There was quite a lot of infrastructure available 10 years ago for converting between ASCII fonts and Unicode. Not sure there will be as much now.
If your source document used a Unicode font, then it’s puzzling. Transliteration is above the paygrade of PDF converters.
When I told a colleague years ago that I loved Columbo, his response was a snort: “Columbo. He’s all shtick.”
And yes, that’s why Columbo was so successful. Not because of the innovative inverted story telling; that’s just a convention. Not because of the cleverness of the crimes: the cleverness was variable, and much of the time too clever by half. Not because of trying to work out the incriminating evidence: you’d never convict on Columbo’s evidence much of the time, if it wasn’t for the culprits’ relief in confessing.
But because of the mischievous mind games that Columbo’s shtick involved, and the not too subtle class struggle they embodied.
Seeing a gruff, yelling Columbo with a pressed suit in the pilot is quite the shock…
Ancient Greek páppos. Modern Greek papús.
Fifty years ago, people would have still been trying to make páppos the formal version. Now papús is universal. It covers the space from “grandfather” to “grampa”.
Diminutive papúlis is fairly limited, to cutesy child talk: “gramps”, I guess.
Look at Interglossa. Minimal number of verbs (a dozen?), which basically only encode thematic structures (feel, act, react, become…); and lots of verb modifiers, which capture the actual verb semantics. A thing of beauty, which has not really been followed up.
Greek: δευτερόλεπτο, “second-minute”; abbreviated to δεύτερο “second” rarely, mainly in sport.
Esperanto: sekundo, unsurprisingly.
Klingon: lup.
It’s close. This is from memory, so I could be wrong in a couple of details. 1st century AD Koine was the same as Modern Greek in the following:
It differs as follows:
In summary, if we go by the Wikipedia article for popular Greek pronunciation, the only letters whose pronunciation was substantially different from Modern were eta, upsilon, and omicron iota.
What others said. Yes, but make sure there is an internal logic to your rule, and that you’re applying it consistently and meaningfully.
Klingon has an internally consistent story with its zero copula constructions: the pronouns in copula constructions (“he — teacher”, ghojwI’ ghaH) have been reanalysed as verbs, and take verb aspect endings (“he is being a teacher”, ghojwI’ ghaH-taH) and subjects (“Worf is a teacher” ghojwI’ ghaHtaH wo’rIv’e’, literally “teacher he-ing, Worf”.)
Suzette Haden Elgin once accused Marc Okrand of linguistic malpractice, because he’d said that Klingon pronouns have subjects. Think of all the kids whose understanding of grammar will be destroyed, she exclaimed.
Fool. Cairene Arabic does pretty much the same with its pronouns.
But the key is that the rule has to be internally consistent. As Jim Grossman says, the rule likely makes more sense if the noun denotes a nominalisation to begin with. And as Zeibura Kathau says, the rule as stated is probably not what a linguist would end up describing it as—they would talk of complements of nouns instead.
And be aware of what ambiguities and dysfunctions the rule could introduce. You can have the same particle for objects of verbs and complements of nouns, as Olivier Simon does. But what happens when you have both a verb and a noun taking objects in the sentence: it is clear which of the two the complement belongs to?
Modern Greek.
Being literate in Greek has always meant being literate in Ancient Greek; so all our evidence of the vernacular is tainted, right up until the Cretan Renaissance (and there it’s tainted in a different direction, of conventionalised dialect). In the period between the Arab conquest of Egypt (when the papyri run out) and the first experiments with vernacular poetry in the 12th century, we have almost no direct evidence at all, outside of Bulgar inscriptions presumably written on their behalf by Greek prisoners of war.
But what we do know and can reconstruct tells us that the spoken language looked close to Modern Greek by the 7th century, and the texts we have in the 12th century, though macaronic, are identifiably macaronic with Modern Greek.
There would have been registers of spoken language as with every language. We have a hint from Filelfo, writing in the 15th century, that the language of the court in Mistras and Constantinople was “purer” than everywhere else. That suggests a proto-Puristic Greek, with more influence from written, atticist Greek than in the countryside.
