Autumn Song

Dan’s cousin Dean walked slowly out of the paint shop in the nearby town of Chiusi shaking his head in disbelief. “How does he do it!?” he muttered incredulously over how Dan, who spoke no Italian, managed to get exactly the right color and exactly the right paint from a shopkeeper who spoke no English. Honestly, I was as amazed– and as confused– as Dean was.  

It’s apparent that Dan and I have completely different approaches to communication in a country where we don’t speak the language. Dan values his very limited Italian vocabulary and doles it out generously. “Buon giorno!” he greets almost everybody he passes as he begins his day with  a walk to Matucci’s for a cappuccino. If it’s afternoon or evening, his greeting appropriately changes to “Buona sera!” 

His greeting is enthusiastic, if the pronunciation isn’t exact. Dan can’t roll his ‘r’s,’ whereas I have the advantage of having been born to Ukrainian parents and grew up hearing/practicing the correct pronunciation of the letter. In truth, Dan speaks two languages fluently: 1.) English, and 2.) A Mix of Everything Else. For example, he only knows one sentence in German– translated, “The weather is not so good today, is it?” And yet he says it so well that when he greeted a shopkeeper with it in on a cold, drizzly, overcast day in the German speaking part of Switzerland, the man responded with a flood of conversation that Dan had no hope of understanding. Likewise, he knows several short sentences in Ukrainian and he usually runs them altogether at the same time, translated, “Very good! Praise the Lord! Do you want to eat?” But he says them, all at the same time, with such convincing confidence. 

In Italy, Dan has perfected an acute skill of communication involving hand gestures, frequent pointing, and resorting to a translation app when he comes to a roadblock, all wrapped up in a friendly and optimistic social attitude. Above all, he has a confidence that makes all the difference. The older shopkeepers in our immediate little town are staunch Italians who don’t speak any English, and yet I’m amazed at the friends he’s made. Some call out to him loudly when they see him on the street; some actually hug him in greeting, genuinely happy to see him. 

I, on the other hand, have a completely different– if not inferior–approach to communication. “Studio Italiano ogni giorno,” I study Italian pretty much every day, and yet my approach is far less fruitful than Dan’s, it seems. Admittedly, this is not an ideal chapter of my life for me to be taking on the study of a new language. The structure of the Italian language, as well as the words themselves and the arrangement of the words in a sentence are so different from what I know, that learning it is truly overwhelming.  And the grammar is so hard to grasp! As a case in point, there are seven Italian words for “the.” 

Unfortunately at my age (in my mid-70’s, in case you’ve forgotten), a jumble of words from a variety of languages learned in the multitude of previous years collide with each other in a confusing heap as I try to form a sentence. With English aside, Ukrainian words from my childhood eagerly jump into the middle of my translation, mixed with sporadic words of French which I studied so long ago in high school. And, of course, there are confusing similarities to Spanish words, as well as French, that insist upon interjecting themselves into my sentences, although they are spelled and pronounced differently. 

Added to that, I am constantly nervous about making mistakes, a fear that Dan knows nothing about. This was unavoidable, right from the start. Soon after we settled into our Italian neighborhood, I was showing a new Italian friend a photo of my family. I thought I was saying, “This is my son, this is my other son, this is my daughter…” when in reality it turns out that I was saying, “This is my boyfriend, this is my other boyfriend…” I was mortified when I realized it later!

Like French, but unlike English, the nouns of the Italian language are either masculine and feminine, with corresponding articles– which is obviously confusing. To help me learn the language, a friend gave me an Italian Bible. Great idea! Immediately I turned to my favorite Gospel, John, because I love the way that John was such a gifted writer. John 1:1-4 states, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. 4 In him was life, and the life was the light of men.” However, to my shock, the literal translation of the Italian Bible read,“…2 She was in the beginning with God. 3 All things were made through her, and without her was not anything made that was made…”  

After I picked myself up off the floor in shock, fearing that this particular Bible was a progressive heresy, I realized that “her” was grammatically referring to “the Word,” and in Italian, “word” is a feminine noun. (Apparently some Italian Bibles correct the idea with “Him” in brackets for clear understanding.) That said, my Bible has nevertheless been a big help. 

Yet after all this time, I still can understand more of the Italian language by reading it than by hearing it. I suppose the Italians think that we English-speaking individuals also speak too fast. So how do we get along? Well, you already know how Dan gets along. For me, I continue to study the language and I take as many opportunities as I can to speak whole sentences as we need them, mistakes notwithstanding. “Hai un tavolo per quattro, per favore?” Do you have a table for four, please? “Vorrei un cappuccino e un cornetto pistacchio, per favore.” I would like a cappuccino and a pistachio croissant please. “Come stai?” “Molto bene, grazie!” “Buon compleanno!” And of course, “Dove il bagno, per favore?” (Where is the bathroom, please?)

In church, we have earphones through which the message is interpreted into English, and at the same time, I listen for as many Italian words as I can recognize. Thankfully, there are quite a lot of Brits or American expats at church with whom we enjoy great conversation, and the younger Italians are all fluent in English.

Within the town itself, there are quite a few shopkeepers and lots of young people who speak English as a second language. I’ve had some very interesting conversations with groups of 18 to 19 year olds that we’ve come across in restaurants or shops. (As an aside, the courtesy, neatness, and friendliness of the young people here is impressive.)

Also, the expat community altogether in our town has been immeasurably helpful to us in understanding and acclimatizing to the culture. Understandably, seeking out an expat community is quickly criticized by both Italians and other English speaking residents of Italy. “Why would you want to move to Italy only to spend time with the expats!? I thought you wanted to be part of the Italian culture!” We do! However, in reality, there is absolutely great value in connecting with other expats– predominantly Brits or Americans, but also those from Holland, Australia, and Brazil– as we settle into the Italian culture. Some expats are as fluent in Italian as the locals themselves. Others don’t speak the language at all. Beyond learning the language from each other, we have also gleaned an immense amount of information and help that no one but the other expats would understand or need… like ideas about how, as foreigners, we can rent or lease cars (as a side note to clarify: in Italy foreigners are allowed to buy houses, but not cars.) Through expats, we’ve found good sources of travel insurance; we’ve found out what medical services we can use when needed and what to expect; we found out how to have the post office in America forward important mail while we’re gone; they’ve helped us learn the cultural nuances and habits that are important for us to respect… and in a pinch, some expat friends have proven to be fantastic interpreters for us.

Honestly, I don’t know if I will live long enough to be fluent enough in Italian to meet my goal: that is, having full, deep conversations with Italian friends that I love so dearly. It’s slow going. But as long as I live, I’m going to keep on trying. Meanwhile, Dan has no problem at all with it.