Back during the Bicentennial I was part of a living-history group that portrayed a German regiment. In 1974-75 we were asked to take part in several filming projects from the National Park Service for use in the films they were putting together for various visitors centers up and down the coast. We were young, we were hard-core, and we lived and spoke only German when we were in camp. We were good and pretty much knew it.
Well, our commander just didn’t look German enough for the NPS so they hired some actor to portray that part. Problem was he was an actor and not a re-enactor which lowered him in our esteem ----- and he knew no German. Just memorized his lines phonetically. And he kept confusing “schiessen” and “scheisse”. Or he didn’t know the difference, got confused, or what the hell but we really didn’t care. After several weekends, basically at our own expense, of putting up with this we got down to the last day, the last scenes, and our last time under Hauptmann Arschloch. And he stood there yelling “SCHEISSEN!!!”. And when we didn’t react or move he started yelling it over and over again and waving his sword around. So basically we all grounded our muskets, dropped out britches and squatted, giving it the old college try. In formation. With the cameras rolling.
I am told copies of the “out-takes” still exists somewhere within the National Parks or somewhere but like Bigfoot I have never known anyone to actually see it. But me and the remaining survivors from that campaign are still kind of proud of ourselves for it.
In Quebec, a *comedien *or *comedienne *is an actor/actress, not a comedian. That’s an humoriste. (I understand it’s different in France.)
Also here, there are many summer camp jobs for animateurs/animatrices. It has nothing to do with drawing cartoons, it’s just the general word for someone who leads a group in activities.
Keep in mind, the Japanese word for half-sleeve, such as for a shirt, is “hansode” pronounced “hahn-soh-de”
So, my first winter in Japan, with my still very-limited knowledge of Japanese especially in hearing skills, I walk into my office and remove my coat. My Japanese cow-orker sees me.
Cow-orker: J-san, hansode da!
Me (JpnDude): Oh, I’m handsome? Arigato. You are so sweet.
Cow-orker: No, no. Not handsome… I said hansode! Why are you wearing half-sleeve in winter?
Me: (Embarassed) I guess I’m not handsome. DOH!
ALL in office: HAHAHAHAHA!
Although “cute” has a second “i,” it’s a different vowel. “Cute” is kawaii where “scary” is kowai.
We actually had people say kowai when we offered to let them hold our kids when they were babies, because there isn’t a distinction between “scary” and “scared.” Japanese often leaves off the subject so they would be saying “(I’m) scared (to hold the baby)” because they had never done it before, rather than “(Your baby is) scary.”
You can get into trouble with the length of vowels by calling a younger woman a grandma (obaasan) rather than an aunt (abasan).
Loose? Darling, if you find it tied down you just chop off the ropes
(Spanish doesn’t borrow words, it acquires them. Whether payment was involved is never mentioned, but you can assume no)
well in community college there was the stereotypical British girl who needing a smoke said “anyone got a fag I can bum?”
there were condom machines (that wasn’t labeled in any way in the bathrooms) that someone sent her to when she wanted some erasers………she joked with the teacher saying the water balloons were expensive ………
Traveling solo in the Caribbean and trying to use my lousy Spanish led to some fun times.
In Puerto Rico I was flirting with a bartender and she was flirting back twice as hard. I asked her, “como se dice vodka en Espanol?” She reached out, took my hand, slowly licked her lips, and in the most sultry voice I’d ever heard, whispered, “vodka”.
In Barbados I was impressed by the woman who took my order, prepared the meal, and served me, all while cradling her infant child at a beach bar. I struggled to tell her in Spanish that her baby was cute and the food was delicious. She laughed, then told me in English that I’d just told her that her baby looked delicious.
I guess that British English could qualify as a foreign language from American…
Spanish speakers can be tripped up by regional slang too. For example, although chucha means “pussy” in Panama, it just means “body odor” in Colombia. (And it apparently is some kind of tamale in Guatemala. I was taken aback once by a woman walking down the street with a basket loudly yelling Chuchas! Chuchas!)
Once a Colombian friend of mine came in from the field all sweaty. She sat down, sniffed at her shirt ruefully while wrinkling her nose, and said “Creo que tengo chucha!” I couldn’t help but raise my eyebrows. She smacked me when she realized that she had told me in Panamanian that she suspected she might have a pussy.
Minced oaths can be a puzzle until you figure out what they are a substitute for. I was amused by the fact that Panamanians frequently shouted out Chuleta! (“chop,” in the sense of pork chop) when surprised by something until I realized it was really supposed to be Chucha! Likewise there’s Ajo! (Garlic!) for carajo (dick) and Miercoles! (Wednesday!) for mierda (shit). So hearing someone yelling “Pork chop! Garlic! Wednesday!” when they stub their toe can be quite mysterious.
