Relearning Portuguese

After decades of fluency in brasileiro falado, I moved to Portugal

Heliconia in my mother in law’s garden, Brasília

Bom dia! In Brazil good morning is pronounced bom GEE-uh, in Portugal it’s pronounced like it’s spelled. That’s an easy one. In this post I’ll review some of the history of the two forms, and then give some fun examples that can trip you up as you move between them. Brasileiro falado and European Portuguese are so different that some linguists consider them two unique languages.

That last sentence contains a hidden truth: if you use DeepL for translation it offers you Portuguese (Brazilian) or Portuguese. So the implication is that the European version is the correct one, and of course it’s the original so I guess that’s fair. A Portuguese friend once told me to quit calling it European Portuguese, it’s just Portuguese—and that other South American one. Lusophone refers to the community of Portuguese speakers worldwide.

When we first moved to Portugal in 2019 I was with an American friend in a restaurant in Lisbon. The owner was chatting with me (my friend doesn’t speak Portuguese), and at one point the man said, “You speak Portuguese very well, it’s a pity you speak the incorrect kind.” This interaction led me to coin the word lusitude, though I don’t bandy the term about in conversation.

There are about 280 million Portuguese speakers in the world. 213 million of them are Brazilian. Angola, Mozambique and Cape Verde account for another 30 million. Portugal accounts for 10.5 million. I’ll just leave that here.

There is further history in attempts to harmonize differing countries’ spelling and word usage, through the CPLP, the organization that represents all Portuguese speaking nations. The orthographies were quite different, with Euro-African spelling distinct from Brazilian. The Acordo Ortográfico da Língua Portuguesa de 1990 is an international treaty where common spellings and usage were agreed to.

The orthographic agreement includes spelling, often eliminating the c in words like eléctrico, since the c is not pronounced. So it becomes elétrico. And removing ph, like changing pharmâcia to farmâcia. Other alterations include diacritical marks, sometimes saying two versions are acceptable, such as génio/gênio (genius).

In Brazil I can’t recall the last time I saw something written with the old orthography, but I do see it occasionally in Portugal. Of course, only a lusophilic nerd like me would notice such things! I took pictures of these two electrical panels in a newly-built supermarket in our town—right next to each other:

Dueling orthographies

Here are some examples of words and phrases that are different in Portugal and Brazil.

Beginning with numbers, believe it or not. Brazilians say meia for six, instead of seis. Meia refers to a half dozen, and is used to avoid confusion with três, three. This is never done in Portugal, which I learned by reciting my phone number to someone the first time.

In Brazil, if a shop is closed it’s fechado, in Portugal it’s encerrado.

Item sold out in the supermarket? In Brazil, acabou, in Portugal it’s esgotado.

Cellular vs. telemóvel

Get in line? Fila vs. bicha

Faixa de pedestre is a Brazilian crosswalk, which is passadeira in Portugal. Which sounds like ironing clothes to a Brazilian, because:

Brazilians passar roupa, Portuguese engomar roupa to get wrinkles out of clothes.

You know it’s cafezinho because the slogan says cheirinho, little aroma. It’s written like people talk in some areas of Brazil and means, mmmm, what a good little smell. Bão stands in for bom. I should have taken the photo before I took a sip, but it smelled too good.

An espresso coffee? It’s a bica in Portugal, cafezinho in Brazil. Brazilians love diminutives like little coffee. A Portuguese friend once told me not to use so many diminutives, se faz favor. Brazilians always say por favor.

Juice: suco vs. sumo.

A bus? ônibus vs. autocarro.

A butcher in Brazil is açougue, it’s talho in Portugal.

A teacup in Portugal is chávena, Brazilians say xícara. Here the etymology is fascinating. Xícara comes originally from Aztec, then to Brazil via Spanish. Chávena is via Malay and Chinese.

When we first arrived in Portugal, we picked up documents from the finance office and were told to write on a page: “levantei o original.” Levantar meant to us, lift up, like an object or a body part, while we said levar for taking something away. The clerk just stared at us when we looked puzzled. I think of these moments as a satellite delay.

To say throw trash or such, Brazilians say “jogar lixo,” throw trash. Portuguese say deitar, lie down. Favor no deitar papel na sanita. Please don’t throw paper in the toilet. Which to Brazilian ears sounds like “don’t lie down paper in the toilet.”

Women’s undies are calcinhas in Brazil, cuecas in Portugal—and cuecas are men’s underwear in Brazil.

In Portugal a small rustic bread is cacete, in Brazil that is a slang for the male member.

In Portugal a rapariga is a young woman, in Brazil it suggests a lady of the night. I saw a new example of this usage in the Oscar-nominated film O Agente Secreto (fingers crossed for the Academy Awards tonight, and all of Brazil will be watching!). Wagner Moura’s character Armando is asked by his father in law if he cheated on his deceased wife while she was alive. “Você raparigou quando era casado?”

In Brazil Durex is a kind of household glue, in Portugal it’s a brand of condom.

I can give you thousands more examples, but you get the drift.

And when the words are the same, the pronunciation can be very different. That is a topic for another post!

Have I convinced you that adaptation has been a challenge? In a sense, I had to relearn the language. Both are beautiful, both have unique aspects and influences. Most important, both are Portuguese—my favorite language.

If you enjoy Portuguese, you might find my new Substack of interest. It’s all about Brazil, and it’s written in Brazilian Portuguese—so be aware of that. It’s called chiclete com banana, title of a famous song about mixing up Brazilian and American cultures: chewing gum and bananas! Check out this video of the tune done by Gilberto Gil and Marjorie Estiano—I think you’ll find it irresistible.