A couple of weeks ago, when the Louisville police chief reported a significant drop in the city's 2025 crime rates, he said the following:
When we look at the end of the year last year compared to 24 you can see, when it comes to crime, we're down all across the board and that's exactly what we are shooting for. Homicide is down 21%, fatal shootings, non-fatal shootings, carjackings, all those are down. They're going in the right direction.
I'm not sure that a police chief saying "that's exactly what we're shooting for" displays good judgment (unless he's trying to be funny, which he probably shouldn't), but I understand that he was simply using a common expression. After all, when you go after something with determination, you "shoot for it" or even gun for it.
In Spain this type of expression sounds rather exotic not least because most Spaniards go their entire lives without seeing a handgun in person. In the United Kingdom speakers do use gun metaphors, but they feel less agressive than in the American dialect, probably because, in the United States, guns exist in the real world and not just in conversation, which is why I suspect that a British chief constable would have chosen a different expression. The question is... which one?
An obvious alternative to "this is what we were shooting for" would have been "this is what we were aiming for". Unfortunately, that phrase also feels slightly aggressive. After all, you take aim at something when you mean to hit it with a stone, an arrow or a bullet. So, the question remains: can we have a non-ballistic, less hostile way of conveying the same meaning? Absolutely. How about "that was exactly our goal"? It is true that it lacks the punchy quality of "shooting for something", but it does get the message across. How about "that was the plan all along" or "that was our objective from the outset"or even "that's what we were going for from the word go". As you see, the options are always there.
Anyway, if I'm discussing that police officer's word choice is because it gives me us an opportunity to explore the wonderful world of metaphors. So, if you can spare a few minutes, bear with me as I look into gun-themed expressions, which are extremely popular in English. You won't regret it. I am well aware that some of you might be reluctant to use them, but the truth is you can't call yourself an advanced learner if you don't understand them. So, here goes.
Guns
The way I see it, a truly advanced learner should know that (in the U.S) the person occupying the front passenger seat of a vehicle "rides shotgun". Indisputable evidence is usually referred to as "a smoking gun". If you manage to avoid a catastrophe, you "dodge a bullet". If you decide to finally do something unpleasant that you have put off then you "bite the bullet". Someone unpredictable and dangerous is a "loose cannon". An attempt with low probability of success is "a long shot". If a person is honest and direct, they are "a straight shooter". If you start something before the appropriate time you "jump the gun". When you react without careful consideration you "shoot from the hip". The person who controls a situation "calls the shots". I could go on...
Obviously, every language has its own preferences and built-in biases, which typically crystallize in proverbs, idioms and all kinds of expressions. I, for one, have always felt that colloquial Spanish has a penchant for religious references, whereas in German there is a surprising number of everyday expressions that mention farm animals. Why that is the case I honestly don't know. After all, religion and farming have been central to the histories of both Spain and Germany. Whatever the reasons behind those preferences might be, the fact of the matter is that a competent Spanish speaker is expected to understand the expression "he is not a saint I pray to" and an advanced German learner should also know what "I've had pig" means. In case you're wondering, "no es santo de mi devoción" means "I'm not a fan of his" and "Ich habe Schwein gehabt" is a colloquial of saying "I got lucky".
Being aware of such biases gives you the chance to consider alternatives, enrich your vocabulary and shape your own a personality in English, which ideally will also make you aware of the areas where we can all meet. One such case is the expressions that revolve around horses.
Horses
Spanish is, indeed, packed with horse metaphors ("perder los estribos", "ser ligero de cascos", "dar rienda suelta a tus pensamientos", "atar en corto", etc.) and, guess what, so is German ("arbeiten wie ein Pferd", "Rossnatur", "das Pferd von hintem aufzäumen", "mit ihm kann man Pferde stehlen", etc.). Unsurprisingly English is also no stranger to that vocabulary area. In fact, we can find a myriad of horse-themed expressions. Check out this sample list:
to eat like a horse
to come down to the wire
neck and neck
to put the cart before the horse
get off your high horse!
straight from the horse's mouth
don't look a gifted horse
to be a dark horse
hold your horses
to horse around
a one-trick pony
I don't have a horse in that race
Even an expression like to win "hands down" (which I mentioned in my previous post) is connected with horse races. How? When a jockey is really far ahead the rest of the horses, he or she can drop their hands and relax the reins way before reaching the finish line. They literally win (with their) hands down. Interesting, right?
