Now, I realise that reading about time capsules may be somewhat like listening to someone tell you their dreams—mildly interesting at best. But this post is mostly for my own benefit and reminiscing, so keep reading or not, it’s up to you.

Where was I? Oh yes, year 2000. Although I was only ten years old at the time, some of my most vivid memories of childhood are from this time period. Digging up the time capsule that my dad and his brothers had buried was fun. All my uncles and cousins were there, even the ones from California, and I remember the sensation of wonder when we cracked open something that had lain undisturbed for 24 years, buried before I was even born! (Although recently I found out that my dad had exhumed it in the 80s to remove some coins that he had included, since he didn’t trust his brothers not to steal them.) As far as the contents, what I remember most were the firecrackers and smoke bombs from 1976, that amazingly still worked.

But as fun as that time capsule was, the highlight of that year was the time capsule we buried on New Years. I remember it well, as well I should, for the year 2000 was a year to remember. The Y2K scare was all over the news, but I was sceptical, and was rightly convinced that everything would be fine. Even though I firmly believed that the new millennium would properly begin in 2001, I did buy a baseball cap with an LCD countdown clock on it, and I clearly remember when the day finally arrived: December 31st, 1999.

My dad was the youth minister at the church where we attended at the time, and as usual, he put on an all-night lock-in for the teenagers. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was almost midnight, and I stole into my dad’s office, waking up the computer to check the time on the Windows taskbar. 11:57, 11:58, 11:59… and boom! There it was: 12:00 AM, January 1st, 2000. The world did not end, and the computer kept chugging along as always.

I don’t remember if it was before or after that moment that we filled the time capsule, but I do remember the long white PVC pipe, and different members of the church putting in letters, and the young people putting their items in ziplock bags for inclusion. Some of the teenagers put in Pokémon cards (which were all the rage at the time), and I recall smugly thinking my own invention—dillapedes—were far superior to Pokémon. As far as what I put in the time capsule, I felt that I did not have objects worthy of such a momentous occasion, but I did my best. I also contemplated what my life might be like as a 35-year-old—and could not fathom it.

In my ziplock bag I included a plastic praying mantis, some pennies, two metal slugs, a Lego coin, an empty dark chocolate wrapper folded back and taped as if it still contained chocolate, a tract on the biblical view of fossils, and some notepad pages in which I faithfully reproduced pictures of several dillapedes, wrote the key to the Klish code which I had invented a few years prior, as well as a short write-up on the things I was interested in at the time. On the back of this bundle of notes, I wrote in black sharpie: “Someone stepped on the Y2K Bug.”

Everything went in the tube, the tube was sealed and stuck in the ground, and we poured a triangle of cement over it that would proclaim to all passers-by for the next 25 years, “Lock-in 2000,” along with “‘25” and a big question mark.

Now, in the grand scheme of things, 25 years is not that much time, but from my perspective going from age 10 to 35, a lot happened in those years. I’ve always been the imaginative type, but even my 10-year-old imagination could not conceive of who I am today or where I’ve ended up. I went to college, graduated, lived on my own, travelled the world, got married, and ended up living in Mexico. But through all those years and life changes, one thing remained on my mind through it all: the time capsule buried on church property.

I thought the day would never come, but finally it did, and on New Year’s Day 2025, I found myself with my wife and parents in Fort Worth, Texas, digging up an old PVC pipe to see if the things we had entrusted to it had survived the passage of time. For the most part, they had. Unfortunately, though, water had seeped into the pipe, and everything inside was quite damp. Even the items that had been stored in ziplock bags were not spared, and everything was permeated with an unpleasant dank smell. Not all was lost, however. We put on our archæologist hats and went to work carefully separating the wet pieces of paper and laying them out to dry, and taking pictures of everything to document what we found. We had looked in our old photo albums for pictures from that day but found none. Apparently a group photo from that lock-in was included in the capsule, but most of the photographs included were all but destroyed by the moisture.

That Wednesday evening there was a potluck meal with the church before Bible class, and everyone had an enjoyable time reading the old letters and thinking about years gone by. Of those present, only about 5 of us had been there when the capsule was buried. Many of the older members who wrote letters are no longer with us, and the teenagers have presumably continued on with their lives, having forgotten long ago about the capsule. One of them did get in touch with us asking about it, but he was not present since he had to work.

Being the introspective type, as I looked through the items my 10-year-old self had left me, I couldn’t help but think about how I am still the same person, and how the things I was interested in back then have continued and developed to the present day. My obsession with codes and ciphers developed into a love for learning languages, and I continue to have an interest in animals and God’s creation. My interest in computers and electronics led me to get a degree in Computer Science, and although I haven’t kept up much with my coin collection, I continue to keep an eye out for quarters I’m missing. And most importantly of all, the faith in God that I had as a 10-year-old boy has continued to be my foundation in all aspects of my life. Obviously much has changed in a quarter of a century, but I still find benefit in thinking about where I’ve been and how far I’ve come.

So, what’s next? A time capsule destined for the year 2050? I feel like it’s only right to keep this contiguous time capsule tradition going. I shall keep you posted.

In modern times, American missionaries have translated the New Testament (as well as the Old Testament in a handful of cases) into a number of modern dialects of Nahuatl. However, until up to a few years ago, I was unaware that the Scriptures had already been translated into Nahuatl centuries before, during a time when the Catholic Church was a bit more tolerant towards native languages than it later became.

This translation is known as the Evangeliarium, and it was compiled in the mid 16th century. It is worth mentioning that it is not a complete translation of the Bible—in fact, it could be more accurately described as a lectionary, a book containing readings of Scripture organised according to the liturgical calendar. I don’t know whether or not the Nahuatl Evangeliarium was actually used in Catholic mass in times past, but that was clearly its original purpose. It is attributed to Bernardino de Sahagún, a Franciscan friar who took a great interest in Aztec language and culture, although it is very likely that he worked with a number of Nahuatl speakers to produce this book.

