Caldera (Spanish for “pot”) comes from the Latin calderium meaning “warm bath”. From that same root, we get the English… cauldron. The witches’ boiling pot is both a pot and a warm bath of sorts, after all.

We can see the c-ld-r root clearly in all the words.

The Spanish bolsa has two common definitions — both with noteworthy and related etymologies.

Bolsa commonly means “purse.” And indeed, both come from the same root: the Greek byrsa, meaning “hide, leather.”

We can see the connection if we remember that the -b- and -p- sounds are often interchangeable, as are the -r- and -l- sounds. Thus the b-l-s of bolsa maps to the p-r-s of purse.

Similarly, bolsa has a second definition in Spanish: the “stock market.” It makes sense if we think about the bolsa and the purse as the places where money is kept. And in English, a less-common synonym for stock market is bourse — and we see this same word in French all the time, the Bourse de Paris. With bourse, only the -p- and -b- are interchanged, not the -r- and -l-, thus mapping the b-l-s to b-r-s.

Derretir (Spanish for “to melt”) comes from the Latin terere, “to rub, wear down.” That which is melted is worn down, after all.

Some interesting words we get from the same root in English include:

• Trite. What is something trite if not, something that is worn down by overusage, figuratively?
• Contrite is when you use so few words, that your sentences are worn away!
• Attrition occurs when your employees are worn away, bit by bit
• Detriment is basically the worn out remains!
• Tribulations are really when you are worn down by your troubles!

We can see the r-t root in all these variations.

The Spanish revancha (“revenge”) comes from the Latin vindicare, meaning — surprisingly — “to vindicate.”

Revenge, after all, is just one way to vindicate yourself!

If we remember the reinforcing re– prefix, we can see that the v-n-ch of revancha maps to the v-n-(d)-c of vindicate.

It is obvious that nube (spanish for “cloud”), and its cousin nebuloso (“cloudy”), are related to the English nebulous: a SAT word meaning “unclear”, just like the sky is when it’s cloudy. This one is easy.

But did you realize that nube is also related to the English nuance?

Nuance comes from the Latin nubes, meaning “cloud” – from which we also get the almost-identical Spanish word.

Although this is less obvious, we can see the pattern here: a nuance is a slight shade of meaning, just as the cloud adds a slight shade to the sky.

Nuances, therefore, by definition, stop the clarity of sunshine from shining in, and cloud our judgments!

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.

Quedar (Spanish for “to remain”) comes from the Latin quietare (meaning, “to rest”), from which we also get the English… quiet.

It is clear how a word meaning “to rest” becomes quiet — it’s hard to rest when there are jackhammers outside, as there coincidentally are right now! — but how does a word meaning “to rest” become “to remain”?

The answer has to do with the notion of, what remains after everything else leaves. The food is sizzling hot — but it’s the quiet, sad pieces just sitting there, that no one wants, that remain. There’s a lot of noise and ruckus — and when all is said and done, only silence remains. Life is a tale, full of sound and fury… and nothing remains (what Bard almost wrote!).

We can clearly see the qu-d of quedar map to the qu-t of quiet.

Batir (Spanish meaning, “to beat”) and its very common derivative, batido (meaning “milkshake” — you beat the ingredients together after all!) both come from the Latin battuere meaning the same, “to beat.”

From that same Latin root, we get the English battery — think of the phrase, assault and battery! (Over time, the meaning shifted from beating to artillery — that which beats the enemy to the ground, literally! — and then from there, to the electric power that powers the artillery, and from there, our more common modern definition of the word.) And batter, like the mixture you make while cooking — that’s you beating the eggs together, right?

The b-t root is visible in all these words.

Lanzar (Spanish for “to throw, launch”) comes from the Latin lanceare “to pierce with a lance.”

From this root, we can see connections to various English words, including: launch (which is a form of throwing!), lance (it is the stick that they wield to pierce!), and even élan (think of ex-lanceare: to take the energy out of the throw!).

We can see the clear l-n-z to l-n-c (or l-n-ch, in the case of launch) mapping. The -z- and -c- sounds are similar and thus often swap.

The Spanish vínculo (“a link, connection, something that binds something to something else”) comes from the Latin for the same, vinculum.

A distantly related word is the English wind — not in the sense of what blows in your face on a windy day but rather in the sense of winding a clock (remember those ancient clocks?). Wind (again, in this sense) comes from the Proto-Indo-European *wendh- (“to turn, weave, or wind”)  from which we also get the Latin vinculum and finally the Spanish vínculo.

We can see that the v-n of vínculo maps to the w-n of wind.