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Copyright © 2012, 2017 by Eleanor Hamer and Fernando Díez de Urdanivia
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without
the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in
critical reviews or articles. All inquiries should be addressed to Skyhorse
Publishing, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018.
Skyhorse Publishing books may be purchased in bulk at special discounts for sales
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10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
I. Expressions
A. Common Expressions in Spanish
1. Verbs
2. Expressions Used as Part of a Sentence (Non-Verbs)
3. Stand-alone Expressions
B. Common Expressions in English
1. Verbs
2. Expressions Used as Part of a Sentence
3. Stand-alone Expressions
C. Proverbs and Sayings
1. In Spanish
2. In English
II. Slang in Mexico
A. Common Slang Expressions
1. Verbs
2. Slang Expressions Used as Part of a Sentence (Non-Verbs)
3. Stand-alone Slang Expressions
B. Not for Polite Society
C. The Mexican Albur
III. False Cognates
A. Basic False Cognates
1. Spanish-English
2. English-Spanish
B. More False Cognates
1. Spanish-English
2. English-Spanish
C. Is It or Isn’t It?
1. Spanish-English
2. English-Spanish
D. Some Special Cases
E. It’s Not Always the Same …
IV. Grammar Hints
A. SER and ESTAR
B. PARA and POR; PERO and SINO
C. Dual Words
D. Some Dubious Accents
E. The Diminutive in Spanish
F. Abbreviations
G. Latin Words in Spanish
H. The Use of Prepositions
I. Homophones
J. Pronunciation
1. Consonants
2. The Pronunciation of Vowels
K. Spelling
L. The Infamous Subjunctive
1. Simple Tenses
2. Compound Tenses
3. Pluperfect Subjunctive
V. Living in Mexico
A. Polite Phrases
1. Introductions
2. Greetings
3. Leave-taking
4. Other Politenesses
B. Modes of Address
C. On the Telephone
D. Cultural Curiosities
1. Ways of Speaking
2. Pets and Animals
3. Manners Matter
4. ¡Buen Provecho!
5. Meal Times
6. El Abrazo
7. Dress
8. ¡Planta Baja!, Por Favor
9. Say It With Your Hands
10. The Greasing of the Palm
11. ¡Compadre!
12. Bargaining
13. Measurements
14. Surnames
15. ¿Tú or Usted?
16. Driving
17 Christmas
18. The Mexican Attitude Towards Death
E. Pre-Columbian Words
F. Mexican Food
G. Where Are You From?
VI. Latin American Construction Vocabulary
About the Authors
Person
Thing
Person or Thing
Literally
Used By Teenagers
Slang
Mildly Vulgar
Quite Vulgar
Very Vulgar
Authors’ Acknowledgments
The authors wish to thank and acknowledge the help of Luisa Ma.
Alvarez de Jaubert , Dr. Richard Barrutia , Eleanor Merino-Hamer,
María Martínez, Bárbara de los Reyes, Hilde Sotomayor, with very
special thanks to Carmen Bermejo, without whose skills this book
would never have become a reality.
I
EXPRESSIONS
I
t is a well-known fact that structures vary from language to
language, sometimes to such an extent that the overall meaning
of a sentence or phrase may be utterly different from its component
parts. This is even more true of idiomatic expressions. It usually
takes years of living in a foreign country to master the structures
and idioms of its language. However, the following explanations will
probably go a long way to shorten this difficult process and make it
less painful.
When Ewen came fully to himself again it was night, the pale
Highland summer night; he could not guess the hour. He had not
been discovered, then! He lay listening; there was no sound
anywhere save the rushing of the river below him, nothing to tell him
whether the troopers had returned or no. But now was undoubtedly
the time to quit his lair and get back over the bridge and along the
short but dangerous stretch of high road, until he could leave it and
make for the river Lochy. When he had forded Lochy and was on the
other side of the Great Glen he would be safer.
Alas, the next few minutes implanted in him a horrible doubt
whether he would ever ford Lochy, seeing that between the
swimming head of exhaustion and the twist which he had given his
damaged leg in throwing himself off the horse he could scarcely
even stand, much less walk. And although the people up at the
change-house, almost within call were, unless they had been
removed, of a Cameron sept, he dared not risk attracting their
attention, for a double reason: soldiers, his own escort or others from
Fort William, might very well halt there; and to shelter him would
probably in any case be disastrous to the poor folk themselves.
His prospects did not seem too bright. All his hope was that he
might feel more vigorous after a little more of this not very
comfortable rest. Huddled together on his side under the lee of the
boulder, to get what shelter he could from the soft, misty rain which
he felt rather than saw, he said a prayer and fell into the sleep of the
worn-out.