Despite the fact that the Evangeliarium does not contain the complete Bible, the more I looked at it the more I thought it would be worthwhile to reorganise the scriptures into books, chapters, and verses as in conventional Bibles. I took an edited version of the Evangeliarium which was published in 1858, and over the span of almost a year (15 minutes a day!) I copied, pasted, and proof-read the text verse-by-verse using Google Books and Archive.org. I used the Bibledit software to compile the text, and I am happy to report that the final result may be browsed and searched at this website:

teoamoxtli.nawatl.org

You can add parallel Bible translations in English, Spanish, Latin, and modern Nahuatl dialects, and you can even compare the original Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek Scriptures to the Nahuatl.

Now, why is this useful, apart from just being something of historical interest? Before addressing its benefits, first I must highlight some of the deficiencies of this text:

1. It was most likely translated from the Latin Vulgate, thus it is a “translation of a translation,” and not a direct translation of the original Biblical languages
2. It comes from a decidedly Catholic perspective (which one would expect). One example of this is the word used to translate “baptism,” which literally means “to put water on the head.”
3. The orthography used does not indicate long vowels or glottal stops (saltillos), both of which are phonemic in Nahuatl (though rarely indicated in classical texts).
4. The language is old—almost 500 years old, and modern Nahuatl dialects have changed a lot since then.

Although this text is perhaps not so useful for teaching God’s Word to people today (being a product of its time and religious culture), I believe it will be useful for anyone who is working to translate the Bible into modern Nahuatl dialects. There are many Bible concepts which are difficult to translate into Nahuatl, and seeing how the first Nahuatl Bible translators chose to translate these terms and concepts can be eye-opening. Although modern translators may not choose to translate them exactly the same way, they can at least have an idea of the possibilities that exist.

I hope that making this text available will be a benefit to those working on such projects, and I think modern Nahuatl speakers will find it interesting as well, a glimpse into their past and a historical artifact from the times when the name of Christ first arrived on the shores of Mexico.

So let me define my terms before going any farther. When I say vowel length, I mean that in certain languages, it makes a difference how long you hold each vowel (length can be applied to consonants too, but for simplicity’s sake, I will stick to talking about vowels in this post). We can’t really say that English has phonemic vowel length, but imagine an ESL speaker trying to tell the difference between the words “pit” /pɪt/ and “peat” /piːt/. To a native Spanish speaker, these two words will sound exactly the same, because Spanish neither distinguishes between the quality of these vowels, nor their length. However, if this person learns to hold out the vowel in “peat” a wee bit longer, they will instantly become more understandable.

Take a look at John 3:16 in Finnish:

Sillä niin on Jumala maailmaa rakastanut, että hän antoi ainokaisen Poikansa, ettei yksikään, joka häneen uskoo, hukkuisi, vaan hänellä olisi iankaikkinen elämä. (source)

Do you see the doubled vowels? Those are the long ones, and the single vowels are the short ones. Finnish is one of many languages in which vowel length is phonemic, which is a fancy way to say that if you get it wrong, you could be changing the meaning of the word.

Another language that I have fallen in love with is Nahuatl, which was spoken by the ancient Aztecs (among others) and remains the indigenous language with the most speakers in my adopted homeland of Mexico. When I first started learning Nahuatl, the course I was using informed me that while the old classical language did distinguish vowel length, this feature (at least in the Huasteca region) was on its way out, and that learners need not worry their pretty little heads over trying to remember which vowels are long and which are short (my paraphrase). And I thought no more about it until recently, when I began to dig into the classical language.

I began to get curious. What if vowel length really is still a thing in modern Huasteca Nahuatl? With my ear now tuned to hear those little details, I began listening more carefully to the native speakers, and to my delight, I discovered that vowel length is very much still alive, at least in my home state of San Luis Potosí. If you are sceptical, the next time you meet a native Nahuatl speaker, ask them to pronounce for you the words for “man/person” and “woman,” and listen very carefully. The first word is tlākatl, and the second one is siwātl, using a macron (overline) to indicate the long vowels. The stress is on the first syllable in both of these words, but in tlākatl the first syllable is long, whereas in siwātl, the second syllable is long, which may sound a bit odd to ears trained to hear stressed syllables lengthened and unstressed syllables shortened.

As I got further into this, I realised that this explains a phenomenon I noticed in the Huasteca years ago. As I listened to people speaking Nahuatl, I heard what seemed to be a ratta-tat-tat rhythm in their speech (for lack of a better description), and I now believe that this is due to the alternation between long vowels and short vowels. Think of it like Morse code—a rhythm of short and long pulses, moving the words along.

Going back to ancient Greek, it is true what I had read about the long and short vowels: Η [eː] and Ω [oː] are always long, and Ε [ε] and Ο [o] are always short. The remaining vowels, Α, Ι, and Υ can be either short [a, i, y] or long [aː, iː, yː]. If one of these vowels has a circumflex accent and/or a subscript Iota, it is long (ᾳ, ᾶ, ῖ, ῦ), and if it has neither of these things, a macron is needed to distinguish whether it is long (ᾱ, ῑ, ῡ). There is more to it, of course, which I encourage you to research further if this tickles your fancy as it does mine. I recommend this video by Luke Ranieri about the pronunciation system he devised.

