Warning

I won't discuss any grammar, so I'll use sometimes the DRAE (Diccionario de la Real Academia Española / Dictionary of the Spanish Royal Academy), some other times my own definition and etymology of the words and I might even dare to consult the Wiktionary if I want to.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

DESPECHO, DESTETE Y GUARAPITA




"No more Weaning Conflict" Picture taken @ Le Refuge des Fondus (Montmartre - Paris. July 8th 2009)


Despecho (n/m) /des-peh-tjoh/ : literally means 'to take out the breast' (when breastfeeding a baby) or 'weaning', but the latter is best known as destete /des-téh-teh/ and is not what I want to talk about.

Despecho, mal de amor /mal. deh. ah-mhhor/ or guayabo /goo-ah-jah-boh/ (all -coincidentally- 'male' words) are the terms referred to a heartbreak situation. Depending on its use, it could either mean a 'rebound', a 'heartache' or just feeling blue. Evidently, they all involve a situation as tragic as el destete but for older kids. (note to myself: now I get the word association)

In any case, el despecho, in a Latino/a's life, is a situation that can justify, without any plausible argue:

1. Absence from work
2. Continuous whining
and last but not least
3. Indefinite drinking

The despecho brings the borrachera along (lit. 'drunkenness', but I will explain the rolling of the 'r' on some other lesson) and there is absolutely no measure for the permitted amount of alcohol that the despechado /des-peh-tjah-doh/ (the poor soul in disgrace) can hold.

I think even the credit cards have a despechado detection system. (They appear to have no credit limit when he/she goes to a bar and the friends have decided to leave him/her alone.)

And this is when the guarapita /goo-ahr-ah-pee-tah/ appears in the play (guarapita is a Venezuelan spirit made out of any high percentage/low distillation alcohol and mixed with any delicious tropical fruit juice - liquid death then-). When the despechado is on the last phase of the borrachera (a 'female' word), there is no best friend than the guarapita (a 'coincidentally' female word too) to save his soul. And then he enjoys the voladora (a stronger borrachera) and saves his money until the 'next time'.

So... in a Latino's life, there are two tragic moments: el destete and... all the others.

Summarizing:
For a Latino, in matters of the heart, THERE IS A BORRACHERA TO EVERY DESPECHO, AND IF A BORRACHERA IS HARD TO GET, A GUARAPITA WILL DO THE REST.


Salud!

Saturday, January 16, 2010

LA BICICLETA, EL TRICICLO Y EL VIVO


A picture I took of a bicicleta in Zijdijk, Amsterdam
September 2009


Bicicleta: (n/f) bicicleta [be-see-kleh-tah]. Bicycle. It's a 'lady' word. I mean it is a "la" word. Maybe because, like Venezuelan ladies, the rear is (double) butted; which makes me think on triciclo (n/m) [tree-see-klohtricycle (a 'male' word) and its three wheels...(?)

e.g.

¡Cuidado y te atropella una bicicleta! [coo-eeh-dah-doh eeh teh ah-troh-peh-ja oo-nah...] Careful! You might get ran over by a bicycle!
This is an idiom mostly used when we refer to someone who wants to play el vivo [vee-boh] "the clever one" (lit. the alive one) and take extra profit on any given situation.

¡Se jodió la bicicleta! [seh ho-dee-ohh...] The bicycle got screwed.
That's what we say when we come across a situation that's gone out of control. Mostly referred to political affairs.

So, a regular conversation nowadays in Venezuela would go like this:
(beware that I won't literally translate in this post)

- Epa chamo, ¿cómo está la vaina? / hey man, how you doin'?
- Bueno aquí vale, tratando de comprar unos dolaritos a 5lín en el mercado negro. / Here man, trying to buy some dollars at 5 bolívares in the black market.
¡Cuidado y te atropella una bicicleta!
- ¿Por qué lo dices mi hermanazo? / Why do you say that my brother?
- Porque desde que se nos jodió la bicicleta por la devaluación, conseguir dólares a 5 bolívares está más difícil que envolver un triciclo / since we are all screwed by the devaluation, finding dollars at 5 bolívares is harder than wrapping a tricycle.
- Bueno, tu sabes que aquí hay que ser vivo; uno nunca sabe... / Well, you know here we have to be clever; you never know...

///
Tía Chiqui