Órale, the Caló word of this episode is carilla. It’s also pronounced with a rolled r, as in carrilla. It means harassment or grief. There’s no comparable word in Spanish or English. A plausible root word for it in Romaní is carí, which means vehement, heated or arduous, as in a hard, heated or aggressive statement. In Caló, when somebody is casting caustic or sarcastic jokes at someone, it’s said that they are giving them carilla.

Órale, Caló’s going romantic. For the rest of the year, all the episodes will be romantic anecdotes, although the words and expressions themselves may not necessarily be romantic. The hope is that talking about this subtle and nuanced dimension of human existence will deepen your exposure to Caló.Although Caló’s a dialect of a language spoken around the world, its expression along the Rio Grande reflects the unique experience of life in the barrios in that long valley. How does romance occur in that reality? The only distinction from other cultures is that romance is considered a susto (spell). In other words, it’s a caused outcome, not a destined or natural one, where parents, other kin, strangers, and even passing spirits can cast spells, as well as the romantic partners. Then once set loose, the susto takes its own course, and the outcome is uncertain.The word of this episode is borrado(a). In modern Spanish, it means erased. In Caló, it means someone with light eyes—except blue. It’s not a pejorative. The moniker merely points out a class of people who stand out because of the color or their eyes. For there are desirable and undesirable borrados (as).

Órale, the onda this week is the word picudo. It comes from the modern Spanish word pico (peak) and means beaked, peaked or pointed, as in a stork or mountain peak. In Caló, it means someone who’s eloquent or a quick-witted talker. When you have something to say and can’t articulate it yourself, you recruit a picudo to say it for you.

Órale, the onda this week in Caló is the word grifo. In modern Spanish it means a tap or faucet. But in Caló it means someone who’s either sick with the gripa (flu) or deeply under the influence of drugs. The general idea is that flu and drugs lead to the same presentation. The drugs that may be causing someone to be grifo are called grifa, and there’s no distinction between any particular drug, that is, they’re all grifa. And when someone takes them and acts crazy, it’s said they’re engrifado or beyond being merely grifo.

Órale, the onda this week in Caló is the word vago. In modern Spanish, it means alternatively vague, vagabond or vagrant. In Caló, however, vago means somebody who’s mischievous or misbehaved. The key element of a vago is agency. That is, vagos don’t stumble into trouble or misdeeds, they willfully commit them. In this sense, a young child or pendejo adult—maybe also a tapados—can’t be vagos. But a pendejo can be a vago if, once told what is right and wrong, they do males anyway out of spite or defiance.

Órale, the onda of the week is the word tapado. In modern Spanish, it means covered or clogged, as in a lid or drain pipe. But in Caló, tapado means somebody can’t connect the dots or see what may seem obvious to others. The term doesn’t fit within the 5-tiered scale of stupid (baboso-pendejo-menso-sonso-tarugo). It’s not that a tapado lacks an IQ point or two. It’s that they are blind to particular insight, perhaps locked on the wrong paradigm or simply too wishful for the opposite result. In this sense, a die-hard fan of a team that always loses is a tapado. Someone who believes in a candidate or romantic interest and overlooks obvious flaws is a tapado. Fortunately, being tapado is not congenital or an irreversible state because tapados can overcome their deficit, but they inevitably need help or an intervention of some kind to finally see the light.

Órale, the featured word for this week of Caló is yonke. It comes from the English word junk. As it’s a recent adoption into Caló, you see it in signs through the border region on both sides of the Rio Grande today. Unlike the English use of the term, however, it applies as much to animate as to inanimate objects, including man-made objects, unwanted plants, cultural kitsch and even people. A pichirilo that won’t run at all anymore is yonke. Weeds and unpopular songs are yonke. A chirion former boyfriend or girlfriend you don’t wanna see anymore? Yonke.This is gonna be the last of the Spanglish worlds we’re gonna feature in Caló. There’s many others, but we’ll get to them further down the road.

Órale, the featured Caló word of the week is dompe. It comes from the English word dump, but in Caló it means more things than it does in English. A dompe can mean the class of hauling vehicles larger than a troca but smaller than a tractor-trailer. It can also mean a dump site, the public landfill or a dive, as in a place few people want to visit. And it can be a pejorative for an unattractive person, physically, emotionally or otherwise. Why don’t your popular friends ever go to the cantina at the end of the street? Cuz it’s a dompe.

Órale, the featured Caló word of the week is troca. It comes from the English word truck. Toca has become such a favored word that it’s used extensively outside of Caló. You hear it throughout Mexico and Central America, as well as the US side of the Rio Grande.

Órale, the featured Caló word of the week is raite. It’s adopted from the English word ride. But in Caló, its meaning is narrower than how it’s used in English. It means only the act of giving or partaking in a ride, never the vehicle itself. Although it’s a noun and is expressed as el raite or un raite, it’s solely an act, not a material object. You don’t park, sell or even drive your raite, only ask for, accept, give or experience it. Furthermore, it’s a grace, something that’s done for free. So a seat on a bus for which you pay a fare, is not a raite.We’re gonna continue with the theme of working in the files (farm fields). But a quick note on this. Field work comes in many forms and modes in the world of Caló, including work-for-pay work performed by seasonal migrant and weekend workers and self-employed farmers. A common mode of engagement was day labor, where workers, usually high school kids, were trucked into the fields on Saturdays and Sundays or weekdays during their summer vacations. And they got there via a raite provided by the raitero paid by the farmer to haul in workers.