At the height of summer, a refreshing, tangy piece of fruit can satisfy a craving like no other. English speakers may cut up a pineapple to snack on. But for those who speak Finnish, French, Spanish, Turkish, Portuguese, and many other languages, the exact same fruit is called ananas (with some slight variations on spelling or accent marks). The name of this tropical fruit is a cognate in virtually every language except English — how did the outlier “pineapple” come about? 

An early version of “pineapple” appeared in the late 1300s in Old English as pynappel, but etymologists have determined that reference was most likely referring to a pine cone. Until at least the 17th century, medieval botanists used the word “apple” as a generic term for any fruit other than berries, and it was used to create new words for any unknown fruit. For example, “pomegranate” comes from the Latin pōmum grānātum, meaning “seeded apple.” Hence, the round “fruit” from a pine tree was called a pineapple. You can see traces of this naming convention in modern French: pomme de terre (“potato”) literally translates to “apple of earth” in English. 

It’s likely that the word “pineapple” developed from the slight resemblance between the scales of a pine cone and the scales of the fruit. We know the word was used in reference to the fruit by the explorer Captain John Smith in 1624 in the Generall Historie of Virginia. However, we also know that the word “ananas” was in use around the same time, because another explorer, Samuel Purchas, extolled the virtues of the delicious ananas in 1613. Two centuries later, both terms were still in use in English. In 1813, the gardener Thomas Baldwin wrote a guide about how to grow the plant and specified both names: Short practical directions for the culture of the ananas, or pine apple plant. 

Despite the rest of the world settling on ananas, English speakers eventually landed firmly on the side of “pineapple.” The tides likely turned when James Dole opened a pineapple plantation in Hawaii in 1900, and Dole launched ad campaigns in magazines to spread the word about his crop. 

The spiky tops and distinctive tangy flavor make the yellow fruit unmistakable, but if you ask for “pineapple” anywhere in the world outside of the Anglophone bubble, you’re going to get some confused looks. If this is your favorite fruit, make sure to remember to ask for ananas (which, by the way, is etymologically unrelated to “banana”). 

The English language has never shied away from borrowing foreign words. It has adopted or adapted words from other tongues with great enthusiasm, with more than 350 languages now represented in English. This borrowing process, however, can result in some peculiar linguistic side effects, one of which is the use of word combinations that say the same thing twice — but in different languages — creating what we could call a bilingual tautology (a tautology being “needless repetition of an idea, statement, or word”).

Here are some examples of common linguistic redundancies that have developed as a result of English’s multicultural roots. Many of these redundancies have become so embedded in everyday speech that we don’t even realize we’re repeating ourselves. 

One classic example of a bilingual redundancy is the River Avon in the United Kingdom. “Avon” comes from a Celtic word meaning “river,” so the River Avon is essentially a tautology meaning “River River.” Another U.K.-based example of loanword adoption is the village of Torpenhow in Cumbria. The village name can be parsed out as a combination of the Saxon word tor, the Celtic pen, and the Old Norse how, all of which mean “hill” — meaning that Torpenhow translates as “Hill-hill-hill.”

In Arabic, the Sahara is called Al-Ṣaḥrāʾ al-Kubrā, meaning “the Great Desert.” The Anglicized name of the desert derives from the Arabic word ṣaḥrāʾ, which simply means “desert.” So, when we refer to the Sahara Desert, we are in fact saying “Desert Desert.” 

The La Brea Tar Pits in Los Angeles are among of the world’s most famous locations for fossil discoveries. They also happen to be a common example of linguistic redundancy. In Spanish, “la brea” means “the tar,” so when we say “La Brea Tar Pits,” we are actually saying “the Tar Tar Pits.” 

The magnificent Lake Tahoe straddles the border between California and Nevada. The lake and its surrounding area have long been home to the Washoe people, a Great Basin tribe of Indigenous Americans. Lake Tahoe was naturally important to the Washoe, who named it da ow ga (or da’aw), a term literally meaning “the lake.” European settlers mispronounced this as “Tahoe,” and in turn named the large body of fresh water Lake Tahoe — likely unaware that they were essentially saying “Lake Lake.”

The word “Mississippi” comes from the Indigenous Ojibwe word mshi-ziibi, meaning “big river.” So, when we talk about the Mississippi River, we are saying “Big River River.” The Mekong River in Southeast Asia is a similar tautological example; in Thai, me means “mother” and khong means “river,” leaving us with “Mother River River.” 

The culinary world is home to many tautologies that have arisen when English borrows words from other languages; naan bread is a prime example. The Urdu word nān translates as “bread,” so when we say “naan bread,” we are saying “bread bread.” As many viewers pointed out during a 2018 episode of The Great British Bake Off, saying “naan” on its own is enough. 

