Tag Archives: Spanish

Why Are You in Spain?

Ah, the question. The question. I ask it a lot of others; they in turn ask it of me. I love and hate this question, because I love knowing other people’s stories, but I have no idea how to answer it without starting off on some ten-minute-long storytelling session, leaving my questioner with his/her mouth agape and mind reeling by it all.

So, let me just ask you, readers:

Why are you here?

Now that I’ve asked that, I can tell you why I’m here. As it says on my about page, I came to learn Spanish. I stayed for a boy. Mainly.

Would it shock you to know I kinda sorta hated study abroad? I was old enough not to get homesick, but I still did. I did not like living in a teeny-tiny room in an old nunnery with walls so thin you could hear your roommate typing late at night. I didn’t like having to wash my clothes in the shower because the laundry room charged upwards of $10 a load. (This was back when the one euro equaled something like $1.50.) I didn’t like feeling as if it were impossible to make friends except for drinking buddies and intercambios who weren’t really interested in hanging out with me after hours. I didn’t like seeing my bank account drain slowly down to almost nothing.

But I did like learning Spanish. I did like that, and so I dove in headfirst, as much as I could. I got another intercambio because one just wasn’t enough. I spoke to all the waiters in Spanish, even if they insisted on speaking to me in English (the bastards). I studied vigorously, even when all of my classmates were basically taking a semester off. I traveled as much as my budget would allow. I learned to love red wine, olives, and tortilla de patata.

But there was so much I didn’t know at the end of my stay! I didn’t know how to tapear, I hadn’t mastered the subjunctive, I had never had a real Spanish friend that I could text and ask to hang out with. This bothered me. I went back for my senior year unsure of the future and what would happen after May 2009.

As senior year wore on, I had a decision to make—find a job or go back to Spain? I chose Spain, specifically Salamanca. I was excited to experience a new side of Spain, to live in my own apartment, and meet Spaniards. Oh yeah, and improve my Spanish.

I got back to Spain in September 2009, a year and three months after I’d left Toledo. A few days later, I met Mario. He came to the door of the place I was interning, and I was unintentionally rude to his friend and him, but he still went out to dinner with us. The next day, I pretty much asked him out, and the rest was history. My mother waited patiently by the computer to hear updates about this guy I talked about all the time, even though she’d warned me not to fall in love with any Spaniard (only because that could keep me far away from her). Oops! I was head over heels after a few weeks. After a month, I met the family. After three, I was ready to stay indefinitely, if it meant we could be together.

Staying in Spain is not an easy task for many reasons. There’s bureaucracy. There’s homesickness. There’s cultural differences that drive me crazy at times. There’s times when I get so sick of Spanish, of struggling to find the word that I just want to scream, pack my suitcase, and get on the next plane to Chicago. Get me outta here! Mario knows this more than anyone. Luckily, although he wouldn’t feel the same way, he sympathizes as best he can.

There are some expats that love Spain much more than I do (although, don’t get me wrong, I do love it), and they’d stay forever if it were up to them, boyfriend / girlfriend / husband / wife / lover or not. I wouldn’t, though. If not for this husband of mine, I’d be in the States, where my family is, where my friends are, where my history is. Living in another country wears on me, and I’d love to be able to just hop in my car and drive to my parents’, but right now it’s just not possible.

Right now we’re here; right now this is our home. It may not be for forever. That’s okay. When I married a Spaniard, I gave up that right to certainty about where home is. Home is here. Home is there. Home is Zamora, it’s Crawfordsville, it’s Bloomington, it’s Salamanca. It’s Spain and it’s the US. That’s why I’m here.

What about you?

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When 1 Word in English = 3+ in Spanish

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When you first start learning a language, it’s all fun and games! Hey, today I learned 20 new words! And they’re words I’ll use more than once a month! Now, though, I learn words like surco and resarcir and resquebrajar. Those words, believe it or not, don’t come out of my mouth that often.

Sometimes I find there are two words in English for one word in Spanish. For example, dove and pigeon. Are those two birds really different? (Wikipedia says not really.) But a lot of times there’s one word in English for a few in Spanish. This is what trips me up. Let’s talk examples.

Towel

Definition: a piece of thick absorbent cloth or paper used for drying oneself or wiping things dry.

