Category Archives: language

How Many Zs in Polish Scrabble

As we settle into our academic year in Poland and deal with Polish signage everywhere, I found myself wondering how many Zs there are in Polish Scrabble sets. English Wikipedia tabulates Scrabble letter distributions in Polish and many other languages. Z is extra common in Polish because it occurs in the common digraphs cz, rz, and sz, as illustrated in the name of the American baseball player nicknamed “Scrabble”: Marc Rzepczynski. Z- also occurs as a prefix on many words. (W- and Wy- are also common prefixes.)

Here is Wikipedia’s table of Scrabble tiles in ascending order of rarity, with the rarer ones scoring more points.

  • 2 blank tiles (scoring 0 points)
  • 1 pointA ×9, I ×8, E ×7, O ×6, N ×5, Z ×5, R ×4, S ×4, W ×4
  • 2 pointsY ×4, C ×3, D ×3, K ×3, L ×3, M ×3, P ×3, T ×3
  • 3 pointsB ×2, G ×2, H ×2, J ×2, Ł ×2, U ×2
  • 5 pointsĄ ×1, Ę ×1, F ×1, Ó ×1, Ś ×1, Ż ×1
  • 6 pointsĆ ×1
  • 7 pointsŃ ×1
  • 9 pointsŹ ×1

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German Army at Ostend, 1915

From The Other Trench: The WW1 Diary and Photos of a German Officer, by Alexander Pfeifer and Philipp Cross (True Perspective Press, 2024), Kindle pp. 95-96:

We continued to Ostend at 8 o’clock the next morning, where we arrived after 10. During a morning drink, we then waited for our company which arrived an hour later. The whole army is in fact now going one by one to Ostend for a day to swim. Count von Soden was also there. After a lovely swim in the sea, we ate lunch together in the mess hall of the Marine Corps. While the company had to leave again immediately afterwards, we extra excursionists were able to stay until 5 o’clock and lay in the sun on the beach in our swimming trunks all afternoon. We then took the electric railway along the entire dunes to Blankenberge. On this trip, we saw torpedo boats, two submarines, and all the coastal fortifications. We then took the train to Bruges, where we had to wait over an hour for the express train from Ostend, which was delayed due to engine failure. It was unfortunately already so dark that we couldn’t see much of ancient Bruges. After the endless French, we had a lot of fun with the Flemish language, which you can understand quite well if you pay close attention.

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Outliers in Poland, Week 2

We arrived in Kielce in Świętokrzyskie (‘Holy Cross’) Voivodeship in (Lesser Poland) on a Friday, after a fast 2-hour highway drive south from Warsaw past lovely green countryside. We lodged temporarily in Jan Kochanowski University’s welcome center dorm while we looked for a local apartment. A very helpful recent graduate helped us navigate the Otodom real estate site and called to line up three possible sites to visit the following week. We lucked out with a spacious, fully furnished apartment in the center of town that had been rented out as an AirB&B. The owner was happy to have a ten-month rental by an older couple, and we signed the lease on the Friday before we left for a weekend language-teachers conference in Łódź.

The welcome center dorm had no cooking facilities, but just up the street were four grocery stores: a large Polish-owned Lewiatan, a German-owned Lidl, a smaller Portuguese-owned Biedronka (“Ladybug”), and a tiny Żabka (“Froglet”). The last is Poland’s ubiquitous convenience chain, one of the few stores open on Sundays.

Kielce is a very walkable city, but is also well served by buses. We first took a bus ride to the main terminal by the train station, where we found out that bus rides are free for anyone over 70. (The age limit may differ in other Polish cities.) We also see lots of families with children on the streets. There are at least two large, enclosed shopping malls (Galleria) within walkable range, with many international brands. Our apartment is near the intersection of the Silnica River and the long Sienkiewicza pedestrian mall that runs from the train station to the top of the hill. Across the river is a line of nicer restaurants, including one featuring food and wine from Georgia.