And while that particular horse expression is only used in English, many others have enjoyed a kind of success that might feel even excessive. Take the English proverb "never look a gift horse in the mouth". I really don't know where that saying originated, but I know for a fact that it is now ubiquitous. We find it in Spanish ("a caballo regalado no le mires el diente"), in German ("einem geschenktem Gaul schaut man nicht ins Maul"), in French ("à cheval donné on ne regarde pas les dents"), in Italian ("a caval donato no si guarda in bocca"). In fact it pops up in just about every European language. And if you're skeptical about it, take a peek at this website from Centro Virtual Cervantes, where you can see that very expression in up to 22 languages.
So... horses, unlike guns, feature prominently in day-to-day conversations in many European countries, which should come as no surprise given that horses have been a part of most Europeans' lives for centuries. I suppose that Arabic and Urdu must have their fair share of horse idioms. Anyway, the great thing about horse expressions is that they offer a common ground to all of us. They make up an area we can always rely on. They also remind us that languages are complex, multifaceted systems, which over time become the memory of a whole culture. And English metaphors deal with all kinds of areas: sports, music, physics, mythology, war, pop culture, plants, you name it... So, if you should find an English expression that feels a tad too "exotic" or that makes you uncomfortable (for whatever reason), just remember that you can always find an equally valid alternative to paint a different picture.
Now, if you will excuse me, I'm going to stop blogging and grab some breakfast. I'm so hungry I could eat a horse. Oops...
At this point I believe the whole English-speaking world is well aware that the United States of America have a president whose vocabulary rarely ventures beyond the basic level of competence. His battleships are big, very big, the biggest you've ever seen and the bills he wants Congress to pass are, well... big and beautiful. Literally. The thing is... even if you state that a warship is huge, colossal, gargantuan or gigantic you'll be using A1-level grammar (i.e. it is). Are those adjectives "advanced"? Absolutely. Does the whole sentence sound advanced? Not really. Not to a discerning English teacher, anyway.
When it comes to descriptions, one of the obvious advanced skills consists in choosing the right synonym for the right term. So, a majority can be vast, a distance astronomical, the universe immense, an appetite gargantuan, a struggle titanic, a dose massive, and so on and so forth. It would be weird to say that your appetite is vast and your weight is astronomical. How do you know which collocations work and which don't? At first, you just don't, but after stumbling across one adjective a number of times a pattern typically emerges and oft-repeated combinations become recognizable. That is what conventions are all about. If you want to be a writer you'll have to steer clear of those shopworn phrases, but an English learner should not attempt to "go creative". If your ultimate goal is the C2 certificate, then you're only expected to master the conventions. I am well aware that the process is quite time-consuming, but, trust me, there is no other way to learn lexical conventions. You just bump into them and then start using them.
Today, though, I'd like to point out something a lot easier than getting exposed to thousands of collocations. I only want to show you how you can turn a simple phrase into a truly advanced expression just by adding a couple of words. Don't believe me? Check out the examples below. The sentence in bold is basic (A2), but the text in brackets elevates it to C2 heaven.
He fought (tooth and nail)
He lied (through his teeth)
She passed the exam (with flying colors)
She is the best (hands down)
I'm waiting (with bated breath)
They fell for it (hook, line and sinker)
Do you see how simple it can be? The words in brackets add spice, vividness and, of course, meaning. Think about the first one. "He fought" is a neutral statement. "He fought tooth and nail", however, gives a completely different vibe. It forces you to picture the desperation and intensity of a visceral struggle. You've got no other weapons but your teeth and fingernails. That's a back-against-the-wall situation. In Spanish we happen to have the same idiom: "luchar con uñas y dientes" and a phrase which evokes a similar vibe: "defenderse como gato panza arriba".
I hope my point is clear. Anyway, the next time you come across a sentence with a similar "add-on", remember that those extra words truly make the difference between A2 and C2.
J. R. R. Tolkien, author of The Lord of the Rings (1955), created the Elvish languages Sindarin and Quenya specifically to sound beautiful. Marc Okrand, however, developed klingon with a radically different intent. Harve Bennett, the producer of Stark Trek: The Search for Spock (1984) had asked him to create an alien tongue that met two criteria: it should sound both extraterrestrial and ugly. Twenty years later, during the pre-production of Avatar (2008), linguist Paul Frommer was commissioned to engineer another language. This one should be both alien and beautiful. Na'vi was the result of that request. Whether their endeavors were successful or not is a matter of debate. I suspect, though, that most opinions probably concur. Sindarin and Na'vi do have a nice feel to them whereas Klingon sounds quite aggressive to most ears. Needless to say the members of the Klingon Language Institute find their favorite tongue quite appealing and, conversely, some people unfamiliar perhaps with the Avatar universe might question the beauty of Na'vi. As the saying goes, there is no accounting for taste.
