In Spanish, they have a fun thing with the language. They have what is called the “ito” / “ita” suffix. For those of you like me who have been out of high school or college too long to remember, a suffix is a word ending. In Spanish you should be able to add this suffix to any noun (remember a “noun” is a person, place, or thing). When you add the suffix “ito” or “ita” to a noun, it means “little”.  Just for an example the word “casa” means “house” and the word “casita” means “little house”. The word “gato” means “cat” and the word “gatito” means “little cat”. And finally, the word “papel” means “paper” and the word “papelito” means “little piece of paper”.

As you can see, the “ito” / “ita” ending means “little” and is very useful.  This fun “suffix” or “word ending” also has one other meaning. I had hundreds of experiences that reinforced the meaning, but here is one experience that opened my eyes to the “other” meaning.

Last time I told you about the Silva’s, who are native Spanish speakers from Latin America, and how I ate breakfast and dinner with them just about every day for about 3 months. Well, one morning Mrs. Silva brought in our breakfast as usual. First she brought in fresh baked rolls that she would get at the bakery every morning as well as a delicious breakfast drink. Then she brought in a pan with a few eggs swimming in oil. That is how they would cook fried eggs — they would put two to three inches of oil in a pan and then drop  in the eggs and they seemed to “swim” in the large amount of oil. As she brought in the eggs, she said in Spanish, “Here are your huevitos”. In Spanish, eggs are “huevos” but this time she used the “ito” / “ita” suffix and called them “huevitos”.

As she put the eggs on our plates, I examined them and said, “These aren’t smaller than normal eggs, why do you call them “huevitos”? She looked at me with a strange expression and said “Of course they’re not smaller”. I asked again, “so why do you call them ‘huevitos'”? She answered, in a sort of obvious tone, and told me it was because she had made them with “cariño” which means “caring”. I wanted to make sure I heard her correctly so I asked “So, since you made them with ‘cariño’ you call them ‘huevitos'”? She confirmed what I had said and I found that I was at the beginning of a very  good culture lesson where you make things like “eggs” with “caring”.

I wanted to make sure this was not something that just the Silva family did, so I began to listen more carefully to how others spoke. I began to notice that many people would call their grandmothers “abuelita” instead of “abuela”, even though their grandmothers weren’t necessarily “little”. I learned that “abuelita” is how to say “grandmother” with “cariño” or “caring”.

The word for daughter is “hija” and many parents would call their daughters “hijita” even though they were full grown adults. Obviously they were not calling their daughters “little daughter” but “daughter” with “cariño” or “caring”.

I grew to love this fun “little” cultural and language difference and had a lot of fun with it. I would tease Mrs. Silva in a fun way by adding “ito” or “ita” to everything for the next few days after that experience with the eggs.

So to sum it up, what I learned was that the “ito” / “ita” ending can be used to talk about “little” things, but it is also a term of endearment which shows “cariño” or “caring”.

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After last week, you should have a fairly good idea about the importance of food in Latin America. With that in mind, I would like to share an experience that happened to me. I was living in a city called Vista Alegre and almost every evening I would eat with the Silva family. I became good friends with the Silvas and Mrs. Silva became something like a second mother to me.

One night Mrs. Silva made us pig’s feet for dinner. As always, she beamed a smile from ear to ear as she presented the food to us. This time, she left our food and went into a separate room while we ate with her children. This was the first time I had ever in my life eaten pig’s feet and they looked a little bit like mushy gelatin. I put a fork full in my mouth and tried to swallow but could not. The texture was a little bit too slimy and I gagged as I tried to swallow it down. I felt horrible because I had been able to eat all of the different foods up to that point. I then took a bite of bread, took another bite of the pigs feet and tried to chase it down with a ton of water. Again I just gagged. I tried a couple of different techniques to swallow the pig’s feet but without much success; I then began to worry. I physically could not eat the pig’s feet, but at the same time, I could not offend dear Mrs. Silva.

I sat in this dilemma for quite some time until I devised what seemed to be an perfectly ingenious plan. I put the pigs feet inside of my rolls, rolled them up in a napkin and then planned to take them back to my apartment to secretly dispose of them for good. I made the children think I was going to take them back to my apartment to eat later as a midnight snack. Everything seemed to be going well and I had the packages securely tucked away into a bag. Then Mrs. Silva returned and one of the children instantly, and in a tattle-tale sort of voice said, “Mom, he put the pigs feet in a napkin and is going to throw them away outside!”

I was truly devastated. Mrs. Silva was instantly hurt and offended that I was going to do this with her food. I tried to explain that I was going to take them back to my apartment, but the more I explained, the worse I made it. Finally, I left after saying “sorry” (“lo siento”) about twenty times and Mrs. Silva looking like she may burst into tears at any moment.

The worst part was that I had to go to her home every morning and evening for the next two months to have breakfast and dinner there. It took me about two months of apologizing to finally get on her good side once again.

As you can see, food and mealtime in Latin America is a very important part of life. If someone invites you to dinner at their home in Latin America, here is what I might suggest; if you have a strong stomach, go for it, you will enjoy the experience and be culturally enriched. If you do not have a strong stomach, tell them that you would love to but won’t be able to make it.

To learn more about speaking Spanish, please visit our website www.spanishprograms.com

To learn more spanish words, please visit our website www.spanishprograms.com

There is quite a cultural difference between the attitude towards mealtime and food in Latin America and the attitude found in the United States. Food is a major part of life in Latin America. It is not just food that is so important but the ritual of eating and sharing food with others that has deeper meaning.