He was wakened by a strange, sharp noise above him, and the
sensation of something warm and damp passing over his face. Stiff
and bewildered, he opened his eyes and saw in the now undoubted,
though misty daylight, the author of these two phenomena, an
agitated sheepdog, of a breed unknown to him. As he raised himself
on an elbow the dog gave another excited bark, and immediately
darted away up the tree-grown bank.
So numbed and exhausted was the fugitive that it took him a few
seconds to realise that he was discovered. But by whom? Not by
soldiers, certainly; nor could that be the dog from the change-house.
He dragged himself into a sitting posture, got his back against the
boulder, pulled the little black knife, his only resource, from his
stocking, and waited.
Feet were coming down the steep bank, and soon two men could
be seen plunging through the birch and alder, shouting to each other
in an unfamiliar accent; in front of them plunged and capered the
sheepdog, with its tail held high, and Ewen heard a loud hearty voice
saying, “Clivver lass—aye, good bitch th’art indeed! See-ye, yon’s
rebel, Jan!” He reflected, “I can kill the dog, but what good would that
do me? Moreover I have no wish to.” And as the intelligent creature
came bounding right up to him, wagging a friendly tail, and
apparently proud of its accomplishment in having found him, he held
out his left hand in invitation. The dog sniffed once, and then licked
it.
“See thon!” cried the former voice. “Dang it, see Lassie so
freendly and all!”
“Yet you had best not come too near!” called Ewen threateningly.
“I am armed!” He raised his right hand.
The larger of the men, pushing through an alder bush, instantly
lifted a stout cudgel. “If thou harmst t’ bitch—— Coom here, Lassie!”
“No, I will not harm her,” said Ewen, fending off the dog’s
demonstrations with his other arm. “But call her off; I owe her no
gratitude.”
“For foindin’ thee, thou meanst,” supplied Lassie’s owner. “Aye,
thou’st the fellow that gie t’ sogers the slip yesterday; we heerd all
aboot thee oop at t’ little hoose yonder. Eh, but thou’rt a reet smart
lad!” There was genuine admiration in his tone. “’Twere smart ti hide
thee here, so near an’ all, ’stead o’ gooin’ ower t’ brig—eh, Jan?”
“Main smart,” agreed the smaller man. “Too smart fur th’
redcoats, Ah lay!”
The smart lad, very grim in the face, and rather grey to boot, sat
there against his boulder with the sgian clutched to his breast, point
outwards, and eyed the two men with a desperate attention, as they
stood a little way higher up amid the tangle of bushes, stones and
protruding tree-roots, and looked at him. They had the appearance
of well-to-do farmers, particularly the larger, who was a tremendously
burly and powerful man with a good-tempered but masterful
expression. The smaller was of a more weazened type, and older.
“See-thee, yoong man,” said the burly stranger suddenly, “’tis no
manner o’ use ti deny that thou’rt one of these danged Highland
rebels, seein’ we’s heerd all the tale oop yonder.”
Ewen’s breath came quickly. “But I’ll not be retaken without
resistance!”
“Who says we be gooin’ ti taake thee? Happen we’ve summut
else ti moind. Coom here, Lassie, wilt thou! Dunnot be so freendly tiv
a chap wi’ a knife in his hand!”
“I tell you the dog has nothing to fear from me,” repeated Ewen.
“See then!” And on a sudden impulse he planted the sgian in the
damp soil beside him and left it sticking there.
“Ah, that’s reet, yoong man—that’s jannock!” exclaimed the large
stranger in evident approval and relief. “Happen we can ’ev some
clack together noo. Hoo dost thou rackon ti get away fra this tod’s
den o’ thine?”
Here, quite suddenly, the little man began to giggle. “He, he!
maakes me laugh to think of it—t’ sogers chasing reet away ower t’
brig and Lord knaws wheer beyond! They nivver coom back, so t’
folk oop yonder tells.”
“Aye, a good tale to tell when we gan back ower Tyne,” agreed
the large man, shaking gently with a more subdued mirth. And as
Ewen, for his part, realised that the reference to Tyne must mean
that the strangers were English, though he could not imagine what
they were doing in Lochaber, this large one burst into a great
rumbling upheaval of laughter, causing the sheepdog to bark in
sympathy.
“Quiet, lass!” commanded her master, making a grab at her. “Thy
new freend here has no wish for thy noise, Ah’ll lay.” He looked
straight at the fugitive sitting there. “Hadn’t thee best get thee gone,
lad, before ’tis onny loighter?” he asked.
Was the man playing with him, or was he genuinely friendly?
Ewen’s heart gave a great bound. A momentary mist passed before
his eyes. When it cleared the large man was stooping over him, a
bottle in his hand.