Natural languages, though, also elicit all kinds of reactions. Obviously, they were not developed with an intention to sound ugly or beautiful. Yet, they are often perceived in those terms. We know that the alleged aesthetic virtues of a language are not necessarily connected with the language itself, but rather depend on personal feelings about the culture that these languages happen to represent. The Hebrew language, for instance, is often described as "beautiful" by deeply religious people, whereas more impartial observers might struggle to appreciate its supposed euphony or even distinguish its phonetic profile from that of other Middle Eastern tongues. Similarly, French has been consistently associated with glamour and sophistication and the loanwords that English has borrowed from French are a testament to that attitude. Is the phrase joie de vivre truly more complex that the analogous "joy of living" or "gioia della vita"? For equally arbitrary reasons we find a host of deep-seated stereotypes around other European languages. Thus we often hear that German is harsh, Italian is sweet and Russian is serious. And while those opinions might be innocuous, the associations that they entail are most certainly not.
An accent that is perceived to be unfriendly will be a liability at a job interview and one that is typically linked to a lack of sophistication will be uncommon at the reception of a five-star hotel. The traits of the speaker's alleged culture are magically transferred onto the pronunciation and intonation of the dialect that he or she speaks. And this happens to accents within a language and, of course, to accents that come from outside the English-speaking world. I know. It's not fair.
Regional and social accents
In the U. S. accents are, by and large, geographical. In the United Kingdom, though, things are a lot trickier. Accents can indeed be regional, but also social. And by that I mean that your consonants and vowels can be deemed to be working class, middle class, upper-middle class or insufferably posh. And if you think that I'm exaggerating, I'm afraid you are gravely mistaken. British politicians of patrician origins have been rumored to take elocution classes to soften their elitist accents in order to be more appealing to voters of less privileged backgrounds. I don't know how much of that is true. It is not an unreasonable notion. After all, an Oxbridge accent is far from relatable to the average waiter or mechanic. The crazy thing about it is that sometimes differences between accents may come down to individual sounds.
In Ian McEwan's novel What We Can Know (2025), the narrator of the second part says the following:
At last, the boy lifted his drooping and well-fingered companion closer to his chest. It was a green lizard with red spikes along its spine. "I'm waiting for my mummy." In that English way, I automatically registered the fully enunciated "t" and was already placing him in a social order, I disliked myself for it.
Think about it for a second. Just the pronunciation of one consonant can place you in a social hierarchy. Imagine what type of impact full sentences may have on a casual listener, let alone someone working for a recruiting firm.
Learners of English
To you, avid English learner, regional accents are probably not a major concern. Still, I believe that you should strive to achieve an accent that is, first and foremost, understandable and then (in so far as possible) close to some standard variety of the language, be it general General American, standard British English or, even some form of International English. Why? Because a speaker with a strong foreign accent will inevitably trigger unconscious ideas of unsophistication, not to mention the various prejudices that the culture in question entails. A native-like accent, on the other hand, brings about a priceless sense of at-homeness amongst competent speakers. Now... I'm not saying that there is anything wrong with having a foreign accent. I'll repeat that. There is nothing wrong with having a foreign accent. That said, we must acknowledge that not all accents are perceived equally and many of those reactions tend to be shaped by factors that are beyond your control. That much should be uncontroversial.
Also remember that two non-native speakers that use English as a lingua franca will have serious difficulty understanding each other if they don't try and find some common ground (i.e. some kind of standard pronunciation). Just imagine a Cambodian and an Italian having a conversation in English. If they stick to the phonological inventories of their respective mother tongues misunderstandings are bound to ensue. I still remember the case of a Spanish student of mine who was vacationing in Thailand with a group of friends. One day my student picked up the phone, called the front desk and requested two cars. As it happens, the group had decided to spend the day driving around the countryside. Minutes later a hotel employee showed up at the door holding a sugar pot. Two cars. Sugar.