I’m still very tongue-tied in conversation, but I’m recognizing lots of words on signage. For instance, I correctly guessed that nieruchomość ‘real estate’ literally translates into ‘not-moving-ness’ (Fr. immobilier), after having seen many street signs warning pedestrians about Strefa Ruchu (traffic zone) driveways and parking lots.

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Outliers in Poland, Week 1

Last Monday, the Faroutliers arrived in Warsaw. We flew United Airlines on the first legs from BWI to ORD (!) to FRA(nkfort), then I flew the last leg to WA(rsa)W on Poland’s Lot airways while my wife arrived on a later United flight.  My Lot plane was a long, narrow Embraer, which perhaps didn’t have enough room for my second large checked bag of winter clothes and other things we wouldn’t need until we find a place to rent. I filed a claim at Lot’s lost baggage office and they delivered the bag to our hotel a day later.

We were lodged at the fancy Presidential Hotel in the center of the city, across the street from Warszawa Centralna train station, with a good view of the Stalinist-era Palace of Culture and Science. After a day of rest to mitigate severe jetlag, my wife went off to attend orientations for her yearlong teaching position, and I took a long walk down to the Wistula River, taking more photos of Polish signage than of the river itself.

Among the most frequent words on airport signage were Zakaz (Verboten, Prohibited, 禁止) and Uwaga (Achtung, Attention, 注意). After months of Polish self-study, I could recognize many words, but cannot converse easily at all yet. I started with Duolingo, but its lack of any grammatical explanations left me frustrated, especially, for instance, given the expanded role of the genitive case to cover not just partitive (like French du vin), but negative and irrealis nouns, as well (like things you don’t have, or that you need or want). I turned to Youtube, which has many, many Polish lessons on various topics. Among the clearest grammatical explanations for English speakers I found are those at Learn Polish with Monika.

On our last free day in Warsaw, we walked to and then through the very impressive POLIN Museum of the History of Polish Jews, next to which is a monument and square dedicated to Willy Brandt, respectively labeled Pomnik Willy’ego Brandta and Skwer Willy’ego Brandta. We walked back along aleja Jana Pawła II (John Paul II Avenue, a bit like Warsaw’s Fifth Avenue, it seemed). I haven’t yet found out what that avenue was called before it was renamed for the Pope.

Our last evening in Warsaw we found ourselves next to a table with a young Romanian-speaking couple who were enjoying a multicourse meal. I couldn’t resist interrupting them between courses, and we had a long, pleasant conversation in Romanian and English. Our Romania stories echoed those their parents and grandparents had told them about the old days.

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Polish Language Exhibit in Osaka

Culture.Pl announces EXPO 2025 in Osaka: Interactive Exhibition about the Polish Language… the World’s First Using AI, running October 3-23.

Following the international success of ‘Quarks, Elephants & Pierogi: Poland in 100 Words’ – an unconventional book about the Polish language – a remarkable exhibition based on its pages will soon arrive back in Japan. The seventh edition of the exhibition will open on 3 October 2025 at Knowledge Capital in central Osaka, this time utilising the potential of artificial intelligence for the first time.

Thanks to a collaboration between the Adam Mickiewicz Institute, the Knowledge Capital Association, and Atsuhiko Yasuda (XOOMS co. ltd.), the exhibition will be enhanced with an AI module that enables visitors to engage in dialogue with artificial intelligence inspired by the book’s content. This innovation, made possible by close Polish-Japanese collaboration, allows visitors to experience ‘The Amazing Land of Quarks, Elephants & Pierogi’ – previously shown at EXPO 2020 in Dubai, London, and Basel – in an entirely new way. The project is part of Po!landポ!ランド, a series of events organised by the Adam Mickiewicz Institute and funded by the Polish Ministry of Culture and National Heritage. It is part of the cultural programme accompanying Poland’s participation in the World Expo 2025, coordinated by the Polish Investment and Trade Agency.


