The Surprise Motion That Made Me Raise My Hand
I was half-asleep on a humid Tuesday evening in Santo Domingo when the building administrator slipped an extra item onto the agenda. The ceiling fans squeaked, the neighbor’s bachata leaked through the corridor, and suddenly I heard the phrase everyone dreads: “Se solicita voto a mano alzada para aprobar el aumento de la cuota.” My ears perked up, not only because my pocket might feel lighter, but because I realized a fresh chunk of Spanish Vocabulary was about to walk into my life uninvited. Ten years of island living have taught me that condo boards in the Dominican Republic are experimental theaters of democracy. Every nod, every raised eyebrow, every mumbled “tamo’ ready” carries cultural weight—and, for an expat hoping to master Spanish in real-world situations, these monthly spectacles are priceless classrooms.
Understanding the Dominican Condo Board Ecosystem
Why the Junta de Condómines loves parliamentary flair
The Dominican model borrows legal scaffolding from Spain yet dresses it in Caribbean color. Your neighborhood butcher might preside as president, while the retired teacher next door doubles as treasurer. Titles such as presidente, secretario, and vocal fly around the room, and each one shapes how votes are introduced, debated, and counted. During my first year I confused vocal with someone leading vocal exercises; in truth, the role resembles a trustee who “has a voice” but not necessarily a specialized duty. Observing these positions gives an expat a chance to stretch his Spanish Vocabulary muscles beyond textbook pleasantries. I began noticing how Dominicans rely on respectful usted in formal motions yet slide into a warm tú when cracking jokes about overdue maintenance. That code-switching mirrors their broader cultural dance: a formal façade over a heart that beats to family rhythms.
Contrast that with Colombia, where I vacation often. In Medellín’s glossy high-rise assemblies, residents lean on written ballots and call the gathering asamblea de copropietarios. The environment feels more corporate, the Spanish a shade more neutral. Learning to interpret both Dominican warmth and Colombian restraint sharpens an expat’s ear, enriching the Spanish Vocabulary we carry into every interaction.
Voting Procedures: Beyond Sí and No
At face value, voting appears binary, yet condo boards introduce layers of protocol that require precise language. A motion is “planteada,” then it can be “aprobada,” “rechazada,” or “aplazada.” I once watched a treasurer suggest a secret ballot by saying, “Propongo que el sufragio sea secreto para evitar presiones vecinales.” Moments like these elevate our Spanish Vocabulary from survival mode to savvy negotiation.
Dominican meetings often employ votación a mano alzada—a quick hand count. A secretary will announce, “Favor levanten la mano los que estén de acuerdo,” pausing to tally before asking for opposition. The phrasing seems simple until someone calls for a recount, and suddenly the room buzzes with verbs like rectificar, anular, or convalidar. In Colombia, I have heard residents prefer, “Procedamos a la votación nominal para mayor transparencia.” That nominal roll call forces each voter to voice “Sí aprobó” or “No aprobó”—a perfect drill in pronunciation under mild social pressure.
Knowing the cultural subtext smooths participation. Dominicans value consensus peppered with humor; Colombians lean on structured formality. When you, the English-speaking expat, stand to speak, picking up the room’s rhythm shows respect. I’ve learned to preface objections with a courteous Dominican filler—“Con el permiso de la mesa…”—or a Colombian alternative—“Con todo respeto, solicito la palabra.” Both keep tempers cool while boosting your Spanish Vocabulary bank.
Cultural Nuances: Dominican Warmth Meets Colombian Formality
Picture two lenses focusing on the same democratic ritual. Through the Dominican lens, the vote is communal, almost familial. People arrive late yet greet everyone individually with a grin that could sell sunshine. They might slang-flip mano alzada into **“alzar la pala”**—a playful nod to “raise your shovel,” meaning “raise your hand,” used mostly in Santiago. Meanwhile, the Colombian lens treats time and titles with near-Swiss precision. A Medellín porter once reminded me, “La asamblea empieza a las seis en punto, señor.” Arriving ten minutes late earned me a row of raised eyebrows sharper than espresso.
