The influences of the English language on other world languages are many and varied. It seems to seep its way into other languages, including Dutch, in a lot of surprising and unexpected ways -- though really it makes sense, given the geo-political climate of the last couple of centuries.

But did you know that the Dutch language has also left its distinct marks on the English language through the years?

It never really occurred to me, of course, until I picked up Dutch as my second language; however, I believe there are several distinct vestigial traces of Dutch in contemporary English phraseology. Take, for instance, the word "Boss." Did you know that no other language had developed a word for a person in a position of authority, which could also be used as a form of address, until the Dutch came up with the word "Baas?" It seems so natural now; but if it weren't for the Dutch, we'd probably all be referring to our bosses as "Sir", or "Madam," or "my supervisor" instead of using the handy, efficient, somewhat informal word "boss" -- which can be used both as a descriptive noun (i.e. "This is my boss, Joe") and as a direct form of address (i.e. "Hiya, Boss, do you think you could sign these forms for me?"). We have the Dutch to thank for this linguistic legacy.

Another phrase that I've often wondered about (though I don't have any real etymological research to back me up on this one) is the phrase: "That may well be," or "That may very well be true." Think about that from the vantage point of the English language, would you? What does that word "well" actually mean? It's not being used in the classic sense meaning "in a good and satisfactory manner" (i.e. "business is going well"). Is it? I don't think so. Actually, in this sentence construction, it seems that the word "well" is being used more as an affirmative intensifier. Just like the Dutch use the word "wel." The phrase "That may well be" is something of an anomaly in the English language -- but in Dutch, "Dat zou wel waar kunnen zijn" is totally in keeping with the way that the word "wel" is used in other contexts: to affirm and accentuate something that is true. A bit like the English word "really," but then again not so much. It's a unique construction of the Dutch language. And I believe that it's somehow managed to survive in the English language through the years.

I think I could also make a case for words like "young'un" or "Yankees" -- and of course many other proper names (particularly from New York) like "Brooklyn," "Staten Island," and "Harlem." All of these words, I believe (and probably many others), have their roots in the Dutch language. It's pretty remarkable for a language with only about 20 million speakers worldwide, whose hey-day was 400 years ago.

In view of the evidence, I think we English-speakers may well need to pay some respect the bosses of employment terminology etymology: the Dutch.

Sometimes Dutch medical terminology can be comically literal.

The Dutch terms for "concussion" and "testicles" are particularly amusing to me. Literally: "brain-shake" (hersenschudding) and "seed-balls" (zaadballen). Is that funny to anyone else? I'm curious to know if there are any other good ones that I might be forgetting...

Have you ever heard the song, "Who Let the Dogs Out?" by the Baha Men? It was annoying when it came out in 2000 -- and it's become iconically-annoying in the decade since.

Well, imagine that song filtered through the annoyance of the Literal-Translation Game: translating from English to Dutch on the fly, without much thought for cadence and syncopation, without much thought for the peculiarities of syntax and figurative language, without any concerns regarding the number of syllables to be crammed into any particular line of the song. It's a fun game for foreigners to play (I admit that I am a regular participant in this activity); but it's also pretty darn annoying for anyone else who has to listen to it. And it's especially annoying for anyone to listen to the Literal-Translation version of the Baha Men's "Who Let the Dogs Out?" -- or perhaps I should say "Wie laat de honden los?"

And now, imagine this scenario specifically involving a group of nine-year-old boys -- singing the song together any time that the word "dog" is mentioned in their school classroom, any time they go out onto the school playground, or any time that they feel like it on a school field trip or a moment of boredom. That's taking the annoyance to a whole new level. It sounds almost unbearable. Almost impossible.

Yet in talking with Elliot yesterday, I learned that this scenario is not only possible. It's practical reality. It's happening in Elliot's class at school. And my son is one of the main perpetrators of this phenomenon, conspiring with two other boys in the class to bust into "Wie laat de honden los?" whenever the moment arises. Unthinkably annoying, isn't it? Yet believe it or not, I'm actually entertained by the thought. He must be a chip off the old block -- or perhaps I should say, "een stukje vanaf het oude blok" -- after all.