Since its 2018 premiere, the bestselling Quarks, Elephants & Pierogi: Poland in 100 Words has won praise from readers and media outlets around the world. Designed for an international audience, the book presents 100 words that best capture Polish culture, history and everyday life in an original, accessible and humorous way.

The texts, written by Mikołaj Gliński, Matthew Davies and Adam Żuławski, are full of witty observations, linguistic curiosities and cultural references, while its distinctive visual style was created by painter and illustrator Magda Burdzyńska.

The exhibition ‘The Amazing Land of Quarks, Elephants & Pierogi’ continues the success of the book, creating a fascinating, multidimensional story about the Polish language. The exposition combines illustrations inspired by the publication with various artistic forms – from embroidery, textiles and sculptures, to neon lights and video animations – all accompanied by an original sound installation.

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Korean POWs in Hawaiʻi, 1940s

From Most Prisoners In Hawaiʻi’s WWII Internment Camp Were Korean, by Kirsten Downey (Honolulu: Civil Beat, 5 September 2025). While hundreds of Japanese-Americans were the first held at Honouliuli, many more Koreans followed:

The Honouliuli internment camp in central O’ahu is best known in Hawaiʻi as the place some 400 Japanese Americans were detained during World War II.

But new research is bringing to light the fact that Koreans were the largest single population group there.

In fact, there were seven times as many Koreans held there as Japanese Americans. Of the 4,000 people held, about 2,700 were Korean, captured elsewhere and brought to Hawaiʻi, and about 400 were Japanese Americans who had been living and working in Hawaiʻi when the war broke out.

The Koreans were prisoners of war who fell into American hands as U.S. forces made their way across Oceania fighting Japanese imperial forces, who had seized lands all across the Pacific, including in China, the Philippines, the Dutch East Indies (now Indonesia) and French Indochina (now Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos), Guam, Hong Kong and Singapore.

Most of the Koreans were in fact doubly prisoners: The Japanese, who had invaded and conquered Korea in the early 1900s, had conscripted many of them against their will. Dragooned by the Japanese, they then ended up American prisoners when the Japanese garrisons fell.

The little-known fact that Koreans made up the lion’s share of residents at the internment camp is becoming the focus of new academic scrutiny and discussion.

Korean Prisoners Identified

Last year, researchers at the University of Hawaiʻi’s Center for Oral History began a new collaboration with the National Park Service to collect accounts from the Korean or Korean American descendants of people who were detained at the camp or who worked there to incorporate this new information into current understanding and historical interpretation.

This work builds on the scholarship of Duk Hee Lee Murabayashi, president of the Korean Immigration Research Institute in Hawaiʻi, and Professor Yong-ho Ch’oe, who taught Korean history at the University of Hawaiʻi and was the author of a book about Korean immigration to Hawaiʻi called “From the Land of Hibiscus: Koreans in Hawai‘i, 1903–1950.” Ch’oe died last year.

Murabayashi has identified the 2,700 Koreans held at Honouliuli, providing their names and home locations, which is helping people identify their deceased relatives.

‘A Complete Shock’

The fact that so many Koreans were present in the camp during World War II has come as a surprise even to the Korean community.

“Until a few months ago, I certainly did not know about Koreans who, during World War II, ended up as prisoners of war right here in Hawaiʻi at Honouliuli Internment Camp,” said David Suh, president of the United Korean Association of Hawaiʻi, at a recent talk hosted by the park.

“It came to me as a complete shock,” said Edward Shultz, former director of the Center for Korean Studies at the University of Hawaiʻi and the immediate past president of the Korean American Foundation.

As the war progressed and American forces began advancing on Japanese-controlled strongholds, they took a number of Koreans into custody as prisoners of war, bringing them to the internment camp at Honouliuli. According to the National Park Service, hundreds arrived after each battle in the Pacific, including from Guam, Peleliu, Tinian and Palau, sometimes intermingled with Japanese prisoners.