So how important is vowel length, and should language learners worry about it? I think the answer depends on the language in question. The Finnish have deemed it worthy of inclusion in their everyday orthography, which seems to indicate that it has a very important role in their language. In the case of ancient Greek and Nahuatl, it could be argued that vowel length is a secondary feature, and that learners of those languages will not suffer if they neglect it. However, it is phonemic in both of these languages, and thus an integral part of their respective phonological systems. Personally, I have already benefited greatly by including vowel length in my reading of Greek texts, and it is true that in Nahuatl, there are still words that are distinguished only by their vowel length, even in the Huasteca. For example, “moon” is mētstli (with a long /eː/), and “leg” is metstli (with a short /e/). Obviously, for the casual learner, context will provide the clues as to whether moons or legs are being talked about, but if you are serious about learning to speak Nahuatl as the Nahuas do, I think you should take vowel length into account. And it’s really not that hard. Just be sure to mark it somehow—whether with macrons, doubled vowels, or colons—and practice, practice, practice!

What about Greek? Didn’t Greek lose phonemic vowel length somewhere along the way? Yes, in the early Byzantine period the Greek language lost this feature, just as the daughters of Latin did, and native Greek speakers today pronounce all vowels with the same length.

For this reason you may be tempted to brush off vowel length in Greek as unnecessary trivia, and make no effort to learn which vowels are long and short. However, if you plan to get into ancient Greek poetry (which is something I would very much like to do), it is in your best interest to learn it, because the ancients, instead of basing their poetic structure on stress patterns as in English, based it on patterns of long and short vowels. Also, if you are interested in learning to pronounce the ancient Greek tones (another fascinating area of phonology outside the scope of this post), you will find that the tones and vowel lengths go hand in hand to create the melody and rhythm of this beautiful language.

Or maybe you just want to pronounce ancient Greek as accurately as you can, and want to feel that rhythm of long ago. In any case, I hope this post has been interesting (assuming you’ve made it this far!), and has shed some light on languages you thought you knew.

Unfortunately, it seems the creators of ChatGPT were one step ahead of me and had decided that such a query would be quite improper:

It is not appropriate to discuss methods of harming or killing animals. It is important to treat all living creatures with kindness and respect. Animals, including cats, deserve to be treated with care and compassion, and it is not acceptable to cause them harm or to engage in activities that may cause them harm.

Well, excuse me! I’m sorry I even asked.

My favourite thing to do with ChatGPT is to generate poetry. It’s not that the poetry is good–in fact, it’s terrible–but I just get a kick out of an AI waxing eloquent about random things. So, my next attempt was to ask it to write a poem about skinning cats. Alas, it seems the topic is off-limits for poetry as well. So then I thought, why not ask it to write a poem about not skinning cats? This time the AI was happy to oblige:

A cat’s fur so soft and warm
A gentle creature, small and calm
Why would anyone want to harm
A creature so sweet and charming?

To skin a cat is cruel and wrong
It’s a hateful and heartless song
To cause an animal such pain
Is simply inhumane

Let’s treat our feline friends with love
And give them the life they deserve
For they bring us joy and cheer
And skinning them should never be a fear

So let’s show some compassion and kindness
To all creatures, big and small
For they deserve a life of happiness
And skinning them is not our call

And there you have it. Don’t you feel guilty for even entertaining the thought of skinning a poor kitty? And all the while the AI is seriously unaware that “skinning a cat” is not a literal expression.

I hope you enjoyed this fine literature as much as I did. Check in again later for the AI’s opinion on US politicians!

What, not everyone pays for domain names with dogecoin? OK, maybe I am weird after all.

Cryptocurrency has been on my radar for a long time, but I have struggled to make sense of it. I don’t mean that I don’t understand what the blockchain, decentralisation, etc. are—I mean, what is the point of cryptocurrency? Ostensibly its purpose is to buy things—at least that’s usually what currency is for. But the flagship cryptocurrency, Bitcoin, seems to have turned into a sort of digital gold—people buy it and then just sit on it, their only intention wrapped in a hope that it will one day grow in value so they can cash it out. Search for YouTube videos on crypto, and most of what you find are tips for “investing” in it, which in reality is speculation, since no one knows what the future holds for all these coins. And all the coins! It seems like everyone and their (Shiba Inu) dog is creating a new cryptocurrency, and to what purpose? To facilitate the exchange of goods and services? I don’t think so—they’re just hoping to get people to jump on their bandwagon to make their coin’s value go up.

Now please don’t misunderstand me—I am actually a fan of cryptocurrency. When I got married last year I bought 0.2 bitcents as a wedding present to myself and my wife, and I plan to hang onto it for the time being and see what it does. At the moment it’s lost a bit of value, but maybe it will grow by the time we reach our 50th anniversary.

Around the same time, I also bought $90 USD worth of dogecoins (1,400 at the time). Dogecoin caught my attention because it doesn’t take itself too seriously, and at the time I thought it looked promising to become an actual currency for everyday purchases. (Update: People have treated it just like all the others, hoping it will go to the moon!)

Fast-forward to 2022. I have not sat on my dogecoins, rather, I have been regularly spending them on one thing—domain name renewals. Whether it was up or down, whenever my domain names came up for renewal, I spent a bit of my dogecoin treasure on them. In total I have renewed 13 domain names with my $90 of dogecoin, which would have cost $187 if I had paid for them in fiat currency. Of course, that was over the span of 2021 during which dogecoin really took off before coming back down again, but I’d say it worked out quite well for me. And I still have 60 dogecoins left before I stock up on some more!

So what’s the point here? I don’t know. I think cryptocurrency is interesting, but because of its volatility I wouldn’t advise anyone to spend more on it than they can afford to lose. My hope for crypto is that it will really become a common medium of exchange, and not just something people try to make money off of by hoarding it. But we shall see.