But in Spanish:Toalla

Paño

Trapo (de cocina)

Rag

Definition: a piece of old cloth, esp. one torn from a larger piece, used typically for cleaning things.

But in Spanish:

Trapo Trapo

Bayeta

Bowl

Definition: a round, deep dish or basin used for food or liquid.

But in Spanish:

Bol

Tazón

Cuenco

Plato hondo

Scarf

Definition: a length or square of fabric worn around the neck or head.

But in Spanish:

Bufanda

Pañuelo?
Foulard/Fular?
Pashmina?

To Be

This is the biggest. To be or not to be? ¿Ser o no ser? ¿Estar o no estar? I’ve finally mastered this, but sometimes I still wonder why a person cannot ser loco, he must estar loco.

Okay, what about you? Tell me some other examples of this phenomenon, either from Spanish to English or vice versa.

Third Culture

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In our guest room a flag hangs from the wall above the bed. No, not a yellow and red flag; this one is red, white, and blue. You know—the stars and stripes. My dad bought Mario this flag to remind him where he should (eventually) settle down. My dad would like it very much if we moved back to the US, preferably yesterday. It has a prominent place in our home, this flag. Why?

Vacationing in Sevilla

We live in Spain. We carry out the day-to-day of our lives, of our life, in Spain. We speak in Spanish and eat Spanish food. Yes, we do all this, all this Spanish stuff. We are Spanish.

But though we reside in Spain, we dream about living in the States too. We speak in English and watch American TV shows and movies. I make brownies and cookies and other American dishes. So we are also American.

In reality, he is Spanish. Born and raised in the heart of Castilla y León, with family roots that go back centuries, Mario is as Spanish as they come. Zamorano, really. His dark hair and eyes betray him. His telltale accent, his pronunciation of the z and c in the true castellano accent, his love for lentejas and cocido and jamón and tortilla, his concern for his parents never to worry unnecessarily … he is Spanish.

He is Spanish, and I am American. I speak English with the typical accent of many modern Americans, an accent that is almost impossible to pinpoint. I don’t worry about my parents worrying. I like basketball much more than football (soccer), and I don’t really enjoy eating a big meal at two o’clock in the afternoon. It still surprises me when children are out past 9 p.m., especially on weeknights.

Though we feel as Spanish and American as they come, we also love each other and each other’s culture too. So together we make our own culture, a third culture: a Spanish-American culture. We make stupid jokes: “Sweetie foot” (because pie means foot in Spanish) or “Estoy espalda” (literally “I am [a] back”). We eat tortilla for dinner and chocolate-chip cookies for dessert. We watch the Simpsons in Spanish.

We also compromise, just like any other couple, bicultural or not. We decide on the best way to clean the house. We let each other get away with things. We do things that don’t seem logical to us at times, but we do it because it’s important to the other person. I may or may not vacuum an insane amount of times per week.

Just call us the Spanish-American Institute of Couples.

No, Gracias—Spanish Foods I Dislike

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Guys, I’m pretty obsessed with Spanish cuisine. Nothing gets my goat more than when guiris come here and declare the food to be bland. Oh no you didn’t, I want to shout at them while doing a dramatic z with my pointer finger. Insulting Spanish food is like insulting my suegra: I’m having none of it.

There are so many delicious things here, and they are not all terrible for you (another stupid myth!):

lentejas (lentil stew, a.k.a. the bomb)

cocido (healthy if you stay away from the tocino, a.k.a. fat)

patatas a la importancia (eat this today if you know what’s good for you)

And of course my favorites: cheese, wine (remind me to tell you my favorite wines from Toro later!), chorizo, and salchichón! My in-laws make the last two, and if you haven’t had them … well, you haven’t had good chorizo or salchichón! It’s just the facts.

Buuuuut, let’s be real, there are some foods I don’t like. Yeah. It’s true. It’s true, and I said it. Not all Spanish food is to my liking. What are these foods, you ask? Why, let me tell you.

Pulpo. Nope, I don’t like octopus and don’t tell me that I should, because the chewy texture just skeeves me out.

Morro, oreja, callos. Not into organ meat, and I’m even less into eating pig’s snout. Oreja is really chewy and just thinking about it can give me the heebie jeebies. (I hope all Spaniards reading this are learning some new “words” today.)