A couple of other words that vary regionally in Spanish are coger, which means “to catch” in Spain and in Panama, but “to fuck” in Argentina and elsewhere in Latin America, and concha, which generally means “shell” (as in sea shell) but “cunt” in Argentina. I had people laugh in Peru when I spoke about “catching birds.”
I was chatting online in French with an Ivorian and we were discussing sports and exercise. She mentioned going to the pool, and I tried to say “I love to swim!” (J’adore nager) but got mixed up and said “J’adore naitre!” ( I love giving birth! )
Not exactly what the OP is asking, but close enough.
A few years ago I was attending the performance of an improv troupe in a bar. It was a group of young guys, one of them the son of a friend.
Some time after the show had started, a group of about 20 college age kids show up. One of the young ladies in the group was translating the show into French to the group. Needless to say, the performers found this a bit of a distraction. So, one of the performers stopped and asked what was going on. The translator explained that this was a group of French college kids on a study abroad program at the local university.
So the improv-ers, being improv-ers, started to try to be funny with that information. Eventually, being young guys, they tried to come up with something about sexy French girls. (Everything being translated in real time.) To keep from being totally vulgar, they started saying something about wanting to take a shower with the sexy French girls. The translator kinda mixed this up into saying that French girls needed to take a shower! So, while the improv-ers were trying to get a laugh, the French kids were getting increasingly angry and agitated as they thought they were being insulted (with the common trope of French people being stinky). What fun!
The improv-ers figured out that something was going seriously wrong and asked the translator what was up. Eventually they figured out the mis-communication, but by then the evening performance was pretty much ruined. I’m sure most of the French kids never did get over being insulted by the American comedy troupe!
Another incident that wasn’t funny, just unfortunate. I was an au pair in Germany, and I took the kids to the swimming pool. It was all good (so I thought) although a bit of a challenge with 3 kids and limited german. Anyway, the youngest girl came up to me and sweetly told me, while smiling and nodding, that she hadn’t done something which I didn’t understand. When the mum came and was driving us home, I (stupidly, in hindsight) go “was heisst ‘abhauen’?” (what does this word mean?) and the mother chucks a complete wobbly because it meant “run away”. She then gives all of the kids a telling off and goes to the icecream shop, buys me an icecream and makes me eat it in front of the kids (I didn’t even WANT a bloody icecream). It was a way to ruin a day.
(all she’d done was take a cool drink bottle over to the baby pool area and try to fill it. I was worried that it could get broken so I took it off her. It was no major drama, she was only 4 or something, she didn’t know, she was just being a normal kid running amok at the pool.)
Colibri’s post #52 on slang expressions in Latin America, reminds me of a passage in a book by the venerable television naturalist David Attenborough. Many decades ago, Attenborough made an expedition to Paraguay, in which he was particularly intent on studying and filming armadillos. In Paraguay the local Native American language, Guarani, is as alive and well-used as Spanish, and people often chop-and-change between the languages in the same conversation.
Attenborough had formed the impression that the Guarani word for armadillo, tatu, was preferred to the “regular” word. In the capital at the start of the expedition, he was in the midst of a discussion with an official, concerning arrangements for his travels. He was explaining in his limited “Spanish-plus”, what he was doing, and found self waxing a bit lyrical: “I am seeking tatu – giant tatu, hairy tatu, long-nosed tatu, fairy tatu – all the different kinds of tatu which are found in Paraguay.” He noticed that the official was struggling to keep from bursting out laughing. He discovered later that a secondary, slang meaning of tatu, was “prostitute”.
Maite is a common name for Spanish women; usually understood to be a pet name for María Teresa, it’s specially common in Basque-speaking areas.
One time I was part of a group where the only non-Basque-speakers were a guy from Madrid and me; I don’t speak Basque but I do understand bits and pieces and a lot of the grammar. Two coworkers had been “throwing toads and snakes” at a document, speaking in Basque; one of them turned to me and said “:mad: here, maitea, see if you can decipher this shit, cos we sure can’t! :mad:”
After I solved the issue, Madrid-guy whispered to me “why did she call you Maite, when it’s not your name?”
“Uh? Oh! Oh, she didn’t call me Maite. See, the reason it’s such a popular nickname is that maite-without-the-capital means ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’. She was just using it to indicate that while she was clearly mad, it wasn’t at me.”
“Oh. Oooh. Wait. All those songs from the Basque areas about some chick called Maite… she’s not called Maite?”
They look “good enough to eat:” está para comérselo.