Tag Archives: July 2023
Editor’s Letter
By Jane Bauer
“When we name an inanimate object, we are intentionally building a relationship, elevating it to a character in our lives. Not only do we feel closer to things that we name, but perhaps we name our things in order to feel closer to them.”
Kathryn Hymes in The Atlantic
Words. Where would we be without them? We marvel at a baby’s first words- usually little more than a gurgle, we learn the names of objects, we learn to read, we learn to manipulate and interpret their meanings and along the way we take them for granted, until the day when we start losing them one by one.
In translation, beyond word substitution, there are gaps of meaning within languages. We’ve all heard about how some tribes in the Arctic have 50 words for snow. There are other languages that have words that give more specific meaning to things, such as the German word Treppenwitz which translates to stairs (treppen) + wit- and means “the perfect retort that comes too late”, what you didn’t respond in the heat of the moment because you only thought of it while you were already leaving. I need at least seven English words to describe what this German word captures with one. By the way it’s a noun, in case you were wondering how to integrate it into your speech. German is full of amazing compound words like Lebensmüde, which means “life-tired”.
In Iceland they have Gluggaveður – which describes when the weather looks pleasant from your window, but is actually really cold and you need a jacket. Gluggaveður literally means “window-weather”.
One of my favorite words is the Japanese Komorebi, which refers to the scattered sunlight that filters through the leaves on the trees. So poetic and gentle feeling. What do you think… noun or adjective? If you are a native English speaker I bet you guessed it is an adjective because it feels so descriptive. It is actually a noun which makes it even cooler because it is a thing, it has form, it’s more than a description- it’s a slice of a moment and the Japanese have captured it with a word, naming it gives it heft.
This month our writers explore the naming of things. On the surface this topic feels flat but it is anything but. Naming is the first act bestowed upon us when we are born. Attaching words to things, people and emotions is how we find our place in the world and give form to our experiences. In fact, naming is such serious business that many countries have regulations regarding naming. In Mexico, in the state of Sonora, the name Hermione is banned, as is the name Robocop. Sarah is a banned name in Morocco, although without the ‘h’ it is permissible. Linda is banned in Saudi Arabia due to its association with Western culture.
Names have so much power. In Harry Potter there is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Judaism avoids mentioning G-d other than when reading the torah. This is because he is thought to transcend the word as no word can capture the essence of G-d.
And for when you start forgetting the names of things or people, the Hawaiian language has Pana Po’o – the act of scratching your head in an attempt to remember something you’ve forgotten.
See you next month,
Jane
Street Names in CDMX
By Jan Chaiken and Marcia Chaiken—
Everywhere in Mexico you will find lengthy street names commemorating historical figures or events, and this is particularly true in Mexico City. Although the persons or occasions commemorated by the names of streets in the nation’s capitol are known to most Mexicanos, those of us who did not attend school here as children are generally clueless. Here we hope to help you get in the know about the background of street names so when sitting in gridlocked traffic you feel as if you are surrounded by history rather than just by hundreds of cars belching noxious fumes.
Nearly every tourist who has been in Mexico City is familiar with the Paseo de la Reforma, the grand wide avenue that transverses the city diagonally and looks as if part of the Champs-Élysées had been lifted up from Paris and transported here. Reforma was originally conceived by the Emperor Maximilian, an Austrian installed as the ruler of Mexico during the French intervention (1862-67); he intended to name it Paseo de la Emperatriz in honor of his wife Carlota, but it was given the name Reforma after Maximilian – who badly miscalculated Mexican sentiment towards him – was executed and Benito Juárez became President of Mexico. The name refers to La Reforma, a series of federal legislative enactments that brought about the separation of church and state in Mexico.
As you walk or drive down Paseo de la Reforma, you inevitably encounter the magnificent memorial The Angel of Independence (commonly called El Ángel) at the intersection of Reforma and Avenida Independencia. These names commemorate the 1821 victory of Mexico over Spain in its War of Independence. The Angel was dedicated by the dictator Porfirio Díaz in 1910, on the centennial of the date that independence was declared.
Another street most visitors to Mexico City encounter is Avenida de Los Insurgentes (aka Insurgentes), the longest street in the city. The 28.8-kilometer (17.9-mile) avenue runs from the southwest Mexico-Cuernavaca Highway to the northeast Mexico-Pachuca highway, connecting numerous neighborhoods, including the famous Roma area. Along this route, there are many restaurants, hotels, museums, monuments and entertainment centers. First known as Avenida Santa Cruz, the current name memorializes the people in the insurgent army that fought in the war of independence from Spain.
If you have traveled into or out of Mexico City’s Benito Juárez International Airport, you may have encountered a much less distinguished nearby street: Calzada Ignacio Zaragoza. Its namesake Zaragoza was actually born in the United States in 1829. His family moved to Mexico, where he attended the National Military College.
He served in the Mexican-American War and later was appointed commander of the Mexican Army in Puebla. In 1862 his army was victorious against the French at the battle of Puebla, an event commemorated as Cinco de Mayo, which in recent years has been celebrated, at least enthusiastically in the United States as in Mexico.
Calle 5 de Mayo (pronounced “Cinco de Mayo”) is a major thoroughfare in the historic center of Mexico City; it begins at the Palacio de Bellas Artes and ends at the Metropolitan Cathedral of Mexico City. Calle 5 de Mayo is only one of Mexico City’s many calles de calendario (streets named for dates on the calendar). Avenida Independencia changes its name to 16 de Septiembre as it approaches the historic center of Mexico City to commemorate the date of Mexican Independence. 16 de Septiembre is one block south of Calle 5 de Mayo and runs from the Eje Central, or Avenida Lázaro Cárdenas, to the Zócalo. (Cárdenas was a Mexican army officer and politician who served as president of Mexico from 1934 to 1940; the zócalo is Mexico City’s central square, formally named Plaza de la Constitución). Residents of Mexico would be familiar with the significance of 16 de Septiembre street from their schooling and their experience that the date is a national holiday, with schools, banks and many businesses closed.
One block further south is Calle Articulo 123. This is named after Article 123 of the Mexican Constitution, which is the labor law of Mexico – it guarantees workers the right to fair wages, safe working conditions, and social security benefits. It also ends at Eje Central/Avenida Lázaro Cárdenas. Calle 20 de Noviembre runs south from the Zócalo, perpendicular to the streets already mentioned. November 20th is a national holiday in Mexico that celebrates the beginning of the Mexican Revolution, which ran from 1910 to 1920 and overthrew Porfirio Díaz after he had been president for 35 years.
