While visiting Chillán a few weekends ago I tried the fruit, membrillo for the first time. It’s like a pear, except sour and harder. They told me either you love it or you hate it, but I simply liked it. We brought back a gift for my suegra (an inclusive term that is used for both one’s mother-in-law and one’s boyfriend’s mom) and we had dinner with her the next week.
At the dinner table, I got my vowels mixed up and I announced proudly, “I tried miembro [dick] for the first time last weekend!” Silence. I realized my error. “Did I say the wrong one?” I knew they were similar and that I had to be wary, so I gave it thought beforehand and yet my brain decided that miembro was the non-dick option. Nope. Absolutely wrong. We moved on with dinner.
During the same dinner, my suegra was describing a show where cameramen follow people driving who previously had their licenses revoked because of DUIs. During the week, I had done a writing exercise about a Supreme Court decision and I tried using one of my new vocabulary words, fallo, to describe the court rulings on the drunk drivers. Even though I know the double “ll” sound, I had only read the word before and it came out with only one “l.” I said falos, as in, “but do the police know about their falos [penises]?”
My poor suegra looked bewildered, it was not at all obvious what I wanted to say, and later I apologized. She’s probably used to me saying totally inappropriate things by now, but it’s still rude dinner conversation. Not my best night.
This probably wouldn’t even be a problem if I had more conversations about the male anatomy, although the chances of me learning even half of the words Chileans use for it while we’re here seems pretty slim.
This episode has been added to the “My Cat Doesn’t Shit” post, among me announcing an non-existent pregnancy and buying bread from the dildos. I’m sure I’ve said even weirder things, but most Chileans are too polite to mention it.