Around the world, people tend to use variations of one of two words for tea. In English we say “tea,” while the French say thé, the Spanish té, and the Dutch thee. The other variation has a slightly different sound: chá in Mandarin and Cantonese, chai in Hindi, shay in Arabic, and chay in Russian. So-called chai tea —a black tea of Indian origin, often spiced with cinnamon or cardamom — has become popular in the United States. But in India, chai is not a flavor of tea; it refers to tea in general. Saying “chai tea” is redundant, as it means “tea tea.” 

If you fill your garden pond with “koi carp,” you are engaging in an aquatic tautology. “Koi” is the Japanese word for “carp,” making the “carp” in “koi carp” redundant.

Another commonly cited fish-related tautology is “ahi tuna,” which derives from the Hawaiian word ʻahi, referring to tuna, especially the yellow-fin tuna. In this respect, the “tuna” in “ahi tuna” is redundant. But there is a caveat: ʻAhi also means “fire” in Hawaiian, and Hawaiian fishermen used the word to refer to tuna because these powerful fish could pull on lines with such speed and strength that smoke would arise at the point where the fisherman’s line met the side of his boat. So, while “ahi tuna” can be considered a tautology — “tuna tuna” — there’s also a case to be made for “fire tuna.” 

Language is often a reflection of cultural evolution, and sometimes we can trace these linguistic changes through cognates — words that share a common ancestry but have diverged, whether across different languages or within the same language. Take, for example, the English word “paper” and the French word papier, both derived directly from the Latin term papyrus. These words are examples of traditional cognates: terms that stem from the same root word but have evolved in different languages.

Cognates can also exist within the same language. When this happens, they are called etymological twins or doublets. These pairs evolved from the same root word (in a different language — usually Latin), then diverged, and frequently share related meanings in modern English. Such is the case with “frail” and “fragile,” two related English words that evolved from the Latin term fragilis. What other duos are lexical siblings? Let’s find out.

At first glance, the verbs “ameliorate” and “meliorate” seem nearly identical — the former means “to make better or more tolerable” and the definition of the latter is simply listed as “ameliorate.” While their connection may appear to be a simple spelling alteration, it’s more complicated than that. These terms actually entered English through different languages. Both ultimately stem from the Latin meliorare, meaning “improve,” but “ameliorate” made its way into English via the French verb for “improve” (améliorer), while “meliorate” took a more direct path from Latin into English during the 16th century. Today, “ameliorate” is the more commonly used of the two (“Aspirin should ameliorate the pain”), but its lesser-known twin is no less legitimate.

“Enquire” and “inquire” — two spellings, one root, and a subtle distinction in tone. Both originate from the same root word, the Latin inquirere (“seek after, search for, examine, scrutinize”). However, the spelling of “enquire” was likely influenced by the Old French enquerre. While “inquire” dominates American English (“He inquired about the test results”), British English retains both spellings: “enquire” for informal or casual questions, and “inquire” for formal or official ones. Today, these words coexist, despite there being no need for two different versions.

These commonly confused adjectives both originate from the Greek historikos, yet their modern meanings diverge. “Historical” is used in a broad sense to describe anything relating to history or past events, as in “historical documents.” “Historic,” on the other hand, is reserved for events of importance, as in, “Millions watched Neil Armstrong’s historic first steps on the moon.” “Historic” is likely a back formation of “historical” and entered English in the 17th century, while “historical” came into English during the early 15th century.

Etymological twins aren’t required to stem from the same word — they can come from the same prefix, as in the case of the two commonly confused verbs “compose” and “comprise.” “Compose” refers to the elements that make up a whole, as in, “Roses and peonies compose the bouquet.” In contrast, “comprise” describes the whole that the elements form: “The bouquet comprises roses and peonies.” Their common root is Latin, specifically the prefix “com-,” meaning “with, together.” “Compose” entered late Middle English from the Old French composer, which is derived from the Latin componere (“component”). “Comprise” derives from the Latin comprehendere, meaning “to take together, to unite; include.”

The verbs “allude” and “elude” differ slightly in pronunciation and meaning, yet they still have a common tie. While “allude” means “to make indirect reference,” “elude” means “to avoid adroitly” or “to escape the perception, understanding, or grasp of.” Both words entered English during the 16th century, originally deriving from the Latin verb ludere, meaning “to play.” This Latin root resulted in two very similar Latin verbs: alludere (“to play, make fun of, joke, jest”) and eludere (“to finish play, win at play; escape from or parry (a blow), make a fool of, mock, frustrate”). Today, each modern English word retains a trace of these playful Latin roots, whether through a clever suggestion or clever escape.

