During these 10 years in Romania, I’ve met many people who speak Spanish. In my daily life, I speak every language but Spanish, and I’ve noticed that little by little, I start forgetting words. Recently, I reconnected with someone I hadn’t spoken to in a while and asked what he was up to. His answer: «Just chambeando.» (working)
Today, I’d like to remember with you some of the words we use in Peru that feel so natural when we’re speaking to a fellow Peruvian. But the moment we’re with other Spanish speakers from around the world, we suddenly find ourselves explaining what our slang means—and asking what theirs is too. And just like that, our vocabulary grows, now with pieces from all over the world.
Last week I went to the beach with a pata (friend). We spent a few days there. I had to chambear (work) for a couple of days, but then I was free to go swim in the Black Sea. I loved it—it was super chévere (fun) to swim in a sea without waves. But Thursday, piña (bad luck), there was a huge storm and we didn’t go out at all.
When I was a teenager, I used to watch horror movies with my sister Ammi on weekends. The most important part of the movie wasn’t the plot—it was the snacks. So we’d walk to a corner store near our house to buy trigo atómico (spiced wheat snacks). The vendors knew us, so they’d always give us yapa (a little extra). No matter how misios (broke) we were, we always had just enough for that.
When you had to take an exam, you’d chat with classmates afterwards about how it went. Some questions were trancas (tough), others were papaya (easy). And if your answers turned out well, bacán (great). If not, piña.
Meeting up with your patas (friends), you’d greet each other with a solid “¡habla, causa!” (“what’s up!”). And if you all wanted to eat something, you’d hacer chanchita (chip in) to buy… I don’t know, maybe a pizza.
In high school—back when I was a chibolo (kid, teen)—I’d hacerme bolas (get confused) in math. So before starting college, I went to tutoring with a private teacher.
When you start your first job, more experienced employees might see you as a pulpín (a young, inexperienced guy—though this one needs a whole explanation by itself).
Here are a few more:
- If something embarrasses you: «¡Qué palta!»
- If something surprises you: «¡Asu mare!»
- If something mildly disappoints you: «¡Pucha!»
- If you need help fast: “Help me out al toque.”
- If someone gives you a tiny slice of cake: «Esa tajada estuvo tela.»
- If someone asks how you’re doing after a rough day: «Estoy hasta las patas.»
- If you’re starving: «Tengo harta hambre.»
- If you want to sneak out of a party: «Quiero zafarme.»
It’s impossible to share these without seeing little memories flash through my mind. Moments when I actually used these words. It’s interesting how something so simple—just a word—can make you feel both far and close at the same time. They’re little pieces of identity.
They’re words I don’t use much anymore. I speak English at work, and the rest of the day, Romanian. Maybe next time I’ll teach you some Romanian slang.
Here’s one expression for now. To say “¡Pucha!”, in Romanian we say: “Aoleu!” And depending on how you pronounce it, it can be really funny.
’Til next time!
Ave Migratoria 