Often in my posts, I mention the differences between the Eastern and Western Armenian dialects. Notably, there is a variation in pronunciation. To an Armenian speaker, these are immediately apparent.
In my case, upon my arrival in Yerevan, I saw the driver waiting for me holding a sign that read “Rupina Shaltchian” in Western Armenian. Since then, the spelling of my name has led to some interesting and loud “conversations.” Needless to say, the pronunciation of the Armenian letters is a source of contention.
The problem stems from the fact that the Armenian alphabet has 38 letters, and while Eastern Armenian (“Arevelahayeren”) pronounces each letter differently, Western Armenian (“Arevmdahayeren”) doesn’t. As children learning Western Armenian, we are taught that there are differences between letters, that some are “harder” whereas others are “softer.” But this has no practical significance because those variations are not observed.
The letters “p” and “b” serve as a perfect illustration. In both Eastern and Western Armenian, “փ" is “p.” So far, so good. Then, there is “բ,” which Eastern Armenian pronounces “b” and Western Armenian as “p,” though we are taught that it’s technically different than “փ” (also “p”). Finally, “պ” in Eastern Armenian is pronounced somewhere between a “p” and a “b” – a soft “b,” if you will. The same letter in Western Armenian is a hard “b.” In other words, in practice, Western Armenian has only 2 sounds despite having 3 letters.
Consequently, Eastern Armenian writers know how to spell a word as soon as it is spoken. But Western Armenians often struggle with the “which ‘p’ do I use” question. Now, if it were just a “p” and “b” issue, it wouldn’t be so bad. Unfortunately, there are similar issues with other sounds, such as “k” and “g”, “t” and “d” and “tch” and “dj.” This is how I ended up as “Rupina Shaltchian.”
Aside from pronunciation, verbs are conjugated differently. I couldn’t even begin to describe these differences. But a good example is the addition of the ending “gor” to verbs in Western Armenian. We are officially taught in school not to do this, because it’s not Armenian. But that’s just how we speak. I use the “gor” ending in 99% of my sentences. The funny thing is that, when the Persian-Armenian girl I work with asked me what “gor” means, and I had nothing to tell her.
There are also some words that are completely different. Here is a short list of common offenders. Interestingly, some of the words are used in both dialects but mean different things. Those words are marked with **.
English | Eastern Armenian | Western Armenian |
Clothes | Shor **in W. Arm, this word means diaper! | Hakoosd |
Again | Elee | Noren |
How | Vonts | Eenchbes |
Egg | Dzoo | Havgit |
Car | Mekena | Inknasharj |
Telephone | Herakhos | Heratsayn |
To Sleep | Knel **in W. Arm, this word means buy | Bargeel |
To Make | Sarkel | Shinel ** in E. Arm, this is slang for having sex! The word often generates giggles when W. Arm. Speakers use it. Unfortunately, W. Arm makes use of this word a lot. |
Then let’s throw in some Russian just for fun.
Russian Word (more or less) | Proper Armenian Word | In English |
Khee | Inchoo | Why |
Vabshe | Entanrabes | Usually, often |
Privet | Parev (or Barev in E. Arm) | Hello |
Spasiba | Shenorhagalem | Thank you |
Paga | Tsedesutyun | Goodbye |
How about some Turkish? By far the most commonly used Turkish word is “aziz.” It means “dear.” The funny thing is that they call people “aziz jan.” “Jan” in Armenian also means dear. So when you hear “aziz jan,” it means “dear dear.”
Don’t leave out the French! “Merci” is commonly used to say thank you. “Douche” is used for shower (not the bathing, but the actual location where one bathes). And let’s not forget the word for Yerevan’s big weekend market, vernissage, which in French means exhibition (usually for art).
Just to complicate things further, let’s add a few more things to the mix. Many Spyurkahays (Armenians whose origins are from outside Armenia) come from Arab-speaking countries and also mix Arabic. Most obviously, we end up with words like “tayeeb” (okay) and “yani” (it means). Speaking of Spyurkahays, there are a lot of Barsgahays (Persian-Armenians) in Yerevan. I generally like them a lot. It’s always interesting to listen to them because they sing-song their words. But when they speak to each other in “Armenian,” it’s like I am learning to speak again!
In reality, I think half the time, we don’t even know what language we are speaking! Words we think are Armenian are actually Turkish, Arabic or Russian. On my first trip to Armenia, I wanted to order potatoes. I used the word “kednakhentsor,” and the waiter had no idea what I was saying! He told me they had “kartoshka.” I asked him to please speak to me in Armenian. He responded that he was speaking Armenian! But “kartofil” or “kartoshka” is Russian for potato. This happens incessantly. So I have invested in a small Armenian-English dictionary, which I now use to just look up the words myself!
The Language Barrier in Action
I am usually very wary of new hairdressers. But I’ve been in Armenia for several weeks now, and I was getting desperate for a color and a cut. My friend EF was a hairdresser in Germany at one time. She always tells me not to worry because hair grows back. With her voice in my head, I took the risk.
I have a friend whose hair always looks fabulous, so I decided to try her girl. The hairdresser’s name was Anna, and she was very nice. But communication was sort of a problem. I asked her for the same haircut, but trimmed. She took her time when she was cutting my hair, and I appreciated her attention to detail. But when I saw how she was going to cut the bangs, I tried to explain how my hairdresser does it in the US. She responded in Russian (I think) and continued cutting. I am sure she thought she was speaking in Armenian. I decided to let it be.
What did I walk out with? A sort of shag-looking cut with bangs. I think the cut is cute. I am just not so sure about the bangs. As the day is progressing, the bangs are starting to more naturally fall into place. But it’s different than anything I’ve had in a long time. Maybe it will grow on me. Thankfully, it only cost 7,000 AMD (which is about $19.40) for cutting, coloring, and straightening. I really can’t complain.
I call it the Language Barrier Haircut. What do you think?
Very cute. Thank you!
ReplyDelete