Torreznos. What are they? They’re pieces of pig fat cut into strips and fried. Yum? Add to this varied fritanga, because it is way too fatty for my liking. Eating probably takes five days off my life.

Flan. Not into that jiggling mess of a dessert.

Aceitadas. Sadly, this is a typical dessert in Zamora, my favorite city in Spain, but I just don’t dig anise.

[Source]
Aguardiente. Not a food, but this liquor sets my insides on fire and tastes vile.

Which foods do you dislike in Spain? And if you say salchichón, I may cry. Tears of happiness. Because there’s more for me!

Muletillas—Filler Words in Spanish

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Sometimes we just don’t know what to say. You know? Right? You see what I mean? Okay, I’ll stop. But really, I mean, you understand, yeah? Okay?

Spanish has its share of muletillas, and if you’re going to speak Spanish, it’s essential to learn (and use!) at least a few. Here are some of my favorites.

Vale. Seriously, you must know vale. You simply cannot live in Spain without using it several times a day. (If you talk on the phone, multiply by three.) Vale comes from the verb valer, meaning “to cost, to be worth,” but has come to mean something like “fine” or “right” or—mainly—“okay.” So anytime you feel like saying “Okay,” don’t go with “Está bien,” but “Vale.”
Venga. Another term used a lot in telephone conversations, venga reminds me of when I’m trying to end a conversation without explicitly telling the other person I’d like to end it. “Welppppp,” I’d say sometimes when trying to get off the phone as non-confrontationally as possible. “I’d better let you go.” It’s kind like of that. Of course, it has other uses. It can be used to try to get someone to hurry up: “Venga, que llegamos tarde” (“Come one, we’re going to be late”) or to express incredulity: “¡Venga ya! No me lo creo” (Yeah, right! I don’t believe it”).
Bueno, pues. These two words can be used together or separately. Bueno usually means good, but in this context it’s more like “well,” as in, “Well, we better get going” and not as in “I’m doing well.” Pues is an especially versatile word. See the WordReference entry, which lists the following possibilities (among many):

Pues eso—Right
Así pues—So then
Pues entonces—In that case
Bueno pues—Okay then
Vaya pues—All right already

O sea. This is better pronounced as one word, osea. It’s kind of like “or rather,” but it has a life all its own. It is equivalent to “digo” and “quiero decir” in many cases. If you understand Spanish, please refer to this entry by a one Mr. Alberto Bustos.
A ver. I love this phrase! I first heard it when studying abroad. It means something like “let’s see” or “let me see,” and you can use it alone or with other words. For instance, if you want to meet up with someone, you might say, “A ver si quedamos un día” (“Let’s see if we can meet up one day”). If you’re trying on a new dress, you could say, “A ver cómo me queda” (“Let’s see how it looks on me”). It’s quite the versatile phrase.

What are you favorite (or least favorite) filler words in Spanish?

“English” Words Spaniards Use

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It’s natural that languages adapt words. English wouldn’t be what it is without the myriad of words we’ve borrowed from other languages, most notably French. English has become a very influential language, especially in the areas of technology. It makes a lot of sense to use words like “smartphone,” “Internet,” “click,” and many more. These words have the same meaning in Spanish as in English. However, during my years in Spain I’ve come to realize there are several which have very different denotations in Spanish than in English. Obviously, I love them and need to share them with you. Here are some of my favorites.

Zapping. Nothing to do with shocking anyone with rays of electricity. Nope, this is your basic channel surfing. In Spain as well as in the US, men are especially gifted at this practice.

[Source]

Footing. Meaning: to go jogging, to go for a run, as Spain’s former prime minister is showing us in the above picture.
Panty. (Also known as pantimedias.) My mother-in-law asked me if I needed one of these for a wedding. I was rather surprised to hear the question, as I associate panty with panties—you know, underwear. Nope, un panty is just a pair of pantyhose that also cover you up to the waist. You know, the normal kind, or at least what I considered to be normal. Medias, the word I use, can also mean the kind that only go up to your thighs, so be forewarned, ladies.
Body. Similar to the panty, un body covers even higher up.
Top. A top is an article of clothing for women that has no sleeves or straps, but I’m pretty unsure on this. If you go into any Mango store, you’ll see a section for tops. Maybe my readers can help clarify if this is true!
Jersey. When I learned Spanish in high school, I learned to say “sweater’” as suéter, a term obviously derived from English. I was very surprised when I came to Spain and learned that the term here is jersey. For me, jersey is the shirt athletes wear, whether it be in basketball, soccer, or football.