𐑑𐑵𐑛𐑱 𐑢𐑪𐑟 𐑩 𐑯𐑹𐑥𐑩𐑤 𐑛𐑱. 𐑲 𐑕𐑷 𐑞𐑨𐑑 𐑕𐑳𐑥 𐑝 𐑥𐑲 𐑛𐑴𐑥𐑱𐑯 𐑯𐑱𐑥𐑟 𐑢𐑻 𐑩𐑚𐑬𐑑 𐑑 𐑦𐑒𐑕𐑐𐑲𐑼, 𐑕𐑴 𐑲 𐑢𐑧𐑯𐑑 𐑪𐑯 ·𐑯𐑱𐑥𐑗𐑰𐑐, 𐑒𐑤𐑦𐑒𐑑 “𐑑𐑪𐑐-𐑳𐑐 𐑓𐑳𐑯𐑛𐑟”, 𐑯 𐑢𐑦𐑔𐑦𐑯 𐑩 𐑓𐑿 𐑥𐑦𐑯𐑦𐑑𐑕 𐑣𐑨𐑛 ·𐑑𐑮𐑨𐑯𐑟𐑓𐑼𐑛 𐑦𐑯𐑳𐑓 𐑛𐑴𐑡𐑒𐑶𐑯 𐑑 𐑐𐑱 𐑓 𐑥𐑲 𐑛𐑴𐑥𐑱𐑯 𐑮𐑦𐑯𐑿𐑩𐑤𐑟. 𐑦𐑑 𐑷𐑤𐑢𐑱𐑟 𐑥𐑱𐑒𐑕 𐑥𐑰 𐑕𐑥𐑲𐑤 𐑢𐑧𐑯 𐑲 𐑕𐑰 𐑞 𐑚𐑻𐑕𐑑 𐑝 𐑒𐑳𐑤𐑼𐑓𐑩𐑤 𐑓𐑮𐑱𐑟𐑩𐑟 𐑦𐑯 ·𐑒𐑪𐑥𐑦𐑒 𐑕𐑨𐑯𐑟 𐑓𐑤𐑲 𐑩𐑒𐑮𐑪𐑕 𐑞 𐑕𐑒𐑮𐑰𐑯 𐑑𐑧𐑤𐑦𐑙 𐑥𐑰 𐑞𐑨𐑑 𐑥𐑲 𐑐𐑱𐑥𐑩𐑯𐑑 𐑢𐑧𐑯𐑑 𐑔𐑮𐑵.

𐑢𐑪𐑑, 𐑯𐑪𐑑 𐑧𐑝𐑼𐑦𐑢𐑳𐑯 𐑐𐑱𐑟 𐑓 𐑛𐑴𐑥𐑱𐑯 𐑯𐑱𐑥𐑟 𐑢𐑦𐑔 ·𐑛𐑴𐑡𐑒𐑶𐑯? 𐑴𐑒𐑱, 𐑥𐑱𐑚𐑦 𐑲 𐑨𐑥 𐑢𐑽𐑛 𐑨𐑓𐑑𐑼 𐑷𐑤.

