In the second installment of this season’s South American
Clash of the Continents, I will attempt to bore you to death with a breakdown
of some key differences between the Spanish and English language. I’m doing
this because I legitimately care about your education and want you to succeed
when you finally grow up and fulfill your dream of becoming the world’s first
bilingual ostrich
jockey. It would truly be an honor to have one of those in the family to
complement Uncle Dan’s career as a pet food taster, or Odd Aunt Pam’s “calling”
as a phone psychic. You see kids, with the proper education, you too can make
terrible puns. As before, the quality of these idiomatic peculiarities will be
based on the MADs, or Martin Avoids Death, system, where 1 MADs indicates my
belief that George R.R. Martin will suffer a tragic cheeseburger-related
accident in the next year, and 10 MADs indicates that, in a gluttonous rage,
Mr. Martin found and drank the entire Fountain of Youth, ensuring his
immortality and a positively crippling case of Giardia.
THINGS ARGENTINA GOT RIGHT:
1. Ginger Butt Slap
Despite being an excellent name for an indie rock band, the
Ginger Butt Slap (henceforth GBS) refers to a little-used cultural oddity in
Argentina. When one witnesses a ginger (“Colorado” here, or literally “Colored
one”) in the street, it is considered wise to quickly slap one’s own ass
(discretely!) This is done to mitigate the chance of being cursed with Ginger
Juju, which as we are all aware, is a very real problem. That being said, this
custom is incredibly uncommon, and could very well be something my host mother
made up to confuse the naïve little Yankee living in her house. But if you ever
see me quickly slap my backside when Ron Weasley passes by, you should probably
point and laugh at me. But do so with the realization that my chances of
developing Gingervitis are miniscule because of this ritual. 5 MADs to the GBS
for being both mildly offensive and a great name for an indie rock band.
2. Cheta
Never has a word been so wonderfully nuanced as the slang
term “Cheta.” There isn’t a direct translation to English, but think of as
“stuck-up, wealthy girl who is too good to talk to you.” There is also a male
breed of the same thing called a “Cheto,” and fortunately for the human race,
Chetos and Chetas only breed amongst themselves. The Chetas natural habitats
include clubs, high-end bars, and anywhere a wealthy older man might be.
Attempting a conversation with a Cheta is not advised. Although they are not
dangerous alone, they are easily provoked and can pose a threat in groups.
Their North American cousin, the Guido, is significantly more aggressive, but
the two groups share a common ancestry. This writer is hesitant to point
fingers, but Italy is over there trying to hide itself under the rest of Europe
and is looking awfully guilty. 7 MADs to the word “Cheta” because it doesn’t
need you; Daddy already took care of everything and Daddy has a better job than
you anyway.
3. Remandola en dulce de leche
Quite possibly the best (appropriate) phrase I’ve learned
while here is “Estoy remandola en dulce de leche,” which literally translates
to “I’m rowing her in dulce de Leche.” For those of you who don’t know what
dulce de leche is, I highly recommend escorting yourself to the nearest Latino
shopping area and screaming “Dool-Say Day Lay-Che” at the top of your lungs
until someone shoves a spoonful in your mouth to shut you up. Think syrup, but
thicker and infinitely worse for you. Sadly, a dulce de leche lake is as
mythical as Captain Ryan’s sailing credentials, and no one actually rows in it.
The phrase loosely translates to “A person who is trying to get a crush to date
him/her, but will ultimately fail, wasting his/her time.” For example, two
years ago I was “rowing Natalie Portman in dulce de leche.” I want everyone to
stop and think about the gravity of that admission and really pat me on the
back for doing so. 9 MADs to “Remandola en dulce de leche” for allowing me to
pretend like I’m moving on from Natalie Portman.
THINGS THE UNITED STATES GOT RIGHT:
1. Awkward
The word “awkward” doesn’t exist in Spanish. There is no
direct translation, which is a shame because I can confirm without a doubt that
awkward situations do occur in Spanish. The best part is that trying to explain
what “awkward” means in Spanish is quite literally an awkward situation in
itself. After many attempts using a variety of techniques, I’ve learned that
the best way to depict the definition of “awkward” to a foreigner is to stand
as close to them as possible, grunting and gesticulating wildly, until they
back away. Then you calmly explain that the odd mix of dread, uncomfortable,
and pity they just felt was “awkward.” Finally, do the whole process again to
really drive the definition home. For added fun, refuse to explain the
definition of “awkward” except in social situations with “You Spin Me Right Round
(Like a Record)” playing in the background. 6 MADs to the word “awkward,” whose
definition inevitably acts as a self-fulfilling prophecy.
2. Lack of genders
The one thing I’ve never quite understood about many other
languages is the use of genders to describe inanimate objects. It makes perfect
sense to use them to describe people, as the words “Prima” or “Amigo” explain a
lot more about the subject than “Cousin” or “Friend.” But there’s no reason
that the genders need to extend to inanimate objects, especially when there’s
little reason behind the assigned gender of an object. A dish is masculine
while a spoon is feminine. Ok, that’s not so bad. We have nursery rhymes about
that. A gun is masculine, while a bullet is feminine. Alright, that’s a little
odd. Why not make all of the component parts the same gender? And don’t get me
started on the names of male genitalia. Like in every language, there are a
thousand ways to refer to a man’s “Little Juan” in Spanish, but a
disproportionately high number of those euphemisms are feminine. Baffling. 8
MADs to English for doing away with superfluous genders and making the
questions, “Wait, male or female friend?” necessary.
3. Speak of the Devil
“Speak of the Devil” is a great phrase. Spanish has its
variation too, which is “Hablando de Roma, el burro se asoma.” Respect must be
granted to Spanish for making their version rhyme, but “speaking of Rome, the
donkey appeared,” doesn’t have quite the same ring to it. For one, if you’re
talking trash about someone and they show up, I imagine they’d rather be
compared to the Devil than to an ass. At least the Devil is wily, powerful, and
an accomplished violinist. A donkey is only good for carrying things and
depressing little Christopher Robin. Secondly, there’s at least a little
mystique associated with the devil; if you talk about him, he might appear.
Talking about Rome will just attract a bunch of college kids who would love to
tell you about Roman history and how umbrella salesmen are a plague on
humanity. Miserable. 9 MADs to the phrase “Speak of the Devil” for making me
feel like I have the power to delay George R.R. Martin’s death when I interrupt
people talking about me.
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