Following the 1944 battle in Saipan, the NPS reported, about 350 Koreans arrived, all noncombatants, many with bullet and slash wounds. The bullet wounds came from the American troops, but the Koreans also appeared to have been victims of sword attacks by Japanese, suggesting they suffered systematic abuse.

Relations between the Koreans and the Japanese Americans at the camp became at times so strained that they had to be kept separate from each other, said Professor Alan Rosenfeld, the associate vice president of academic programs and policy at the University of Hawaiʻi, who has spent years studying Honouliuli.

“There are archival incidents of Koreans and Japanese fighting,” said Mary Kunmi Yu Danico, director of the University of Hawaiʻi’s Center for Oral History, who is leading the project to gather oral histories of the descendants of people who lived or worked at the camp.

Word began to seep out in Hawaiʻi that Koreans were there, probably because the American military hired some local Korean Americans to serve as translators and guards at the camp.

The first published report that Koreans were living at Honouliuli came in the pages of the Methodist Church bulletin in 1944, according to Murayabushi [Murabayashi!]. Church leaders had apparently been told that many Korean men in their 20s and 30s were being held there, and that they were bored and lonely. The first notice about their existence came when the church asked if anyone had spare musical instruments they would be willing to donate so the men could entertain themselves.

Later, church leaders began organizing an outreach to them, delivering Christmas gifts and arranging to loan them books.

That means there may be people living in Hawaiʻi today who recall those years and those interactions. Murayabushi [Murabayashi!], Danico and Ogura are asking people to come forward to share those memories.

For an earlier blogpost about Korean POWs in WW2, see Koreans, Taiwanese, and Okinawans Among Japanese POWs. See also Origins of Korean POWs in Hawaii, excerpted from an article by the late Yong-ho Ch’oe, mentioned above. Prof. Ch’oe was a fine scholar and a kind gentleman.

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Cabral’s Armada to India in 1500

From Conquerors: How Portugal Forged the First Global Empire, by Roger Crowley (Random House, 2015), Kindle pp. 85-87:

JUST SIX MONTHS AFTER Gama’s return, a vastly larger fleet was ready to depart from the shores of Belém: thirteen ships, twelve hundred men, and a capital investment by Florentine and Genoese bankers, now eager to participate in the opportunities of the Indies. Manuel could be irresolute, easily swayed, and perverse, but the year 1500 resounded with messianic portents, the eyes of Europe were turning toward Lisbon, and this new armada, led by the fidalgo Pedro Álvares Cabral as captain-major, was a swift follow-up aimed at winning material advantages and the crusading admiration of the Catholic world. Cabral’s expedition marked the shift from reconnaissance to commerce and then conquest. In the first five years of the sixteenth century, Manuel would dispatch a volley of overlapping fleets of increasing size, eighty-one ships in all, to ensure success in a life-and-death struggle for a permanent position in the Indian Ocean. It was a supreme national effort that called on all the available resources of manpower, shipbuilding, material provision, and strategic vision to exploit a window of opportunity before Spain could react. In the process, the Portuguese took both Europe and the peoples of the Indies by complete surprise.

Cabral was able to apply all the knowledge gained from Gama’s voyage. The timing of departure was no longer decided by the auspicious calculations of court astrologers but by the rhythm of the monsoon. The route was to follow the looping westward sweep undertaken by the ships in 1497, and to draw on the experience of pilots and captains such as Pêro Escobar, Nicholas Coelho, who had accompanied Gama, and Bartolomeu Dias himself. Cabral’s fleet carried back Malayalam-speaking Indians who had been taught Portuguese, with the aim of cutting out the Arabic-speaking middlemen. The Jewish convert Gaspar da Gama was aboard, knowledgeable about the intricate politics of the Malabar Coast, and another converted Jew, Master John, Dom Manuel’s physician, sailed as astronomer to the fleet, with the duty of studying the stars of the Southern Hemisphere for the purposes of future navigation. After the hideous embarrassment of the gifts offered at Calicut, Cabral carried choice items to entrance the samudri. It appears that the Portuguese persisted in believing that the samudri was a Christian king, albeit of an unorthodox kind, and in accord with the remit of the pope, a delegation of Franciscan friars accompanied the expedition to correct his errors, so that “the Indians…might more completely have instruction in our faith and might be indoctrinated and taught in matters pertaining to it, as befits the service of God and the salvation of their souls.”