Interestingly enough, the consequences of having a marked foreign accent can be quite unexpected. Actress Sofia Vergara, for example, speaks English with a strong Colombian accent that has served her well in Hollywood. Americans love it. They find it cute and sexy. Film director Wener Herzog, however, has a German accent that can sound unappealing or even intimidating. But that's not all. Sometimes identical accents can elicit strikingly disparate reactions. Thus, Slavoj Žižek, a well-known public intellectual who speaks with a pronounced Slovenian accent, comes off as likeable whereas Melania Trump, another Slovenian with a heavy accent, is generally perceived as unsophisticated despite the fact that she used to have a glamorous job and is now the first lady of the United States of America. I suppose that blunders such as her notorious mispronunciation of the word corps while addressing a group of marines at a military base haven't helped much.
It can be argued that, more often than not, it is the personalities of the individuals that determine how their respective accents are perceived. After all, Sofia Vergara is funny and sexy and Werner Herzog can have a menacing gaze. And, obviously, Slavoj Žižek is a philosopher who often displays cognitive resources that Melania Trump doesn't seem to possess. To all that, I would counter that prejudices die hard. Part of a person's reaction to a foreign speaker does indeed depend on their personal qualities, but there's a part of that first reaction that has little or nothing to do with the speaker's demeanor and a lot with how they say things. And if we are to believe that the first cut is the deepest, then we should consider the very first thing most people think about when they hear a random stranger speak with a thick foreign accent. Usually it's not the complexity of their grammar or the accuracy of their vocabulary, but rather the culture associated with that particular accent.
If you are still skeptical about all this I recommend that you watch the video below in which English actress Miriam Margolyes (of Harry Potter fame) explains why she sometimes chooses to speak with a Scottish accent. That says all you need to know about accent-related biases.
These days everyone seems to have an opinion about a surprisingly wide range of topics. I suppose that some version of this has always existed. But a couple of years ago came the game changer. The advent of digital platforms elevated individual thought to surreal heights as a result of which personal views now reach audiences in a way that was unthinkable before the digital revolution. These days we all get to see, hear and read opinions on all kinds of subject matters divulged by phony polymaths. In English there is a word for those individuals: ultracrepidarian, but it's a crying shame that virtually nobody knows the term. The ironic consequence of this state of affairs is that most of those who engage in dialogue don't seem to perceive the difference between idle chatter and a truly productive exchange.
Opinions
Indeed, the borders between meaningful conversation and small talk have been blurred to the point where many speakers simply can't tell them apart, but you don't need to be a specialist in epistemology to realize that many internet pundits that actually interview guests on their channels are dismally ignorant of the art of conversation and, therefore, ill-equipped to attempt a debate. Nevertheless, some of those individuals (usually self-styled influencers) keep posting, tweeting, podcasting and often talking to interesting thinkers in the delusional belief that their views are just as valid as those of bona fide experts. Some of them go so far as to join panel discussions and debates!
I understand that some public speakers give off a certain aura, a charisma (that most intangible of qualities), which, in the eyes of unenlightened observers, can make up for their lack of substance. However, when it comes to serious subjects, a person's good looks, sophisticated manners, personal style and the number of followers on Instagram become utterly irrelevant. We need more. After all, an opinion is not worth much if it is not backed up by facts.
Debates
And yet, countless videos depict interactions where speakers simply disagree. The titles of these clips often use the term 'destroy' (as in "[Name of Random Guy] Destroys [Name of Celebrity]"), implying that one debater has left the other speechless. In reality, these exchanges are frequently just a clash of views with no actual debating.
Contrary to some people's assumptions, debating does not consist in simply opposing an adversary's views for public entertainment. It is supposed to be a regulated discussion. For starters it requires factual information. That much should be obvious. Before someone forms an opinion about the rate of unemployment, for instance, they ought to know the actual rate of unemployment. The figure in question (11.5 % in Spain at the time of he writing this post) is objective, the debater's opinion, by definition, is not. Debating also demands that a participant be ready to concede a point, that is to say, to acknowledge the merit of someone else's views and contemplate the possibility of being wrong. So, if you are not prepared to be fact-checked or proven wrong, you should probably steer clear of debates and stick to casual banter and private conversations.
Conversations
Why? Because conversations are far easier. They don't need rules, timers or moderators. Like a debate, though, a good conversation does entail the use of some objective information and/or references that go beyond personal anecdote. Still, it is a flexible category. Two good conversationalists may well exchange experiences and points of view, but will ineluctably gravitate towards a discussion that, of necessity, involves arguments. And it's there that things get slightly hairy. Arguments are based on facts which, of course, are articulated by logic. Therefore a misinformed speaker with a feeble grasp on the basics of logic is, quite simply, not a good conversationalist.