The 12th of December provides an interesting example of how separation of church and state operates in Mexico. December 12 is the Feast of Guadalupe, a popular national holiday in Mexico; religious processions are held throughout country, including in the Huatulco area, on that date. In Mexico City a very popular tourist attraction is the Basilica of our Lady of Guadalupe. But there is no calle calendario for December 12 near the Basilica of our Lady of Guadalupe. Instead, Avenida de Guadalupe is the name of the street that ends at the Basilica. Our Lady of Guadalupe is the patron saint of Mexico, and her image is one of the best known religious symbols in the world, but secular authorities who designate street names in Mexico City do not commemorate the date December 12.
If the average visitor begins to feel overwhelmed by the details of street names rooted in Mexico’s rich history, we suggest a drive through or stroll around the Polanco neighborhood where the streets are named after luminaries enshrined in history studied in most North and South American and European schools. Beginning with ancient Greece and Rome, Homer, Horace, Aristotle and Archimedes lend their names to streets, and there are streets named after 20th-century notables such as Mahatma Gandhi. Block after block of the small Juárez neighborhood remind us that Mexico City is a major urban center of Western civilization, with streets recognizing London, Liverpool, Amsterdam, Genoa, Tokyo, Oslo, Copenhagen, Rome. And overall, Reforma, Insurgentes, and calendar streets remind us of the struggle to achieve this status.
Naming the Mexican Schools– with People’s Names
By Julie Etra
When you started school, what was the name of your school? How about middle school? High school? I attended Roosevelt Elementary School in New York, but for which Roosevelt was it named? I’d like to forget junior high entirely – like many teens! My high school, New Rochelle High, was obviously named for a place. University of Colorado, Colorado State, places.
For years I have driven around Huatulco and its environs, up to Pluma Hidalgo, on to Oaxaca City through San José del Pacifico, out to Bahía San Augustín, and down to the Bajos de Coyula. In all these places, I have seen escuelas (schools) with specific names, the great majority named after renowned historical figures. While the schools I’m listing here are all in the vicinity of Huatulco, these names appear on schools throughout Mexico. They give us a picture of people recognized as important to Mexican history, philosophy, culture, and communication. To emphasize that history, they are listed in the chronological order of their lives.
Juan Jacobo Rousseau (1712-78) is the name of an escuela secundaria (grades 7, 8 9) in La Crucecita. This might seem a bit perplexing, given that the Swiss philosopher, writer, and composer never visited Mexico. However, Rousseau’s book The Social Contract (1763) – famous for the quote “Man is born free, but everywhere he is in chains” – greatly influenced those who led the national wars of independence and revolutions of the United States (1775-83), France (1789-99), and Mexico (1810-21).
Don Miguel Gregorio Antonio Ignacio Hidalgo y Costilla y Gallaga Mandarte Villaseñor (1753-1811) was his full name, but he is known as Father Miguel Hidalgo. He is the famous Catholic priest credited with the Grito de Dolores, the “shout of rebellion” given at midnight on September 15/16 in the town of Dolores Hidalgo. The grito marked beginning of the movement for Mexico’s independence from Spain. Miguel Hidalgo is considered the Father of the Nation and was very progressive for his time, including being anti-slavery. On 6 December 1810, Hidalgo issued a decree abolishing slavery, threatening death to those who did not comply. He abolished tribute payments that indigenous peoples had to pay to criollo lords (Creole, a European born in Mexico). He was excommunicated and executed by the Spanish government. Suffice it to say that you will see many places named after Miguel Hidalgo, including states, roads, and schools – a kindergarten in Palo Grande, on route 175 north of Pluma Hidalgo, bears his name.
José Miguel Ramón Adaucto Fernández y Félix (1786-1843) was a Mexican general and political figure who fought in the Mexican War of Independence. He changed his name to Guadalupe Victoria after winning a battle in that town. After the adoption of the Mexican Constitution of 1824, Victoria was elected as the first President of the United Mexican States, an office in which he served from 1824 to 1829. There are at least two schools named for Guadalupe Victoria along the Oaxacan coast, a primaria (elementary school) in San Pedro Mixtepec, north of Puerto Escondido, and a primaria in Chahuites, near Salina Cruz.
Leona Vicario (1789-1842) was one of the most prominent figures of the War of Independence. From her home in Mexico City, she supported the insurrection by informing rebels of the movements of Spanish troops. She was wealthy, independent, a feminist, and a journalist, and provided substantial financial support to the insurgency. She received several postmortem recognitions, including the title of “Distinguished and Beloved Mother of the Homeland” by the Congress of the Union. Her name is inscribed in gold in the Mural of Honor in the lower house of the Mexican Congress. The year 2020 was declared the Year of Leona Vicario, Benemérita Madre de la Patria (Praiseworthy Mother of the Homeland).
Melchor Ocampo (1814-61) is one of the most intriguing individuals noted in this article. Ethnically he was a mestizo (mixed indigenous and European ancestry) and a radical liberal. He was abandoned as a child at the doorstep of a wealthy Mexican woman who not only raised him but to whom she bequeathed her estate. He was fervently opposed to the Catholic Church, reflected in his early writings that earned him the reputation as an intellectual. He served in the administration of Benito Juárez (the indigenous 26th president of Mexico) and negotiated a controversial agreement with the United States. The McLane-Ocampo Treaty, which dealt with transportation and commerce, gave the U.S. substantial rights in Mexico despite the recently fought Mexican-American War (1846-48), when Mexico lost 30% of its territory. In 1874, the state of Michoacán was renamed to honor Ocampo – its formal name is Estado Libre y Soberano de Michoacán de Ocampo (The Free and Sovereign State of Michoacán de Ocampo). Many schools throughout Mexico are named for Ocampo, including a primaria in Puerto Angel.
Agustín Melgar (1829-47), was a military cadet and major figure in the defense of Chapultepec Castle against invading American forces. The Battle of Chapultepec, one of the last major battles of the Mexican–American War, took place on September 13th, 1847. After finding himself alone, Melgar tried to stop the enemy on the north side of the castle, killing one American soldier and then taking refuge behind mattresses in one of the rooms. He was one of six cadets, aged 13 to 19, from the military academy located on Chapultepec Hill. All six died in battle that day. They are known as the Niños Héroes (Child Heroes), and are commemorated by a national holiday on September 13th. There is a kindergarten named for Melgar in Santa María Huatulco; several schools in the area named for the Niños Héroes.