This verb pair is a prime example of how etymological twins can have very different meanings. In this case, they sit on opposite sides of legality. “Proscribe” refers to doing something forbidden, especially by law (“The principal proscribed the use of cell phones in class”), while “prescribe” is giving a recommendation of something beneficial, mainly as a medical remedy by a doctor (“The doctor prescribed medicine for my cough”). However, both words derive from the Latin root scribere, meaning “to write.” Historically, “proscribe” meant “to outlaw,” which is where it retains its connection to the rule of law today. During the 16th century, it referred to the practice of publishing the names of criminals condemned to death. “Prescribe” originally meant “to write down as a direction, law, or rule.” The term gained its connection to medicine during the 16th century with the usage of “advise, appoint, or designate as a remedy for a disease,” likely a back-formation of “prescription” — “a written direction for a therapeutic or corrective agent.” 

These nouns are often confused, but one refers to polite praise, while the other denotes a perfect pairing. Both, however, ultimately came from the Latin complere, meaning “to fill up” or “to complete.” A compliment is an expression of admiration (“I love your shoes”), while a complement is “a thing that completes or brings to perfection,” as in, “The wine was a lovely complement to the meal.” It’s easy to see how both terms stem from complere, as they retain similar meanings today. “Compliment” can also be used as a verb in the same context as the noun: “He complimented his date on her shoes.”

This linguistic mix-up can be hazardous. While they sound like opposites, the cognates “flammable” and “inflammable” both mean “easily set on fire.” A glimpse into their etymology reveals why they’re synonyms, not antonyms. Both stem from the Latin flamma, meaning “flame, blazing fire.” Because the prefix “in-” is often associated with negation (as in “invisible” or “incomplete”), “inflammable” is frequently misinterpreted as “not flammable.” However, the Latin prefix “in-” can also mean “into” or “toward,” which intensifies the meaning of “flammable,” as in, “Gasoline is highly inflammable.” Due to the frequent misunderstanding of the word “inflammable,” “flammable” emerged as a mainstream replacement during the 19th century. Today, safety experts prefer the unambiguous “flammable” for clarity’s sake.

Whenever I’m planning to travel, I like to learn a few phrases in the local languages. I might not be able to have full conversations, but it’s good to be able to ask a few questions and navigate a little. I’m planning a trip to Europe now, and I realized that my high school French and Spanish aren’t going to be enough — I need to learn some Basque. The Basque region spans across southern France and northern Spain; 93.7% of Basque speakers are in Spain, while 6.3% are in France. Friends and family who have visited Basque Country rave about the beaches, food, and amazingly kind people who populate the region. I’m eager to learn some of the special language.  

Basque speakers call the language Euskara. It’s a language isolate, meaning that it has no relation to any other known languages. This is in contrast to French and Spanish, which are Romance languages that can be traced back to Latin. Not only are there no known associations, but language historians are still mostly stumped about how to trace the origin of Basque. 

According to Encyclopedia Britannica, very early in the recorded history of the Common Era, “dialects of Euskarian (Basque) stock were probably spoken north and south of the Pyrenees and as far east as the Aran Valley in northeastern Spain.” The resilience of Euskarian dialects was important because, at the time, the Romans were conquering Europe and most people in the region were starting to speak Latin. Basque maintained a foothold in the region over the centuries, even as various forms of Romance languages rose up around it. Today there are efforts to keep Basque alive in private education systems and through a written standard called Euskara Batua (“Unified Basque”).  

To hear someone speak Basque is not too different from hearing someone speak Spanish. Many of the consonants and vowels are pronounced the same, and the “ll” is pronounced with a “yuh” sound. The Basque “r” is made with a single tap of the tongue, which contrasts with the rolled or trilled “r” in Spanish. The letters “k,” “z,” and “x” are used much more frequently in Basque than in English, which makes the appearance and the sound notably different to English speakers. 

In today’s geography, Northern Basque Country is in southern France in the three provinces of Labourd, Lower Navarre, and Soule. Spanish Basque Country in northern Spain is made up of the provinces Araba, Biscay, and Gipuzkoa. The Basque language is still spoken in these provinces and their major cities. If you travel to one of the beachy cities of Basque Country from Madrid, the language might require an adjustment. But its history is as long as Spain’s, and the joys of the culture are undeniable. 

Before your wanderlust takes over completely, spend some time learning more about the Basque language and memorize a few key phrases. It will go far with the locals who are very proud of their long history and culture.