Before I get too deep into mealtime, let me say that the food in Latin America might not be exactly what we in America picture it to be, especially in South America where most people have never heard of tacos, burritos, enchiladas, and other typical “Mexican/American” dishes. I lived for a while in South America and had the opportunity to eat many different types of delicious food. I ate a lot of beans, rice, and fish, but I also had many exotic foods such as guinea pig, cow stomach, pig’s feet, and many other unrecognizable meats that I did not dare ask what they really were as I ate them.

On a similar note, I had a friend who has recently returned from a trip to Mexico. He had an “exciting” train ride around Mexico and could not wait for his first meal of authentic “Mexican food” – the kind he was used to eating in America. He was very disappointed to learn that the “Mexican food” in Mexico is very different from the Americanized version of Mexican food he was accustomed to in the U.S.

Now back to the general attitude towards mealtime in Latin America. In many smaller pueblos (lower income areas), people do not have enough money to purchase pre-prepared, processed, or even canned foods. Many women make absolutely everything from scratch and spend hours in the kitchen every day providing meals for their families.

Just about every meal I had in Latin America was prepared by a native Spanish speaking woman. When they would prepare food, they were not just preparing a meal but it was almost as if they put an emotional part of themselves into the food they gave us. As a result, it was always expected that we eat every bit of our food or they may be offended.

After just about every meal, they would always ask if I wanted more. If I said, “No thanks, I’m full”, they would be deeply hurt and act as if I were rejecting them as well as their family. I quickly learned my response should be, “Yes, I’d like just a little bit more since I am almost full”. They would then beam with joy and come back, sometimes, with an even bigger serving than before. Needless to say, mealtime often took a lot longer than expected to eat the many servings of food that was brought out.

Moral of the Story: If you want a great cultural experience, try eating at the home of a Latin American family. However, remember that you must eat everything that is served. Never use the excuse of being full or that you have an allergy to something; it does not work and will almost always make the person feel bad. If you are not an adventurous eater, I recommend staying home and stick to eating Top Ramen™.

To learn more about speaking Spanish, please visit our website www.spanishprograms.com

To learn more Spanish words, please visit our website www.spanishprograms.com

To learn more Spanish words, please visit our website www.spanishprograms.com

I am from Utah, where the public transportation system is sometimes anything but highly efficient. Most of the people here have cars and usually do not ride the bus. When people try to ride the bus, they (the busses) are typically late, they only come every hour or less, or sometimes they do not even show up.

It was quite an experience for me when while in Latin America for the first time and was able to see their public transportation system. People, especially those in the smaller pueblos, do not have cars so they have to rely heavily on public transportation. City busses usually leave for destinations about every 5 to 10 minutes and are for the most part very efficient at least in regard to keeping a regular departure schedule.

My first experience on a city bus was, to say the least, a real shocker. All the seats were taken so I moved myself to the back of the bus, stayed standing up, and held on to the rail. As I stood there, more, and more, and more, and more people continued to get onto the bus. At first it was not so bad, and then suddenly I was pressed in so tightly I could hardly take a breath. I felt like a sardine and wondered what the fire code enforcers would think if they could see all the people packed into our bus. I did not even need to hold on to the rail anymore; all the people were packed in so tightly, there was no way someone could have fallen down if they tried.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a sign that said the maximum capacity for the bus was 35 people. I knew that we were blatantly breaking a rule of some kind.

I am roughly about 6′ tall and most Latin people are at least 6 inches shorter than me so I decided to count them all since I did not have anything else to do but fight for every breath. Finally, by counting the people I could see, I came up with a grand total number. There were a 72 people on that little bus that was supposed to hold only 35! I was amazed and had never seen so many people fit into such a confined space. It sort of felt like a circus act where a person fits into a very small box by moving their body in all sorts of ways.

As our destination began to get closer, I began to wonder exactly how I was going to get out of the bus. All of a sudden we arrived and the person I was with began to aggressively push and struggle his way to the front and off the bus. For a few moments, I felt like I was in a violent hockey game (where people fight just for the fun of it). Amazingly, we were able to get off the bus without serious injury. I immediately wondered if I would always have the same occurrence riding busses in the city.

The next few times I went into a city I had very comparable experiences.  One day I had a very different experience; I was one of the last people to get on the bus. The bus doors were open and about nine people were on the entrance steps of a completely packed bus. The bus employee hoisted me up onto the last available step. I had just enough space to put one foot on a minuscule area of the step and hold on to a rail outside the bus. My whole body was completely outside of the bus and my life was being supported by one foot and one hand! For any of you that have driven in Latin America, as you know, it can be a little crazy! Car drivers were whizzing by me going top speed. They came within, it seemed like, a fraction of an inch of knocking me off my perch. Fortunately I survived.
Now try to guess the moral of this week’s little story: (multiple choice)

a. Before you get on a Latin American bus, take a long, deep breath first because it may be your last for a while.
b. You should learn how to count to at least 72 in Spanish.
c. Practice pushing people so you will be prepared to muscle your way off when you arrive at your destination.
d. Do not worry about the bus, take a taxi, and life will be much easier.

To learn more about speaking Spanish, please visit our website www.spanishprograms.com

To learn more Spanish words, please visit our website www.spanishprograms.com