” If so, good for you because the words “isthmus” and “istmo” come to English and Spanish via the Greek word for “neck” which is (ισθμός) “isthmόs.”
I’ve never been a fan of the word “isthmus” due to its strange spelling and pronunciation. Now I can just blame the Greeks for that. Ha ha.
I came upon the Spanish cognate in the Spanish version of Isabel Allende’s novel, “Zorro,” which I’m reading for my next column during my stay in Mexico. In it, the two main protagonists travel down from the region of California to the “istmo de Panama” to then traverse that narrow strip of land and board a ship bound for Barcelona.
Seeing the Spanish cognate got me wondering where the word came from because it doesn’t look Spanish, and it certainly doesn’t look English, so I looked it up and learned that it comes from Greek. It’s a classic example of how languages borrow words from each other when there’s a need to name something.
While reading the novel, I came upon the word “nuca” a few times. I had to look it up to see what it meant and found that it means the “nape” of one’s neck. Something about the word made me wonder if we had a cognate for it.
We do! It’s “nucha.”
Never heard of it? Don’t feel bad; I hadn’t either. If you know the word, then reach back and below your “nucha” and give yourself a well-deserved pat on the back.
“Nucha” and Spanish’s “nuca” come from Latin, but Latin took the word from an Arabic one meaning “spinal marrow.” In English, we used to use “nucha” to refer to the “spinal cord,” but that meaning is now obsolete. I suspect that “nucha” for “nape” will become obsolete at some point, too, because most English speakers use “nape.” The word “nape” comes to us directly from Middle English, too, so that explains why it’s more commonly used.
Our word “neck” comes down to us from Old English, but it is akin to an Old High German word for “nape.” The Spanish word for “neck” is “cuello,” and it comes from Latin’s collum. When I taught Spanish, I would tell my students to think of the “cuello” as the place where the “collar” goes because “collar” and “cuello” come from the same Latin word.
This is the free “Cognate Cognizance” post for November. If you missed getting these little info-bytes each week, please consider upgrading to “paid,” so you don’t miss out on any more. Additionally, with a paid subscription, you have access to the full archive.
Until next time.
Tammy Marshall