{"id":2041,"date":"2025-09-24T12:39:52","date_gmt":"2025-09-24T10:39:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/curiara.com\/europa\/?p=2041"},"modified":"2025-10-15T17:15:31","modified_gmt":"2025-10-15T15:15:31","slug":"venezuelan-words-europe","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/curiara.com\/europa\/en\/palabras-venezolanas-europa\/","title":{"rendered":"Venezuelan words in Europe: how our slang crosses borders"},"content":{"rendered":"

When we migrate<\/strong> we carry suitcases, documents and souvenirs, but we also carry something invisible and powerful: our Venezuelan words. <\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

In any case european city<\/strong>Between offices, universities and caf\u00e9s, these expressions escape us. Because no matter how long we have been away, we will always have our own way of speaking, which sneaks into the conversation and brings us back, all of a sudden, to our homeland.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We say \"corduroy<\/strong>\"at a meeting in Madrid<\/strong> and they look at us funny. We let out a \"what a racket\".<\/strong> at Lisbon<\/strong> and people smile without understanding. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

At Milan<\/strong>we explain that we are \"burda de cansados<\/strong> and no one understands what we are talking about. And yet, for us, those words are a emotional lifeline,<\/strong> they make us feel accompanied, they connect us with others Venezuelans<\/strong> and remind us that, even though we are far away, we are still who we are.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Our jargon<\/strong> crosses borders without asking permission. It is an accent that travels with us and sometimes causes confusion, but always connects us with our people.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 Because beyond the paperwork, the queues at the immigration office or the challenges of adapting, speaking the way we speak as foreigners is a Venezuelans<\/strong> is a way of resisting oblivion. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

And therein lies our courage, that of those of us who decided to emigrate, to rebuild our lives far from home and, in many cases, that of those who, with hard work and effort we send remittances<\/strong><\/a> as a silent form of love for those who stayed behind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The power of speaking as Venezuelans do<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n
\"venezuelan<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

The Spanish<\/strong> from<\/strong> Venezuela<\/strong> has a special rhythm, full of humour<\/strong>, diminutives<\/strong> and creative twists. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

We say \"poquitico<\/strong>instead of \"un poco\" and \"ahorita\" with that temporal flexibility that can mean \"un poco\" and \"ahorita\" with that temporal flexibility that can mean \"un poco\" and \"ahorita\".right now<\/strong>\" o \"at some point\".<\/strong>. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Our \"is on its way<\/strong>is never as immediate as it sounds, and a \"no\" is never as immediate as it sounds, and a \"no\" is never as immediate as it sounds.I'm going out<\/strong>\"can be from \"I'm putting on my shoes\"<\/strong> to \"I'm still in the shower<\/strong>\".<\/p>\n\n\n\n

These nuances, which are so natural for us, become curiosities for others. Spanish speakers<\/strong>. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

At Spain<\/strong>someone may look at us confused if we say \"...\".that guy is a wanker<\/strong>\"because they don't understand that we are talking about someone gossipy or nosy. At Italy<\/strong>a \"what a nuisance<\/strong>\"is understandable, but a \"what a crab<\/strong>\"sounds exotic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At Europe<\/strong>These words become a secret code. Within one metre in Berlin<\/strong>we heard someone say \"what a crab<\/strong>\"and we immediately know that there is a compatriot<\/strong>. In a <\/strong>cafeteria <\/strong>from Paris<\/strong>a girl greets with \"epa, chamo<\/strong>\"and we automatically feel that we are not so far away from home. Talking like this is like wearing a invisible flag.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Venezuelan words that cross borders<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n
\"words<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Among so many expressions, there are some that always travel with us and that we use, even if we know they will cause confusion:<\/p>\n\n\n\n