written by Guillermo Zuleta

Despite my name, Spanish is my second language. I thought I knew it well enough, having taken lessons and having spent time in Spain, Chile and Argentina. I thought I could hold a conversation with any native speaker!

It was my second month working in a bar in Guatemala; as a bartender I had the opportunity to meet a lot of people. Some came with friends and had little or nothing to share with the man behind the bar, but others simply needed someone who would listen and talk … and I certainly enjoy both activities.

It was on a Monday night, I remember it clearly because the place was nearly empty. This young man sat by the bar drinking beer and I asked a simple “how is it going?”

I certainly didn’t expect to get a free lesson of what I call Chapiñol, it is maybe 50 percent Spanish and 50 percent Chapinismos. His name was Miguel and he started throwing phrases like: tengo un gran clavo or me echan el muerto. I simply replied yes and/or no, but in truth I had no idea what he was talking about, “I have a big nail” What ???

So, I wrote some of the phrases I heard that night and asked my Spanish-Chapin speaking friends to help me out.

(Ser) Pura lata: literally (to be) like a can; (to be) pure tin. No, they are not talking about how your body looks like nor is it that your skin is particularly hard. The phrase means that one is tough or insensitive, and it is used regularly when one makes a cruel joke or makes fun of others. E.g. ¡No seas pura lata con tu amigo! (Don’t be cruel to your friend!)

Estar colgado (alguien): lit. To be hung (someone). Somehow it does imply a bit of pain, not in the neck, but in the heart if the one with whom one is in love doesn’t feel the same, as it means that someone is in love. E.g. Manuel está colgado de Karin. (Manuel is in love with Karin.)

Ser un huevón: lit. To be a big egg. Well, again, not describing the physical appeal, rather talking about those who can easily beat any record, as long as it is about laziness. This phrase, which is particularly popular, describes someone who wouldn’t work, study or perform activities that require action. I was told that this can be a bit offensive, but that depends on how it is said and, of course, if the one who says it is familiar to the lucky one who is described. E.g. ¡Qué huevón sos! (How lazy you are!)

Vos no la hacés: lit. You do not do it? You do not make it? I am honest here, best as they tried to explain it, I still don’t understand how that phrase could mean: I cannot believe what you do. It is not acceptable that you do that, when they are actually saying that one doesn’t do it. E.g. Vos no la hacés, ¡ya no tenés dinero! (You are crazy! You already ran out of money! )

Mirá pues: lit. Look then. Okay, look. I know this might seem pretty clear, but one starts to wonder if one has totally understood it after hearing it over and over. It is some kind of key phrase to start every second sentence. I think it is the equivalent to our: so or the famous you know. In any event, if you hear it, don’t turn your face around trying to see something, just pay close attention and you will be fine. E.g. Mirá pues, esto es fácil. (Okay, look, this is easy.)

Tener un gran clavo: If you hear someone saying “tengo un gran clavo” (lit. I have a big nail), don’t think they are talking about a tool that will break some world records, that expression usually means that someone has a big problem. Therefore, if the phrase goes: “no hay clavo,” (lit. there is no nail), you will know that it implies that everything is fine or that things go well. E.g. Tengo un gran clavo con mis padres! (I have a big problem with my parents.)

Echarle el muerto (a alguien): lit. To throw (to pour?) the dead one (over someone). Thank God, it has nothing to do with real dead bodies! It simply implies that you, or more conveniently someone else, is seen as guilty. It is very common that someone wants to put the blame on someone else. In that case, the one who will not take it would say: a mí no me echen el muerto. E.g. ¡Siempre me echan el muerto cuando algo sale mal! (They always blame me when things go wrong!)

Ahí la llevo: lit. I carry it there. Again, something similar to “mirá pues,” there is not actual “it” that you can see, watch or look at. It is generally used to say things are just fine, not too good, not too bad. This is a probable reply to questions such as: “¿Cómo estás?” or “¿Cómo te va?” (How are you? How is it going? Respectively) This phrase has close relatives: “pues ahí voy” (lit. Well, there I go) or “pues ahí va”, (lit. Well, there it goes) which basically mean the same. E.g. ¿Cómo te va Manuel? – Pues, ahí la llevo. (How is it going Manuel? — Well, I am just fine.)

Even though the list goes on and on, there are concepts that I found too difficult to understand; others… well, I guess Revue cannot publish such phrases, but they are really funny and/or clever. I think that is what makes regional expressions really special.