Equally important was the commercial mission. The personnel, secretarial resources, and goods to establish a trading post in Calicut accompanied the expedition. With the cautionary example of the failures of the previous voyage, calculated attempts were made to load wares that might be attractive to the Malabar Indians. These included coral, copper, vermilion pigment, mercury, fine and coarse cloth, velvets, satins, and damasks in a whole range of colors, and gold coins. A highly experienced factor, Ayres Corrêa, who spoke Arabic, headed up this commercial initiative, supported by a team of clerks and secretaries to keep records and accounts. These literate subordinates—such as Pêro Vaz de Caminha, who wrote the first account of Brazil—provided some of the most riveting, and sometimes heartbreaking, narratives of the deeds of the Portuguese in the years ahead.

Cabral himself was no seaman, rather a diplomat with a carefully framed set of instructions, some of which had been drawn up by Gama to smooth the troubled waters in the wake of his expedition to Calicut and to establish peaceful and lucrative relations with the “Christian” samudri. Vastly better informed than his predecessor, Cabral could consult this multi-page document, which contained branching options in the case of a whole range of eventualities. It also directed him to take peremptory and high-handed action against perceived enemies that was likely to lead to trouble.

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Indian Ocean Trade Before 1400

From Conquerors: How Portugal Forged the First Global Empire, by Roger Crowley (Random House, 2015), Kindle pp. 51-53:

The Indian Ocean, thirty times the size of the Mediterranean, is shaped like an enormous M, with India as its central V. It is flanked on its western edge by the arid shores of the Arabian Peninsula and the long Swahili coast of East Africa; on its east, the barrier islands of Java and Sumatra and the blunt end of Western Australia separate it from the Pacific; to the south run the cold and violent waters of the Antarctic. The timing and trade routes of everything that moved across its surface in the age of sail were dictated by the metronomic rhythm of the monsoon winds, one of the great meteorological dramas of the planet, by whose seasonal fluctuations and reversals, like the operation of a series of intermeshing cogs, goods could be moved across great stretches of the globe. The traditional ship that plied the waters of the western Indian Ocean was the dhow—that is, any of a large family of long, thin vessels with triangular lateen sails of various sizes and regional designs, ranging from coastal craft of between five and fifteen tons up to oceangoing ships of several hundred tons that could overtop Gama’s carracks. Historically, these were sewn vessels, held together by coir ropes, made from coconut fiber without the use of nails.

Unlike Columbus, the Portuguese had not burst into silent seas. For thousands of years, the Indian Ocean had been the crossroads of the world’s trade, shifting goods across a vast space from Canton to Cairo, Burma to Baghdad, through a complex interlocking of trading systems, maritime styles, cultures and religions, and a series of hubs: Malacca, on the Malay Peninsula, larger than Venice, for goods from China and the farther spice islands; Calicut, on the west coast of India, for pepper; Ormuz, gateway to the Persian Gulf and Baghdad; Aden, at the entrance to the Red Sea and the routes to Cairo, the nerve center of the Islamic world. Scores of other small city-states dotted its shores. It dispatched gold, black slaves, and mangrove poles from Africa, incense and dates from Arabia, bullion from Europe, horses from Persia, opium from Egypt, porcelain from China, war elephants from Ceylon, rice from Bengal, sulfur from Sumatra, nutmeg from the Moluccas, diamonds from the Deccan Plateau, cotton cloth from Gujarat. No one had a monopoly in this terrain—it was too extensive and complex, and the great continental powers of Asia left the sea to the merchants. There was small-scale piracy but there were no protectionist war fleets, and little notion of territorial waters prevailed; the star fleets of the Ming dynasty, the one maritime superpower, had advanced and withdrawn. It constituted a vast and comparatively peaceful free-trade zone: over half the world’s wealth passed through its waters in a commercial commonwealth that was fragmented between many players. “God,” it was said, “had given the sea in common.”

