Comme ci, comme ca
Filed Under April 2007, columns | 8 Comments
Dear Word Detective: My mother (a full blooded Italian) used to say “come si come sa” (not sure of spelling), and I never knew what that meant. I’ve searched everywhere to no avail. Could you please enlighten me? — Clint.
Take a seat, Clint. I have some possibly rather shocking news. Based on what you’ve told me, there are serious doubts about your mother’s supposed Italian heritage. Believe me, I know just how you feel. For years I presumed I was German because people in my family routinely said “Gesundheit” whenever someone sneezed. It wasn’t until I discovered my dislike of sauerkraut and affinity for cheese on toast that I realized I must be largely Welsh. But I adapted to the news quite well, and now I can quote Dylan Thomas on nearly any occasion (”Time held me green and hey, how about those Mets?”), so I’m sure you’ll be fine.
Anyway, I hope this doesn’t affect your security clearance, but it sounds to me like you’re actually at least part French. “Comme ci, comme ca” (pronounced “kohm see, kohm sah”) is a French phrase meaning, literally, “like this, like that.” In common usage, it means “so so” or “fair to middling,” a term of mild but qualified (and definitely lukewarm) approval, as in “The restaurant got a rave in the Times, but the pan-seared Twinkies the reviewer loved so much were definitely comme si, comme sa.” That which is “comme si, comme sa” is barely adequate, better than nothing but not by much. To use the phrase properly, by the way, you’ll need to extend your palm just above your waist and tilt it from side to side while saying “comme si, comme sa.”
Incidentally, to be absolutely serious for a moment, the fact that your mother used the phrase doesn’t mean that she even knew it was French. While “comme ci, comme ca” is definitely French in origin, it has been in common use in English for long enough (just after World War II, in fact) that it is now considered an established English phrase. Judging by the timing of its appearance in English publications, “comme ci, comme ca” was probably popularized by American GIs returning from service in France.
So, now that you’re in touch with your inner French person, why not sprinkle your speech with a few more “bon mots”? A good French phrasebook will have your friends either green with envy or dialing the funny farm in no time. “Chacon son gout” (shac-un son goo) is a good one, the French equivalent of “tastes vary” or “whatever floats your boat.” But my favorite, for which there is no real English equivalent, is “esprit d’escalier” (literally “wit of the staircase”), meaning the perfect witty reply that pops into your mind just after the opportunity to say it has passed.
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Horse Latitudes
Filed Under April 2007, columns | 5 Comments
Dear Word Detective: I found the following at geography.about.com: “Between about 30 to 35 degrees north and 30 to 35 degrees south of the equator lies the region known as the ‘horse latitudes’ or the subtropical high. This region of subsiding dry air and high pressure results in weak winds. Tradition states that sailors gave the region of the subtropical high the name ‘horse latitudes’ because ships relying on wind power stalled; fearful of running out of food and water, sailors threw their horses and cattle overboard to save on provisions. (It’s a puzzle why sailors would not have eaten the animals instead of throwing them overboard.) The Oxford English Dictionary claims the origin of the term ‘uncertain.’” I wonder why they wouldn’t eat the doomed animals as well. Do you have any more info? Can you corroborate the throwing of livestock overboard theory? — Sonja.
No, but I can verify that the late Jim Morrison once wrote a poem called “Horse Latitudes” and that a song derived therefrom appeared on the Doors’ “Strange Days” album. Let’s take a little listen: “When the still sea conspires an armor/And her sullen and aborted currents breed tiny monsters/True sailing is dead/Awkward instant/And the first animal is jettisoned/Legs furiously pumping/Their stiff green gallop/And heads bob up/Poise/Delicate/Pause/Consent/In mute nostril agony/Carefully refined/And sealed over.”
Like wow. I think “Mute Nostril Agony” would make a great band name, don’t you?
The only thing that makes the preceding snarkiness even marginally relevant, I must admit, is that Morrison apparently wrote that after seeing an illustration of horses being thrown overboard in high school. (Morrison was the one in high school, of course, not the horses. Horses didn’t go to high school back then.) In any case, Jim’s immortal lyrics are an indication of how widespread the “Golly, we’re becalmed, better drown the horses” theory of “horse latitudes” is today. Theories of motive, however, vary. Some say the hayburners were jettisoned to save water and/or food, some say they were tossed to lighten the ship and make the best of what little wind there was. Neither theory is convincing, and, since horsemeat is still consumed by many folks in parts of Europe, the “saving food” angle makes no sense at all.
Another theory, that “horse latitudes” derives from the Spanish “El Golfo de las Yeguas” (the Sea of Mares) makes a bit more sense. Originally applied to the route between Spain and the Canary Islands, the name arose, depending on which story one believes, either because the ocean winds in that region were unpredictable (supposedly like a female horse), or because breeding mares shipped to the Canaries had a high fatality rate in transit due to the arduous conditions of the trip. If the latter is true, and horses did indeed die of heat or thirst while ships were becalmed elsewhere in the “horse latitudes,” the name could well have spread across the entire ocean.
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