My experiences when I was actually in Italy did not quite fit the stereotypes. We were embraced by the owners of a Florentine trattoria the way I would have expected in Sicily; and the Passeggiata in Desenzano del Garda was pretty much the volta I remember from my upbringing in Greece. Taormina, on the other hand, was stuck up enough to be in Tuscany (modulo the rustic beauticians).
Then again, as a colleague from Palermo pointed out to me a week later, “You were not in Sicily. You were in Taormina.”
On the other hand, my experience of Italian jazz fit the stereotype beautifully.
Maybe a decade ago, I attended an Italian Jazz festival, right here in Melbourne town. There were two acts in the Italian Jazz festival.
The first act was a second-generation local boy and his trio. He was from down south. Like most Italians here, because it was the poor Italians that felt they needed to migrate. The exception are the Italians from the Veneto. Because they too were poor.
The first act made sure you knew he was from down south. He was voluble and emotional and casual, and he was having a lot of fun with his act. His last number was a Tarantella, for God’s sake. A Tarantella. In a Jazz festival.
Then the second act came on.
The second act were from Trieste.
The second act looked like Dieter and the Sprockets (Saturday Night Live).
They also pretty much sounded like it.
They introduced their set with:
Ve play vot ve used to call Northern. Italian. Jazz. Ve now prefer to call it Central. European. Jazz.
And I’ll tell you, that’s exactly what they played. No Tarantellas in their set.
Other than that: what everyone else here said.
Weeell… in the Ottoman Empire (and in the Byzantine Empire before it), identity was primarily credal, organised as Millets (Ottoman Empire). As far as everyone in the Ottoman Empire was concerned, there were:
See Albanians or Bulgarians in that list? Me neither. In fact, Bulgarians were only able to assert a distinct national identity by establishing a distinct ecclesiastical identity, through the Bulgarian Exarchate.
Ethnicity as we understand it did not factor much in how people understood identity. The Catholics of the Greek islands were ethnic Greeks, as were the Muslims of Crete; that didn’t matter. In the Millet way of thinking, Markos Vamvakaris was as much a Frank as Édith Piaf; and no distinction was to be made between a Muslim from Iraklio and a Muslim from Damascus.
That delayed the establishment of national identities in the Balkans. People were aware of the Albanian language, and had words for Albanians, for example; but Albanians were either Franks, Romans, or Muslims first, and Albanians second. That’s why it was so important for the Albanian nationalists to assert “the religion of Albania is Albanianism”. And why Greeks historically used the odd construction “Turk-Albanians” (who are just Muslim Albanians).
So. There are a lot of longstanding ethnic minorities in Greece, who identified as Romans through the Byzantine and the Ottoman periods, and transitioned to a Greek national identity after Greek Independence. That includes Arvanites (Albanian-speaking) and Aromanians (Romance-speaking), who may not have spoken a word of Greek but fought the Turks, because their identity was Orthodox.
Things with Slavic-speakers got a lot more contentious, of course, and I’ll wisely decide to avoid getting into it. There was some contentiousness with Aromanians too. But I will mention the entertaining case of the Kızderbent Trakatroukides:
The sum of the anecdotes is: Greek identity may not be ethnoreligious now, but “Roman” identity was ethnoreligious for a long time. Greek identity is in many ways a successor to “Roman” identity, so who ended up called “Greek” was not unrelated to who was called “Roman”.
And of course those historically non-Grecophone populations get very touchy if you tell them they aren’t Greek.
EDIT: Dimitra edited her answer in light of mine. I am now reciprocating.
Let’s set some parameters. There were three names in play.
* Romans (Ρωμιοί), which meant the Rum millet, and included everyone Greek Orthodox. I’ll claim that’s the ethnoreligious identity.