This was the world of Sindbad. Its key merchant groups, distributed thinly around its shores, from the palm-fringed beaches of East Africa to the spice islands of the East Indies, were largely Muslims. Islam had been spread, not at the point of a sword, but by missionaries and merchants from the deck of a dhow. This was a polyethnic world, in which trade depended on social and cultural interaction, long-range migration, and a measure of mutual accommodation among Islam, Hinduism, and Buddhism, local Christians and Jews; it was richer, more deeply layered and complex than the Portuguese could initially grasp. Their mindset was defined by the assumption of monopoly trading rights, as developed on the west coasts of Africa and by holy war in Morocco. The existence of Hinduism appears to have been occluded, and their default position when checked was aggression: hostage taking and the lighted taper ever ready at the touchhole of a bombard. They broke into this sea with their fast-firing, ship-mounted cannons, a player from outside the rules. The vessels they would encounter in the Indian Ocean lacked any comparable defenses.

It became immediately apparent as Gama’s ships approached the town of Mozambique that this was different from the Africa of their previous experience. The houses, thatched with straw, were well built; they could glimpse minarets and wooden mosques. The people, evidently Muslim merchants richly dressed in caftans fringed with silk and embroidered with gold, were urban Arabic speakers with whom their translators could communicate. The welcome was unusually friendly. “They came immediately on board with as much confidence as if they were long acquainted and entered into familiar conversation.” For the first time the Portuguese heard news of the world they had come to find. Through the interpreters they learned of the trade of the “white Muslims”—merchants from the Arabian Peninsula; there were four of their vessels in the harbor, bringing “gold, silver, cloves, pepper, ginger and silver rings…pearls, jewels and rubies.” “Further on, where we were going,” the anonymous writer added with a justifiable note of incredulity, “they abounded, and…precious stones, pearls and spices were so plentiful that there was no need to purchase them as they could be collected in baskets.” This heady vision of wealth was encouraging enough; but they also learned of a large presence of Christians along the coast and that “Prester John resided not far from this place; that he held many cities along the coast, and that the inhabitants of those cities were great merchants and owned big ships.” Whatever might have been lost in translation, “we cried with joy and prayed God to grant us health, so that we might behold what we so much desired.”

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Preparing Vasco da Gama’s Voyage

From Conquerors: How Portugal Forged the First Global Empire, by Roger Crowley (Random House, 2015), Kindle pp. 34-40:

What Münzer witnessed [in 1497] was not just a glimpse of an exotic world beyond the earth’s curve but the industrial infrastructure of shipbuilding, seafaring provision, and arsenal facilities that gave Portugal its maritime punch. He saw

an enormous workshop with many furnaces where they make anchors, colubrinas [cannons] and so on, and everything necessary for the sea. There were so many blackened workers around the furnaces that we thought ourselves to be among the Cyclops in the cave of Vulcan. Afterward we saw in four other buildings innumerable very large and superb colubrinas, and also throwing weapons, javelins, shields, breastplates, mortars, hand guns, bows, lances—all very well made and in great abundance…and what enormous quantities of lead, copper, saltpetre and sulfur!

