Izar (Spanish for “hoist” — as in, you hoist the flag) comes from the French hisser for the same, which itself comes from the old German words for the same, hissen. And from that German root, we get the English hoist itself. The i-z root of izar clearly maps to the hoi-s root of hoist.

Veda (Spanish for “closed season” such as, the time of year when you can’t hunt for your favorite beast) comes from the Latin vetare, which meant, “to forbid”.

In fact, from the same Latin root, we get the English… veto. Veto is actually the first-person conjugation in Latin: “I forbid!”

We can clearly see the that the v-d of veda maps to the v-t of veto.

It might be obvious to you that survive comes from the same root as vivir (Spanish, meaning “to live”), although that was not obvious to me at first despite both sharing the v-v-r root.

What is interesting, however, is the origin of survive–from the Latin super- (“to go over”) with the root vivire (“to live,” just as in vivir). Thus, to survive literally means “to live beyond” or “live past” other people — it is a purely comparative word! It’s not living; it’s living longer than someone else. This explains why its original sense and the first usages of the word were in the context of inheritances: he who survives the others gets the inheritance.

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.

Engañar is the common Spanish word meaning “to deceive” and is especially common in its meaning of “to cheat on [a spouse or girl/boyfriend].”

But who would have thought its related to the English ingenuous?

Both are, after all, forms of naïveté.

Both come from the Latin root gen-, meaning “to produce”. Think, genesis. After all, in the beginning, everything and everyone was naive.

Via the Greek parallels and Latin descendants, we get a myriad of modern words, including: genus and genius. There is a certain genius in deceiving, of course.

The Spanish for “bread,” pan, sounds nothing at all like its English equivalent.

But it is, indeed, a close cousin of another English word: companion.

All over the ancient world, bread was the sign of friendship and peace. Hence English phrases like, to “break bread.”

In Ancient Rome, your friend — literally, your companion — was someone you broke bread with. Companion, com – pan, con – pan = with bread.