{"id":5021,"date":"2014-03-04T21:28:46","date_gmt":"2014-03-04T21:28:46","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/irish\/?p=5021"},"modified":"2015-01-29T17:40:28","modified_gmt":"2015-01-29T17:40:28","slug":"ag-cur-cat-ar-fhuinneoga-or-at-least-a-n-oscailt-the-windows-that-is","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/irish\/ag-cur-cat-ar-fhuinneoga-or-at-least-a-n-oscailt-the-windows-that-is\/","title":{"rendered":"Ag Cur Cat ar Fhuinneoga (or at least ‘\u00e1 n-oscailt,’ the windows, that is)"},"content":{"rendered":"

(le R\u00f3isl\u00edn) <\/b><\/p>\n

\"C\u00e9<\/a>

C\u00e9 a chuir an cat anseo? An cat \u00e9 f\u00e9in, ag dreapad\u00f3ireacht!<\/p><\/div>\n

Recently we’ve gone from discussing bridges, like Droichead na Leathphingine (Baile \u00c1tha Cliath) <\/b>and Droichead na C\u00f3naidhme (Ceanada) <\/b>to discussing windows (fuinneoga).\u00a0 <\/b>Well, one window (fuinneog amh\u00e1in<\/b>) anyway, the well-known “Carpenter Gothic” one in Grant Wood’s American Gothic<\/i>.\u00a0 So let’s look a little closer at the word “window” itself in its various forms in Irish.<\/p>\n

First, we’ll look at the basics of the word, then a few types of windows, and then a couple of phrases about windows, including the somewhat cryptic one in the title of this blog.<\/p>\n

Here are the basics.\u00a0 Since “fuinneog” <\/b>is a feminine noun, there is lenition (s\u00e9imhi\u00fa) <\/b>when we say “the window.”<\/p>\n

fuinneog <\/b>[FWIN-yohg], a window<\/b><\/p>\n

an fhuinneog <\/b>[un IN-yohg], the window<\/b><\/p>\n

fuinneoige<\/b>, of a window<\/b><\/p>\n

na fuinneoige<\/b>, of the window<\/b><\/p>\n

fuinneoga<\/b>, windows<\/b><\/p>\n

na fuinneoga<\/b>, the windows<\/b><\/p>\n

fuinneog<\/b>, of windows<\/b><\/p>\n

na bhfuinneog<\/b>, of the windows<\/b><\/p>\n

And a few sample sentences.\u00a0 Many sample sentences about windows in textbooks seem to be about broken windows so I’ll not break from tradition here:<\/p>\n

T\u00e1 an fhuinneog briste.\u00a0 <\/b>The window is broken. <\/b><\/p>\n

T\u00e1 an fhuinneog bhriste daor.\u00a0 <\/b>The broken window is expensive. <\/b><\/p>\n

Bhris an fear an fhuinneog.\u00a0 <\/b>The man broke the window. <\/b><\/p>\n

Bristear fuinneoga amanna m\u00e1 bh\u00edonn p\u00e1ist\u00ed ag imirt <\/b>stickball sa tsr\u00e1id.<\/b><\/p>\n

Briseadh an fhuinneog.\u00a0 <\/b>The window was broken.\u00a0 (that is, an unnamed or unknown person broke the window)<\/p>\n

And a few types of windows:<\/p>\n

boghfhuinneog <\/b>[BOH-IN-yohg] or cuasfhuinneog <\/b>[KOO-uss-IN-yohg], bow-window<\/b><\/p>\n

fuinneog comhla <\/b>[… KOH-luh] <\/b>or just c\u00e1isimint <\/b>on its own, casement-window, both alternately found as “fuinneog chomhla<\/strong>” and “fuinneog ch\u00e1isiminte<\/strong>”<\/p>\n

fuinneog fhrancach <\/b>[… RAHN-kukh], french-window<\/p>\n

And parts of windows:<\/p>\n

sais fuinneoige<\/b>, window-sash<\/b><\/p>\n

p\u00e1na fuinneoige<\/b>, window-pane<\/b><\/p>\n

leac fuinneoige<\/b>, window-sill<\/b><\/p>\n

A couple of occupational terms:<\/p>\n

niteoir fuinneog<\/b>, \u00a0window-washer <\/b><\/p>\n

feistitheoir fuinneog <\/b>or c\u00f3iritheoir fuinneog <\/b>or maisitheoir fuinneog: <\/b>window-dresser (lit. dresser of windows, note the genitive plural form, “fuinneog<\/b>,” same as the basic form).\u00a0 I’ve found four phrases for the activity itself: \u00a0feisti\u00fa fuinneog, gl\u00e9asadh fuinneog, maisi\u00fa fuinneog, <\/b>and c\u00f3iri\u00fa fuinneog.\u00a0 <\/b>For some reason, “gl\u00e9ast\u00f3ir fuinneog” <\/b>(based on “gl\u00e9asadh”<\/b>) doesn’t seem to show up online or in my dictionaries as the occupation itself, perhaps because it would mean more like a “window-fitter” or a “window-mounter.” \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/b><\/p>\n

And interestingly, in Irish, neither of the two main terms for “window-dressing” as a disparaging term has the word “window” in it:<\/p>\n

N\u00ed ach cur i gc\u00e9ill a bh\u00ed ann.\u00a0 <\/b>It wasn’t but make-believe (lit. It isn’t but make-believe that was in it)<\/p>\n

A little less severe, but still in the abstract, is “dea-chos\u00falacht” <\/b>(lit. “good appearance” for “window-dressing” as a cover-up) as in “oibr\u00edochta\u00ed dea-chos\u00falachta<\/b>” (window-dressing operations).<\/p>\n

