Krosa is Sanskrit for a cry, and thus has come to mean the distance over which a man’s call can be heard, roughly two miles. In the central forests of Sri Lanka calculations of distance are also made by sound: a dog’s bark indicates a quarter of a mile; a cock’s crow something more; and hoo is the space over which a man can be heard when shouting the word at the highest pitch of his voice. While in the Yakut language of Siberia, kiosses represents a specific distance calculated in terms of the time it takes to cook a piece of meat.

Inuit calendars have very charming names. January is siqinnaarut, the month when the sun returns; February is qangattaarjuk, referring to the sun getting higher and higher in the sky; March is avunniit, when premature baby seals are born: some make it, some free to death; April is natsijjat; the proper month for seal pups to be born May is tirigluit, when bearded seals are born; June is manniit, when the birds are laying eggs; July is saggaruunt, the sound of rushing water as the rivers start to run; August us akulliruut, when the summer has come and the caribou hair is neither too thin nor too thick but just right for making into clothing; October is ukialliruut, when the caribou antlers lose their covers; November is tusaqtuut, when the ice forms and people can travel to see other people and get news; December is taujualuk, a very dark month.

In 2002 President Saparmurat Niyazov of Turkmenistan decided to rename both the months of the year and the days of the week. Some months were to take the names of heroes of Turkmenistan’s past, but January was to become Turmenbashi, after the president’s official name (‘Head of all the Turkmen’). In response to this suggestion that April should become known as ‘Mother’, one of his supporters suggested that instead it should be named after the president’s mother, Gurbansoltan-eje. The president heeded this advice.

The days of the week were also renamed: Monday became Major (main of first) Day; Tuesday, Young Day; Wednesday, Favourable Day; Thursday, Blessed Day; Friday remained as it was; but Saturday became spiritual Day; and Sunday, Rest Day.

Czechs describe people from outside their country in intriguing caricature. Originally all foreigners were called Nemec (from the adjective nemy meaning ‘mute’); now the suggestion that outsiders are deprived of speech applies specifically to Germans, whose country is known as Nemecko. Hungary in Czech used to be Uhersko, and a Hungarian Uher, literally, a pimple.

The Italians, meanwhile are called makaroni, for obvious reasons; while Australians are known as protinozcí, meaning ‘legs placed in an opposite direction’, as they would be on the other side of the globe. Other cheerfully frank generalizations include: opilý jako Dán, to be as drunk as a Dane; zmizet po anglicku, to disappear like an Englishman; and when the Czechs really don’t understand something, they say to pro mne spanelská vesnice, it’s all a Spanish village to me.

In the Kiriwinian language of New Guinea a bukumatala is a ‘young people’s house’, where adolescents go to stay on reaching puberty.

As the main aim is to keep brothers and sisters away from the possibility of incestuous sexual contact, they never stay in the same house. The boys return to the parental home for food and may help with the household work; the girls eat, work and occasionally sleeps at home, but they generally spend the night with their adolescent sweethearts in one bukumatala or another.

The Western ideal of monogamous husband and wife is not universal.

There is, for example, no word for father in Mosuo (China). The nearest translation for a male parental figure is axia. An axia has a series of night-time trysts with a woman, after which he returns home to his mother.

Any children resulting from these liaisons are raised in the woman’s household. There are no fathers, husbands or marriages in Mosuo society. Brothers take care of their sisters’ children and act as their fathers. Brothers and sisters live together all their lives in their mothers’ homes.

Who better than the pragmatic French would construct a precise terminology for love as business, ranking from a passe raide, the basic price for a sex session, to the kangourou, a prospective client who hesitates (hops around) before deciding on a girl.

When it comes to those who ply their trade, there are many equally specific terms. An escaladeuse de braguette is, literally a zipper climber; a beguineuse is an unreliable prostitute; a wagonnière is a woman who solicits on trains; a truqueur means a rentboy who blackmails his clients; while a cocotte-minute is a pro who turns many tricks very quickly (literally, a pressure cooker). There is even an expresión, commencer à rendre la monnaie, to show signs of age, which is said of prostitutes who in better days didn’t have to give change for large notes.

The Apache people of the USA name the parts of cars to correspond to parts of the body. The front bumper is daw, the chin of jaw; the front fender is wos, the shoulder; the rear fender is gun, the arm and hand; the chasis is chun, the back; the rear wheel is ke, the foot. The mouth is ze, the petrol-pipe opening. The nose is chee, the bonnet. The eyes are inda, the headlights. The forehead is ta, the roof.

The metaphorical naming continues inside. The car’s electrical wiring is tsaws, the veins. The battery is zik, the liver. The petrol tank is pit, the stomach. The radiator is jisoleh, the lung; and its hose, chih, the intestine. The distributor is jih, the heart.

George Bernard Shaw said “England and America are two countries separated by a common language”. It may be an awkward situation borrowing a cigarette in the US if you are an English tourist there. The word ‘tramp’ describes different people in each country, and ‘spunk’ could not only mean ‘to get up and go’ if you are an American in the UK. You don’t even need to love your mistress.

Eddie Izzard talks about these two confusing languages with a great sense of humor. Enjoy!

When we hear the word technology we tend to think about some new product: some new kind of music device, a computer, a robot… It is harder to think about an old television set or a vinyl player. But although strange…we can consider them as part of technology.

The thing is that the invention of the printer around the 15^th century took its new product, the book, to people who had never even thought about one. That was clearly a new technology… and much more revolutionary than a new mp3 player.

This amusing video jokes on what I’ve been saying…enjoy!