Smoking. This is so funny to me. We do indeed have a smoking jacket, also called “black tie,” so it makes sense that Spaniards call this un smoking, which is alternately spelled un esmoquin.
Parking. This is close to the original English meaning, but you’d have to add “lot” for it to make any sense. “A parking” without “lot” is meaningless to me. After all, it could be a “parking space” or a “parking spot” just as easily.

[Source]

Crack. A crack has nothing to do with with our definition of “a slight opening, as between boards in a floor or a wall.” Nope, crack in Spain Spanish usually means a really great athlete. For example, Rafa Nadal or Lionel Messi or Cristiano Ronaldo. Personally, I’ll go with my favorite, Victor Oladipo.
Heavy. This has nothing to do with weight. No, a heavy in Spain is a word derived from the music genre of heavy metal. Un heavy listens to heavy-metal music, and lots of it. Some “tips” for being heavy, according to this website, include wearing one’s hair long, wearing spiked bracelets, and saying things like, “Mi rollo es rock.”
Freaky. Usually spelled friki, it means freak. Yes, it is very close to the English “freak,” but I love that in English this word would be an adjective, whereas here it’s turned into a noun. In 2012, the Royal Spanish Academy which is responsible for regulating the use of the Spanish language, added the word to its latest dictionary edition. If you understand Spanish, I recommend checking out the Wikipedia entry for this term, as it delves into the different levels of “frikismo,” among other things.

What other “English” words have you seen being used here in Spain or in other countries?

So You’re Dating a Spaniard—Cat

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Cat has been a blog “friend” of mine since 2010. Being the nosy blogger that I am, I found a lot of my now-favorite blogs by clicking on links from commenters on other blogs. Once I found Cat, I thought I’d found a kindred spirit. She’s the kind of blogger I hope to be: dedicated, funny, irreverent, full of life, amazing at Spanish (with an Andalú accent, of course). Blogging from the south of Spain since 2007, you can learn a lot about Spain, Spaniards, and Spanish in general from her blog. Welcome!

Please introduce yourself (name, age, why you’re in Spain, etc.).

My name is Cat, and I’m a Chicagoan living in Seville. After studying in Castilla y León, I came to Seville to participate in the Language and Culture Assistants program at a high school. Not six weeks in La Hispalense, my partner Enrique and I met.

How did you meet your significant other and how long have you been together?

I wish I had a great story of how I met Kike, but it’s not: a mutual friend invited him over to my house for dinner. We went out for a drink later and she left us alone. We didn’t hit it off right away, as he was dating someone else, but after a few weeks, we were exclusive. We just celebrated our fifth anniversary. I had promised him a Thanksgiving dinner a few days early, but he’s a military pilot and was sent away on a mission – I invited his mom instead!

Do you feel that your significant other is a “typical” Spaniard? If not, why?

Yes and no. Kike is very sevillano in many ways: he loves Feria, gin tonics, and horses. At the same time, he speaks several languages, has traveled extensively and loves heavy metal. For whatever reason, we’ve found a way to make two very different people from two different worlds make it work!

Which language do you speak when you’re together? Why?

When we first met, I was intimidated by how good Kike’s English was, as my Spanish was poor. When my parents came to visit a few weeks later, I could barely order a meal in Spanish well, so I decided we needed to start speaking to one another in Spanish. Now, speaking in English is what we do if we’re around my family or someone who doesn’t speak Spanish. His skills in my native tongue have definitely diminished, whereas my Spanish is now pretty solid.

How do you deal with the “in-law” issue? Have you met them? Do you get along?

I fell extremely fortunate to have my suegra so close, especially because I am so far from my own family. Carmin and I get along tremendously well, and she and I met and got along from the very beginning of my relationship with Kike. I’m also extremely close with Kike’s younger brothers.

What is the best part about dating/being married to a foreigner (and especially a Spaniard)?

There have been numerous advantages to dating a foreigner, particularly at the beginning. I had someone who would help me deal with the bank, my cell phone company, etc., and Kike was willing to bus me around nearly all of Spain. Now that we’re five years into the relationship, having a bicultural relationship has morphed into a really wonderful way to experience twice as much as I might have if Kike were also American. I feel that I get twice as much out of it because we are different and have that much more to share with one another. What’s more, we did pareja de hecho, which is similar to a civil union, so he helped me get my work and residence papers!