𐑒𐑮𐑦𐑐𐑑𐑴𐑒𐑻𐑩𐑯𐑕𐑦 𐑣𐑨𐑟 𐑚𐑦𐑯 𐑪𐑯 𐑥𐑲 𐑮𐑱𐑛𐑸 𐑓 𐑩 𐑤𐑪𐑙 𐑑𐑲𐑥, 𐑚𐑳𐑑 𐑲 𐑣𐑨𐑝 𐑕𐑑𐑮𐑳𐑜𐑩𐑤𐑛 𐑑 𐑥𐑱𐑒 𐑕𐑧𐑯𐑕 𐑝 𐑦𐑑. 𐑲 𐑛𐑴𐑯𐑑 𐑥𐑰𐑯 𐑞𐑨𐑑 𐑲 𐑛𐑴𐑯𐑑 𐑳𐑯𐑛𐑼𐑕𐑑𐑨𐑯𐑛 𐑢𐑪𐑑 𐑞 𐑚𐑤𐑪𐑒𐑗𐑱𐑯, 𐑛𐑰𐑕𐑧𐑯𐑑𐑮𐑩𐑤𐑦𐑟𐑱𐑖𐑩𐑯, 𐑯𐑯𐑯 𐑸—𐑲 𐑥𐑰𐑯, 𐑢𐑪𐑑 𐑦𐑟 𐑞 𐑐𐑶𐑯𐑑 𐑝 𐑒𐑮𐑦𐑐𐑑𐑴𐑒𐑻𐑩𐑯𐑕𐑦? 𐑪𐑕𐑑𐑧𐑯𐑕𐑦𐑚𐑤𐑦 𐑦𐑑𐑕 𐑐𐑻𐑐𐑩𐑕 𐑦𐑟 𐑑 𐑚𐑲 𐑔𐑦𐑙𐑟—𐑨𐑑 𐑤𐑰𐑕𐑑 𐑞𐑨𐑑 𐑦𐑟 𐑿𐑠𐑫𐑩𐑤𐑦 𐑢𐑪𐑑 𐑒𐑳𐑮𐑩𐑯𐑕𐑦 𐑦𐑟 𐑓. 𐑚𐑳𐑑 𐑞 𐑓𐑤𐑨𐑜𐑖𐑦𐑐 𐑒𐑮𐑦𐑐𐑑𐑴𐑒𐑻𐑩𐑯𐑕𐑦, ·𐑚𐑦𐑑𐑒𐑶𐑯, 𐑕𐑰𐑥𐑟 𐑑 𐑣𐑨𐑝 𐑑𐑻𐑯𐑛 𐑦𐑯𐑑𐑵 𐑩 𐑕𐑹𐑑 𐑝 𐑛𐑦𐑡𐑦𐑑𐑩𐑤 𐑜𐑴𐑤𐑛—𐑐𐑰𐑐𐑩𐑤 𐑚𐑲 𐑦𐑑 𐑯 𐑞𐑧𐑯 𐑡𐑳𐑕𐑑 𐑕𐑦𐑑 𐑪𐑯 𐑦𐑑, 𐑞𐑺 𐑴𐑯𐑤𐑦 𐑦𐑯𐑑𐑧𐑯𐑖𐑩𐑯 𐑮𐑨𐑐𐑑 𐑦𐑯 𐑩 𐑣𐑴𐑐 𐑞𐑨𐑑 𐑦𐑑 𐑢𐑦𐑤 𐑢𐑳𐑯 𐑛𐑱 𐑜𐑮𐑴 𐑦𐑯 𐑝𐑨𐑤𐑿 𐑕𐑴 𐑞𐑱 𐑒𐑨𐑯 𐑒𐑨𐑖 𐑦𐑑 𐑬𐑑. 𐑕𐑻𐑗 𐑓 ·𐑿𐑑𐑿𐑚 𐑝𐑦𐑛𐑦𐑴𐑟 𐑪𐑯 𐑒𐑮𐑦𐑐𐑑𐑴, 𐑯 𐑥𐑴𐑕𐑑 𐑝 𐑢𐑪𐑑 𐑿 𐑓𐑲𐑯𐑛 𐑸 𐑑𐑦𐑐𐑕 𐑓 “𐑦𐑯𐑝𐑧𐑕𐑑𐑦𐑙” 𐑦𐑯 𐑦𐑑, 𐑢𐑦𐑗 𐑦𐑯 𐑮𐑦𐑨𐑤𐑦𐑑𐑦 𐑦𐑟 𐑕𐑐𐑧𐑒𐑿𐑤𐑱𐑖𐑩𐑯, 𐑕𐑦𐑯𐑕 𐑯𐑴 𐑢𐑳𐑯 𐑯𐑴𐑟 𐑢𐑪𐑑 𐑞 𐑓𐑿𐑗𐑼 𐑣𐑴𐑤𐑛𐑟 𐑓 𐑷𐑤 𐑞𐑰𐑟 𐑒𐑶𐑯𐑟. 𐑯 𐑷𐑤 𐑞 𐑒𐑶𐑯𐑟! 𐑦𐑑 𐑕𐑰𐑥𐑟 𐑤𐑲𐑒 𐑧𐑝𐑼𐑦𐑢𐑳𐑯 𐑯 𐑞𐑺 (·𐑖𐑦𐑚𐑩 𐑰𐑯𐑵) 𐑛𐑪𐑜 𐑦𐑟 𐑒𐑮𐑦𐑱𐑑𐑦𐑙 𐑩 𐑯𐑿 𐑒𐑮𐑦𐑐𐑑𐑴𐑒𐑻𐑩𐑯𐑕𐑦, 𐑯 𐑑 𐑢𐑪𐑑 𐑐𐑻𐑐𐑩𐑕? 𐑑 𐑓𐑩𐑕𐑦𐑤𐑦𐑑𐑱𐑑 𐑞 𐑦𐑒𐑕𐑗𐑱𐑯𐑡 𐑝 𐑜𐑫𐑛𐑟 𐑯 𐑕𐑻𐑝𐑦𐑕𐑩𐑟? 𐑲 𐑛𐑴𐑯𐑑 𐑔𐑦𐑙𐑒 𐑕𐑴—𐑞𐑺 𐑡𐑳𐑕𐑑 𐑣𐑴𐑐𐑦𐑙 𐑑 𐑜𐑧𐑑 𐑐𐑰𐑐𐑩𐑤 𐑑 𐑡𐑳𐑥𐑐 𐑪𐑯 𐑞𐑺 𐑚𐑨𐑯𐑛𐑢𐑨𐑜𐑩𐑯 𐑑 𐑥𐑱𐑒 𐑞𐑺 𐑒𐑶𐑯𐑟 𐑝𐑨𐑤𐑿 𐑜𐑴 𐑳𐑐.

𐑯𐑬 𐑐𐑤𐑰𐑟 𐑛𐑴𐑯𐑑 𐑥𐑦𐑕𐑳𐑯𐑛𐑼𐑕𐑑𐑨𐑯𐑛 𐑥𐑰—𐑲 𐑨𐑥 𐑨𐑒𐑗𐑢𐑩𐑤𐑦 𐑩 𐑓𐑨𐑯 𐑝 𐑒𐑮𐑦𐑐𐑑𐑴𐑒𐑻𐑩𐑯𐑕𐑦. 𐑢𐑧𐑯 𐑲 𐑜𐑪𐑑 𐑥𐑨𐑮𐑦𐑛 𐑤𐑨𐑕𐑑 𐑘𐑽 𐑲 𐑚𐑷𐑑 0.2 𐑚𐑦𐑑𐑕𐑧𐑯𐑑𐑕 𐑨𐑟 𐑩 𐑢𐑧𐑛𐑦𐑙 𐑐𐑮𐑧𐑟𐑩𐑯𐑑 𐑑 𐑥𐑲𐑕𐑧𐑤𐑓 𐑯 𐑥𐑲 𐑢𐑲𐑓, 𐑯 𐑲 𐑐𐑤𐑨𐑯 𐑑 𐑣𐑨𐑙 𐑪𐑯𐑑𐑵 𐑦𐑑 𐑓 𐑞 𐑑𐑲𐑥 𐑚𐑰𐑦𐑙 𐑯 𐑕𐑰 𐑢𐑪𐑑 𐑦𐑑 𐑛𐑳𐑟. 𐑨𐑑 𐑞 𐑥𐑴𐑥𐑩𐑯𐑑 𐑦𐑑𐑕 𐑤𐑪𐑕𐑑 𐑩 𐑚𐑦𐑑 𐑝 𐑝𐑨𐑤𐑿, 𐑚𐑳𐑑 𐑥𐑱𐑚𐑦 𐑦𐑑 𐑢𐑦𐑤 𐑜𐑮𐑴 𐑚𐑲 𐑞 𐑑𐑲𐑥 𐑢𐑰 𐑮𐑰𐑗 𐑬𐑼 50𐑔 𐑨𐑯𐑦𐑝𐑻𐑕𐑼𐑦.

