Tag Archives: Language

Colombian greetings, redux (The Bogotá Post)

There’s a new English-language newspaper in town called The Bogotá Post, and I have the honor and pleasure of writing a column for them on all things Spanish. It’s the same beat that I have here on the blog, so I plan to share some old posts and also write new material. I’ll share the columns here as I write them, and even if one is an old post the material will be expanded upon, improved, and double and triple checked with an expert. As always, I welcome feedback. What did I miss in this revamped version of this old post on Colombian greetings? I wanted to write about ¿Entonces, qué? and ¿Vientos o maletines?/¿Vientos o mareas? (though M., my Colombian proofreader, had never heard of that second set of greetings), but, you know. Word limits. And while these greetings are heard all over Colombia, I’m admittedly and inevitably Bogotá-centric, and I know there are some different greetings in Nariño, the Atlantic coast, and everywhere in between. Do share. My first issue (their sixth) came out today, so enjoy!

Bogotá Greetings

What’s one of the most useful things to learn in order to maneuver more smoothly in Spanish interactions? If I were to organize something with a large flag saying START HERE, where would I begin? I guess we’d have to start with greetings. Botch the greeting, and you’ve gotten your whole exchange off to a pitiful, clumsy start (not that these things can’t be recovered); ace the greeting, and that confidence will carry you quite far.

When you read, you begin with ABC; when you sing, you begin with do re mi; and when you run into a friend in Colombia you start with Hola, ¿qué más? Well, that’s certainly one of the most common ways. Let’s break it down.

You start with Hola. Easy. You probably also know Oye or Oiga for “hey,” but this is used to draw someone’s attention to something (as in, “Hey, did I give you my new number?”), not as a greeting.

Then you’re more or less socially obligated to ask the person how they’re doing, usually by stringing a few of these phrases together. In a very unscientific order of usefulness in Colombia, here’s a list of how to ask people how goes it:

  1. ¿Qué más? VERY Colombian and incredibly useful. Illogically, you absolutely can say this first. 
  2. ¿Cómo estás? ¿Cómo está? How are you? The most neutral, universal, and “safe,” so good for exchanges with people you don’t know or to whom you have to show respect. Certainly whenever you have to shake someone’s hand.
  3. ¿Cómo vas? ¿Cómo has estado? How’s it going?
  4. ¿Cómo te va? ¿Cómo te ha ido? How’s it going? How’s it been going?
  5. ¿Cómo va todo? ¿Cómo va tu vida? ¿Cómo van las cosas? How is everything? How are things?
  6. ¿Qué haces? ¿Qué has hecho? ¿En qué andas? What have you been up to?
  7. ¿Qué cuentas? ¿Qué me cuentas? How are you doing? What’s been going on?
  8. ¿Qué tal? What’s up? How’s it going?
  9. ¿Qué hay de nuevo? ¿Qué hay? ¿Qué hay de tu vida? What’s new? What’s happening?
  10. ¿Cómo me le va? Very polite, always hear this either from or directed to older people out of respect. This construction is called the ethical dative, and it basically expresses that I care about you so much that however you’re doing affects me and thus influences how I’m doing. 
  11. ¿Cómo estamos? How are we today? Like in English, this can have patronizing, paternalistic overtones. 

What you won’t hear in Colombia: ¿Qué pasa? ¿Qué pasó? ¿Qué onda?

saludos de colombia

All of the above essentially mean the same thing. Don’t get tripped up trying to translate them or come up with the perfect answer; just learn to let them slide out of your mouth fluidly. They’re all answered the same way: Bien. Todo bien. (If things are so-so, you can say Ahí vamos or Ahí, más o menos.) And then you return the volley.

-¡Hola nena! ¿Qué más? ¿Cómo estás? ¿Qué has hecho? ¿Juiciosa?

-Hola. Bien, gracias a Dios. Juiciosa como siempre. ¿Y tú, qué? ¿Cómo vas?

Then they’ll talk for a bit, and when there’s a pause, a lull in the conversation, it’ll start again.