What I'm trying to say is that verbal interaction based on personal views is fine for a quick coffee, but a real conversation is a little bit more demanding than that, and a debate is probably best left to the experts.
At any rate, whether you're just chatting to pass the time or striving for self-enlightenment, I think you should ensure that your arguments are always anchored in fact. Otherwise your words will not be worth much. Sadly, though, (and this is clearly my opinion) we live in a society in which a shocking number of people seem to disregard facts, which probably explains why the term post-truth was chosen as the Oxford Dictionary word of the year in 2016. To me that symbolic decision was, in itself, an indictment of the increasing irrelevance of facts in public discourse. These days, it is common for people to gloss over their own ignorance. When confronted with facts, they will typically deflect, trivialize objective data and elicit emotional responses from listeners who also run roughshod over reality. It's a lose-lose game.
On the opposite end of that spectrum we find Sam Harris, a well-spoken public figure who excels at crafting coherent thoughts and compelling arguments. He routinely uses complex syntax and precise vocabulary in an effortless way, which is a far cry from the proverbial word salads that fill the speeches of many self-appointed experts. That alone should be a good enough reason to listen to him. In the video below Sam Harris offers great material for any advanced English learner: an efficient analogy (tennis), interesting terms (diverge, intent, align, tap out) as well as a useful collocation (to pressure-test one's views). Not bad for a 60-second clip, right? Also, the point he makes is thought-provoking: if you're not prepared to find common ground or be proven wrong, you should not engage in any form of debate. Chit-chat is probably your trade.
One of the great things about popular culture lies in its seemingly never-ending ability to provide speakers with references that encapsulate more than obvious meaning. Some movies enjoy popularity for a limited period of time, but contain images, pieces of dialogue or full scenes which prove to have true staying power. As a linguist, I am particularly fascinated by how an expression can gain a life of its own, enduring long after the film it originated from has faded into obscurity. Take the phrase "up to eleven", for instance. I'd argue that many people who use it don't know that it comes from a film directed by the recently deceased Rob Reiner: This is Spinal Tap (1984). Likewise, a number of young speakers today are probably not aware of films such as Groundhog Day (1993) and Catfish (2010) even if they understand headlines like Groundhog Day from Hell or statements such as "she catfished me". Bucket List (2007), another Rob Reiner movie, has also enriched the English vocabulary by offering a contribution which I find quite relevant at this time of year. Just bear with me for a couple of paragraphs.
At this point I think that we all understand what a bucket list is, right? It's a list of the things a person would like to do before they, you know, "kick the bucket".
What is great about it is that expression is that it show how changeable and dynamic a living language can be. Consider for a second the whole process. The old idiom to kick the bucket gave us the title of a movie, which, in turn, became the origin of the very concept of a bucket list and, by extension, the interesting noun phrase a bucket list moment. As the Jack Nicholson character would put it... "cutsey!"
Now, I don't know whether average people (whatever that might mean) concern themselves with bucket lists. I am aware that some people play it by ear. Others do what they're expected to do and some, not many, stick to what Heinrich von Kleist(1777-1811) called a Lebensplan, literally a "life plan". In case you're wondering, a life plan is a rationally devised "program" for one's life which is supposed to help you achieve happiness. Sadly, von Kleist did not live up to his own ideals unless suicide at the age of 34 was part of his original plan. Interestingly enough, though, his concept endured. Of course, anyone who learns about it is bound to face a question: Can we really plan out our lives? I think the answer is a resounding yes. Can we achieve every goal that we set for ourselves? Clearly not. But if you commit to a couple of worthy goals and manage to stay the course, you will one day earn the incredible feeling of checking off items on a list. The trick is to make sure that your goals aren't as ambitious as becoming the next pope or being the first astronaut to set foot on Mars.
Anyway, if you should want to discuss the very idea of attaining some form of success (personal or otherwise), you may find this vocabulary useful:
Nouns: fulfilment, gratification, attainment, accolade, vindication. (If you're feeling brave, you may even use eudaimonia and epitome)
Collocations: To attain a goal, to reap the benefits, to actualize your (creative) potential, to live up to your potential, to focus on your objectives, to outline an action plan.