The ability to produce high-quality bronze cannons and techniques for deploying them effectively at sea had probably been developed by the energetic King João, whose inquisitive mind and wide-ranging interests included practical experiments in shipborne artillery. He had developed the use of large bombards on caravels and carried out test firings to determine their most effective use on the decks of pitching ships. The solution was to fire the guns horizontally at water level; any higher and the likelihood was that the shots would whistle overhead. In some cases, if the guns were positioned sufficiently low down in the bows, the cannonballs could be made to ricochet off the surface of the water, thus increasing their range. The Portuguese also developed berços, lightweight breech-loaded bronze swivel guns, which could be carried by ship’s boats and had the advantage over the conventional muzzle-loaders in their rate of fire—up to twenty shots an hour. The superiority of their artillery, which was augmented by recruitment of German and Flemish cannon founders and gunners, was to prove a telling advantage in the events about to unfold.

The expedition in prospect was modest in scale but carefully prepared. It was based on decades of incremental learning. All the skill and knowledge acquired over many years in ship design, navigation, and provision for Atlantic voyages went into building two stout ships, and [King] Manuel drew on a talented generation of practical experience in their construction. The caravel had been the agent and instrument of all this exploration, ideal for nosing up tropical rivers and battling back up the African coast against the wind, but horribly uncomfortable on long voyages across huge seas. Dias’s rounding of the Cape had exposed their operational limits: the crews would go no farther.

It was Dias who was charged with designing and overseeing the construction of two stout carracks, the sailing ships the Portuguese called naus, to lead the voyage. The brief was clear: they had to be durable enough to withstand the pounding seas of the southern Atlantic; roomy enough to accommodate and provision the crews better than the rolling decks of a caravel; small enough to maneuver in shallows and harbors. The ships under construction on the banks, their frameworks chocked up by wooden scaffolding, had tubby rounded hulls, high sides, a tall aftercastle, and three masts; they were nevertheless of shallow draft, and not outsized. They were about eighty feet long, and each probably weighed about 100 to 120 tons. Their square sails made them less maneuverable in a contrary wind; the compensation was their sturdiness against the unpredictable battering of unknown seas. A supply ship, intended to be broken up near the Cape, was also constructed.

It seems that no expense was spared in the construction or provisioning of these ships, or the recruitment and payment of the crews. “They were built by excellent masters and workmen, with strong nails and wood,” remembered the mariner Duarte Pacheco Pereira.

Each ship had three sets of sails and anchors and three or four times as much other tackle and rigging as was usual. The cooperage of the casks, pipes and barrels for wine, water, vinegar and oil was strengthened with many hoops of iron. The provisions of bread, wine, flour, meat, vegetables, medicines, and likewise of arms and ammunition, were also in excess of what was needed for such a voyage. The best and most skillful pilots and mariners in Portugal were sent on this voyage, and they received, besides other favors, salaries higher than those of any seamen of other countries. The money spent on the few ships of this expedition was so great that I will not go into detail for fear of not being believed.

The barrels rolled up the gangplanks on the shores of the dockyard contained sufficient food for three years. Gama received two thousand gold cruzados for the venture, a huge sum; his brother Paulo, the same. The seamen’s wages were raised, and some of the money paid in advance to support their families. It was perhaps a recognition that many of them would not be coming back. No detail was omitted. The ships carried the best navigational aids available: as well as sounding leads and hourglasses, astrolabes and the most up-to-date maps—and possibly copies of Abraham Zacuto’s recently printed tables for determining latitudes from the height of the sun. Twenty cannons were hoisted aboard, both large bombards and the smaller breech-loaded berços, along with plentiful supplies of gunpowder tightly sealed against the sea air and quantities of cannonballs. The skilled craftsmen—carpenters, caulkers, forgers of iron, and barrelmakers—who would ensure the security of the ships were recruited in pairs, in case death thinned out their ranks. There were interpreters to speak Bantu and Arabic; musicians to lead sea chanteys and blow ceremonial fanfares; gunners and men-at-arms and skilled seamen, supported by an underclass of “deck fodder.” These comprised African slaves, orphans, converted Jews, and convicted men, enrolled for the menial heavy work: hauling on ropes, raising anchors and sails, pumping out the bilges. The convicts were particularly expendable; they had been released from prison specifically to be put ashore to make first inquiries on uncharted and potentially hostile coasts; priests also went, to lead the prayers and consign the souls of the dead to the sea with a Christian burial.