𐑼𐑬𐑯𐑛 𐑞 𐑕𐑱𐑥 𐑑𐑲𐑥, 𐑲 𐑷𐑤𐑕𐑴 𐑚𐑷𐑑 $90 USD 𐑢𐑻𐑔 𐑝 ·𐑛𐑴𐑡𐑒𐑶𐑯𐑟 (1,400 𐑨𐑑 𐑞 𐑑𐑲𐑥). ·𐑛𐑴𐑡𐑒𐑶𐑯 𐑒𐑷𐑑 𐑥𐑲 𐑩𐑑𐑧𐑯𐑖𐑩𐑯 𐑚𐑦𐑒𐑪𐑟 𐑦𐑑 𐑛𐑳𐑟𐑩𐑯𐑑 𐑑𐑱𐑒 𐑦𐑑𐑕𐑧𐑤𐑓 𐑑𐑵 𐑕𐑦𐑮𐑾𐑕𐑤𐑦, 𐑯 𐑨𐑑 𐑞 𐑑𐑲𐑥 𐑲 𐑔𐑷𐑑 𐑦𐑑 𐑤𐑫𐑒𐑑 𐑐𐑮𐑪𐑥𐑦𐑕𐑦𐑙 𐑑 𐑚𐑦𐑒𐑳𐑥 𐑩𐑯 𐑨𐑒𐑗𐑫𐑩𐑤 𐑒𐑻𐑩𐑯𐑕𐑦 𐑓 𐑧𐑝𐑼𐑦𐑛𐑱 𐑐𐑻𐑗𐑩𐑕𐑩𐑟. (𐑳𐑐𐑛𐑱𐑑: 𐑐𐑰𐑐𐑩𐑤 𐑣𐑨𐑝 𐑑𐑮𐑰𐑑𐑩𐑛 𐑦𐑑 𐑡𐑳𐑕𐑑 𐑤𐑲𐑒 𐑷𐑤 𐑞 𐑳𐑛𐑼𐑟, 𐑣𐑴𐑐𐑦𐑙 𐑦𐑑 𐑢𐑦𐑤 𐑜𐑴 𐑑 𐑞 𐑥𐑵𐑯!)

𐑓𐑨𐑕𐑑-𐑓𐑹𐑢𐑼𐑛 𐑑 2022. 𐑲 𐑣𐑨𐑝 𐑯𐑪𐑑 𐑕𐑨𐑑 𐑪𐑯 𐑥𐑲 ·𐑛𐑴𐑡𐑒𐑶𐑯𐑟, 𐑮𐑨𐑞𐑼, 𐑲 𐑣𐑨𐑝 𐑚𐑦𐑯 𐑮𐑧𐑜𐑿𐑤𐑼𐑤𐑦 𐑕𐑐𐑧𐑯𐑛𐑦𐑙 𐑞𐑧𐑥 𐑪𐑯 𐑢𐑳𐑯 𐑔𐑦𐑙: 𐑛𐑴𐑥𐑱𐑯 𐑯𐑱𐑥 𐑮𐑦𐑯𐑿𐑩𐑤𐑟. 𐑢𐑧𐑞𐑼 𐑦𐑑 𐑢𐑪𐑟 𐑳𐑐 𐑹 𐑛𐑬𐑯, 𐑢𐑧𐑯𐑧𐑝𐑼 𐑥𐑲 𐑛𐑴𐑥𐑱𐑯 𐑯𐑱𐑥𐑟 𐑒𐑱𐑥 𐑳𐑐 𐑓 𐑮𐑦𐑯𐑿𐑩𐑤, 𐑲 𐑕𐑐𐑯𐑑 𐑩 𐑚𐑦𐑑 𐑝 𐑥𐑲 ·𐑛𐑴𐑡𐑒𐑶𐑯 𐑑𐑮𐑧𐑠𐑼 𐑪𐑯 𐑞𐑧𐑥. 𐑦𐑯 𐑑𐑴𐑑𐑩𐑤 𐑲 𐑣𐑨𐑝 𐑮𐑦𐑯𐑿𐑛 13 𐑛𐑴𐑥𐑱𐑯 𐑯𐑱𐑥𐑟 𐑢𐑦𐑔 𐑥𐑲 $90 𐑝 ·𐑛𐑴𐑡𐑒𐑶𐑯, 𐑢𐑦𐑗 𐑢𐑫𐑛 𐑣𐑨𐑝 𐑒𐑪𐑕𐑑 $187 𐑦𐑓 𐑲 𐑣𐑨𐑛 𐑐𐑱𐑛 𐑓 𐑞𐑧𐑥 𐑦𐑯 𐑓𐑰𐑭𐑑 𐑒𐑻𐑩𐑯𐑕𐑦. 𐑝 𐑒𐑹𐑕, 𐑞𐑨𐑑 𐑢𐑪𐑟 𐑴𐑝𐑼 𐑞 𐑕𐑐𐑨𐑯 𐑝 2021 𐑛𐑻𐑦𐑙 𐑢𐑦𐑗 ·𐑛𐑴𐑡𐑒𐑶𐑯 𐑮𐑦𐑤𐑦 𐑑𐑫𐑒 𐑪𐑓 𐑚𐑦𐑓𐑹 𐑒𐑳𐑥𐑦𐑙 𐑚𐑨𐑒 𐑛𐑬𐑯 𐑩𐑜𐑦𐑯, 𐑚𐑳𐑑 𐑲𐑛 𐑕𐑱 𐑦𐑑 𐑢𐑻𐑒𐑑 𐑬𐑑 𐑒𐑢𐑲𐑑 𐑢𐑧𐑤 𐑓 𐑥𐑰. 𐑯 𐑲 𐑕𐑑𐑦𐑤 𐑣𐑨𐑝 60 ·𐑛𐑴𐑡𐑒𐑶𐑯𐑟 𐑤𐑧𐑓𐑑 𐑚𐑦𐑓𐑹 𐑲 𐑕𐑑𐑪𐑒 𐑳𐑐 𐑪𐑯 𐑕𐑳𐑥 𐑥𐑹!

