In August, I had the pleasure of joining a workshop for English interpreters in Edinburgh, Scotland – a city that seems to breathe language, history, and just a hint of sea breeze.
One topic that kept coming up again and again was idioms, and how they reveal so much about the cultures that created them.
In British English, countless idioms come from seafaring, which is hardly surprising for an island nation. Expressions like
– “all hands on deck,”
– “to weather the storm,”
– “to be in the same boat,”
– “to know the ropes”
all trace back to life at sea. Even when no one in the room has ever sailed a ship, the imagery is still part of everyday speech, a quiet echo of Britain’s maritime past.
In German, idioms often spring from the land rather than the sea: forests, crafts, and farming.
Think of:
– “Da liegt der Hase im Pfeffer” (that’s the fly in the ointment, lit. “that’s where the hare lies in the pepper”),
– “Nägel mit Köpfen machen” (to put wood behind the arrow, lit. “to make nails with heads”), or
– “den Wald vor lauter Bäumen nicht sehen” (“to not see the forest for the trees”)
They reflect a culture rooted in woodlands and workshops rather than waves and wind.
What fascinates me is how idioms act as tiny cultural time capsules.
They carry echoes of people’s surroundings, work, and history, things speakers might not consciously think about, yet which quietly shape how they see the world.
For us interpreters, idioms are both a challenge and a joy. They’re rarely “translatable” word for word. Instead, they demand cultural sensitivity and creativity; it’s a challenge trying to find the image, rhythm, or emotional impact that resonates on both sides of the language bridge.
In that sense, interpreting idioms really is like navigation: we read the winds and currents of meaning, and adjust our sails as we go.