-Ah, bueno . . . ¿Y qué más? ¿Tu familia, qué?

In this mid-conversation example, you can see that ¿Qué más? isn’t really used to greet so much as it’s filler to help move the conversation along.

Of course, Buenos días, Buenas tardes, and Buenas noches are used depending on the time of day, but these are more formal greetings. As in many countries, Buenas is often used instead of these phrases, a sort of catch-all. (Yes, even in the morning; you don’t say Buenos.) Very typical when you enter shops, as greeting the shopkeeper is just common courtesy here.

But no column on Colombian greetings would be complete without the ever-present ¡Quiubo! This greeting is special enough to not include in the list above, and it comes from ¿Qué hubo? It’s usually followed by another greeting, and it’s very informal.

Quiubo mija, ¿cómo estás?

Quiubo parce, ¿bien o qué?

Once you’ve already greeted someone, you can say ¡Quiubo! each time you run into them afterward, say, at the office. That way, you don’t have to go through the whole merry-go-round of greetings over and over again. You can also say ¡Quiubo! when someone knocks on your door: a casual way of saying, “Who’s there? What is it?”

As you could easily use a different greeting every day and almost never repeat a salutation in an entire month, there’s no excuse for letting yourself fall into a greeting rut. And if you don’t know what to say next, just keep adding more greetings to buy yourself time.

Is Mata Taylor a spammer?

Yes, yes she is. So, have fun with her! This is revenge, translator-style.

This post falls outside of Vocabat’s usual purview, but it does have to do with languages. It also had me in stitches for the better part of last night, and who am I to not include you in the funny?

Yesterday morning I got an email asking me about my translation services. It was awkwardly and sloppily written and reeked of spam. I smelled a rat from the first. But . . . I thought that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance it was real. Like .0001 %. And what did I have to lose? Also, and this is so embarrassing, but I think her cheap flattery must have gone to my head at least a tad. Here’s our exchange.

From: Mata Taylor <matataylor000@gmail.com>
To: Vocabat
Sent: Thursday, July 24, 2014 2:16 AM
Subject: Translator Needed

Hello, I am Miss Mata Taylor, I got your e mail address from a online forum that you are an excellent translator, I guess you would have worked for them. I will like you to translate an article for me, but first i need to know your language combination because it was not stated. I will be very happy if you can reply my e mail ASAP.

Thank You
From: Vocabat
To: Mata Taylor <matataylor000@gmail.com>
Sent: Thursday, July 24, 2014 5:13 AM
Subject: Translator Needed


Thank you for contacting me. I translate from Spanish to English.

From: Mata Taylor <matataylor000@gmail.com>
To: Vocabat
Sent: Thursday, July 24, 2014 6:50 PM
Subject: Translator Needed

Thank You very much for the reply, that is the language combination i was looking for. I have attached the document to you, i want it to be translated into Spanish. Please let me know the total cost of translating the article

Thank You.

[sends a 13-page document on terrorism]
From: Vocabat
To: Mata Taylor <matataylor000@gmail.com>
Sent: Thursday, July 24, 2014 7:14 PM
Subject: Translator Needed


I only translate from Spanish to English; I don’t translate into Spanish. However, I can put you in touch with an English to Spanish translator whom I trust and recommend. I looked at the document and the word count, and the translation would likely cost you around $300, perhaps more. Let me know if you’re interested, and I’ll be happy to pass along his information.

From: Mata Taylor <matataylor000@gmail.com>
To: Vocabat
Sent: Thursday, July 24, 2014 7:14 PM
Subject: Translator Needed

I will be happy if you can help me confirm


And then I sent it over to my friend John, a local translator. And I said that, yes, it smelled incredibly fishy, but who knew? In any case, I’d definitely have her pay upfront, if I were him. He then responded with this link: http://www.blogseitb.us/basqueboise/2014/06/30/spam-handling-101-how-to-break-down-a-scammer/