Last names are funny, aren't they? They usually seem quite nonsensical -- just a happenstance combination of random sounds, to make a distinct family identity. At least this is the way that I grew up thinking about last names in the United States of America. Sure, there's a subconscious recognition that the last names actually mean something. The last names Smith, Miller, and Baker, for instance, were common ones in the part of the world where I grew up -- and it makes sense that, ancestrally-speaking, Smiths were metal-workers; Millers worked in the grain mills; and Bakers worked in bakeries.  But the economic system has changed so much since the days of family trades and apprenticeships that these names have become disconnected from their original meaning. And the disconnect is further enhanced, I imagine, by all the different cultural and linguistic backgrounds (not just Anglo-Saxon families like Smith and Miller and Baker) that have settled in North America.

But moving to a different country -- with a different language -- helps to reconnect the dots in surprising and amusing ways. I often find myself reading the names of people like sentences -- subconsciously translating everything into English -- even though Dutch people themselves probably don't make the association, in the same way that I never did with Smith or Miller or Baker.

So I think about my friends Jurren the Great... or Jannie of the Helmet... or Marco Peacocks... or Frank Windowshop...

Or when I hear about Dutch sports stars, my mind cannot help but translate their names into Frank the Farmer... or Demy the Guy-from-Zeeland... or Maarten Prickly-Mountain... or Rafael of the Fart (actually, the Dutch "Vaart" should be translated "Voyage" -- but my English ears can hardly avoid the obvious association with the English word "Fart," which is pronounced very similarly).

Funny, huh? Do you ever notice this kind of thing? If so, what are some funny or interesting names that have stood out to you?

Did you know that the Dutch have a three-letter abbreviation for the phrase "three-letter abbreviation?"  I'm totally serious!  I only know this one because of Wikipedia -- but it's dla = drieletterig afkorting = three-letter abbreviation.  And even without Wikipedia, I was well aware of the fact that the Dutch love their abbreviations.

What's crazier is that I was recently realizing how much I've come to love them, too.  At first, they drove me crazy -- like I was supposed to learn this foreign language (Dutch) and the foreign language within their language (Dutch abbreviations).  But as I've gotten used to them, I've really come to appreciate their efficiency.  Below, I've listed a number of these "dla"s which have come to be a part of my daily correspondance (along with their full meaning and their English equivalent).  Some of them have direct American/English equivalents, but most do not:

• a.s. = aanstaande = this coming (as in "this coming Thursday")
• a.u.b. = alstublieft = please
• bv. = bijvoorbeeld = for example (equivalent to American/English "e.g." or "i.e.")
• d.m.v. = door middel van = through the use of
• e.a. = en andere(n) = and other(s)
• enz. = enzovoort = et cetera (equivalent to American/English "etc.")
• i.p.v. = in plaats van = instead of
• i.v.m. = in verband met = in connection with
• m.b.t. = met betrekking tot = with regards to (roughly equivalent to American/English "re:")
• m.u.v. = met uitzondering van = with the exception of
• n.v.t. = niet van toepassing = not applicable (equivalent to American/English "NA")
• o.a. = onder anderen = among others
• t.a.v. = ter attentie van = to the attention of (equivalent to the American/English "ATTN:")
• zg. = zogenoemd = so named (roughly equivalent to the American/English "a.k.a.")

I find myself so comfortable with some of these that I've actually started internally moaning the fact that there's not an American/English equivalent for all of them!  Especially with i.p.v. and a.s.  I've even started slipping in some of these abbreviations in some of my English correspondence with people who are familiar with the Dutch abbreviations.  Weird, huh?  I'm fascinated by the way that language acquisition and assimilation works itself out, even now after eight years of being immersed in Dutch culture and language.

There's a separate category of Dutch "dla"s that are not so exceptional in that an abbreviation is used -- but more in the way that the abbreviations are used in the spoken language.  The two that most immediately come to mind are the following:

• hiv = humaan immunodeficiëntie virus = Human Immunodeficiency Virus = HIV
• soa = seksueel overdraagbare aandoening = Sexually Transmitted Disease = STD

Again, these aren't so exceptional in the way that they're abbreviated; we do exactly the same things in English.  But when an American speaks out these abbreviations, they pronounce each letter:  "Aych Eye Vee" and "Ess Tee Dee."  But in Dutch vernacular, they're pronounced just like they're spelled, as their own little words:  "Hiv" and "Soa."  Fascinating stuff... Perhaps not all that meaningful, really.  But still, fascinating to me.