Macedonio Alcalá Prieto (1831-69). For all the times I’ve walked the pedestrian corridor in Oaxaca City – the Andador de Macedonio Alcalá – I never really realized for whom it was named. A majestic theatre in the historic district – el Teatro de Macedonio Alcalá – was also named for him. Alcalá was born in Oaxaca City and showed an early interest in music, learning the piano, cello, viola, flute, and ophicleide (a keyed brass instrument in the bugle family), but he excelled on the violin.
He grew up to be a violinist, pianist, and composer. After completing studies in Mexico City he returned to Oaxaca, where he became a member of the Philharmonic Society of Santa Cecilia, an orchestra specializing in regional music and composers. Later he became the director of the Banda de Música de Oaxaca. Alcalá was said to be passionate and high-strung, characteristics that distinguished his playing and his compositions. He struggled with poverty, disease, and alcoholism. Few of his compositions survive since he was remiss in putting them on paper. Among the surviving works are “Marcha Funebre” (Funeral March), “Solo dios en los cielos” (Only God in Heaven), “El Cohete” (The Rocket), “Ave María,” and a well-known waltz “Dios nunca muere” (God Never Dies), which is the unofficial state anthem of Oaxaca. Oaxaqueños stand when they hear it. Macedonio Alcalá is the name of a preschool in Pluma Hidalgo sponsored by CONAFE (Consejo Nacional de Fomento Educativo, which sets up schools in rural areas); there is a Macedonio Alcalá primary school on Hwy 175, north of Pochutla.
Enrique de Olavarría y Ferrari (1844-1919). Olavarría was a well-educated Spanish attorney who emigrated to Mexico in 1865, where he became a journalist, publisher, and educator. He briefly returned to Europe but made his way back to his final home in Mexico where he died. He collaborated on the short-lived (52 issues in 1869) literary magazine El Renacimiento (The Renaissance), considered essential to “awakening the interest in literature all over Mexico” after the chaotic period of the Mexican-American War and the French Intervention (1861-67).
Olavarría founded and collaborated on La Revista Universal and El Federalista, and worked as a columnist for a number of other journals and newspapers (El Constitucional, El Globo, and El Correo de México, among others). His teaching career in Mexico City included literature classes at the Conservatory of Music; geography, universal history, history of Mexico and declamation at the School of Arts and Crafts for Young Ladies; and mathematics at the Municipal Normal School and was administrator of the Colegio de las Vizcaínas. Many schools throughout the country are named for him.
Filomeno Mata Rodríguez (1845-1911) was a Mexican professor and journalist during the Porfiriato (the presidency of Porfirio Díaz) He is particularly noted as an opposition writer during this period, which resulted in his being incarcerated several times. He supported the candidacy for president of Francisco I. Madero at the beginning of the Mexican Revolution. A primary school in Erradura, just outside of Santa María Huatulco on the way to Pluma Hidalgo, is named for Mata Rodríguez.
José Vasconcelos (1882-1959. Passing a kindergarten in Santa María Huatulco, I wondered, “Hmmm, who is José Vasconcelos?” José Vasconcelos Calderón is often called the “cultural caudillo” (leader) of the Mexican Revolution. He was a writer, philosopher, politician (and presidential candidate), an influential as well as controversial figure in the history of modern Mexico. Although he was born in the state of Oaxaca (along with Benito Juárez and Porfirio Díaz) he was raised in Piedras Negras, Coahuila, on the Texas border and attended school in Eagle Pass, USA, where he learned English. Vasconcelos served as Mexico’s minister of education after the Revolution; he is credited with starting the Mexican muralism movement, in which artists created large murals to give a largely illiterate population an understanding of its history. The muralism movement made Diego Rivera, David Alfaro Siqueiros, and José Clemente Orozco international famous in their own right.
Vasconcelos is particularly noted for penning the book entitled La raza cósmica (The Cosmic Race), which expressed the ideology of a future “fifth race” in the Americas, an agglomeration of all the races in the world with no respect to color. Vasconcelos espoused an anti-Anglo philosophy; he was also a bit of a rake. In addition to the kindergarten in Santa María, there is a Jose Vasconcelos secundaria in Santa María, and a Jose Vasconcelos primaria in Sector H3 in La Crucecita.
Adolfo López Mateos (1909-69) was a Mexican politician who served as Mexico’s president from 1958 to 1964. Born in Atizapán de Zaragoza in the state of México, he began his political career as a campaign aide to presidential candidate José Vasconcelos (who lost the 1929 election). López Mateos was the first self-declared left-wing politician to hold the presidency since Lázaro Cárdenas del Rio (President from 1934-40).
López Mateos said his political philosophy was “leftist, but within the Constitution.” In 1959, his administration created the Instituto de Seguridad y Servicios Sociales de los Trabajadores del Estado (Institute for Social Security and Services for State Workers) and La Comisión Nacional de Libros de Texto Gratuitos (National Commission for Free Textbooks). In 1960, López Mateos created the CFE (Comisión Federal de Electricidad) during a time of economic growth, and opened the National Museum of Anthropology in 1964.
He was an advocate of non-intervention and settled a border dispute with the U.S. with the Chamizal Treaty, signed August 31, 1964. The treaty granted Mexico 630 acres of what was South El Paso. He advocated a course of independence from the U.S., but cooperated on some issues, despite his opposition to the hostile U.S. policy toward the 1959 Cuban Revolution. Along with Cárdenas and his predecessor, Adolfo Tomás Ruiz Cortines (1952-58), he is considered to be one of the most popular Mexican presidents of the 20th century. Many schools throughout Mexico bear his name, including a primaria in Santa María Huatulco.
What’s in a Name?
By Randy Jackson
In Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, Juliet professes her love for Romeo despite the underlying feud between their families, by saying: “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” In saying this, Juliet expresses the notion that the name of something is of less importance than the underlying thing the name is referring to. This might be true for the beloved Romeo, he would still be the person Juliet loved even if his family name (Montague) were something else. But if names, more broadly words, have little to no meaning in relation to that which the word is referring to, then what of mantras, prayers, or even magic spells? Would any choice of words get the same results?
“Abracadabra” is a word we are all familiar with. In modern times, this word is associated with a campy version of magic, as when a rabbit is pulled from a hat. But its origin is far more serious. “Abracadabra” was first recorded in the Liber Medicinalis (Medical Book) by Serenus Sammonicus, a tutor and physician to the Roman Emperor, Geta (Publius Septimius Geta), around 200 CE. It was a medical incantation to cure certain illnesses. The treatment involved intoning “abracadabra” while inscribing it so that it could be worn as an amulet for eleven days which, it was believed, would cure the patient.