Turns out, Mata Taylor sent the exact same email a few weeks ago to another translator who decided to “have a little fun with these idiots and turn the tables on the nasty scammers until they break down.” Her revenge looked like: stating that her language combination was Klingon to Dothraki (of course, this was the language combination Miss Mata was looking for); saying her rate was 279.70 euros per word (but first she’d need the English document translated to Klingon, a service her friend offered at $1,230 per word), so over a million dollars for the whole thing; warning that it could take her a cosmological decade to complete; and signing everything as Tyrion Lannister. Hilarious! Now, that is how you talk to a spammer. “Mata” finally broke down and could do nothing but LOL in her final communication. She got ya, Mata.

spam náufragos

Well, that inspired me and got me thinking. You know how on the WordReference forums you’re supposed to submit your own translation when you ask for help? Like, you can’t just ask strangers to do all the work for you and translate your paragraph without making your own attempt first. In that spirit, I want to share with you my last email to Mata (no response so far).

From: Vocabat
To: Mata Taylor <matataylor000@gmail.com>
Sent: Thursday, July 24, 2014 8:20 PM
Subject: Translator Needed


OK, I am going to send you his information. However, I realized that I forgot to tell you that I can’t help you until you first submit your best attempt at the translation yourself. I look forward to seeing your work and apologize for any inconvenience.


Heh heh heh. Heh heh heh. It’s just so ridiculous. 13 pages! And some translator saying that you–the client–have to translate it first, presumably so that it’s “fair.” Heh heh heh. I can’t stop giggling. If any other translators stumble on this page wondering about Miss Mata Taylor (I doubt there are any others naive enough to give this spammer the time of day, but just in case), create your own silly response for this silly spammer (I think she’s harmless)! And then share.

Also, what does this kind of spam even achieve? She wasn’t going to get any money from me, just a pointless translation. I guess she confirmed that my email is real, but why keep up the exchange? Mata, are you reading this? Why do you spam, dear? Or, as you would likely write it: why do you spam deer?


. . . la naturaleza crea sus pro­pios pentagramas . . . 

Nature creates her own pentagrams? While working on a translation yesterday, that’s how I first translated this fragment while doing a slapdash run-through. Making a mental note, all the while, to go back and look into that, because pentagrams just sounded off and the reference to Satanism or Wicca was out of left field. (This symbol has strong historical ties to many other religions and cultural traditions, but I feel that these days its associations with the occult are best known.)

Nope, it was a false cognate, a falso amigo. It turns out that pentagrama in Spanish almost always refers to a music staff (US) or stave (UK). You know, those five lines where you see the clefs, time signature, and notes. It’s masculine: el pentagrama. I know this would never happen, but I like the thought of someone getting a tattoo of a pentagram in a Spanish-speaking country, only to be crestfallen when they see five lame-o lines on their body instead of the fierce symbol they wanted. It’s not going to be easy, but I’m going to make a point of thrusting a reference to music staffs into a conversation sometime soon. I wouldn’t want to keep the word pent up.

music staff stave pentagrama

How do you say pentagram in Spanish? That is, the 5-pointed star inside a circle. You have two choices: pentagrama or pentáculo. (Reminiscent of this word.) Technically, pentagrama is just the star, and pentáculo is when said star is encircled. (If we were sticklers, we’d call this a pentacle in English–the word exists.) A pentagram can also be called an estrella de cinco puntas, which you might have to say to the uninitiated. Like yours truly: a little embarrassing, but I didn’t know the word pentagram in English until a few months ago. And from what I’ve read, the vast majority of Spanish speakers only associate pentagrama with its musical meaning. The 5-pointed stars need to step up their PR campaign in both languages. Here I am doing what I can to help!

The translation made sense with pentagrama as music staff because the artist took pictures of birds and vegetation clusters on overhead power lines, then transcribed them as if they were notes on a staff. And then she turned it into music for a musical trio and a music box. One thing I love about translation: I get to see the world through such diverse sets of eyes on a daily basis.

pentagram pentagrama pentáculo

With beginners’ false cognate snafus well behind me, it’s not too often that I run into new ones. But when I do, they’re always really interesting. Say, complaciente and complacent, or condescendiente and condescending. Have you tripped over or dodged any tricky false cognates lately?