“Thoo’rt nigh clemmed, lad, or ma name’s not Robert Fosdyke.
Here’s t’ stuff for thee—reet Nantes. Tak’ a good soop of it!”
The fiery spirit ran like lightning through Ewen’s cramped limbs.
“Why . . . why do you treat me so kindly?” he gasped, half stupid
between the brandy and astonishment, as he returned the bottle.
“You are English, are you not? Why do you not give me up?”
Mr. Fosdyke, who had now seated himself on a large stone near,
struck his knee with some vehemence. “Ah’ll tell thee whoy! First,
because t’ bitch here foond thee and took ti thee, and thou didna
stick yon knife o’ thine intiv her—but Ah’d ’ev driven in thy skool if
thou hadst . . . second, because thou’rt a sharp lad and a bold one,
too; and last because Ah’ve seen and heerd tell o’ things yonder at
Fort Augustus, wheer we went ti buy cattle, that Ah ’evn’t loiked at
all. No, Ah didn’t loike what Ah heerd of goings on.—Aye, and
foorthly, t’ cattle was woorth danged little when we’d gotten ’em; all t’
best were sold awready.”
Ewen knew what cattle they would be; the one possession of
many a poor Highland home, as well as the herds of the gentry. He
remembered now having heard that some of the many thousands
collected from Lochaber and Badenoch were sold to English and
Lowland dealers. Apparently, then, these men were on their way
south through Glencoe and Breadalbane with such as they had
bought, and now he knew why once or twice during this conversation
he had fancied that he heard sounds of lowing at no great distance.
“I wonder if mine are all gone!” he said half to himself.
“Thou hadst cattle of thy own, lad?” enquired Mr. Fosdyke. “If
thou canst see onny o’ thine among oors oop there thou shalt have
them back again—and that’s none so generous as thou medst think,
for there’s some Ah’d as soon give away as drive all t’ waay ower t’
Border.”
Ewen gave a weak laugh. “What should I do with cattle now? I
cannot get home myself, much less drive cattle there.”
“And whoy canst thou not get home, when thou’st put summut in
thy belly?” asked the Yorkshireman.
Ewen told him why he should find it difficult, if not impossible, and
why he dared not go to the change-house either. The farmer
pronounced that he was right in the latter course, and then made the
astonishing suggestion that ‘Jan Prescott here’ should run up to the
house and bring the fugitive something to eat and drink. “Dunnot say
who ’tis for, Jan; say Ah’ve a moind ti eat by river, if thou loikes.” And
while Jan, with amazing docility, removed the birch twig which he
had been twisting between his lips and betook himself up the bank,
his companion questioned Ewen further as to the direction of his
home.
“T’ other soide of t’ other river? T’ other river’s nobbut a couple of
moiles away . . . Tell thee what, lad,” he exclaimed, slapping himself
once more, “Ah’ll tak thee as far as t’ river on one of t’ nags. Happen
thou canst sit a horse still?”
“Take me there!” Ewen could only stare in amazement.
“Aye. And when thou’st gotten to this river o’ thine, hoo medst
thou cross it; happen there’s brig, or ferry?”
“No, there is a ford. The ford by which we all . . .” His voice died
away. How long ago it seemed, that elated crossing last August after
Glenfinnan!
“And when thou’rt on t’ other soide?” pursued Mr. Fosdyke.
“I’ll reach my home somehow, if I have to crawl there.”
“And who’lt thou foind theer—thy parents?”
“My aunt, who brought me up. My parents are dead.”
“No wife nor childer?”
“My wife is in France.” And why he added, “We were only married
two days before parting,” Ewen did not know.
“Poor lad,” said Mr. Fosdyke. “Whoy didstna stop at home loike a
wise man?”
Ewen, his head resting against the boulder, said, “That I could not
do,” his eyes meanwhile fixed on the form of Mr. Jan Prescott,
already descending the slope with a tankard in his hand and two
large bannocks clasped to his person. Mr. Fosdyke turned and hailed
him, and in another moment Ewen had started upon the bannocks,
finding that he was famished, having tasted nothing solid since the
halt at Laggan yesterday morning. And while he ate Mr. Robert
Fosdyke unfolded his intention to his companion, who raised no
objection, except to remark, “Happen thou’lt meet redcoats on t’
road.”
“Ah shall say t’ lad’s a drover o’ mine, then.”
“In yon petticoat thing?” queried Mr. Prescott, pointing at Ewen’s
kilt.
“He shall have thy great-coat ti cover him oop.”
“Ah dunno hoo he’ll get intiv it, then,” returned Mr. Prescott. “See
ye, Robert, Ah’d sooner he had a horse blanket than split ma coat.”
