Asqueroso is the common Spanish word meaning “disgusting.” ¡Qué asqueroso! is the common Spanish exclamation of disgust, as is its closely-related cousin, ¡Que asco!
Asqueroso (and asco) come from the Latin eschara, meaning, “scab” (which itself is from the Greek eskhara meaning the same).
From the same Latin (and Greek) root, we also get the English… scar.
So, in Spanish, something that is so disgusting literally scars you!
We can see the mapping in the s‑qu‑r of asqueroso to the s‑c-r of scar.
The Spanish demora means “delay” and comes from the Latin prefix de- with mora (“delay; hinderance.”)
From the same Latin root, we get two related English words: moratorium (a moratorium, after all, is just an indefinite delay!) and demure (someone who is demure or shy just delays in showing their responses!).
The m‑r root is visible clearly in all of these words.
Apretar (Spanish for “to squeeze”) comes from the Latin pectus, meaning, “chest.” Think of having a heart attack: your chest feels squeezed. It’s not a coincidence that doctors in the USA today still call a heart attack, angina pectoris — that is, “angina of the chest” since pectoral in English today still means “relating to the chest”! The p‑t maps to the p‑ct, with the ‑ct- just simplifying into its first ‑c- sound.
Related: see also Pecho/Pectoral. From the same pectus root, we see other interesting words, following the ch/ct pattern.
The Spanish for “cheap,” barato, and the English barter both come from the same root, the Old French barater, meaning, “to barter, cheat, deceive, haggle.”
The word, over time, lost most of its negative connotation in both languages — neither barato nor barter are particularly strong negative words — although both have that touch of uneasiness, that we try to feel we are better than.
The Spanish Acatar (meaning “to follow, obey, respect”) comes from the Latin captare, meaning “to capture, take hold of”. From that root, we get a few English words, including:
The c-℗t root is visible in all, although the ‑p- in the ‑pt- has been lost in a few variations.
Ubicar (Spanish for “to put somewhere” or “to place”) comes from the Latin ubi, meaning “where.”
From the Latin ubi, we get a bunch of location-related words in English, such as, ubiquitous — which actually means, “everywhere!” Something that is ubiquitous really is everywhere.
The u‑b-c of ubicar maps clearly to the u‑b-qu of ubiquitous.
Ceniza (Spanish for “ashes”) comes from the Latin cinis, meaning the same.
From the Latin root cinis, we get the English… cinder as well as incinerate. That makes sense: these are either the cause or the result of the process that causes ashes!
The most interesting part is.… this also explains why the Cinderella fairy tale, in Spanish, is called… Cenicienta!
We can see the c‑n root clearly in all these variations.
Gestación (“to develop”) comes from the Latin gestare (“to bear, carry, gestate”) from which we also get — not that surprisingly — the English word gestate. While the original word and the English version focused on developing a baby, in Spanish it has come to be used more broadly: like a business idea develops. The g‑st root is clearly visible in both words.
The Spanish caer, “to fall”, sounds weird to English ears. But it is closer than it sounds to many English words.
Caer comes from the Latin cadere — meaning “to fall, sink, die” — and the middle ‑d- was lost as Latin grew into Spanish.
From this same Latin root cadere, we get a bunch of English words — mostly that came from the Latin to English via French — including:
The relation between “five” in Spanish (cinco) and English is one of the more surprising relationships: they are indeed direct second cousins!
Both come from the same Proto-Indo-European root, *penkwe, meaning the same, five. (The greek for five also comes from the same: think about pentagon, for example).
The interesting part is this: the p- sound in Proto-Indo-European evolved into the Germanic and then English f- sound. Think about father and padre, for example or foot and pie. Five and cinco follow this pattern too, but in a more subtle way.
The Proto-Indo-European for the same, *penkwe, evolved into the Latin word for “five”: quinque. The qu- was pronounced in a hard way like a k- and then, as Latin evolved into Spanish, the k- was softened into the soft c- in cinco. So p- to k- to c-. You can see it through the similar sounds.
Indeed, the pattern is most obvious in the repetition of the sounds in both works cin-co as the c/k sound twice, at the start of each syllable. And the fi-ve as the f- sound (and its closely related, usually identical and often interchangeable sound of v-) at the start of each of its syllables as well.