Consider this sentence:
The launch of the charity, which was the consummation of her vision, brought an indelible sense of fulfillment that transcended mere monetary gain.
Now, isn't that glorious?
Why do I entertain these notions? Because I like lists. I understand that some people frown upon von Kleist's idea of a well thought-out life plan (which, of necessity, entails a list of goals), but I know that it has worked for people who one day decided to learn to play the saxophone, go skydiving or spend Christmas in Beijing. What I'm trying to say is that I know that some people regard a bucket list as a ridiculous Hollywood gimmick. And it is true that, at first, it may seem like a rather childish proposition. However, you are no stranger to "to-do lists". You probably make a shopping list before going to the supermarket and today you might also consider a couple of New Year's resolutions. A bucket list is just the same kind of thing. It does not consider what one would like to accomplish in a morning or a year, but rather in a whole life. The scale is different, the purpose is not.
I sincerely hope that a certificate in advanced English is one of your New Year's resolutions if only because holding that piece of paper in your hand will be an unforgettable bucket list moment.
At this point I think we are all well aware of what cultural syncretism is, right? Some traditions just merge with others and wind up morphing into something utterly and completely different. Halloween, for instance, used to be a sacred Celtic festivity. Now it is a fun child-centered celebration vaguely associated to spooky imagery. Somewhere along the way the religious aspect of that festival simply got eroded, then watered down and eventually lost altogether. And this is not a unique case. Carnival is another case in point. Up until recently, it was inseparable from the observance of Lent. Now it is celebrated by people who don't even know the word Lent. For better or worse, Christmas is no exception to this phenomenon. As the holiday evolved alongside other midwinter festivities, Christmas adopted a few (let's say) "secular" elements that, quite ironically, now define the season.
If you think about it for a second, you'll soon realize that the most obvious symbols of present day Christmas are not Christian at all: The Christmas tree, the yule log, the wassail, the festive wreaths and the mistletoe are some of those elements with obviously pagan roots. And some of the most popular Christmas songs today don't even mention Christ (Jingle Bells, All I Want for Christmas is You, Last Christmas, White Christmas, We Wish You a Merry Christmas, etc.). Nevertheless, I suspect that the one element that best exemplifies this phenomenon is Santa Claus.
Indeed. We have come to accept Santa as the very emblem of Christmas. Yet, he's not exactly a Christian figure.
The official origin of his legend is most definitely religious. It harkens back to Saint Nicholas, a 4th century Greek bishop of Myra (in present day Turkey) who used to give presents to children at Christmas. Somehow his fame transcended the confines of the Byzantine empire and eventually reached Western Europe, where he received different names. In England he was first called Sir Christmas, then Old Christmas and finally Father Christmas. In Germany he was known as Sankt Nikolaus. The Dutch, however, preferred to call him Sinterklaas, a dialectal adaptation of Saint Nicholas. The first Dutch migrants who ventured to North America (remember New York's first name was New Amsterdam) took the tradition with them and, thus, it came to pass that the name Sinterklaas became Santa Claus, which is fair enough.But the proverbial wheels soon came off the wagon. Quite quickly, a branding operation was underway. In 1849 an obscure writer called James Rees invented a Mrs. Claus in his story A Christmas Legend. Soon after that Santa employed a small army of helpers dressed up as elves, acquired a little herd of eight flying reindeer and set up home in the North Pole.Around 1870 Thomas Nast, an American cartoonist, established the bright red suit and, some decades later, in 1939, Robert L. May invented the ninth reindeer: my dear namesake Rudolph. By then, the standardized iconography had largely crystallized into the version that we know today.
It can be argued that some other traditions may have converged to form the modern celebration of Christmas. We know, for example, that Odin, the Norse god, used to lead a ghostly procession across the sky on his eight-legged horse called Sleipnir. We also know that the Roman festival of Saturnalia, which celebrated the Winter Solstice, entailed the exchange of gifts. The extent to which these pagan traditions exerted an influence on our holiday season cannot be easily determined, but I think that non-Christian elements should not be dismissed out of hand.
Anyhow, if I am writing about the history of Christmas it is because, in an interesting way, the fates of once-sacred traditions mirror what actually happens to most languages.
