More Than Adobo and Fiesta: Everyday Spanish in the Philippines

January- February 2026

Inspired by recent trips to Madrid, Bilbao, and Barcelona, where my ears perked up at familiar words in local conversation, I began relearning Spanish eight months ago with the help of an app (Duolingo). I am surprised to see how easy it is to build vocabulary, primarily because there are many loanwords in Tagalog from the Spanish language.

In the Philippines, a version of counting numbers comes from Spanish; e.g., uno, dos, diez, treinta, ciento y cincuenta. We tell time using these words; e.g., a las diez y media (10:30), a las doce en punto (promptly at 12). So are the names of the days; e.g., lunes, miércoles, sábado, and months; e.g., enero, abril, diciembre, and religious holidays; e.g., Jueves Santo, Sábado de Gloria, Todos los Santos.

Like Tagalog and other Filipino dialects, Spanish is uttered in syllables. Unlike Spanish, however, our alphabet contains fewer letters (no “c” or “j,” for example), and so our dialects substitute c’s with k’s, j’s with h’s, v’s with b’s, and so on. We also dropped the -es suffix that denotes plurality.

Many of the things we encounter daily in our homes trace their names to Spanish. On the table (la mesa) in the cocina are our cubiertos: cuchara, tenedor, cuchillo. We serve dishes on platos, drink from vasos, and take café with azúcar in tazas. We add hielo to cool our drinks. We store goods in cajas/cajones and open cans with an abrelata. We sit on sillas and banquetas. We hang cortinas near our ventanas to provide shade from the afternoon sun when we take siesta in the sala with the ventilador turned on high to circulate air.

Among the eight Spanish villas (a high colonial town status during colonial years) in the Philippines were Pila and Bulacan, where my father and mother hailed, respectively. Growing up in my parents’ home, many a merienda included salted brioche with or without coconut jam, pan de sal or pan de coco, freshly baked in the horno of the nearby panadería. Our fathers, tíos, and lolos (from the Spanish abuelo) cooled themselves with cervezas on warm afternoons. We children watched reruns of películas on TV and chatted with friends on teléfonos. We brushed our teeth with cepillos, scrubbed ourselves clean with jabón in our baños. At night, we laid our heads on camas in cuartos shared with siblings. Even after all bombillas were turned off, my sister and I continued to exchange cuentos and secretos. Throughout the year, we observed religious rituals that included Visita Iglesia, abstained from eating carne on Viernes Santo, and recited the communal Santo Rosario.

We attended clases in escuelas, ever ready to scribble notes on cuadernos or papeles with lápices. Pambura, which we use to erase mistakes, came from the Spanish verb borrar (to erase). I was about eight when I learned to ride my bicicleta, which I would park near my father’s coche in the garaje. My father smoked his cigarillo until gingivitis forced him to stop. On weekends, my mother busied herself tending to plantas and flores in macetas in their jardín. Celebrating the town fiesta, January 15 in San Pablo, Laguna, included visiting the homes of family friends, where food such as caldereta and arroz a la Valenciana were served in large bandejas, buffet-style. Window shopping in souvenir stalls along Avenida Rizal was iconic in our childhood years too. It was along this avenida where lit-up carrozas paraded during Semana Santa.

Select pieces of clothing are likewise Spanish in origin. A lady may wear a falda with her blusa with collar, or a vestida, cinching her waist to achieve that hourglass figure with a cinturón. I saw Susan Romero wear guantes in old Filipino movies. A gentleman may be in his pantalón and camiseta; on formal occasions he dons a corbata and a camisa with mangas. We wear medias and zapatos on our feet, possibly a sombrero or gorro on our heads under the hot sun or rain.

Terms for some occupations retained their Spanish names. Here are a few I heard on a regular basis: bombero (he puts out fires), doctor (he cures the ill by dispensing recetas to pacientes either in his clínica or hospital), dentista (he takes care of our teeth), vendedor (she sells fresh produce), bordadora (she embroiders), plomero (he fixes broken pipes). A lavandera washed manchas off our play clothes and school uniforms, and a planchadora ironed them afterward. Cocineras cooked meals.