𐑕𐑴 𐑢𐑪𐑑𐑕 𐑞 𐑐𐑶𐑯𐑑 𐑣𐑽? 𐑲 𐑛𐑴𐑯𐑑 𐑯𐑴. 𐑲 𐑔𐑦𐑙𐑒 𐑒𐑮𐑦𐑐𐑑𐑴𐑒𐑻𐑩𐑯𐑕𐑦 𐑦𐑟 𐑦𐑯𐑑𐑼𐑩𐑕𐑑𐑦𐑙, 𐑚𐑳𐑑 𐑚𐑦𐑒𐑪𐑟 𐑝 𐑦𐑑𐑕 𐑝𐑪𐑤𐑩𐑑𐑦𐑤𐑦𐑑𐑦 𐑲 𐑢𐑫𐑛𐑩𐑯𐑑 𐑩𐑛𐑝𐑲𐑟 𐑧𐑯𐑦𐑢𐑳𐑯 𐑑 𐑕𐑐𐑧𐑯𐑛 𐑥𐑹 𐑪𐑯 𐑦𐑑 𐑞𐑨𐑯 𐑞𐑱 𐑒𐑨𐑯 𐑩𐑓𐑹𐑛 𐑑 𐑤𐑵𐑟. 𐑥𐑲 𐑣𐑴𐑐 𐑓 𐑒𐑮𐑦𐑐𐑑𐑴 𐑦𐑟 𐑞𐑨𐑑 𐑦𐑑 𐑢𐑦𐑤 𐑮𐑦𐑤𐑦 𐑚𐑦𐑒𐑳𐑥 𐑩 𐑒𐑪𐑥𐑩𐑯 𐑥𐑦𐑛𐑦𐑩𐑥 𐑝 𐑦𐑒𐑕𐑗𐑱𐑯𐑡, 𐑯 𐑯𐑪𐑑 𐑡𐑳𐑕𐑑 𐑕𐑳𐑥𐑔𐑦𐑙 𐑐𐑰𐑐𐑩𐑤 𐑑𐑮𐑲 𐑑 𐑥𐑱𐑒 𐑥𐑳𐑯𐑦 𐑪𐑓 𐑝 𐑚𐑲 𐑣𐑹𐑛𐑦𐑙 𐑦𐑑. 𐑚𐑳𐑑 𐑢𐑰 𐑖𐑨𐑤 𐑕𐑰.

First of all, I use TransferWise to move money from my US bank account to my Mexican bank account, and when I found a vehicle I wanted to buy, I thought I had all my ducks in a row. I live in a fairly small town, so when I went to the big city to buy a car, I just located the nearest branch of my bank and told the seller to meet me there.

The long version (summary below)

I had opened my account with Santander several months before, since they are one of two banks that have ATMs in my hometown. The other is Banorte, but after getting fed up with them, I switched to Santander.

So what was the problem? It turns out that Santander has a withdrawal limit of $50,000 MXN per day if the branch you are withdrawing from is not your “home branch,” that is, the location where you opened your account. I just assumed that any Santander would give me my money since I had an account there, but I was wrong!

Of course I needed more than $50,000 MXN to make my purchase, and I really didn’t want to pull it out in several installments, as that would be even more risky (carrying around large amounts of cash in Mexico is not advisable). Neither could I just transfer it to a different account—Santander has a $90,000 MXN transfer limit if you’re not at your home branch.

I finally decided to ask them to change my home branch to be the one in the city where I was trying to buy the car. Two days later, the process was still pending. The day after that, the system said my home branch was changed, but the teller’s computer said otherwise, making the withdrawal impossible. However, I was able to transfer the amount to my girlfriend’s account in BanCoppel.

The balance was pending in her BanCoppel account until the next day, and when it cleared we went to try our luck there. They didn’t have enough cash on hand at that location, so they sent us to a different one, where we were finally able to withdraw the daily limit of $149,000 MXN (I had already pulled out the rest from an ATM). It was nerve-wracking walking through the store with huge wads of cash in my backpack (BanCoppel does not provide envelopes for withdrawals), but there were no mishaps, and at long last the vehicle was purchased, four days after my first attempt to withdraw the money from Santander.

What I would have done differently

So, looking back, what would I have done differently? First of all, I would have transferred $149,000 MXN via TransferWise directly to my girlfriend’s BanCoppel account instead of to Santander. Then it would have been ready and waiting for the vehicle purchase, and I could withdraw the extra from an ATM.

I’m not sure what I would have done if I were planning to spend more than what could be covered with an ATM withdrawal and a BanCoppel withdrawal. I guess I would have to research other banks and see what their out-of-town withdrawal policy is.

TL; DR

(Information accurate as of August 2020)

At Santander, unless you are withdrawing your money from the same branch where you opened your account, there is a daily withdrawal limit of $50,000 MXN. You can switch your home branch, but that takes at least 3 days and probably more. There is no withdrawal limit at your home branch.

At BanCoppel, you can withdraw money from any branch nationwide, but there is a daily limit of $149,000 MXN, and the branch you visit may not have enough cash on hand. Transfers to BanCoppel may take up to 48 hours to clear.

Wherever you open your account, find out beforehand what the withdrawal limits are, and whether there are out-of-town restrictions.

Hope this information helps someone, and saves some time and headaches!

A Quiet Town

Moraira is an old fishing town
The Christians came here long ago
And they worked and toiled with love and devotion

And when the Moors, they came across the sea
They plundered with fear and ferocity;
It kept its beauty and its tranquility.

