Walkers and words.

As I set off on my regular morning run today I crossed paths with a lady pilgrim, a "peregrina". Stout boots, sensible shorts, cap, small rucksack on her back, small bag on her front with map poking out, and a couple of those walking poles you see people using. No pilgrim's staff for her but those semi-professional walking poles, rather like ski sticks. I think they are supposed to make your stride more regular or something, but on a city street they look a little odd. But, hey, I am not the one walking kilometres and kilometres. I greeted her but she was intent on her walking and made no reply. Maybe I spoke in the wrong language. Maybe she was preoccupied because she was all alone. 

Some twenty minutes later, having run the circuit around the back of our blocks of flats, past the allotments, coming out at the back of the Carrefour shopping complex, I saw her again. This time she was crossing the road with a gentleman pilgrim, a "peregrino". And then came a whole gaggle of them, a group of perhaps ten. I decided at that point that they must be British because two of the men were wearing handkerchiefs with the corners knotted by way of head gear, the classic make-do sunhat of the British male. But they were too far away for me to greet them or engage them in conversation so I simply watched them cross the road and continue on their way. 

I didn't know the Camino went past our flats but presumably they had maps sending along this route, heading towards Redondela and beyond. And then, around here almost all roads will eventually lead you to Santiago. 

Knowing that I am interested in words, a friend of mine sent me some information about something called the "Positive Lexicography Project", an online glossary of hundreds of untranslatable words. "First, it aims to provide a window onto cultural differences in constructions of well-being, thereby enriching our understanding of well-being. Second, a more ambitious aim is that this lexicon may help expand the emotional vocabulary of English speakers (and indeed speakers of all languages), and consequently enrich their experiences of well-being." There you go. 

And here are a few examples: 

Cwtch (Welsh, n.): to hug, a safe welcoming place. (I wonder if you pronounce it at all like "couch", which is a welcoming place where you. Might hug someone!) 
Fjellvant (Norwegian) (adj.): Being accustomed to walk in the mountains. (Any connection with fells? Quite a lot of fell-walking goes on in our bit of England.) 

Here are some that I really like, the first two for the sound of them: 

Morgenfrisk (Danish, adj.): feeling rested after a good night's sleep. 
Whakakoakoa (Māori, v.): to cheer up. 

and this one for the translation: 

Waldeinsamkeit (German, n.): mysterious feeling of solitude when alone in the woods. 

 The Spanish word selected was "sobremesa", sitting around talking after a meal or as they translated it "when the food has finished but the conversation is still flowing". This is something that goes on at our house all the time, even if we don't have a special word for it. 

Personally I would like to add "consuegra", another Spanish word. "Suegra" means mother-in-law. "Con" means with. Two women, mothers of the two halves of a young couple are "consuegras", mothers-in-law together, I suppose. Somehow it suggests an amicable arrangement, to me anyway!