The universal language

From "mama" to "banana": Words that are understood in every language

Learning languages is hard. But, fortunately, some terms rooted in daily universal experiences don't change much when crossing borders. If you say "mama, "papa," "taxi," or "banana," anywhere in the world, they’ll recognize those nouns immediately —even if the context provided is entirely blurry. The question is: Why did these words barely change over time and across different languages? Let’s explore the stories behind the most spoken words on the planet.

"OK" is the most spoken word on the planet. And it started as a typo joke. In 1839, the initials "O.K." were first published in the Boston Morning Post, meant as an abbreviation for "oll korrect" — a popular slang misspelling of "all correct."

Following that gag, politics intervened. In 1840, President Martin Van Buren's reelection supporters formed "O.K. Clubs" across the country, since Van Buren was nicknamed "Old Kinderhook" after his hometown in upstate New York. From there, telegraphs carried it coast to coast, and eventually it spread from North America all the way to the Moon, where Buzz Aldrin spoke it after the Apollo 11 landing.

Is it a real word? According to science, it is. In 2013, researchers at the Max Planck Institute for Psycholinguistics investigated "huh?" in naturally occurring conversations across ten languages and presented evidence for two claims. One, the term is universal. Two, it is genuinely a word.

They later expanded the study to 31 spoken languages from around the world and found that all of them have a word with a nearly identical sound and function as the English "huh?" With all its nuances and differences, most human languages on Earth independently arrived at similar rising syllables for not understanding something in conversation.

Why do unrelated languages, spoken by people who never met, use almost identical words for "mother" and "father"? In Swahili: mama. In Polish: mama. In Mandarin Chinese: māma. In Quechua, spoken in the Andes of South America: mama. This mystery puzzled linguists for generations.

This isn’t a case of cognates (words borrowed from one language to another). The answer here lies in babies: "mama" and "papa" are among the easiest sounds to produce, because they combine bilabial consonants and open vowels. "Mmm" is often the first consonant babies experiment with.

The term "hello" had floated around English since the 1820s, mainly as a shout to get someone’s attention, like "hey" or "oi." But it was barely more than that before telephones existed.

Then, in 1876, Alexander Graham Bell invented the telephone, and it was time to decide what callers should say when they picked up. Bell himself suggested the traditional nautical hail, "Ahoy." It was Thomas Edison who suggested "Hello!" in a letter dated 1877. By 1889, telephone operators had become widely known as "hello-girls." By then, the greeting had jumped to everyday conversation, and eventually every language on Earth picked up a version of it.

It is said that "Coca-Cola" is one of the most recognizable terms on the entire planet, much like the word "OK." This makes sense: the soft drink is sold in more than 200 countries. The name wasn’t the result of a marketing team or a focus group. It was coined in 1886 by the company’s bookkeeper, Frank M. Robinson, who derived it from the drink's two original ingredients: coca leaf and kola nut.

The drink was invented in Atlanta, Georgia, in 1886 by Dr. John S. Pemberton, who originally marketed it as a medicinal tonic. Today, approximately 1.9 billion servings of Coca-Cola beverages are consumed each day, so wherever in the world you are, the brand needs absolutely no introduction.

The word "coffee" has traveled far. Its story starts in the Ethiopian highlands with a by-now popular legend that depicts a 9th-century goat herder who noticed his goats wouldn’t sleep after eating berries from a certain bush. Thus, the idea of the drink made from those berries spread in Ethiopia.

From there, it moved to Yemen, where it was documented in a 15th-century text as a drink made from roasted coffee beans. It was assigned the Arabic word qahwa, which traveled with the drink. The product was traded by the Ottomans, who influenced several other languages, and from it derived the Italian caffè, the Dutch koffie, and the French café. So, the term has mutated slightly in each language, but it remains similar enough to identify it easily all over the world.

Every night, hundreds of millions of people all over the world put on a Persian garment with a Persian name. The word "pajamas" comes from the Persian pay-jāma, a compound of pay (foot or leg) and jāma (garment). In 15th-century Persia, it referred to loose trousers worn by men and women for comfort, and the term entered English in the 18th century when British colonists encountered the garment in India.

But the original pajamas were not sleepwear for a long time. Victorian high society adopted them as fashionable, exotic loungewear, and it was by the early 20th century that the two-piece sleeping suit had spread across the Western world. Today, most countries in the world have very similar names for this garment.

"Safari" is the name for a very specific activity. For many tongues in the world, the word itself conjures jeeps, binoculars, lions, and zebras.

But its original meaning was distant from the current one. It comes from the Arabic safara, which means "to travel." In Swahili, safari simply means any kind of journey, not just a wildlife expedition. For the English language, it was first recorded by explorer Sir Richard Francis Burton in the Journal of the Royal Geographical Society in 1859. British colonists in East Africa understood the word to apply to hunting expeditions, and, by the middle of the 20th century, Hollywood had cemented its modern image with films romanticizing the African bush.

Today, Apple’s decision to name its search engine "Safari" brings the term closer to its original meaning than to the one related to wildlife exploration.