“He can have t’ loan of ma coat then,” said Mr. Fosdyke. “He’ll not
split that.—Beasts all reet oop there?” he enquired.
“As reet as ivver they’ll be,” returned his partner with gloom.
“Ah knawed as we peed too mooch for them,” growled Mr.
Fosdyke in a voice like subterranean thunder. “Goviment notice
saays—well, nivver moind what, but ’twere main different fra what t’
cattle were loike. Hooivver, Ah weren’t comin’ all the way fra t’ other
soide o’ York for nowt.”
“York?” asked Ewen with his mouth full, since this information
seemed addressed to him. “You come from York, sir.”
“Fra near by. Dost thou knaw the toon?”
“No,” said Ewen.
“T’ sogers werena takin’ thee there yistiday?”
“It was Carlisle that I was going to in the end.”
“Ah!” said Mr. Fosdyke comprehendingly. “But some poor devils
are setting oot for York, too, we hear. Thou’s best coom along wi’
us.” And giving his great laugh he began to embroider his pleasantry.
“Thou doesna loike the notion? Whoy not? York’s a foine toon, Ah
can tell thee, and more gates tiv it for setting rebels’ heads on than
Carlisle. Ah lay we have a row o’ them ower Micklegate Bar come
Christmas. And thou’st not wishful ti add thine?”
Ewen shook the imperilled head in question with a smile.
“No,” agreed Mr. Fosdyke, “best keep it ti lay on t’ pillow besoide
they wife’s. If she’s in France, then thou’rt not a poor man, eh?”
“I am what you call a gentleman,” replied Ewen, “though I expect
that I am poor enough now.”
“If thou’rt a gentleman,” pronounced Mr. Fosdyke, “then thou dost
reet ti keep away fra York and Carlisle, aye, and fra Lunnon, too.—
Noo, Jan, we’ll gan and see aboot t’ nags. Thou medst bide here,
lad. Come on, Lassie.”
With tramplings and cracklings they were gone, dog and all, and,
but for the yet unfinished food and drink, which were putting new life
into Ewen, the whole encounter might have been a dream. As he
waited there for their return he wondered whether Alison’s prayers
had sent these good angels, which, to his simple and straightforward
faith, seemed quite likely.
Presently the larger of the angels came back and helped him
along the slope to the scene of his exploit at the bridge. Here was
the satellite Jan with two stout nags, a flea-bitten grey and a black. A
long and ample coat (certainly not Mr. Prescott’s) was provided for
the Jacobite. “If thou wert clothed like a Christian there’d ha’ been no
need for this,” said Mr. Fosdyke with frankness as he helped him into
it; and then, the difficulty of getting into the saddle surmounted,
Ewen found himself half incredulously riding behind the broad back
of his benefactor over the brawling Spean, in his hand a stout cattle
goad to assist his steps when he should be on his feet again.
In the two miles before they came to the river Lochy they had the
luck to meet no one. There the clouds hung so low that the other
side of the Great Glen was scarcely visible. When they came to the
ford Ewen pulled up and made to dismount. But Mr. Fosdyke caught
him by the arm. “Nay, if thou canst scarce walk on land, Ah doot
thou’ll walk thruff water! Daisy will tak thee ower. Coom on, mare.”
The two horses splashed placidly through in the mist. On the
other side Ewen struggled off, and got out of the coat.
“I cannot possibly recompense you, Mr. Fosdyke,” he began,
handing it up to him.
“If thou offer me money,” said Mr. Fosdyke threateningly, “danged
if Ah don’t tak thee back ti wheer Ah foond thee!”
“You can be reassured,” said Ewen, smiling, “for I have none. But
in any case, money does not pass between gentlemen for a service
like this. I only pray God that you will not suffer for it.”
“Ah’d loike ti see the mon that’s going ti mak me,” was the
Yorkshireman’s reply. “And Ah feel noo as Ah’ve got even wi’
Goviment in t’ matter of t’ cattle,” he added with immense
satisfaction. “And thou think’st me a gentleman? Well, Ah’m nobbut a
farmer, but Ah’m mooch obliged ti thee for the compliment.” He
shook Ewen’s hand. “Good luck ti thee, ma lad. . . . If thou lived a
few hoondred moiles nearer, danged if Ah wouldna gie thee a pup o’
Lassie’s—but thou’rt ower far away, ower far!” He chuckled, caught
the bridle of the grey, and the eight hoofs could be heard splashing
back through the ford. Then silence settled down again, silence, and
the soft folds of mist; and after a moment Ewen, leaning heavily on
his goad, began his difficult pilgrimage.
Nor had he made any a week later, when, one hot afternoon, he
lay, reflecting deeply, on the bed in his own room, with his hands
behind his head. Although his wounded leg was already much