What is the most difficult part?

Now that the language barrier and the cultural differences have been practically erased, the hardest part about dating Kike is being able to plan for the future. I sometimes feel like I have to sacrifice a bit more because of his job – he’s gone a minimum of three months during the year and will likely be transferred in the next three to five years. This has been the cause of several arguments as we try and decide what will be the best for us in the coming years.

What advice would you give someone who is considering starting a relationship with a Spaniard?

Not to take it too seriously. Dating someone different from you has so many advantages, but there’s no reason that person the only one you hang out with. I think that Kike and I have survived because balance has always been important to us. He understands that I have friends, that I need alone time, and that visiting Chicago at least once a year is necessary. As a matter of fact, we’ve never spent either of our birthdays together, because they both fall in the same week, and I’m often back home!

Do you plan on living in the US or in Spain long term? Why?

At the moment, I think we’re staying in Spain. We’ve talked more seriously about what to do with all of the things that will happen when we’re more than two, but I think it would be much harder for him to adjust to living in America than it will be for me to adjust to living in Spain forever. I moved quite a few times when I was young, and I like the challenge of starting from scratch. Plus, his job as a military pilot means we have at least five years more so he can get his pension for all of those missions abroad!

Do you plan on having children? If so, do you plan on raising them bilingual?

Kike and I have always, always planned on kids, and I admire his fascination with them. Right from the beginning, he told me he’d name his three sons Enrique, Santiago and Rodrigo. When I couldn’t say the name correctly, he chose and Anglo name, Connor.

While there are many things we don’t see eye to eye on, raising bilingual children and their education has always been something we’ve agreed on. Maybe it comes from our values system, or from the way we were raised, but I would be honored to raise children with someone who is attentive and loving, yet firm and grounded.

If you could import something from the US to Spain (and vice versa), what would it be?

After being in Spain for so long, I have grown accustomed to not having certain things, or to replace them with a Spanish equivalent. It’s sometimes irritating to pay a bit more for certain products, but Kike travels to the US more often than I do, so I always send him a list of what I need. If I could import American efficiency to Spain, I would, but if it had to be a product, I would love to have kosher-style hot dogs!

How has being in a relationship with a Spaniard changed you?

I don’t think I would have stayed in Spain for as long as I have if it weren’t for Kike. Between not having the right to work and the uncertainty of the financial crisis, Kike has been what has anchored me in Spain. Through it all, I’ve found my own place in Seville and am thankful to have a job and a great group of American friends, but it’s nice to come home at the end of the day and be where it feels right.

Thank you so much, Cat! I am so glad you’ve found what feels right at the end of the day.

If you want to be a part of my series, So You’re Dating a Spaniard, please email me at kalhendr[at]gmail[dot]com or stalk me on Facebook.

¿Cómo está usted?

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How are you? Easy question really. I don’t have a problem answering. Neither do my students—“I’m fine, thank you” is their automatic response to my daily question. But recently I got to thinking about usted, tú, and the lack of formal English.

English used to have another way to say “you.” If you have attended church, you might recall the word “thou” or “thy”—“Our Father, who art in Heaven … thy Kingdom come, thy will be done.” Is this ringing any bells? You see, English used to have a formal and informal tense. “Thou” was informal, whereas “you” was formal. Thus, “thou” and “thy” and “thine” were used with God, because was meant to be seen as a close friend and not some distant deity. In the same way, the Spain Spanish Bible uses “tú” when talking to God, and the apostle Paul addresses the people in the “vosotros” form rather than the “ustedes” form, trying to be as informal and friendly as possible.

In the past, I am almost sure, “usted” and “ustedes” were used more frequently in Spain. In fact, my husband assures me that his parents actually addressed their parents as “usted,” a fact I find both mind-boggling and extremely interesting from a linguistics standpoint. I heard my mother-in-law talking to her aunt one day, her aunt who is also her godmother. “¿Cómo está, tía?” she asked. “Queremos visitarla muy pronto.” Of course, that’s not her exact quote, but you get the gist. It struck me as extremely odd, having heard Mario refer to his parents as “tú” and “vosotros” the whole time I’d known him. I referred to his parents as “tú” almost from the first time we met.