Banana is one of the most consumed fruits on Earth, and its name has traveled with it. The word "banana" first appeared in English in the 1590s, borrowed by Spanish or Portuguese explorers from a West African word, possibly from the Wolof language, spoken in what is today Senegal and Gambia.

Most historians sustain that Africans began harvesting the fruit at least 4,500 years ago. When Portuguese and Spanish ships began trading across the world in the 15th and 16th centuries, they encountered the fruit, borrowed its African name, and carried both across the Atlantic. Today, the word sounds remarkably similar in many languages: banana in English, Spanish, Italian, and German; banane in French; 바나나 (banana) in Korean.

From Buenos Aires to Bangkok, you can step off a plane having never spoken a word of the local language, hold out your hand, and say one word: "Taxi." You will get the exact same thing. But the story of this two-syllable word is a tangle of countries and languages.

The original word was "taximeter," coined by German inventor Friedrich W. G. Bruhn in 1891. This was a device that measured the fare by distance. It was the French who shortened taximètre to taxi. A company imported them to New York under the market name "Taxicab" and decided to paint them yellow, since it was the most visible color. From there, both the short name and the iconic color stuck. Today, it is a symbol universally shared that you’ll find in every major city.

Less Screens, More Life

Unplug, Slow Down, Repeat: The Analog Life Is Calling

Going back to analog life isn’t about rejecting technology altogether: It’s about choosing when to unplug. In a world designed to keep us constantly connected, analog habits offer a refreshing pause. They bring back moments of focus, presence, and intention that often get lost in endless notifications and scrolling. By reintroducing simple, low-tech ways of doing everyday things, we slow our pace and reconnect with ourselves and others. The result isn’t less convenience, but more meaning in how we spend our time.

Putting pen to paper slows your thoughts in a way typing never does. Handwriting forces you to be deliberate, making grocery lists, journals, and to-do notes feel more intentional. Many people find that they remember things better when they physically write them, because the brain engages differently when writing than it does with screens.

Beyond memory, handwritten notes create a personal archive of your life. Smudges, crossed-out words, and margin doodles capture moments exactly as they happened. Years later, flipping through an old notebook feels more intimate than scrolling through a notes app ever could.

Relying on physical media involves choosing what you listen to, rather than letting an algorithm make the decision for you. Whether it’s vinyl records, cassette tapes, or even CDs, the act of selecting music becomes part of the experience. You commit to an album and listen all the way through, not just to one track.

This kind of listening encourages patience and deeper appreciation. Instead of skipping after 15 seconds, you give songs time to grow on you. Music becomes a ritual rather than background noise, something you actively sit down and enjoy.

Physical books offer a sensory experience that screens can’t replicate. The weight of the book, the texture of the pages, and even the smell of paper all contribute to the act of reading. Without notifications or pop-ups, it’s easier to stay immersed in the story.

There’s also a sense of progress that comes from seeing a bookmark move forward. Finished books become visible accomplishments on a shelf, serving as reminders of ideas and worlds you’ve explored rather than files buried in a digital library.

A paper calendar makes time feel tangible again. Writing down appointments and plans helps you visualize your weeks and months more clearly. You can see busy periods at a glance without needing to toggle between apps or views.

Crossing off completed days or events brings a quiet satisfaction. It also encourages realistic scheduling, since you can physically see when you’re overbooking yourself instead of relying on endless digital space.

Reading a paper map or relying on written directions reconnects you with your surroundings. Instead of following turn-by-turn instructions, you learn to understand the layout of a place and notice landmarks along the way.

This approach can make travel feel more adventurous. Getting slightly lost often leads to unexpected discoveries, turning routine trips into small explorations rather than optimized routes from point A to point B.

Film photography encourages thoughtfulness. With a limited number of exposures, each photo matters more, and you pause before pressing the shutter. This often results in more meaningful images rather than dozens of forgettable shots.

Waiting for the film to be developed adds anticipation. When you finally see the photos, they feel like moments recovered from the past rather than instant content meant for immediate sharing.

Multitasking, while time-efficient, can make us disconnected from the task at hand. Washing dishes without a podcast, cooking without checking messages, or walking without earbuds allows your mind to settle into the moment.

These quiet stretches can be surprisingly restorative. Without constant stimulation, your thoughts have room to wander, problem-solve, or simply rest, creating mental space that’s rare in a screen-filled day.

Board games and puzzles bring people together in a shared physical space. There’s no screen dividing attention, only conversation, laughter, and friendly competition around a table.

They also teach patience and cooperation. Unlike fast-paced digital games, analog games unfold slowly, encouraging strategy, discussion, and genuine connection with others.

Ticket stubs, postcards, pressed flowers, and printed photos tell personal stories. These small objects become memory anchors, instantly transporting you back to a specific time and place.

Unlike digital files, physical mementos are discovered accidentally. Finding one tucked into a drawer or book can spark nostalgia in a way a curated digital album rarely does.

Analog evenings might mean dimmer lights, quiet music, or simply sitting without a screen. These slower nights help signal to your body that it’s time to wind down.

Over time, this rhythm can improve sleep and overall well-being. By ending the day without endless scrolling, you create space for reflection, conversation, or rest, simple habits that make life feel fuller and more grounded.