There is some thought that “abracadabra” is much older, handed down from the Aramaic (as early as the 11th century BC) to Hebrew; in that scenario, it would be roughly translated as “It will be created in my words,” “I create what I speak,” or perhaps – in the Hebrew – “It came to pass as it was spoken”; in any event, all the meanings had to do with the connection between the word and the creation of a reality. Indeeed, the word was still being used in the 13th century, inscribed above London doorways to ward off the plague.
In today’s world, the notion that words or sounds have some power to affect physical reality seems ludicrous to many. But this, I think, is shortsighted. To start, one would have to dismiss the solid research on the placebo effect, which, according to Harvard Medical School’s online magazine Harvard Health (2021) can range between 30% and 60% effective in a certain range of conditions. If the placebo effect is to “work,” the patient has to believe they are receiving treatment. To me, it doesn’t seem that much of a leap from someone receiving an amulet with “abracadabra” written on it in the 3rd century to a patient today who receives a sugar pill from a doctor in a white coat.
“Abracadabra” had particular meaning(s), based on the context, in the distant past, but it has a different meaning to us today. It is the meaning of a word to the person who hears it that fastens a name to an object (or concept) it refers to. In the classic science fiction novel A Canticle for Leibowitz (1959), author Walter M. Miller, Jr., describes a post-apocalyptic world where monks study an artifact for its spiritual significance. This artifact is in fact a contemporary grocery shopping list: “Pound Pastrami” has a different meaning after a nuclear holocaust than it would have had to a sandwich maker in 1959.
So, what’s in a name?
Our meaning of things. Romeo Montague is the guy Juliet loves, a rose is a beautiful flower with a delightful scent, and Sarah Palin™ (yup, she trademarked her name), is, well, Sarah Palin. Names hold our understanding of the objects they represent. Although it is possible to talk about names as being separate from the object or concepts they represent, we cannot talk about an object without using “its” name. Names (with the help of a few other types of words, like verbs) are how we transmit our thoughts to others. So … there’s a LOT in a name.
Then there’s the universal meditation mantra of “OM” (pronounced ah-uu-mm). Not a name per se, but it is still a sound we make to express something. “OM” is thus in a different category of sounds we make than those we call “names” or “words.” Names/words are the sounds we make to collectively understand the structure of our world. This is a “rock,” that is a “cup,” and we call that guy “Romeo.” “OM” is different. It is our imitation of a sound that in most Eastern religions is thought to represent the sound of the universe. By our vocalization of this sound, we seek something beyond the collective understanding of our structured world view.
Through our meanings of names like “rock,” “cup,” and “Romeo,” we lock down the structure of our perceived world, creating our reality. “OM” and other mantras are our attempt to reach beyond our reality, to understand something more. How could we puny humans with a bit of air passing over our vocal cords vibrate the sound of the universe? Well, maybe that’s all we’ve got. We use our vocal cords to name, structure, and communicate our reality, so why not use it to call upon the universe? Then to answer Juliet’s question about what’s in a name – everything, Juliet, everything.
Book Titles: “What’s in a Name?”
By Carole Reedy
Myriad factors enter into the success and sales of a book: the popularity and marketing reach of the author, the book’s jacket and design, the reviews, length, friends’ recommendations, and, of course, the subject, style, and focus.
Add to that list the title of the book.
Authors generally prefer to create their own titles, but since publishers take part in the financial risk and success of the book, they, too, have input. Based on market research, a publisher may have a better insight into reader expectations than the author. Of course, a well-established, proven-popular author may have more influence in the final decision than an unknown writer.
Authors themselves may change their title decisions as the process of publication proceeds. Usually, the author starts with a working title but is certainly not wedded to it. Books go through several metamorphoses before the final sentence is penned, so honing the working title is likely.
Titles can reflect the subject and general ambience of a book. They can be clever, funny, explanatory, or express a feeling. The title is the first thing a reader sees or hears and is significant in swaying a reader to purchase and read a book.
To understand the process of choosing a title, let’s look at actual titles of famous novels to understand how they were named and even re-named.
Often authors derive their titles from other sources familiar to their readers. The most popular seem to be the Bible, Shakespeare, poetry, popular phrases within or outside the book, or the names of particular characters. The idea is to attract attention to the book by conveying the essence of the book and the intentions of author in a succinct phrase.
Inspired by the Bible
The Grapes of Wrath, the title of John Steinbeck’s 1939 Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, is a reference to a passage in the Book of Revelations that reads, “So the angel swung his sickle to the earth and gathered the clusters from the vine of the earth, and threw them into the great wine press of the wrath of God.”
The title is also a phrase from the first stanza of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” in the lyrics penned by Julia Ward Howe in 1861 to what was until then a military marching song called “John Brown’s Body.”
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord:
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword: His truth is marching on.
The title was suggested by Steinbeck’s wife Carol, and the author deemed it a worthy choice.
The title East of Eden, another Steinbeck novel (1952), is a symbolic re-creation of the biblical story of Cain and Abel woven into a history of California’s Salinas Valley, a popular location for Steinbeck’s novels. The title refers to Genesis 4:16: “And Cain went out from the presence of the Lord, and dwelt in the Land of Nod, on the east of Eden” (King James Version).
Inspired by Shakespeare
The title Remembrance of Things Past, the approximately 1,250,000-word novel by Marcel Proust, could also fall into our “Inspired by Poetry” category below. The first English translation of the title (by C.K. Scott Moncrieff, 1922) was derived from Shakespeare’s Sonnet 30:
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time’s waste:
Proust wrote his 1913 seven-volume masterpiece in French, with the title À la recherche du temps perdu, which more directly translates into In Search of Lost Time. Proust did not approve of Moncrieff’s, title although he made no attempt to change it. He felt it did not accurately convey his intended meaning of memory as involuntary rather than voluntary. Proust did, however, praise Moncrieff’s translation of the first volume, Swann’s Way, possibly the only praise he ever handed out to a translator of his works.
The working title David Foster Wallace originally used for his thousand-page magnum opus Infinite Jest (1996) was A Failed Entertainment. The novel is partly based on Shakespeare’s Hamlet, and the ultimate title refers to Act V, Scene 1, when Hamlet holds up the skull of the court jester Yorick and says
Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow
of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath
borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how
abhorred in my imagination it is!”
Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury (1962; film version 1983) is a dark fantasy novel featuring two 13-year-old best friends and their nightmarish experience with a carnival. The title is taken from MacBeth Act 4, Scene 1, when the witches predict the outcome of the play:
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.