According to the Economic Times, “Nahuatl is mostly spoken in southern Mexico and northern Central America, while Maya is spoken across Mexico’s Yucatán Peninsula, Guatemala and Belize.” The newspaper also says that the addition of the two languages will boost Google Translate’s user base, which could lead to improvements in search engine optimization (SEO).

Miguel de Alva, Google’s director of marketing technology in Mexico, told Agence France-Presse that “searches in these two pre-Columbian languages and mobile satellite-linked connections to the internet are part of Google’s growth strategy,” adding that speakers of both languages are generally fluent in Spanish as well.

Experts say that Google Translate is quickly becoming one of the search giant’s most popular services, alongside its core search engine and Google News. While machine translation rarely results in flawless prose, Google Translate’s broad language base and easy interface make for serviceable renderings into and out of other tongues.

The author in Antigua’s Central Park practicing her newly-learned second language

written by Linda Shaw

Was I really learning Spanish? Sometimes I was discouraged, sometimes I saw progress, but I was ever aware of the privilege of sitting afternoons in a beautiful garden under a prefect blue sky learning a beautiful language.

The day I asked to ride a cowboy was the day I knew I needed help. Traveling in Central America without Spanish-language skills gets a little stressful. I arrived in the region with a grounding in high school French, a smattering of university Italian grammar and a compact Spanish Phrase Finder, confidently planning to travel and pick up a little Spanish along the way.

Ordering breakfast seemed to go well enough in Nicaragua, until someone in San Juan del Sur pointed out that I had been ordering my Thursdays “over easy.” The words jueves and huevos sounding pretty much the same to my gringa ears, I remained smug in having mastered the expression for “over easy.” And though typically eggs did continue to arrive on my plate, I nonetheless felt a growing loss of confidence whenever they arrived scrambled.

My confidence continued to erode until the day it no longer existed in Costa Rica. While contemplating a wonderful horseback ride I’d taken along a white-sand Guanacaste beach, a bad feeling crept over me. I verified it in my dictionary. Yes, at the stable I had indeed asked for a caballero to ride for two hours. Then it made sense why all the stablemen had started to laugh and point at each other. Which gentleman did she fancy? they no doubt discussed. I felt a further humiliation recalling that after giving me a good look up and down, they had quickly saddled up a frisky caballo.

My Fodor’s guide, listing 25 language schools in Guatemala, assured me that this was the Spanish-language teaching capital of the world. Arriving in La Antigua, I started spending every afternoon testing the patience of my wonderful tutor, who would take my French-Italian hybrid imitation of Spanish to something… well, something closer to Spanish.

Learning a new language is neither for the timid nor the middle-aged. Many afternoons I thought that my brain was overheating and sending smoke out my ears. I created a daily ritual of generously offering to treat my tutor to coffee and cake as a device to buy an extra 10-minute break. Mentally exhausted most nights, I’d fall asleep just before 9, color-coded flash cards of irregular verbs dropping from my hands. Was I really learning Spanish? Sometimes I was discouraged, sometimes I saw progress, but I was ever aware of the privilege of sitting afternoons in a beautiful garden under a prefect blue sky learning a beautiful language.

We were interrupted one afternoon by a man who apologetically asked my tutor to find someone from the school office. We had just been reviewing verbs. No doubt conscious of interrupting my paid time, he pressed me to pronounce some verbs while she was gone, pointing at them on the white board. I confidently pronounced the word volver, meaning to return, confidently because we had just been working on its pronunciation. No! he said loudly and emphatically, you just said… something else I couldn’t catch and proceeded to pronounced it just as loudly and emphatically. From my angle with him standing and me sitting I had a good view of the roof of his mouth and most of his dental work. And from my angle I could clearly see the fuller formation of the vowel “o” then the tip of his tongue as it touched the back of his top teeth to form the final “r” sound. It was quite a graphic demonstration. I repeated the verb, with an awareness of what needed changing in my pronunciation. No! he repeated just as empathically and demonstrated again. At that point I resorted to my usual defense mode and giggled. I indulged him by trying again, all the while hoping for my real teacher to volver, more appreciative than ever of having a professional tutor and not someone off the street with little understanding of foreign-language teaching. My tutor and I continued with our afternoon session. At our break I was informed that the man was the university-level oral language examiner for the school. I left early that day just after coffee and cake.

Learning a new language is neither for the timid nor the middle-aged. Many afternoons I thought that my brain was overheating and sending smoke out my ears.