Sometimes I pronounce certain place names properly, other times I don’t. Depending on who I’m speaking to they either roll their eyes, give me a look of mild confusion, or are completely oblivious to my intentional wrongness.

But ultimately, they know what I mean.

I’m listening to an episode of Hardcore History, a podcast by Dan Carlin, about Alexader the Great. In this episode he pronounces the country of Macedonia with a hard C rather than the soft version most English people are used to. The thing is, most historical texts use the letter K in place of C when writing about it.

Although he goes against modern convention, he’s not wrong.

Carlin’s podcast is also the first place that I learned that Genghis (of Mongol fame) is pronounced with a soft G, much like the unending gif debate.

Personally, I tend to flip-flop on my pronunciation. Considering these examples, I use the soft G in Genghis but also use the soft C in Macedonia — the hard C just throws me off.

The Great Khan aside, it’s place names that are usually the focus of this discussion.

For example, I pronounce the Spanish island of Mallorca correctly, but I incorrectly pronounce its neighbouring island of Ibiza.

Mexico, as far as any English-speaking person is concerned, is pronounced Meksico, with the hard X. And even though I know that this is completely wrong, I say it this way because it’s what most people know. That said, with the Mexican city of Oaxaca — one of my favourite places on earth — I pronounce it properly because saying Oaksaka sounds ridiculous.

Medellin, a city in Colombia, throws a curveball at even the snobs. Due to the regional dialect, even someone fluent in Spanish will mispronounce it on the first attempt. A famous example of this is when the actor who played Pablo Escobar in Narcos pronounced the name wrong throughout the series. (Admittedly, though I was once just as guilty, having lived there I tend to be one of those annoying snobs who corrects this completely innocent error)

Over in Europe, I flip-flop on Budapest depending on who I’m talking to. I don’t know why. Even the English themselves have spellings that most who speak the language can’t properly pronounce. I can say Worcestershire, but I forgive those who can’t.

And don’t get me started on Australia…

The reason that I find this so interesting is that pronunciation doesn’t matter. As a writer, none of what I type comes with inherit pronunciation — that’s all on you, the reader.

How we pronounce words holds little value as long as there is context. Pronunciation is little more than a sophisticated layer that we’ve added on top of basic communication.