Archive for the ‘Idiomaaaaaasssss!- learning Chilean spanish’ Category

Espantapajaro

Sunday, February 4th, 2007

Noun (Substantivo)

No, it is not the latest undergarment available in Marks & Spencer.
Not even close.

To a middle or upper class chilean, it is the name of one of the best restaurants in the south of Chile (often hard to come by- it is a long, thin country after all). Not that you would go for a night out there- its almost 1000km from Santiago. But it has one of the most spectacular views over Lago Llanquehue and Volcan Osorno that money can buy. It also boasts wild boar as THE best meat money can buy. Eat all you want buffet for £8. Nice. Hardly “boaring” is it?

To a farm worker it is a common sight on the land.

To us gringos, its a really long name that sounds great- worthy of a swear word!

But whats in the name?

Well Espantoso means shocking. And pajaro normally refers to birds (although in Chile it has several alternative meanings too, normally rude ones). In fact, a more direct translation is crow, but crows in Chile resemble giant rooks in Britain, like you’d see in the Tower of London.

Got it yet?

Google it…. its amazing what results you get. I love the context descriptions you find in google results. Check out these:

  • La venganza del Espantapajaro - Scary Crown
  • Amazon.com: Espantapajaro Ronda La Med.
  • “Now Luna continued on until she found Mr. Espantapajaro. … “Oh thank you Mr. Espantapajaro, I will give this a try,” said Luna. …”
  • A “shocking bird”. A scarecrow!

    We’re returning to the restaurant in March, as part of a Land Rover Club meet in the south of Chile, with over 80 people from three countries participating. That is scary. Scarier than an espantapajaro at least.

    F words!

    Monday, July 24th, 2006

    Not only does Chilean slang pose great problems of interpretation to foreigners like us, but also of pronounciation. It occurred to some of us in a restaurant last week (ok, more honestly, it occurred to Dave, our resident expert on chilenismos) that slang words beginning with “f” were particularly challenging.

    So here they are to admire, learn and avoid using for fear of getting the wrong one!

    Filete (1)= noun. a fillet of fish or of steak.
    Filete (2)= adj. “a fine piece of meat” (normally referring to a women of fine appearance and good character)
    Flaco/-a= adj. meaning slim or thin
    Flato= noun. a fart, “to pass wind”
    Fleite= sounding like flighty. Adj. meaning gay.
    Flete(s)= noun. a removal guy or company. Not dissimilar to scots verb “to flit yer hoose”
    Flojo= adj. meaning lazy or disinterested. “A couch-potato”.

    What is the plural of wife in spanish?

    Saturday, July 8th, 2006

    A wife= una esposa
    The wife= la esposa
    The wives= las esposas

    Alternative meaning for las esposas? = handcuffs!

    Verb, esposado(/a)= to be handcuffed/arrested!

    Surely this is just a coincidence, right?!

    Ok, I give up… spanish IS hard.

    Thursday, April 27th, 2006

    “Es una lastima que no pueda venir a mi fiesta viernes en la noche.”

    Loosely translated, this means: It’s a pity that you can’t come to my party on friday night.

    It’s a pity? It’s “una lastima”? What? What roman, latin, hispanic freak thought that those words had any connection whatsoever? How did we go from a feeling of sorrow or regret to taking the latest any aging treatment?

    Does pity work like elastic? “It’s ok… i’ll bounce back tomorrow. But you still can’t come to my party you idiot!”. All pity gone.

    Or maybe it’s making reference to “last time”? “It’s the last time that you can come to one of my parties huevon!!”

    Whatever, but “una lastima” is to me, today, an anathema!

    A pint of Kunstmann please…

    Monday, April 24th, 2006

    …I asked in Spanish.

    Paraphrasing a little…
    “Do you want the dark variety (called Bock), the light one (called, rather unimaginably, Light), or the near-as-damn-it-English Ale (called Torobayo)?” came the reply from the waitress in a funky bar in Vina del Mar.

    “What?” I said in my polite spanish. “Oh, Torobayo please”.

    “Pally Ally?”, she confirms with me.

    “What?” I said again in disbelief.

    Yes, that’s right. Kunstmann Ale, possibly the finest (or only) product to come from Valdivia, about 12 hours south-west of Santiago, has a variety of Ale called Pale Ale. And the Chileans pronounce it Pally Alley!

    Scandelous. “Escandeloso!” (in spanish). Maybe I should stick to being a stupid Gringo- if I just ask for a Pale Ale in english in future I won’t run the risk of asking for a pint of Pally Alley in Britain one day!