shopping

My trip to Turkey was on a tour with about 40 people, too many for a single bus. So we split into two: one for Chinese people, with a Chinese-speaking guide, and one mostly for Malays, with an English-speaking guide. I chose the former.

It was interesting that although the two groups had the same itinerary, we focused on different things. For example, In Capadocia, we managed to go on a balloon ride which was just splendid.

But only three of the Malay group decided to go on it. In contrast, when we got to Istanbul, we were scheduled to spend one and a half hours in the Grand Bazar.

But after one hour, the Chinese group got bored and all gathered outside, asking if we could go and have an early dinner instead. In contrast, the Malay group asked if they could have an extra hour in the Grand Bazar.

It worked out well, that the Chinese group could spend more time seeing things while the Malay group got extra time shopping. And I am so pleased I was with the Chinese group, as I am allergic to shopping.

genuine fake

An oxymoron is a contradiction in terms, such as 'deafening silence'. I saw this sign outside the ancient Roman city of Ephesus in Turkey.

'Genuine fake' is as classic an oxymoron as you can imagine. But what does it mean? The only interpretation I can derive is that the watches on sale are truly fake – there is no danger that you buy a fake Rolex and someone maliciously sells you a genuine one instead.

I suppose the real purpose of the sign is to capture one's attention. And the fact that I have taken a picture of it and put it on my blog suggests that it has succeeded. The only trouble is that I wasn't tempted to buy a watch. My Casio works perfectly well, so I see no reason to buy a Rolex, either genuine or fake.

But perhaps the sign has still been successful, as my putting it on my blog serves to encourage people to visit Ephesus (and thereby have a chance to buy one of these genuine fake watches). If so, well so be it. Ephesus is brilliant and definitely worth a visit. Here is a picture of the grand entrance of the library.

selfie stick

I just spent ten days on a tour of Turkey. It was brilliant. One of the new words I learned while there was 'selfie stick', the extensible rod that allows one to take a selfie with a wider frame than can be achieved just with one's arm. They seem to be everywhere among tourists, especially those from China and Japan.

Here a selfie of our group on a hill overlooking Istanbul, taken using a selfie stick. (Should it be called a 'groupie' rather than a 'selfie'?)

One question arises: is 'selfie stick' the right name for it? Some people prefer to call it a 'monopod', though Wikipedia notes that monopod has a broader meaning, referring to the device that is used to hold a camera steady, so it is used for old-fashioned photography that needs long exposure time and it predates the selfie.

It is common for newly-invented devices and new technology to have uncertain terminology for a while. Initially, a 'mobile phone' was also called a 'cell phone' by many, though 'mobile' seems to be winning out. But it seems that 'selfie stick' is becoming established for this new device, though maybe some people still prefer a longer name 'monopod selfie stick'.

One other question is: how old is it? This page from the Guardian suggests that the earliest use of the device (though not the term) is 1926.

adult stress

A Bruneian colleague was talking to me today about her research, and she consistently said 'aDULT' (with the stress on the second syllable), while I always say 'ADult' (with the stress on the first syllable). So I thought I'd look it up in the Longman Pronunciation Dictionary. This is what I found:

This shows that British speakers prefer stress on the first syllable, while stress on the second syllable is an alternative, but Americans are the other way round, preferring stress on the second syllable. And 88% of Americans prefer stress on the second syllable. So essentially, my colleague was using the American pattern. I don't know if that is the norm in Brunei, and also the extent to which American stress patterns are being adopted.

It is also interesting that the British-US difference is exactly the opposite of that for 'address' (as a noun), for which British speakers tend to prefer stress on the second syllable while Americans prefer stress on the first syllable.

levels of corruption

Here's a map of South-east Asia, showing levels of corruption (from the Independent). Australia in the bottom right is yellow, so it fares well. Malaysia is not too bad, being orange and ranked 50th out of 175. Indonesia fares less well (ranked 107), and Cambodia is even worse (at 156).

But what about Brunei? Unfortunately, there is no data on Brunei – it is the two white bits on the north of the island of Borneo, as shown in the black ellipse:

It is a bit of a mystery why no data is included for Brunei. Even North Korea is included (it is ranked 174th, second last, and only Somalia is worse). Perhaps there really is some data, but the map maker thought Brunei was too small to include the data on the map. Maybe that is the answer, as there also seems to be no data for Singapore.

code-switching

There is a belief by some people that code-switching is a sign of linguistic weakness, and that speakers mix their languages because they are insufficiently proficient in either language and need to use words from both to express themselves.

However, the reality in this part of the world is that proficient code-switching is actually a sign of sophistication. Not only does it show skills in two different languages, but it also demonstrates the ability to switch between them suitably.

I was reading a short story on page M4 of the Media Permata of 29 October 2014. The main character talks to his wife entirely in Malay. But when he speaks to his former girlfriend, someone who is well educated and has been away furthering her studies, he naturally code-switches between Malay and English. And you get utterances like this:

"Oh Farhahana! I ingat siapa tadi. Ya...I'm quite busy right now. Bagainmana you dapat nombor telefon ni?" soalku.

which might be translated as:

"Oh Farhana! I've just remembered who. Yes...I'm quite busy right now. How did you get this telephone number?" I asked.

Note not just the use of a complete English sentence "I'm quite busy now", but also the use of English pronouns 'I' and 'you' in Malay sentences. In fact, this use of English pronouns in place of Malay pronouns seems almost universal in this kind of code-switching.

The Media Permata almost entirely eschews mixing English in its coverage. However, code-switching is so common among educated people here that sticking just to Malay would make the dialogue in the story seem unnatural.

car booth sale

An 'eggcorn' is the substitution of a word based on similarity in the speaker's pronunciation in order to make sense of a phrase. It originates from 'acorn' being reinterpreted as 'eggcorn', based on an acorn looking like an egg in its eggcup. Some other examples (from the Wikipedia site) are:

• ex-patriot instead of expatriate
• mating name instead of maiden name
• preying mantis instead of praying mantis

Here is one I saw on page M2 of the Media Permata of 6 December 2014, discussing the marketing of some handicrafts in Malaysia:

... setiap hari Jumaat dan Ahad berkonsepkan 'car booth sales', saya juga aktif menyertai pelbagai karnival ...

which might be translated as:

every Friday and Sunday on the concept of 'car boot sales', I also actively participate in several carnivals

The use of 'car booth sales' instead of 'car boot sales' can be explained because the speaker does not distinguish /θ/ from /t/, and also because the stalls at car boot sales are rather like booths.

The original idea of a car boot sale was that people took various second-hand goods to be sold in the boot of their car; but nowadays the stalls are often rather more elaborate.