Vowel Trouble

Vowel trouble and other problems

Out for a drink con un grupo de amigos. Two of the women mention that they met at a group for madres solteras. The most-recently-arrived English speaker looks very confused:"solt..." she repeats, doubtfully. "¿No es..?" and jumps on the spot. Everyone laughs and we explain the difference between "soltera" and "saltadora". This must seem a surreal confusion to the españoles presentes. But then, they probably can't tell a "kitchen" from a "chicken", so their opinion is possibly irrelevant. Anyway, the idea of a group for madres saltadoras is rather appealing. Are they mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios? Expert acrobats or parachutists? Or simply so fed up with their maridos that they are ready to jump?

The conversation moves on to our favourite mistakes and malentendidos. We recall an evening when we'd been discussing whether to go on and have a meal or just get a few tapas where we were when one of the women in the group announced in a piercing voice in one of those unexpected silences, "Yo no tengo hombre." Suddenly half the males in the bar were offering her drinks. Several clearly wanted to whisk her away for una cena romántica, though we all knew she wasn't interested: after all, she'd just said (something along the lines of) she wasn't hungry.

The same lack of clarity on the "o" and "a" was the root of the problem during a long conversation I had with a guy who kept sheep. Mi amigo was telling me all about the miles of animals he had and los floridos campos where they lived. Thousands seemed an awful lot, but who am I to question a man who's trying to impress me? Then he got onto cuántos kilos de miel they produced. Well, yo no pretendo ser bióloga, but even I know that ovejas produce lana not honey. And, of course, it turned out he'd been talking about abejas all along.

The worst thing is when the mistake produces an unfortunate vulgaridad or taco. How can you hope to learn to use a word sin practicar? But if you've only come across it in writing, it's liable to be misremembered. Hence my conversion of a field of glorious poppies - amapolas - into shameless scarlet dick-lovers by a simple doubling of the letter "l".

Another time, I was on my best behaviour, having been invited to Sunday lunch with la familia de un amigo español. I can't remember the exact context, but I know I wanted to say "with me". Sadly, I hadn't yet mastered the conmigo/contigo/consigo constructs. So there am I, with los abuelos y los padres all concentrating hard to try and understand this strange foreign woman, and out I come with "con yo". Considering how freely the kids of today use palabrotas, I am surprised they looked so shocked. It seems I'd found the only prudish family in Spain.