* Hellenes (Έλληνες), which meant the Ancient Greeks, and which the intelligentsia towards the end of the Ottomans started promoting over the other two names. That’s the modern name for Greeks; and though that may not have been the original intent it includes Greek nationals of all creeds (including Jews and Armenians—and though many Greeks may wince to acknowledge it, Muslims as well). I’ll claim that that’s the civic identity. Inasmuch as is there such a thing in Greece.
* Graikoi (Γραικοί), which was used less than the other names, but which I have seen used for ethnic Greeks. (The Aromanian writer Giorgos Exarchos is a quite loyal Greek, but he makes a point of distinguishing Graikoi Hellenes from Vlach Hellenes.) The word of course is just Greek for “Greek”. I’ll claim that that’s the ethnic identity.
Dimitra’s conclusion is that Greeks in Ottoman times were not ethnoreligious, because “If Greek Then Orthodox” did not map to “If Orthodox Then Greek”.
Now the equation “If Roman Then Orthodox” did map to “If Orthodox Then Roman”. Roman was an ethnoreligious identity; and Bulgarians, Albanians and Aromanians were Roman.
It is true that the Graikoi were a privileged group within the Romans. They had control of the Patriarchate (which ran the Rum millet), and they were quite happy for Graikoi and Romans to be conflated, at the expense of the other ethnicities.
BUT the culture they were privileging wasn’t a culture of modern vernacular Greek: it was Hellenic culture (Ancient Greek). And here’s the catch: Graikoi were only somewhat more privileged in their access to Hellenic culture than Bulgarians and Albanians. Remember that people did not always consider Ancient Greek the same language as Modern Greek. Greeks themselves called Modern Greek Romaic until independence; and their Western contemporaries often did too. And if Graikoi had to learn how to write in good Hellenic, well, so could Albanians and Bulgarians. (And of course, they did.)
So the equation Hellenes = Graikoi was disrupted: non-Grecophones had access to Hellenic culture. The equation Romans = Graikoi was disrupted: non-Grecophones were Orthodox. And the equation Hellenes = Romans was disrupted: the true Hellenes were pagans, and people were well aware of the discontinuity between Ancient and Mediaeval civilisation.
But the equation Roman iff Orthodox, of course, was not disrupted: it was a definition.
(It is now that Romios means something different—alignment with Greek identity through low rather than high culture—Hellene being the high culture, of course. Vamvakaris was a Frank not a Roman, but Greeks now will happily claim him as a Romios. I’ve heard Greek Christians claim that any Greek Jew who loves Kazantzidis must be a Romios.)
So:
Was the definition of Roman = Orthodox forced on Graikoi, Bulgarians, Albanians, Aromanians etc by the Ottomans? I suspect it wasn’t, and that it was inherited from Byzantium. If you were Orthodox, you followed the Emperor’s creed; if you were Catholic or Muslim, you were a foreigner, and if you were Jewish, you were a second class citizen. I don’t think the Byzantines overly worried about what your ethnicity was, whether you were Bulgarian (like John Koukouzelis) or Georgian (like John Tzetzes) or Armenian (like half the emperors). As long as you were Orthodox and wrote in Ancientish Greek, you were a good subject of the Roman Empire.
Were the Graikoi or the Bulgarians worried about ethnicity in Ottoman times? Again, I don’t think so. Partly because the term Graikoi was so rarely used to begin with, partly because you don’t hear much mention of the minority ethnicities at all.
I *think* I’m in agreement with Dimitra overall: Greeks as Hellenes are a civic identity now (Greek Jew, Έλληνας Εβραίος, is not a contradiction in terms); Greeks as Romans were an ethnoreligious identity back in the day. And this having been a reasonably recent transition, it has been a little bumpy.
“Greek Muslim”. Έλληνας Μουσουλμάνος. I don’t think I’m wrong in saying that Christian Greeks are still uncomfortable with the concept.
(Google gives me 177 hits for Έλληνας Μουσουλμάνος, vs 2170 hits for Έλληνας Εβραίος. There are 98,000 Muslims in Greece and 5,000 Jews in Greece.)