Category Archives: Education

¿Te lo explico con plastilina?

Did you catch the play on words in my last post’s title? I grilled three friends on it, and none of them got the allusion. Hmm. I’m generally a person devoid of snark, but for the sake of education I’m going to employ some major snark right now and use a Colombian phrase that’s apropos: ¿Te lo explico con plastilina? Should I break it down for you using Play-Doh? Would some clay figures help you get it? Do I need to spell it out for you? Here, see if this helps.

Amanecer for all seasons

Get it? A man . . . amanecer. Ahhhhh, ya caigo. We see what you did there, Vocabat. Nothing ingenious–I know–but not too shabby either, right?

Now, back to the phrase of the day: ¿Te lo explico con plastilina? Plastilina is putty-like modeling clay. Its official translation to English is Plasticine®, but I’d never heard that word before. I guess I should have, though. Plasticine is what clay animation features like Wallace and Gromit, and Gumby are made with. There’s also a reference to Plasticine in the Beatles song “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.”

Picture yourself on a train in a station,
With Plasticine porters with looking-glass ties.

In Spanish, the word plastilina is also frequently used for Play-Doh, even though there’s a world of a difference to the discerning fingers and noses of children. Play-Doh has a base of flour, salt, and water; is totally edible; and it hardens. Plasticine, on the other hand, is derived from clay and is oil-based. It’s not edible, and it never gets hard. In some countries Play-Doh is known as just that: Play-Doh. 

Plastilina

Explicar algo con plastilina, then, means to have to explain things in very basic terms to those who might be a little slow on the uptake. To put things so simply that even a child could understand. It’s like when we say, Do you want me to draw you a picture? in English, though you can also say ¿Te lo dibujo? in Spanish.

It appears that explicar algo con plastilina is a Colombian phrase, with possibly some usage in Venezuela as well. Thanks to the internet, I now possess an equivalent phrase: it looks like explicar algo con manzanas expresses the same idea in some other countries. Personally, if I was having trouble grasping something–say, how the Federal Reserve works–I’d much rather have it explained to me via Play-Doh than apples. More power to you, though, if you could look at the cross-section of an apple and instantly understand monetary policy.

Ese tipo no entiende que no quiero nada con él, toca explicarle con plastilina.

That guy just doesn’t get that I’m not interested in him; you have to come out and make everything so obvious to him.

¿Quedó claro o tocará explicarte con plastilina?

Does that make sense, or do I need to dumb it down for you?

Bob Willey explica con plastilina el posmodernismo.

Bob Willey explains postmodernism to us in layman’s terms.

I learned this phrase in Bogotá from my friend Carolina, who currently lives in Tokyo. She grew up in the U.S., and she had a time of it trying to learn Spanish when she moved to Colombia 10+ years ago. She told me that she would have to ask ¿Cómo? ¿Cómo? ¿Cómo? so many times that her friends would gently tease her and say, ¿Te lo explicamos con plastilina? In anticipation of these insincere, smart-aleck offers, I would love to carry around a small tub of Play-Doh in my purse. Then, when I inevitably draw a blank at some point in a conversation, I could take out the Play-Doh, hand it to the other person, and say, ¿Dizque guarilaque? Qué pena, pero no sé qué demonios querrá decir eso. ¿Será que me lo puedes explicar con plastilina? Or when they say, ¿En serio que no sabes qué significa eso? ¿Te lo explico con plastilina?, I’d whip it out and say, Bien pueda. Hágale. Their expression would be so priceless.

Kids, take your vocab

Because you just never know when that obscure, pedantic, fancy-pants word you learned in eighth grade English class ostensibly to boost your SAT score will come in handy in real life. If it seems essentially useless in English, try Spanish and see if you can’t get more mileage out of it. You’ll likely find that big words get much more facetime with our neighbors to the south (and Spain! I’m sweet on Latin America, sure, but I’d never want to give the impression of being anti-Spain). Good news! Those words no longer have to simply collect dust in the recesses of your brain! You can put them to work, starting right now. Make them earn their keep.

On the flip side, a great way to learn more Spanish is to learn more English. Whaddaya mean, I’m a native speaker! Yeah, yeah, I know. Still. You can always further enrich your vocabulary. It’s amazing how I discover more and more Spanish-English cognates as I learn more English, thereby making Spanish easier and more familiar. When was the last time you used a word in English for the first time?

Anyway, here I leave you with my new (old) word. Last saw “celerity” circa middle school, but it was right there on instant recall when I saw it in its Spanish getup, meaning that I didn’t have to waste any time getting confused, thinking that these works were advancing with celery’s dad or any such inanities. See, no bit of knowledge is ever wasted. Everything shows up again, although often in a very different form. For many reasons, I’m very grateful for the endless lists of English vocabulary we had to learn in middle school and high school. I had no idea at the time that I’d one day be so nuts about Spanish, nor did I realize that I was unknowingly already expanding my Spanish vocabulary word by seemingly pointless word, a vocabulary that would lie dormant for a few years. The point ended up being that I could skim the headlines of this Colombian newspaper today, and I could do it with–what else?–great celerity.

Oh, and the Metrocable is pretty cool, by the way. The picture of me on the About page was taken inside it. Full disclosure: I might be receiving a lot of money for this post. It’s all a PR set-up to enhance Medellín’s international image. That doesn’t discredit the language insights in any way, though, does it?