There were four ships in all: the two carracks, christened São Gabriel and São Rafael after the archangels, according to a vow made by King João before his death; with them went a caravel, the Bérrio, and the two-hundred-ton supply ship. Gama called on seamen he knew and relatives he could trust, to lessen the possibility of dissent in a tightly knit expedition. These included his brother Paulo, commander of the Rafael, and two Gama cousins. His pilots and leading seamen were the most experienced of the age. They included Pêro de Alenquer and Nicholas Coelho, who had rounded the cape with Bartolomeu Dias, and Dias’s own brother Diogo. Another pilot, Pêro Escobar, whose name was carved at the Yellala Falls, had been a navigator with Diogo Cão. Bartolomeu Dias was also scheduled to accompany the expedition on the first leg of the voyage in a ship bound for the Guinea coast.

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Poland-Romania Cultural Season, 2025

Culture.pl has been celebrating a Poland-Romania Cultural Season 2024-2025 with many postings on diverse topics.

The Poland-Romania Cultural Season 2024-2025 is being announced in Warsaw and Bucharest on March 3rd for a reason. In a joint decision by both countries last year, the date now marks the celebration of Polish-Romanian Solidarity Day, commemorating the signing of their first defensive alliance in 1921. That document sealed the bonds of friendship that long connected both countries and its leaders – Józef Piłsudski and the Romanian royal family of King Ferdinand and his wife Maria. Tangible later evidence of these relations was the Romanian reception in September 1939 of tens of thousands of Polish refugees, as well as the assistance given in hiding Poland’s gold reserves and the Jagiellonian tapestries, which found safe refuge in Romania.

Here’s a snippet from one contribution by Mikołaj Gliński, who writes on language-related topics. He titles it Shared Roads.

Often called a ‘Romanic island in a Slavic sea’, Romania and the Romanian language have been under a variety of cultural influences since their inception. Romanian, a Romance language, has absorbed a considerable number of Slavic elements – according to some estimates, as much as 20% of the Romanian vocabulary has Slavic roots.

To Polish or Slavic eyes, certain words in Romanian may look familiar:

  • drag (dear) and dragoste (love) both remind us of ‘drogi’ (dear)
  • glas (voice) looks similar to ‘głos’, its Polish equivalent
  • a iubi (to love) has hints of the Polish word ‘lubić’, meaning ‘to like’
  • rai (paradise) sounds just like the Polish word ‘raj’
  • prieten (friend) has echoes of ‘przyjaciel’
  • pivniță [corrected] (cellar) is very similar to ‘piwnica’
  • coasă (scythe) is like an accented ‘kosa’
  • plug (plow) is one letter off ‘pług’

Many were adopted early in the language’s development, likely from Old Church Slavonic and its local adaptations.

From the 15th to the early 18th centuries, Romanian (especially in so-called Moldavian-Slavonic documents) borrowed eagerly and directly from Polish. Words like pan (a noble title), zlot (gold coin), basta (tower), and a rocosi (to rebel) entered the language. However, most did not survive due to the 19th-century re-Romanisation reforms, which aimed to purge Romanian of foreign elements, replacing them with Romance neologisms.

But a handful of Polonisms from that era did survive and still remain today. According to Henryk Misterski, a professor specialising in Romania, they are komornik (bailiff), pan, stolnik (carpentry), sołtys (village mayor), szafran (saffron), and złoty (golden). Other terms, like sanie (sled) and lopată (shovel), also persist.

Meanwhile Romanians can easily recognise many Carpathian pastoral terms in Polish, such as watra (hearth) and bryndza (a type of mountain cheese). These entered Polish via the language used by Wallachian shepherds grazing their animals in the Carpathians.

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