Typically, a language originates in mysterious ways (the beginnings of Proto-Indoeuropean are lost to the mists of prehistory). Then it branches off into dialects which, over time, become languages in their own right. Inevitably, contact with other cultures brings about a series of transformations to grammar, syntax and vocabulary so that, a thousand years after its first babblings, a language has changed beyond recognition. If you managed somehow to travel back to the 10th century you would not understand a single word of the language spoken in England. You don't believe me? Listen to some Old English in this short clipand then be honest with yourself. Do you understand a single word of it? Don't despair. You're not alone. To modern English speakers the language of their ancestors, the "original" tongue is utterly incomprehensible. The post that you are reading right now is the result of a myriad of factors: some homegrown, some quite alien. In my opinion, nothing explains this process more succinctly that the title which John McWhorter chose for his 2009 book: Our Magnificent Bastard Tongue.
But I digress...
I was supposed to discuss Christmas. How is this all relevant to you? Well, I think it's eye-opening to realize what a rich tapestry of influences a language can be. It can help you understand change and even human nature. Everyone of us is the end result of a trillion factors. Don't you think?
Anyway, if it is vocabulary that you are interested in here you have some idioms that we owe to Christmas:
To light up like a Christmas tree (to be very happy)
Like the turkeys voting for Christmas (to go against one's interests)
To be like a kid at Christmas (to be extremely excited)
Don't be a Scrooge / a Grinch (to be a killjoy at Christmas)
Except for the last one (which only makes sense at this time of year), you can use those expressions all year long. And if you're not in the mood to learn idioms, you might appreciate this epic rendition of the famous Carol of the Bells, another great Christmas song that, of course, did not originate as such. It was written over one hundred years ago by a Ukranian composer called Mikola Leontovych. The original lyrics dealt with the celebration of New Year. However, an American musician of Ukranian heritage reimagined the melody as a Christmas carol and wrote new lyrics to suit the holiday season. Now this hauntingly beautiful song is something of a classic. I hope you enjoy this version. I know I love it.
These days I am discussing legal issues with my C1 students and I must say that it's been great fun so far. We have gone over some advanced collocations (to issue an indictment, to enter a plea, to serve time, to repeal a law, pass the bar exam, etc.) and, inevitably, we've had to deal with a lot of legalese (parole, deposition, verdict, etc.). We have also looked into specific crimes, some of which (such as identity theft or carjacking) have a distinctly exotic flavor while others (like bribery or abuse of office) feel sadly more familiar. Furthermore, we have tried to find answers to some relevant questions: What exactly qualifies as sexual harassment? What is the official definition of mass shooting? Is surrogacy legal in the U.K.? Today, however, I would like to center on an infraction that just about every country acknowledges, but very few take seriously: jaywalking.
Jaywalking is neither a crime nor a misdemeanor, but rather a simple civil violation. I would argue that most of us do it without giving it a second thought. Yet, it is technically illegal and can be a contributing factor to avoidable traffic accidents. I believe that there is a cultural element to people's general disregard for the laws against it because, at lesast in my experience, attitude change across borders. German pedestrians, for example, tend to comply with jaywalking regulations, whereas in France, Italy and Spain... well... not so much. I know it sounds like a massive stereotype, but, like I just said, that's my personal perception and I happen to have actually lived in all those countries. Still, just a couple of years ago, Bilbao City Hall launched a campaign to highlight the dangers of jaywalking and promote compliance with traffic signals and I can imagine that other European cities must have taken similar measures so that pedestrians learn to wait for the green light. Despite these efforts, though, the general attitude has not changed significantly. People still cross the streets where they are not supposed to. In other words, the laws remain rather pointless. So, it should come as no surprise to learn that New York officially decriminalized jaywalking last year. I imagine some of you may find the decision objectionable or unwise, but the truth of the matter is that the law against jaywalking was rarely enforced and clearly failed to work as a deterrent. In a way, it was like one of those silly laws or ordinances that are in effect but only theoretically. You want an example? In the state of Massachusetts, playing or singing the national anthem as part of a medley or adding to it dance music can result in a fine of up to $ 100. Yes. It is a real law. And in the Spanish city of Vigo, since 2022, it is illegal to relieve oneself in the sea or on the beach. Fines can reach up to € 750. One is left to wonder: have those laws ever been enforced?
Anyway, below these lines you have a great explanation of what jaywalking is and the sneaky reason why it came to be called like that. Enjoy!
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N. B. By the way, Hannah Fry is a professor of Mathematics at the University of Cambridge. In my opinion, she's a brilliant, eloquent thinker whose command of the English language should inspire you to improve your oral skills. 😎