What about you? When you learn new words in English, do you ever then realize that a certain Spanish word is a cognate and that you just weren’t aware of it before? Have you ever found vocabulary that you learned back in your schooldays to be useful in helping you learn and recognize Spanish words, even if you don’t necessarily ever use those words in English? 

¡Me corchaste!

It’s been a long time since I’ve written a post on a single word. Imagínate: all the clatter and din of Spanish muffled and reduced to one tidy term. The never-ending complexity pared down to one taut linguistic unit. Relax. Let all your troubles ease away. You’ll learn all the rest of those words . . . tomorrow. Right now, all you have to do is savor this tiny sip of knowledge. No deep draughts for today. Let’s live dangerously and content ourselves with only a little learning just this once. It’s the weekend, after all.

The word is corchar. It’s highly Colombian, so try to refrain from using it with people from other countries unless you’re the type to include footnotes in your speech. Brandish it, however, when talking to Colombians, and you’ll win major brownie points. When it comes time to redeem your brownie points, if you’re in Colombia, I recommend Mr. Brown brownies with arequipe, but the Mama-ía brand never disappoints either. You can’t go wrong either way.

Returning to corchar–it simply means to stump somebody. Perhaps on purpose (you sly devil, you), perhaps on accident. The thing is, you’ve asked a question and the other person hasn’t the foggiest. It’s a delicate position to put someone in, so be gracious and keep your ego in check.

¿Cuál es la capital de Sri Lanka? – Mm . . . ¿sabes qué? No tengo la más mínima idea. ¡Me has corchado! What’s the capital of Sri Lanka? – Hm, you know what? I haven’t the slightest clue. You got me!

Corchamos al profe al preguntarle sobre una política de Castro que desconocía. We stumped the teacher, asking him about one of Castro’s policies that he didn’t know about.

¿Conque no sabes quién era Simone de Beauvoir? Ah, no lo puedo creer, ¡te corché! Entonces sí hay una que otra cosa que ignoras después de todo. You don’t know who Simone de Beauvoir was? I can’t believe it; I’ve outsmarted you! So there are a few things you don’t know after all.

Siempre termino corchada cuando mi niña me hace preguntas de la nada sobre el sexo o la muerteI never know what to say when my daughter asks me random questions about sex or death.

The word obviously has some relation to the noun corcho, a cork. I visualize my brain being stuffed with a cork, preventing any of that delicious wine (er, knowledge?) from coming out when I need it. Surely that makes just as much sense (if not more) than the idea of stump-ing a person. I remember that I learned corchar from my friend Dayana on the Universidad Nacional campus in Bogotá. Another related phrase that might be useful to you, this one by way of Mariana, one of my top students, is pregunta capciosa–a trick question.

By the way, remember how I said that I had the flu in my last post? Yeah, I was way off. I actually had severe pneumonia. I had to be in the hospital for three days this week. Gracias a Dios, I’m much better now, but I have no voice! I can only whisper. Being as talkative as I am, I think it’s giving all my friends a well-deserved break. My readers, however, will have no such luck. The onslaught of Spanish will continue! We will learn and learn until we are no longer the corchados but rather the ones that corchan, los corchadores, if you will. There’s a lot of ground to cover.

_________________________________________________ Non-natives, what’s your experience with this word? Had you heard it before? How have you heard it used? Where? If you’re a native Spanish speaker, anything to correct, clarify, comment on or concur with? 

Pen-sando

What with the ubiquity of computers (full disclosure: this blog post was written on one) and growing popularity of tablets and pad devices and smartphones, not to mention the near disappearance of checks and handwritten letters, do you have many excuses to pick up a pen these days? Me, I use pens constantly, make a point of always having one on me, and I’ll be damned if I don’t show off my fabulous handwriting every chance I get. I’ve also got ink constantly bespeckling my hands, but what the hey. If you too are a recalcitrant old-timer who thinks pens have still got swag, learn how to talk about your offbeat tastes in Colombian Spanish. And while we’re at it, let’s invite a few more writing utensils to the party. Feeling themselves growing ever more obsolete, they’re all in need of a little love right now.

There are many, many words used for pen in Spanish. Here are the ones I’ve run into in Colombia.

-Esfero: The only word I ever heard for pen in Bogotá. Although its usage seems to be mostly limited to the capital city, apparently it’s sometimes used here for fancy pens. Supposedly also used in Ecuador.

-Lapicero: The only word I’ve heard for pen in Medellín.

-Bolígrafo: Although I have yet to hear it, I’m told that this word is used in certain regions and would certainly be understood anywhere. Not the most beautiful word in the world, if you ask me.

Pens’ pals:

-Un portaminas: Mechanical pencil

-Marcador: Marker, be it a Sharpie or a kid’s coloring markers

-Resaltador: Highlighter

-Crayolas, Crayones: Crayons

-Colores: Colored pencils

Now that you know how to talk about writing utensils in Colombian Spanish, take a hike to your closest papelería (I like to translate this in my mind to a “papery”) and have a heyday. I have an inkling* that these words are going to come in handy.

*I can’t resist sharing something I just learned about English. Did you know that inkling comes from the verb “to inkle,” which means to communicate in an undertone or whisper, to give a hint of something–? I have tried to impart all of my knowledge on writing utensils in this post; please let me know in the comments, however, if you feel rankled that I’ve merely inkled.

_________________________________________________ Non-natives, what’s your experience with these words? Had you heard them before? How have you heard them used? Where? If you’re a native Spanish speaker, anything to correct, clarify, comment on or concur with?