Conjugation differs between Spanish and Filipino. Furthermore, Filipino nouns and adjectives do not have gender, unlike in Spanish. However, several verbs conjugated in the single third-person present tense lingered in our Filipino vocabulary: pinta, canta (kanta), copia (kopya), cuenta (kwenta), para, manejo (maneho), alquila (arkila). The Filipino word sindi traces to the Spanish verb encender (to light).

We find Spanish words in our daily speech. Sigue (sige) means “go on.” Puede (puwede) means “one can.” Gusto comes from the Spanish verb gustar (to like). Para qué means “for what.” No one wants to be called a bruja (witch). Especially when in a mood to admonish us, my father drew from a treasure trove of expressions peppered with Spanish words: “Intindihin ninyong mabuti ang binabasa ninyo, ano kayo—cabezote?”, “Gamitin mo kaya ang iyong sentido común!”, “Gawin mo ngayon; ahora mismo!”, “¡Imposible!”, “Dios ko, ang bagal mo maglakad; ano ka, princesa?”, “Hindi ka ba educada?”, “Celosa ka?”, “Masyadong complicado,” “Tingnan mo kung may descuento sa precio,” “Basahin ang etiqueta,” “Ipunin cada centavo,” “Kaninong punto de vista ’yan?” Mom was more validating: “Kahit walang make-up, mainam ang natural,” “May regalo ka kung número uno ka sa clase.”

Many of the following words remind us of the 333 years of Spanish colonization: gobierno, ministro, presidente, campaña, candidato, discusión, elección, votante, puesto, alcalde, gobernador, ciudad, rural, centro, sitio, lugar, campo, municipio, local, plaza, calle, rotonda, viaje, proyecto, fábrica, máquina, compañía, empresa, empleado, cliente, secretario, supervisor, jefe, recibo, total, completo, cancelado, depende, explicación, banco, por ciento, interés, todo, parte, operación, huelga, garantía, estafa, producto, kilo, público, privado, trabajo, contrata, correo, sueldo, gastos, libro, historia, arte, música, guitarra, concierto, teatro, banda, teclado, ejercicio, basquetbol, béisbol, fútbol, ceremonia, efecto, celebración, regalo, invitado, religioso, actividades, decoración, clima, temperatura, distancia, tiempo, minuto, electricidad, gas. And more.

We retained some Spanish words for animals (pato, pavo, conejo, caballo, elefante, ballena), fruits (manzanas, uvas, limones, piña), vegetables (cebollas, lechuga, maíz, pepino), and colors (azul, verde).

Some of our common tools retained their Spanish names; some didn’t. We still call the screw tornillo, though the screwdriver is no longer destornillador. We still refer to the hammer as martillo, though the nails are no longer called clavos but pakos. I wonder about the considerations made for retaining some and not all Spanish words, particularly when using things in pairs, such as hammer and nails.

Furthermore, there are words that we use in a slightly different way. We use the term “desmaya” to express disappointment; in contrast, the root verb desmayar means “to faint” in Spanish. We use the term “molesto” to refer to being abused; in contrast, the Spanish verb molestar means “to annoy.”

As we know from our primary school history books, the Spanish who colonized our archipelago from 1521 named our country the Philippines after their reigning King Philip. Before their arrival, Chinese, Malays, and other Southeast Asians inhabited our islands, freely traded with neighboring countries, and lived their traditions, which included Buddhism and Islam. Thus, besides deep Tagalog words that are uniquely Filipino, such as dangal (honor) and pangarap (dream), the dialects we speak are a combination of Chinese, Malay, Spanish, and others. Furthermore, most of us Filipinos have mixed blood flowing through our veins because our country, the Philippines, developed as a result of global (Manila Galleon) trade. Studying the Chinese, Malay, and Spanish languages therefore allows us, not just me, to revisit and appreciate many aspects of our being Filipino.