By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.
A most appropriate title for Bradbury’s novel, as it teeters between fantasy and horror. On his 80th birthday, Bradbury enjoyed the writing process as much as ever before. “The great fun in my life has been getting up every morning and rushing to the typewriter because some new idea has hit me. The feeling I have every day is very much the same as it was when I was 12.”
Inspired by Character Names
J.K. Rowling named the first book of her blockbuster Harry Potter series Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. Scholastic, the publisher, felt children might reject a book with the word “philosopher” in the title and changed it to Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (1998).
The Great Gatsby (1925) was originally titled Trimalchio in West Egg by the author F. Scott Fitzgerald. The publisher thought the title too obscure (Trimalchio was a character in the Satyricon of Petronius, a Roman writer in the late 1st century CE), and suggested a change. All agreed, and the book came to become one of the most beloved pieces of American literature.
Mrs. Dalloway (1925). The perfect title for this classic stream-of-conscious masterpiece written by Virginia Woolf, which takes place one day in 1923 in the life of the title character. The working title for the book was The Hours.
Fifty years later author Michael Cunningham wrote a highly regarded novel with exactly that title. It relates the stories of three different women – Virginia Woolf, on the day in 1923 she starts writing Mrs. Dalloway; Laura Brown, a depressed American housewife who is reading Mrs. Dalloway in 1949; and Clarissa Vaughn, who (sometime in the 1980s or 90s) is hosting a party to celebrate her friend Richard, a poet and novelist who has just received a lifetime achievement award but is dying of AIDS.
The film The Hours, starring Meryl Streep as Clarissa Vaughn, came out in 2002 (a British film titled Mrs. Dalloway was released in 1997, is a faithful retelling of the book and starred Vanessa Redgrave as Mrs. Dalloway); The Hours was turned into an opera by composer Kevin Puts; it debuted at the Metropolitan Opera in New York in November 2022.
Charles Dickens (1812-70) is known for colorful characters in his trove of novels and writings. His unique style incorporated linguistic technique to invent characters whose actions were reflected in their names (Mr. Bumble, Scrooge).
In all, Dickens created 989 characters, and many more individuals, for his books. No wonder he titled many of his works with the main character. Among those are some of his most beloved works: Nicolas Nickleby, David Copperfield, Oliver Twist, Martin Chuzzlewit, Little Dorrit, Barnaby Rudge, and Edwin Drood.
Inspired by Phrases (often from the text of the book) and/or general theme
Ayn Rand at first chose the title The Strike for her monumental classic novel Atlas Shrugged (1957), her last and longest book and one she considered her magnum opus. However, she thought perhaps that title revealed too much. Her husband actually suggested the title we know, which refers to a conversation between two of her characters. One personage notes that the greater the effort Atlas made, the heavier the world became and the best one can do is “to shrug.”
Faith Martin’s DI Hillary Greene series, about a British detective who lives on a narrowboat, originally had “Narrow” in all the titles: A Narrow Escape, On the Straight and Narrow, Narrow Is the Way, etc., but the titles were changed when a new publisher took over. In place of “Narrow,” the word “Murder” was used to reassure the readers they were getting a murder mystery (Murder on the Oxford Canal [2004], Murder of the Bride [2006], etc.) The new titles seem to be selling better than the originals.
Inspired by Poetry
Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald (1934; film version 1962, TV mini-series 1985), is the fourth and final novel by the formidable jazz-age writer. It was not well-received by critics at the time, but time proved them wrong. The title comes from John Keats’s poem “Ode to a Nightingale”:
Already with thee! tender is the night,
And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
Cluster’d around by all her starry Fays;
But here there is no light,
Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
Far from the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy (1874; film versions, 1967, 2015, among others) bears a title drawn from Thomas Gray’s “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard” (1750), which was inspired at least in part by the death of the poet Richard West in 1742:
Far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learn’d to stray;
Along the cool sequester’d vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
In a review of the 2015 film (The Guardian, April 15, 2014), British writer and journalist Lucasta Miller tells us that the title of the book is an ironic literary joke; in his poem, Gray is idealizing noiseless and sequestered calm, whereas Hardy “disrupts the idyll, and not just by introducing the sound and fury of an extreme plot … he is out to subvert his readers’ complacency.” (Note that “madding” means “frenzied” in this context.)
When the Title Comes First
Many authors have the title for their book ready before they start writing. In the words of Jhumpa Lahiri, “Interpreter of Maladies is the title of one of the stories in the book of the same name. And the phrase itself was something I thought of before I even wrote that story.” Beloved Irish author Frank McCourt is supposed to have said – perhaps about his memoir Angela’s Ashes (1996; film version 1999), “I think I settled on the title before I ever wrote the book.”
To close on a lighter note, here’s a quote from everyone’s favorite humor writer, Dave Barry: “It isn’t easy, coming up with book titles. A lot of the really good ones are taken. Thin Thighs in 30 Days, for example. Also, The Bible.”
The Nine (More?) Bays of Huatulco
By Julie Etra
Huatulco’s tourism advertising trumpets the “nine bays and thirty-six beaches” of the Bahías de Huatulco resort area. Well, it all depends on how you count them, but the names of the bays and beaches offer a fascinating mix of history, legend, and local flora and fauna.
From east to west – Bahía means “bay” and playa means “beach”
Bahía Conejos. Conejos is a large bay; the name means “rabbit,” as in cottontail. There are bunnies in Huatulco, but they are not abundant nor are they pests, as they are in many places in the U.S. Perhaps once there were bunnies galore? Conejos Bay has four major beaches from east to west: Playa Conejos; Playa Arena (“sand”) and Playa Punta Arenas (“Sand Point”), which are continuous but divided by a rocky point; and Playa Tejoncito (“little badger”).
Bahía Tangolunda. The name means mujer bonita, or “beautiful woman,” in Zapotec. Tangolunda Bay contains more or less accessible beaches from east to west: Playa Mixteca (the Mixtecs are one of Oaxaca’s 16 major indigenous groups); Playa Rincon Sabroso, literally “tasty corner); Playa Tangolunda; and finally, three beaches in front of the Las Brisas resort – Playa Tornillo (“screw” or “vise”), Playa Manzanillo (“chamomile”), and Playa Ventura (“fortune”).
Bahía Arrocito. Not one of the nine major bays, and not always called a bay because it is very small, “Little Rice Bay” is definitely shaped like a bay and hosts a beach of the same name.
