When Words Collide

There's this wonderful verb in Spanish, picar. It can mean to pick at, or to mince, or to peck, or to itch in a prickly sort of way, or to nibble. From it come nouns like picadura, which is an insect bite or sting (although, when Alec's teeth are picando his gums, he doesn't pica when he bites, he muerdes), and picante, which of course means spicy - a dish that is spicy might be said to picar when you taste it. Picado means chopped or diced, picadillo is a hash, and picas are spades. Piqueos - at least, in Peru - are appetizers or, more directly translated, nibblies. Many restaurants translate the word even more directly when they draft their bilingual menus, and opt for the nearest cognate available. In this instance, however, it is a false cognate, and thus cheese plates, fried yuca, olives, garlic bread, and a host of other appetizers are advertised as "pickles." It makes sense - they are, after all, foods for picking at.

False cognates are great. Embarazada does not mean embarrassed, but rather pregnant. Sopa is not soap, but soup. To asistir is to attend. If you're all fired up, don't tell anyone in Spanish that you are excitado, because they will be shocked. Instead, you are emocionado. To recordar is to remember, while to record is grabar or anotar, depending on the context. Suceso is an event, not a success - when something goes extremely well, it is an éxito. An exit, however, is a salida, which should never be confused with an ensalada.

I knew all of these, but I couldn't understand why people kept smilingly offering me bland food. Turns out blando means soft, in a mushy food sort of way. And of course, Bimbo Blanco is not a flaky white person, but a brand of white bread produced by the multinational Mexican bakery Bimbo (think WonderBread). They tell me it's very blando.