Jesús has always been “tú” for me

I met them in November 2009, and, I admit, I was very anxious to do so. I wasn’t sure how to refer to them, if I should tutear them, but Mario assured me that I should. In fact, I’m not sure I could even have used usted; I was so not used to using that form, having lived in Spain for quite some time. Since that time I’ve learned the use of the formal form is very contested in places like France or Germany. Since then, I’ve come to feel quite comfortable, quite natural when I address my father-in-law in the tú form. I’m not sure how I would act otherwise.

For me, using “usted” is quite difficult. I struggle to use it, because it’s not a daily thing for me. When I hear someone address me in “usted,” I often am not sure if they are talking to me or about a third person, because the “usted” form is the same as the third-person form. If a person from South American uses “ustedes,” I find myself baffled—who are they talking to? I understand how to use “usted;” my problem is putting it into practice. It’s not an everyday occurrence, and so I lack practice.

Maybe someday my Spanish will improve to the point that I am very comfortable using the “usted” tense; however, I feel that will be a long time coming. How about you? Are you accustomed to using the “usted” version on a day-to-day basis? What advice do you have for me or for others in my situation?

On the Road to Salamanca

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The bus rumbled along the highway, dusk quickly approaching. We sat side by side, our fingers curled together, leaving the day behind us. Weary but content, we sat in silence, the silence of two people who have everything to say to each other, but not necessarily at that moment. It had been a long day: up early to catch a morning bus, a long walk around town as they wind bit at our cheeks and hands, a hearty lunch, and all of the things that go along with meeting someone, someone special, for the very first time. By that point, I was exhausted but we glanced at each other and smiled with a sigh.

The evening sun tinged the horizon amaranth, gold, and orange. I grasped his hand, searching for the words I wanted, needed, to say to him. I hadn’t picked out a special place or time to say them, hadn’t analyzed my feelings, hadn’t thought about his reaction. I only knew that I loved him. And so I told him—there, in the bus, speeding along the A-66 towards Salamanca: “Te quiero.”

I didn’t start learning Spanish for love. I did it out of curiosity, because I needed a language to complete my high-school degree, because it was what was expected of me. But I mastered it for other reasons: it challenged me, it made me think about the world differently, it allowed me to see into the soul of another nation, of another people. I mastered it in the end because of Mario, because for him I stayed here, because for him I made my second home in Spain, because for him I packed up my whole life and changed it forever when I told him, standing in front of our friends and family in a church built in the 13th century, right in the heart of Zamora: “Sí, quiero.”

Yes, I do. I do promise to love you, to be there for you, to remember the important things for you. For you I will overcome the frustration that I sometimes feel when I can’t think of the right word, when I can’t remember the proper phrasing. Yes, I do.

My motivation for learning Spanish has varied over the years, but my one constant has been love. Some may consider it cliché to say that love makes you do crazy things, and it is, a bit. But love can also make you do daring things, things you would never have had the chance to do had you not bitten the bullet, got right back on the horse after it threw you off, and said to life and learning, “Sí, quiero.”

On the day we were married, the priest—a friend of Mario’s—talked to us and all our guests about love. Moving to another country for someone? he said with an intensity shining in his dark-brown eyes. That’s love. That’s love, friends.

Learning a language is frustrating. The first part is enthralling, when you learn by leaps and bounds, huge gulps of knowledge. But then comes the slow part, when you feel as though you’re dreaming about running, desperately trying to move your legs faster, but you just can’t. It’s a slow slog; it can seem fruitless. I know this feeling all too well. I still struggle with fast speech and gender; I still slip up almost every time I open my mouth. But with Mario there, and his family alongside him, I see the purpose. Without him—without them—I’d haven given up already.

Here’s to learning a language for love, whether it be love for a significant other, for a husband or a wife, for the little English-learning children who attend your local elementary schools, for a fellow church member, for the person who lives down your street. Learn a language for a love, and learn it for a lifetime.

This entry is a part of Kaplan’s Inspire Language Learning Blogger Competition. I’m not that interested in winning a Macbook, but I am interested in sharing my story. After October 29, you’ll be able to vote for me on their Facebook page if you so choose. Thanks, readers.