Bahía Chahué. The name means “fertile” or “humid land” in Zapotec. Chahue Bay has four beaches from east to west: Playa el Tejón (“badger”); Playa Esperanza (“hope”); and Playa Chahué itself, and Playa San Andrés, at the bottom of Punta Santa Cruz.
Bahía Santa Cruz. The name means “holy cross,” and perhaps is associated with the legend of the origins of Huatulco. The word Huatulco means “place where the wood is worshiped or revered”, and it is said that the Toltecs and the deity Quetzalcoatl arrived in Huatulco and planted a huge and indestructible wooden cross. Given that any number of places claim to have pieces of that cross, maybe not completely indestructible. Santa Cruz bay has four beaches: Sunset Beach, named by northerners and once used for volleyball, it lies east of the Pemex that serves the marina; Santa Cruz, basically the “town beach” for the Santa Cruz area; Playa Yerbabuena (“good herb”), which serves the Naval Base of Huatulco; and Playa Entrega (“delivery” or “surrender”), the most popular beach in Huatulco because it is easy to access and boasts excellent snorkeling. The short version of how it got its name: Vicente Guerrero was the second President of Mexico. He was tricked into boarding a ship in Acapulco, ostensibly as a respected and welcome dinner guest, betrayed by his hosts and taken to Entrega Bay. From there he was “surrendered” by being “given” a horse and escorted by troops to Oaxaca City, where he was promptly assassinated by firing squad.
Bahías de el Órgano y el Maguey. Although these are considered geographically to be one bay, they are lately more often noted as two, bring the official bay count to 10.
Maguey is the eastern bay, and the name means the “agave plant,” mother of mezcal and tequila, among dozens of other things – a keystone plant in ecological speak. There are 157 species of agave in Mexico, 71% of which are endemic (native to Mexico and don’t occur elsewhere).
Órgano (“organ”) is the common Spanish name of a columnar species of cactus that resembles organ pipes. Common in the area, its scientific name is Pachycereus marginatus.
Bahía Cacaluta. The name means “black bird” in Náhuatl (one of the Aztec languages), since the form of the beach is two wings spread out. The black bird is most likely a black vulture. Playa Cacaluta is the beach made famous by Y tu mamá también, the 2001 Mexican film that made the careers of director Alfonso Cuarón and actors Gael García Bernal and Diego Luna, major players in the development of Mexico’s currently booming film industry.
Bahía Chachacual. How the name came about is unclear – chachacuales are folkloric festivals, and that word is derived from the Náhuatl chachahuatótotl, also meaning parties or festivals. There are two beaches, Playa la India (“Indian Beach”) on the east and the Playa Chachacual on the west. Given that thatched palm rooves on posts appear regularly on the beaches, providing shade for parties, the name seems appropriate for visiting Chachacual today – which can only be done by boat – the tour boats from Santa Cruz will take you there, or you can hire a boat at San Agustín.
Playa Riscalillo lies between the bays of Chachacual and San Agustín. According to the Océano Spanish/Spanish dictionary, the name would mean a “small area with high pointed rocks,” but that’s not a great description of Riscalillo. Until recently, like Chachacual, Riscalillo was reachable only by boat, but a sandy road has been cut between San Agustín and Riscalillo.
Bahía San Augustín. Presumably the bay is named for the small fishing village of San Agustín, which predates the date that the land was taken to build the Huatulco resort area, but why the village was named for Augustine is lost in history. Saint Augustine was the patron saint of brewers, printers, and theologians. Maybe brewers? Great site for a beer on the beach? If you go, ask a local. The bay has two beaches, Cacalutilla (“tiny black bird” – how about a grackle?) on the east and San Agustín on the west.
Spanish Lesson
By Carolina Garcia
Directions
Go up- Subir
Go down- Bajar
Ahead- Adelante
Take the exit- Tomar la salida
Take the next left- Tomar de la siguiente a la izquierda
Go across- Cruzar
Go straight- Sigue derecho
To the left- A la izquierda
To the right- A la derecha
In front of- Frente a
Next to- Junto a
Street- Calle
Main Street- Calle Principal
Alley- Callejon
Highway- Carretera
Mall- Centro Commercial
Building- Edificio
Corner- Esquina
Subway- Metro
Church- Iglesia
Where is?- Dónde esta?
Can you help me?- Me podrian ayudar?
Is it far?- Esta lejos?
Mexico’s Pre-Hispanic Heritage Lives on in Today’s Names
By Brooke O’ Connor
When we think of Mexico and language, most people think of Spanish; certainly, it is the predominant language. However many indigenous languages are still spoken, like sleeper cells waiting to be called back into the mainstream. One way these languages stay relevant is through names. In fact, Mexico was not this great country’s original name. Anahuac (land surrounded by water) was the Náhuatl name given to this land during pre-Hispanic times.
Names for People
In modern times, pre-Hispanic first names are still very popular. They honor indigenous heritage and show pride in these ancestors. Here are some popular female pre-Hispanic names:
Ameli – Water
Citlalli – Star
Erendirani – Happy, happy to awaken
Itzel – Bright Star
Ix Chel – Moon
Malinalli – Goddess of grass
Nayelli – Love
Quetzal – Jewel, beautiful feather
Xochitl – Flower
Yunuen – Half Moon
And some popular male pre-Hispanic names:
Tonatiuh – Sun
Moctezuma – Stern prince
Ikal – Spirit
Nezahualcóyotl – Coyote who fasts
Canek – Black serpent
Cuauhtemoc – Descending eagle
Names for Places
Many towns and cities have maintained their pre-Hispanic names as well.
Oaxaca, comes from the Náhuatl word Huāxyacac (place of the guaje). The guaje is a tree (Leucaena leucocephala) found around the capital city.
The meaning of Huatulco (Guatulco, Coatulco) is “where they worship the tree” or “wood,” which refers to an ancient legend. During the first century A.D. a bearded white man arrived on a small boat to the beach we now call Santa Cruz. The man was carrying a gigantic log, that somewhat resembled the shape of a cross. Once he got to the beach, he found Zapotec and Mixtec people. The white man planted the log upright without any help from the locals. He then spent some time teaching the local people new agricultural techniques and cultural improvements.
At some point, he left in the same boat he came in on, never to be seen again. Some say that this man was Quetzalcoatl (the god of, among other, more fundamental things, learning, reading, writing, and books).
Two hundred years before the Spanish conquered Mexico, the Huatulco area was colonized by the Mexicas, whom we call the Aztecs. When they noticed the locals worshiped the wooden cross, they called the place Cuauhtolco, a Náhuatl word meaning “the place where the wooden log is adored.”