So what about the phrase “putting cats on windows” (ag cur cat ar fhuinneoga)<\/b> as in the title of this blog?\u00a0 Well, it strikes me as an unusual phrase and I actually find no cybertrail for it, even having tried the infinitive form, past tense, etc.\u00a0 But it is a traditional expression and probably shows up more in some print resources that haven’t been searchably digitized yet.<\/p>\n

There are actually two versions of the phrase:<\/p>\n

ag cur cat ar fhuinneoga<\/b><\/p>\n

ag cur madra\u00ed ar fhuinneoga<\/b><\/p>\n

They both mean “bluffing.”<\/p>\n

Now there are some other ways to say “to bluff,” like “(a bheith) ag cluana\u00edocht” <\/b>or “dallach dubh a chur air\/uirthi, srl.” <\/b>(to bluff him, her, etc.).\u00a0 But the “cat” and “dog” phrases are certainly catchy and also intriguing.\u00a0\u00a0 Let’s look at them a little more literally:<\/p>\n

ag cur <\/b>[putting] cat <\/b>[cats, literally “of cats” but we don’t need the “of” in English] ar fhuinneoga <\/b>[on\/at windows].\u00a0 Note that while “cat” <\/b>looks like it might be singular <\/b>(“cat<\/b>,” a cat), it also means “of cats”.\u00a0 To say “putting a<\/i> cat on windows” would be:<\/p>\n

ag cur cait ar fhuinneoga<\/b>, which would probably also mean we were stretching that one cat mightily<\/p>\n

So presumably we could just say “ag cur cait ar fhuinneog<\/strong>,” but I can’t say I’ve found any useful examples of that, either. \u00a0As far as I can tell, the phrase doesn’t exist with just one cat!\u00a0 Maybe I should ask the legendary “cat ar an d\u00edon st\u00e1in te,” <\/b>probably the closest neighbor to the cat on\/at the window(s)!<\/p>\n

The phrase becomes all the more interesting when we note that dogs can be used instead of cats:<\/p>\n

ag cur madra\u00ed ar fhuinneoga<\/b>, putting dogs on windows<\/p>\n

Here it’s clearer that there’s more than one dog, since “madra\u00ed” <\/b>has an obvious plural ending (the “-\u00ed<\/b>“), unlike “cat,” <\/b>which can be translated as either “a cat” or “of cats.”<\/p>\n

Does it matter if the phrase refers to a dog or a cat?\u00a0 Apparently not!<\/p>\n

As for why the phrase says “ar fhuinneoga” <\/b>(literally “on” windows, could be translated as “at” windows), that remains a bit curious to me.\u00a0 Are we holding dogs or cats up to windows, like mirrors, so they see their reflection and get confused?\u00a0 Or do they see the room beyond and get confused because they can’t get behind the glass?\u00a0 Those seem like reasonable interpretations.\u00a0\u00a0 Bar\u00fail ar bith eile ag duine ar bith eile? <\/b><\/p>\n

One final point about windows is that we don’t usually focus on our feline and canine pets’ reactions to them.\u00a0 Mostly, especially in elementary lessons for any language, we talk about opening and closing them, as was alluded to in this blog’s title.\u00a0 Here are some examples:<\/p>\n

ag oscailt na fuinneoige<\/b>, opening the window<\/b><\/p>\n

ag oscailt na bhfuinneog<\/b>, opening the windows<\/b><\/p>\n

\u00e1 hoscailt<\/b>, opening it (referring to a feminine noun, like “window”)<\/p>\n

\u00e1 n-oscailt<\/b>, opening them <\/b><\/p>\n

ag d\u00fanadh na fuinneoige<\/b>, closing the window<\/b><\/p>\n

ag d\u00fanadh na bhfuinneog<\/b>, closing the windows<\/b><\/p>\n

\u00e1 d\u00fanadh<\/b>, closing it (referring to a feminine noun, like “window”) <\/b><\/p>\n

\u00e1 nd\u00fanadh<\/b>, closing them <\/b><\/p>\n

Well, kits, cats, dogs, windows.\u00a0\u00a0 Plenty of food for thought, with both grammar basics and fun, if off-beat, phrases.<\/p>\n

Maybe the next Irish text I read will include these cat and dog phrases for “bluffing” and give them more of a context.\u00a0 Meanwhile, while we’re still on this architecture\/engineering kick (droichid agus fuinneoga<\/b>), what’s up next?\u00a0 “Taca\u00ed crochta” do dhuine ar bith? \u00a0N\u00f3 “h\u00e1-h\u00e1nna”? <\/b><\/p>\n

Maybe, or maybe not, since I’ve been hankering to get started on “Naomh P\u00e1draig” <\/b>(aka “P\u00e1draig Naofa” <\/b>or “St. Patrick”).\u00a0 By the way, I see that a flurry of recent articles and comments have finally gotten around to emphasizing that the saint’s nickname isn’t “Patty” though that version is often seen in America, especially at this time of year.\u00a0 Even “Paddy” is a bit casual for the saint, but “Patty” is beyond beyond.\u00a0 A “patty,” in Irish, is a\u00a0“pi\u00f3ig\u00edn<\/b>” or a\u00a0“pi\u00f3ig\u00edn bheag<\/b>” (a little pie), a cooking term (as it is in English).\u00a0 So next up, shamrocks or soffits?\u00a0 We’ll see.\u00a0 SGF — R\u00f3isl\u00edn<\/b> \u00a0\u00a0<\/b><\/p>\n

nasc don phicti\u00far:\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Kitten Climbing Screen Door<\/a><\/p><\/blockquote>\n