World Cup Spanish- Colombia’s out

Well, waaah. Colombia’s out of the World Cup, and I was feeling quite glum for a while. What was the point of continuing with World Cup Spanish vocabulary? What got me out of that funk? Colombians, of course! I know it can be dangerous to generalize, but by and large I find Colombians to be extremely alegres (happy), agradecidos (grateful), and celebratory for any little reason at all. We lost 2-1 to Brazil, and, yes, we were all crying along with James, but people were immediately applauding the team’s excellent overall performance, thanking them for bringing the country such positive attention, and celebrating that we got as far as we did. I just wanted to go home and sulk because that’s my nature, but, uh-uh, no one was having any of it. I was forced to go to a party, and, what do you know, I felt a million times better right away. In the end it’s just a game, and Colombia played and ultimately lost with honor and dignity. Can a heart be heavy and happy at the same time? I think so.

colombia team equipo world cup mundial

Who to root for now? Hmm, Costa Rica, because they’re the little engine that could, and their coach is Colombian. Then, Holland? Or Argentina? My enthusiasm is waning, truncated just like Colombia’s sparkling trajectory. ¡Pero la vida sigue! May the best team win.

A controversial figure in the Colombia-Brazil game was the ref. Not that that’s anything new. How do you say referee in Spanish? El árbitro. We have the word arbiter in English, but it’s very rare. Arbitrator isn’t too common, either. I think the first English word that you unconsciously associate with árbitro is arbitrary and, sigh, many of their calls and silences seem to be just that. Refereeing in general is el arbitraje, so blame it on the mal arbitraje if the ref had it in for your team. Sometimes the ref is called el juez. What if it’s a lady ref? La árbitra? El árbitra? La árbitro? The internet can’t decide. Juez becomes la juez or la jueza. Oh, English, how I long for your simplicity sometimes!

árbitro colombia brasil brazil world cup mundial

Everyone was complaining that the Colombia-Brazil ref was an árbitro comprado, or that he’d been bought off or bribed. That he was crooked and in the FIFA’s pocket. But at the end of the day, Colombia didn’t play well and didn’t score the goals it needed. While most of the fouls were against Colombia and it seemed that they especially ganged up on James, there was leniency (or blindness) toward Colombia as well. Seeing as one player’s knee to Neymar’s back fractured the Brazilian star’s vertebra, and he’ll now be out for the rest of the tournament.

The linesmen are los jueces de línea.

Fouls? Faltas.

Yes, some people are still crying foul and saying the biased ref this, the disallowed goal that, but overall Colombians accept the loss. We’re not sore losers or poor sports. A sore loser is a mal perdedor, or someone who no sabe perderBut, actually, I think that losing is what Colombia knows how to do best, soccer-wise. The series of wins and beautiful plays were a little dizzying, but I’m certain that there will be many more in the years to come.

Finally, something weird but cool. This beautiful giant grasshopper flew onto James Rodríguez’ arm and then stayed there for a good while as he took a penalty shot and scored Colombia’s only legitimate goal. Click on the picture to see it with greater detail. A grasshopper is a saltamontes or chapulín, though it’s not uncommon for it to be called a grillo (cricket) out of insect ignorance. Some are even saying the bug was a locust (which just sounds too messianic). Smart little critter, whatever he was.

james rodríguez insecto bug locust grasshopper cricket

¡Súper orgullosa! And now . . . back to normal life, back to reality. I really don’t even care about soccer, but I’m grateful for this surge of unity, hope, and cheer that my adopted patria inspired in me and so many people. I also love that the coach, José Pékerman, is Argentinian and that he has done so much for Colombia. He’s truly revered here, and he deserves it. Apparently, when Colombia qualified for the 2014 World Cup, Pékerman requested Colombian citizenship and received it the next day. I confess that I like to fantasize about what I could possibly do to one day receive Colombian citizenship on the spot! I’d love to do some great, heroic deed for Colombia, but I’ll probably just end up putting in the requisite number of years here plus the mountain of paperwork. If only those citizenship issuers were blog readers . . . I need a rosca . . . who can help me out here?