Later, after the Spanish came, Thomas Cavendish looted and pillaged the entire region. This included many failed attempts to destroy the mysterious log that apparently couldn’t be cut, sunk, or burned. Soon Spanish Catholics took this opportunity to call it a Christian cross and gave it the name Santa Cruz (Holy Cross). One more cultural appropriation to lure the submission of the locals.
Coyula, located west of the national park, represents versatility, enthusiasm, agility, and unconventional methods.
Cacaluta, located to the southwest of Santa Cruz, received its name from the Zapotec word cacalote (blackbird, including a variety of crows or ravens). In this case, Cacaluta has also been interpreted to mean vulture (zopilote in Spanish).
Tangolunda is a Zapotec word meaning “pretty woman.”
From Náhuatl to Spanish to English
As English speakers, we constantly use words borrowed from Latin, Greek, French, German, Spanish, and many other languages, but did you know we even have a few words from Nahuatl?
Because Nahuatl is still a living language, English speakers are borrowing various words from Nahuatl. For example:
Chocolate
Mezcal
Tomato
Guacamole
Coyote
Peyote
Tamales
And last but not least – Shack
The others may seem plausible, but “shack”? Etymologist David Gold traces this word back to the Nahuatl word xacalli, (note that the ‘x’ = ‘sh’), also spelled jacalli, meaning “hut with a straw roof.”
There are other words you probably know that may seem Spanish, but come from pre-Hispanic origins. Thanks to John Pint, a writer from Jalisco, we have the following list:
Amate: the ficus tree, and also paper made in pre-Hispanic times out of the tree’s bark. Still used today by artisans, ancient peoples used it for communication and religious ceremonies. A crumpled piece of amate paper found in the Huitzilapa shaft tomb in Jalisco dates back to the year 70 CE.
Atole: a thick drink made from corn flour and water, then sweetened with piloncillo (brown cane sugar) then flavored with cinnamon, vanilla and maybe chocolate.
Cacahuate: a “peanut.” The ancient Mexica used to refer to this ground nut as a tlacáhuatl or “earth cocoa bean.”
Canica: a “marble,” as in the glass balls kids play with. The word supposedly comes from the Náhuatl expression Ca, nican nican! meaning “This is mine right here!” You would shout this if you thought your marble was the winner.
Cuate: from the Náhuatl, “twin.” Today it is used much like “buddy” or “dude.”
Escuincle: the short form of xoloitzcuintle, the Mexican hairless dog breed. Today, the derivative escuincles refers to children. This is not necessarily pejorative, as xolos were considered protectors from evil spirits and the guides who take our souls to the next life.
Mitote: may originally have referred to dancing and drinking. In modern times it means “a mess” or “chaos.” Armar un mitote is to make a fuss.
Petatearse: a petate is a mat woven from reeds or palm fronds. It was also used to roll up a corpse for burial. From this comes the verb petatearse. So, se petateó means something like, “He kicked the bucket.”
Pochote: also called a ceiba, this is the silk-cotton tree, considered divine in ancient Mexico because its branches, trunk, and roots represent the cosmos’ three levels. Many Pochote varieties can be recognized by their trunk’s thick spikes.
Popote: a “drinking straw,” and is derived from the Náhuatl popotli, referring to the hollow reeds which grew all around the ancient city of Tenochtitlán.
Tejuino: a nonalcoholic beer made from sprouted corn. The ancient Nahua viewed it as the “drink of the gods.” If you drink it regularly, they said it will replace the pathogenic bacteria in your colon with probiotics – great idea for someone looking to add to the local organic market!
Tianguis: a street market, or tianquiz(tli) in Náhuatl. A tianguis is referred to as a mercado if it is enclosed. In that case, the name of the Mercado Orgánico Huatulco, held on Saturdays in Santa Cruz, ought to be Tianguis, although mercado most likely clarifies the event to foreigners.
Tlacuache: a possum. This word comes from tlacuatzin, meaning “little fire-eater.” Why is a possum a fire-eater? Let me tell you!
In pre-Hispanic mythology, the tlacuache stole fire from the gods. He grabbed a piece of burning wood with his tail and gave it to humans. So, that’s why the tail of a possum is hairless.
Tecolote: comes from the Nahuatl word for “owl” and is found in the common Mexican saying, “Cuando el tecolote canta, el indio muere” (When the owl hoots, the Indian dies). It’s interesting to note that Native Americans in the US also think the owl brings death.
Zanate: a bird called the great-tailed grackle in English. Legends say it has seven distinct songs, all of which it stole from the sea turtle. It is thought that in these songs you can hear the seven passions: love, hate, fear, courage, joy, sadness, and anger.
Pre-Hispanic languages are redolent with a rich heritage and deep connection to nature. Names provided descriptions, rather than adornment. We can see today how many Mexican people have several names, yet can go by nicknames that have nothing to do with their official, legal ones. I have yet to understand this phenomenon, but it has something to do with how they feel about themselves and the family names they were given.
In my observation, pre-Hispanic names seem to carry more pride and grounding. Although they are harder for English native speakers to pronounce, I’m sure the people with pre-Hispanic names would be happy if we did our best to (try to) learn!.
What in the World Do Demonyms Name?
By Deborah Van Hoewyk
Back – way back – when Greek was the language of the day, there lots of “nyms,” a suffix that basically means “name.” We all learned about synonyms and antonyms in grade school, and the homonyms were always fun. You remember, different words but pronounced the same? Road/rode, beat/beet, cereal/serial, gate/gait.
It turns out, growing up in Maine, I was also interested in demonyms – the names (nyms) of peoples (demos) – also called “gentilics.” People from Maine were known as “Maineiacs,” and not always in a positive sense. While the World Book Encyclopedia of 1956 did not actually refer to the people of Maine as “Maineiacs,” it did identify us as “hardy fisher folk” who suffered a geographic inferiority complex. Which probably says more about the non-PC world of the nineteen-fifties than anything else.
Understandably, we now go by the more sensible “Mainers,” although the Maine Air National Guard’s 101st Air Refueling Wing is still called the Maineiacs – only right in that one of their talents is air-to-air, high-speed refueling in the Arctic. And Maineiac might well apply to me and my husband personally, in the decade or so we’ve spent driving from the northeast corner of the U.S. to the southeast corner of Mexico – and back again – a path that takes us through 13 of Mexico’s 31 states.
What Are the Demonyms of Mexico?