Such contrasts teach us to modulate diction. Dominicans pile affectionate diminutives: “votico,” “temita,” “cuotica.” Colombians favor clarity: “punto del orden del día.” When composing minutes, I’ve borrowed both flavors, writing, “Se aprobó un aumentico de la cuota para impermeabilizar el techo,” then adding a Colombian-style summary line, “Conforme al artículo 20 de la ley de propiedad horizontal.” This bicultural blend broadens Spanish Vocabulary while making documents comprehensible to any Latin neighbor who might stumble upon them.
Spanish Vocabulary Table
| Spanish | English | Usage Tip |
|---|---|---|
| votación a mano alzada | show-of-hands vote | Common in the DR; phrase speeds up decisions. |
| sufragio secreto | secret ballot | Hear it in Colombia when privacy is stressed. |
| aplazar | to postpone | Use when unready to decide; softens refusal. |
| rectificar | to rectify/verify | Invoke for recounts without sounding accusatory. |
| convalidar | to ratify/validate | Great in minutes to certify a previous vote. |
| cuota de mantenimiento | maintenance fee | Dominicans shorten it to “la cuota.” |
| orden del día | agenda | Colombians treat it as sacred timetabling. |
| vocal | board member | Literal “voice”; indicates someone with say-so. |
Example Conversation: El Momento de Votar
Presidente (DR): “Buenas noches, vecinos. Vamos a la votación del punto tres: la impermeabilización del techo, ¿de acuerdo?”
Good evening, neighbors. Let’s move to the vote on item three: waterproofing the roof, agreed?
Secretaria (DR): “Favor levanten la mano los que estén a favor.”
Please raise your hand if you’re in favor.
Vecino A (CO): “Con todo respeto, ¿podríamos hacer sufragio secreto? Algunos están incómodos.”
With all respect, could we do a secret ballot? Some people feel uncomfortable.
Presidente (DR): “Bueno, mi hermano, aquí confiamos. **¿Tamo’ ready?**”
Well, my brother, we trust each other here. We good to go?
Vecina B (CO): “Prefiero el sistema nominal para que conste en acta cada voto.”
I prefer a roll-call system so each vote is recorded in the minutes.
Administrador (Neutral): “Perfecto, pasemos entonces a votación nominal.”
Perfect, then let’s proceed with the roll-call vote.
Presidente (DR): “James, ¿apruebas la moción?”
James, do you approve the motion?
Yo (James): “Sí apruebo, siempre que el presupuesto quede topeado en cien mil pesos.”
Yes, I approve, provided the budget is capped at one-hundred thousand pesos.
Presidente (DR): “Queda anotado. ¡Sigamos!”
Noted. Let’s continue!
Cross-Country Reflections and Your Turn
Every time I shuttle from Santo Domingo to Medellín I feel like a linguistic pendulum, absorbing Caribbean spontaneity one week and Andean meticulousness the next. That constant oscillation keeps my Spanish Vocabulary in motion, forcing me to swap “dime a ver” for “qué más pues” at immigration, to remember that a Dominican cuotica might be a Colombian cuota ordinaria, and to laugh when both cultures toast the end of a meeting with the same relief sigh: “¡Al fin!”
If you’re an English-speaking expat eager to learn Spanish as an expat, condo board meetings offer a microcosm of bureaucracy, humor, and community pride. Attend them with open ears. Jot phrases. Imitate intonation. Then test those expressions across borders. You’ll notice how a Dominican’s melodic cadence softens a formalism that would otherwise feel stiff; how a Colombian’s precision sharpens verbs, clarifying stakes. Bouncing between these worlds is like tuning a guitar: twist the pegs until each string—each accent—rings true.
I invite you to share your own condo tales, Colombian adventures, or newly discovered Spanish Vocabulary in the comments. What legalistic gem or slangy zinger surprised you? Let’s build a cross-border glossary together and keep our collective Spanish fresh, flexible, and, above all, alive.
Nos leemos pronto—see you soon.