Gol gol gol

This post is going to be all about the goal. The goal area, goalie, net, posts, and, well, goals. It’s always important to have goals in life, and it’s especially important to have goals in a soccer game, seeing as they’re kind of the point. So, let’s give that region of the soccer field some love.

Tim Howard, American goalie

Tim Howard, American goalie

A goalie or goalkeeper is usually an arquero or a portero. Guardameta is also used with semi-regularity. Here in Colombia, I mostly hear arquero. Arquero seems to be the norm in most of South America; portero is more common in Spain and Mexico. Central America? The Caribbean? Equatorial Guinea? I don’t know. Words that also exist but that aren’t nearly as common include guardavallas, guardapalos, cuidapalos, golero, cancerbero, and meta. Cancerbero has nothing to do with cancer; it’s actually the combination of can- (dog, as in canine) + Cerbero (Cerberus, the mythological 3-headed hellhound that guards the entrance to the underworld). I like to imagine goalies giving themselves that pep talk as they step into position: I am Cerberus; I will guard this space like 3-headed ferocious dog guarding the gates of Hades; if anyone tries to enter I’ll bite their freaking head off! If Luis Suárez was a goalie, maybe he could have used this as his defense last week. Hey, I thought I was Cerberus! You guys don’t want me to bite, maybe you should think twice before you call me a 3-headed fanged beast. Except he’s a forward, so yeah. No excuses.


Those are nine ways of saying goalie, but what do you call the actual goal area? Well, you can find the many ways in the words above. The goal can be the arco, arquería, puerta, portería, meta, valla, los tres palos, or the casamata. Portería is what I hear most.

The posts or bars? I mostly know them as the palos, but they can also be called los postes or la madera. The horizontal crossbar can be called the travesaño, larguero, or horizontal (with the vertical bars being verticales).

Do you know how to say to bounce off something? It’s rebotar en algo. So, if the ball bounces off the posts, you say rebotó en los palos. Whenever this happens, there is sure to be cursing on one side and sighs of relief on the other.

Chile's Mauricio Pinilla tattooed his near-goal rebote on his back

Chile’s Mauricio Pinilla tattooed his near-goal rebote on his back

The net is la red, sometimes la malla. 

To score a goal is marcar un gol. You can also say hacer un gol, meter un gol, or anotar un gol. If you’re a journalist, you might write golear, though this doesn’t mean to score an individual goal per se, but rather for a team to score a lot of goals, for them to win handily. Colombia goleó a Brasil 4 a 1. Look for this one tonight!!! (This is actually the score I’m betting on for my polla- sports bet.)

And how about when a goalie blocks a goal or performs a save? The most common and colloquial ways of saying this seem to be tapar, parar, and atajar un gol. Atajar was a brand new one for me, but I’ve heard it several times lately; WordReference says to stop, intercept; to catch, catch in flight. ¡Qué atajada! What a save! Or, ¡Qué parada! Feel free to also bandy about verbs like detenerimpedir, evitar, rechazarbloquear, and blocar. Apparently, salvar un gol is used in some countries, but rejected in others as an overly literal translation from English. Despejar would be like to clear the ball, getting it the heck out of there by whatever means necessary.

David Ospina arquero goalie world cup colombia

David Ospina, arquero colombiano

Any more goal vocab? Oh, I just thought of one. In journalism, goals are often referred to as tantos. Supplement me, correct me, pillory me, love me in the comments. And tune in tomorrow at 4 p.m. U.S. Eastern time to watch the Colombia-Brazil game and cheer us on! It’s going to be epic, and we need your support! ¡Vamos Colombia!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Rodney’s latest post has lots of soccer vocab as well, so be sure to check it out. I didn’t know the Mexican phrase, ¿Quién es tu gallo? Pues, ¡mi gallo es Colombia! ¿Quién lo iba a pensar?