Of course, over and above the 31 states of Mexico is the Distrito Federal, the Federal District referred to as “Mexico City,” which people used to call “DF” (day-EFF-ay). Since 2016, however, it’s officially been designated “CDMX” (Ciudad de México – City of Mexico); this move was supposed to help devolve power from the federal to the local level, on the path to eventual statehood. Not much progress there to date.
What’s the demonym for residents of CDMX? While residents of the big city can be called mexiqueños/as, defeños/as, or capitalinos/as, they are mostly called chilangos/as, from the Náhuatl chīlān (capital, or “in the center of the moon”). While some travel websites say the demonym is an “affectionate” or “humorous” term, that’s probably a minority view. Originally used to refer to people from the countryside who had migrated to Mexico City, chilango now means those born and bred in CDMX, and specifically contrasts with provinciano – i.e., sophisticated vs. being a hick. However, when chilangos go on vacation, they’re often considered demanding, rude, and generally obnoxious. In vacation areas near CDMX, the saying goes “Haz patria, mata un Chilango” – “Do something for the motherland, murder a Chilango.” Given that Chilangos represent about a sixth of Mexico’s total population, they are largely responsible for Mexico’s domestic tourism. Their lives and limbs are probably pretty safe when they travel!
Here, in alphabetical order, is how to refer to the people you meet in Mexico.
Aguascalientes, capital Aguascalientes: Residents of both the state and the capital city are called aguascalentenses. Notice that the ‘i’ in the “caliente” part of the name drops out.
Baja California, capital Mexicali: State residents are called bajacalifornianos/as. If you live in the capital, you’re a mexicalense.
Baja California Sur, capital La Paz: State residents are also called bajacalifornianos/as, while residents of La Paz are called paceños/as.
Campeche, capital San Francisco Campeche: If you live anywhere in Campeche, you’re a campechano/a.
Chiapas, capital Tuxtla Gutiérrez: A resident of the state is a chiapaneco/a, while a resident of the capital can be called a tuxtleco/a or a tuxtleño/a.
Chihuahua, capital Chihauhua: Both state and capital residents are called chihuahuenses; colloquially, they are norteños/as.
Coahuila, capital Saltillo: Someone from the state of Coahuila is called a coahuilense, while someone from Saltillo is called a saltillense.
Colima, capital Colima: Residents here are called either colimenses or colemeños/as.
Durango, capital Durango: The folks from Durango are referred to as duranguenses or durangueños/as.
Guanajuato, capital Guanajuato: If you’re from Guanajuato, the state or the capital, you are a guanajuatense or a guanajuateño/a. If you come from Moroleón, a large city located in a textile manufacturing area and known for clothes shopping, you’re a moroleonés/esa.
Guerrero, capital Chilpancingo de los Bravo: State residents are called guerrerenses, while residents of the capital are chilpancingueños/as. If you’re from Acapulco, you’re an acapulqueño/a.
Hidalgo, capital Pachuca: Refer to state residents as hidalguenses, and capital city residents as pachuqueños/as.
Jalisco, capital Guadalajara: People from the state of Jalisco are called jaliciences; if you live in Guadalajara, you’re a guadalajarense or a guadalajareño/a. However, if you were born in the city, you’re a tapatío/a.
(Estado de) México, capital Toluca de Lerdo: Live in the state? You’re a mexiquense. In the city of Toluca? Toluqueño/a.
Michoacán, capital Morelia: These people would be michoacanos/as and morelianos/as.
Morelos, capital Cuernavaca: Folks from Morelos are called morelenses, and those living in the capital are called cuernavaquenses. You will also hear them called guayabos or guayabas. One explanation is that there are many guayaba trees in Cuernavaca, often pink, and they scent the streets or even dye them pink.
Nayarit, capital Tepic: State residents – nayaritas (remember, a word ending in ‘a’ can be masculine as well as feminine) or nayaritenses; capital city residents – tepiqueños/as.
Nuevo León, capital Monterrey: If you’re from here, you’re a neoleonés/esa or a nuevoleonés/esa; if you’re from Monterrey, you’re a monterreyense or a regiomontano/a – the latter is related to the name “Monterrey,” which translates as “mountain of the king.”
Oaxaca, capital Oaxaca de Juárez: Both state and city residents are called oaxaqueños/as; however, if you’re from the capital city, you might also becalled a vallisto/a, after the Central Valleys of Oaxaca. If you’re from Huatulco, of course, you’re a huatulqueño/a.
Puebla, capital Puebla de Zaragoza: People from both the state and the city are called poblanos/as, although city residents are also called angelopolitanos/as. At one point the capital city was called “Puebla de los Ángeles,” and is now nicknamed “Ángelópolis” (“City of Angels”), hence the gentilic for people live in the city of Puebla.
Querétaro, capital Santiago de Querétaro: If you live anywhere in Querétaro, you’re a queretano/a.
Quintana Roo, capital Chetumal: People who live in Quintana Roo are called quintanarroenses, while those in the capital are called chetumalenses or chetumaleños/as. If you live in Tulum, you’re a tulumense, and if you’re out on Isla Mujeres, you’re an isleño/a.
San Luis Potosí, capital San Luis Potosí: The demonym for both state and city residents is potosino/a, although if you live in the capital, you might also be called a sanluisino/a.
Sinaloa, capital Culiacán Rosales: State residents – sinaloenses; capital city residents – culiacanenses. If you hail from Mazatlán, you’re a mazatleco/a.
Sonora, capital Hermosilla: State residents – sonorenses; capital city residents – hermosillenses.
Tabasco, capital Villahermosa: State residents – tabasqueños/as; capital city residents are called villahermosinos/as or villermosinos/as.
Tamaulipas, capital Ciudad Victoria: Residents of Tamaulipas are called tamaulipecos/as, while folks from Ciudad Victoria are called victorenses.
Tlaxcala, capital Tlaxcala de Xicohténcatl: Both state and capital city residents are called tlaxcaltecas.
Veracruz, capital Xalapa-Enríquez: If you come from the state of Veracruz, you’re a veracruzano/a, from the city of Veracruz, a porteño/a. If you’re from Xalapa, you’re a xalapeño, which can be spelled with a ‘J’ – just like the pepper. There’s a more colloquial name for the veracruzanos: jarocho/a, which can be translated in many ways – hot-tempered, brusque, chaotic; it is also the word for the long spear used by fishermen along the Papaloapan river.
Yucatán, capital Mérida: If you come from Yucatán state, you’re a yucateco/a, and from Mérida, a meridano/a.
Zacatecas, capital Zacatecas: No matter where you’re from, you’re a zacatecano/a.
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