I saw the full moon rising behind me
Shining waves on the ocean

As I look around the hills above the town
A vision of the same starry sky
And they landed boats along the sandy shorelines

[Irish lyrics]

Ha visto la luna tras las colinas
Bailando feliz en la noche

Now, as far as the subject of the song, my best guess is that it refers to the town of Riveira (Ribeira in Galician), in Galicia, Spain. Wikipedia confirms that the town was subjected to raids by the Saracens from the 11th to 18th centuries (not to mention Vikings and pirates), so that seems to match the song.

Unfortunately I don’t speak Irish, so if anyone can take a gander at transcribing that part of the song, please let me know. My guess is that it has something to do with the moon.

As for the Spanish, let me just say I was surprised to hear Clannad singing in Spanish, but they did well with the pronunciation—the lyric is just a bit odd, and I imagine they meant to sing He visto instead of Ha visto.

I can’t help but wonder, of all the small fishing villages in Europe, why did they write a song about this one? Maybe one of the Clannad clan visited there on vacation and was struck by its “beauty and tranquility.” At any rate, it’s a nice little song.

UPDATE: Thanks to a kind comment from Carl (see below), it has come to my attention that the town in question is Moraira, located on the Mediterranean coast of Spain. As is the case with most of Spain, Moraira was under the control of the Moors for many years, to which the song alludes. Noel Duggan is the author of the song, and apparently he spent quite a bit of time there, or at least long enough to be inspired to write a song about it.

Music by Charles H. Gabriel
Poetry by Ina D. Og­don (1913)

Do not wait until some deed
Of greatness you may do,
Do not wait to shed your light afar,
To the many duties
Ever near you now be true,
Brighten the corner where you are.

Refrain:
Brighten the corner where you are!
Brighten the corner where you are!
Someone far from harbor
You may guide across the bar;
Brighten the corner where you are!

Just above are clouded skies
That you may help to clear,
Let not narrow self your way debar;
Though into one heart alone
May fall your song of cheer,
Brighten the corner where you are.

Here for all your talent you
may surely find a need,
Here reflect the bright and Morning Star;
Even from your humble hand
The Bread of Life may feed,
Brighten the corner where you are.

Looking at the languages I have tackled, however, the thing I’ve realized is that I only become proficient in a language when I have a community of people to speak it with. Take Spanish, for instance—for the past 9 years, I have spoken Spanish on a weekly basis with Spanish-speaking Christians, and thus I have gotten pretty good at speaking it. However, I still cannot speak Greek, even though I have been studying it even longer than Spanish. And why is that? Perhaps it’s because I don’t know anyone who speaks Greek, and it is a language I only use for reading and writing.

Recently I watched some interview videos on Chickasaw.tv about Joshua Hinson, the current director of the Chickasaw Language Department. He grew up in west Texas, and dabbled in some of the Chickasaw language early on, but he didn’t become proficient in the language until he reconnected with the Chickasaw community in Oklahoma and began actively seeking out native speakers to talk with.

Now, your motivations for learning a language may be different than mine. Perhaps you just want to be able to read and write in your target language, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But remember that language is essentially a means of communication. If you learn a language on your own, with no one to talk to, that defeats the purpose!

Besides Greek and Latin, the other languages I have set out to learn have been motivated by community. I learned Esperanto because I wanted to be a part of that international community. I tried my hand at French, so that I could speak with people and make myself understood in Belgium. I began learning Nahuatl so that I could connect with the native people in Mexico on a deeper level. And, most recently, I embarked on a journey to learn Korean, so that I could communicate with Koreans in my community and learn about them and their culture.

Language and culture are intricately woven together, and if you try to learn one without the other, I daresay your chances of becoming proficient that language are quite low. Interacting with a community of speakers gives language learning a human side, which encourages you and lets you see that this language is not just a bunch of dry rules from a textbook, but a living, breathing entity that allows you to see through the eyes of another people.

I imagine everybody would like to learn a language, but there are few who actually make the commitment to do it. I like what Joshua Hinson said in one of the videos:

“You have to be a little crazy to pick up any language. You gotta be always thinking about ‘What can I do? How can I expand my knowledge? Am I talking to myself in the car? Am I making up new words? Am I emailing in Chickasaw?’ You gotta go a little extra to become proficient. It’s tough.”

I think this is what sets serious language learners apart from those who never seem to make any progress. If you are really crazy about learning this language, you will be continuously working on it, and seeking out opportunities to practice speaking it.

Of course not all languages have this community. Several native languages of Oklahoma are already extinct, and more are on their way. However, this does not mean that they cannot be successfully revived. If you want to learn one of these languages, go for it, by all means! But in this case, you will have to create community. Find at least one other person who is as passionate as you are about learning this language, and learn and practice speaking together. It could be the beginning of a new life for a language that had gone silent.

Check out the aforementioned videos on Chickasaw.tv: How to Become Proficient in Chickasaw

Wales photo album

Wales! That little country tacked onto the side of England… we were only there a short time, and didn’t really get to explore much. However, what we saw was interesting. Most of these pictures were taken at a pretty little park, where we walked around a bit. Our other destinations in Cardiff were a souvenir gift shop, a book store, a thrift store, and a fast food chicken place.

At the thrift store I was tempted to buy a bunch of interesting books on the Welsh language, but I maintained my self-control, reasoning that it would be very unlikely for me to return to Wales anytime soon in the future. As for the chicken place, well… we were hungry, and our options were limited. My memories from the chicken place were that if you wanted ketchup, you had to pay extra, and we were practically the only white people in the restaurant, everyone else looking middle-eastern! So much for traditional Welsh food.

Maybe one of these days I will make it back to Wales. I’m sure there’s much more to see than I was able to breeze through on my short visit!