Learn English with Kaplan

Also, please visit Vaya Madrid—I’ve just had my first article published: Tales of a Transplant.

Grammar “Mistakes” Spaniards Make

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What? Mario makes mistakes?

We all make mistakes from time to time. For example, do you know how to properly use lay and lie? It’s confusing because lay is the past tense of lay and laid is the past tense of laid. Confused yet? Most people do it “wrong,” and I put wrong in quotation marks because I don’t believe in labeling a person’s way of speaking as wrong or right. Dialects and pidgins aren’t wrong, and grammar snobs are just that: snobs. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love speaking well and even learning about grammar, but since I got a bit more educated, I’ve tried to stop being annoying about “correct” and “incorrect” grammar. (Related: hypercorrection and prescriptive poppycock.)

In Spanish, I am always on the hunt for unknown-to-me phrases/words as well as mistakes. Sometimes I find what I think is a mistake in the newspaper, but I’m not sure whether it actually is. So I ask—who else?—Mario. He almost always knows, but sometimes I mistake a find stumps him. This usually means it’s an error that’s become ingrained in people’s daily speech. I find these linguistics quirks fascinating. So if you do too, please read on to see if you’ve heard these “mistakes” when speaking to Spaniards or reading in Spanish.

Mario would like to note that he helped me with this, and so if you’re a Spaniard reading this, I’m not saying you speak “wrong” in any way, just that I find linguistic curiosities fascinating.

“Dile a mis padres” / “Le dije [a Sergio y Víctor] que …”—I love this one. Mario does it all the time. But so does everyone else I know: Mario’s family and friends, teachers I work with, and people on the street. It’s technically wrong; it should be “Diles a mis padres” and “Les dije [a Sergio y Víctor] que …” but it’s usually said like I wrote above. Listen for this one!
“Nada de esto hubiera sucedido si él no hubiera hecho lo que hizo.”—This one too is quite common. Of course, the correct way to say it is “Nada de esto habría sucedido si él no hubiera hecho lo que hizo.” It’s said both ways. I’m not sure if there’s a difference in connotation or if it’s simply a way of expressing oneself in a different way.
“Fijaros bien” / “Estaros quietos”—I hear the vosotros form a lot, as I work in classrooms where the teachers are always addressing groups of children, so I get the chance to listen and see if they say “fijaros” instead of the correct form “fijaos” or “estaros” instead of the correct form “estaos.” I suppose this comes about because “fijaos” and “estaos” sound a bit odd and are a bit more difficult to pronounce, but I’m no expert.
“Hablastes con ella?”—This definitely isn’t as widespread as the above-mentioned examples, but it does happen, although I think people are more aware of the fact that it’s an error. It should, of course, be “¿Hablaste con ella?” The Cervantes Virtual Center speaks of this, citing as a grave error that has even begun to invade the written word. (Oh the horror!) I do love that they call it a “vulgarismo,” a vulgarism.
“Sal para fuera” “Sube arriba” / “Baja abajo—These are not errors in such, but rather redundancies. Of course, in English there are many examples of this phenomenon: “free gift,” “end result,” “future plans,” and “safe haven,” just to name a few. We’re taught in composition classes to eliminate redundancies in order to smarten up our writing.

I tried my best not to include obvious ones that most educated people know are incorrect, like the confusion of “b” and “v,” “laísmo” (even though “leísmo” is accepted), saying “habían” when it should be “había,” etc.

Have you noticed any other “mistakes” that native speakers make?

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Kaley…& Más

Tag Archives: Spanish

Why Are You in Spain?

Why are you here?

When 1 Word in English = 3+ in Spanish

Towel

Rag

Bowl

Scarf

To Be

Okay, what about you? Tell me some other examples of this phenomenon, either from Spanish to English or vice versa.

Third Culture

Just call us the Spanish-American Institute of Couples.

No, Gracias—Spanish Foods I Dislike

Which foods do you dislike in Spain? And if you say salchichón, I may cry. Tears of happiness. Because there’s more for me!

Muletillas—Filler Words in Spanish

What are you favorite (or least favorite) filler words in Spanish?

“English” Words Spaniards Use

What other “English” words have you seen being used here in Spain or in other countries?

So You’re Dating a Spaniard—Cat

¿Cómo está usted?

On the Road to Salamanca

Grammar “Mistakes” Spaniards Make

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