Who knew that one week could make so much of a difference. Below I have two posts: one from two Saturdays ago (May 28th) and one from this past Saturday (April 4th). I didn't post the first because I thought it was rather whiney and a bit too self-indulgent. But paired with the second, I think it's post-worthy, if only to note the change that can occur in one week.
Dance Night and Introspection
I had a lot of fun. I’ll say that off the bat. I love to dance, I know I can dance, it’s a great time. And I love that I don’t have to try to talk. I have never second-guessed myself or unconsciously apologized for myself more than in this past month. I’ve said it before: it’s exhausting stumbling through this language. Not just mentally, but it also exhausts my ego – my poor ego has been tormented, twisted and mangled. It has been a long time since I’ve had to feel so consistently out-of-the-loop and downright stupid. Now, when I’ve (attempted) to express this emotion, I get the inevitable chorus of “no, you’re very intelligent and picking up the language quickly.” I believe both of these statements, yet I still feel frustrated.
I told my friend Luana tonight that I had a degree in Journalism, and that I studied Acting. She had no idea that I even attended college – I saw her image of me change before my eyes. I saw the thought flit behind her pupils, “Oh, in her own culture and language, this girl is actually a competent human being.”
I’m so frustrated by my inability to express. I’ve come to realize that expressing is all I do – I don’t have a technical craft or training, I have the ability to manipulate the English language as well as my delivery of thoughts and ideas. Stick me in Italy and suddenly I’m inventing a new form of sign language.
I find my outlets in strange places. First of all, I crave dancing. Dancing is a universal language. On the dance floor it doesn’t matter that I don’t speak Italian (in fact, it has actually come in handy). I’ve gone dancing the last two weekends and I have plans for next Saturday. Also, I can’t keep my hands off Pamela’s old classical guitar. And here I find myself frustrated again – the instrument is not the proper conductor for what I want to play; namely, rock songs. (Just like the language!) I don’t have any of the right notes, knowledge of guitar chords or finger flexibility, but I have oh so many songs I want to play. I digress: in the next couple of weeks I’m going to buy an inexpensive acoustic and find all kinds of solace in the six metal strings.
Dance Night the Third
I went out again with Luana and her family. It was her birthday today and she was awesome enough to invite me over to her family party as well as out to dinner and dancing. I was the only person not related to her (or dating her), and I felt honored. There are a few people in Sala Baganza who have completely welcomed me into their lives, and it’s wonderful.
We went to a nearby pizzeria and had an assortment of seafood pasta dishes – delicious! I chatted with Luana, her aunts, and her boyfriend all through dinner. And the best part: we had real conversation. I feel like I woke up today and was able to understand what people are saying. In retrospect, I realize that isn’t true; it was when I wasn’t paying attention this past week that I improved by leaps.
A couple things clicked in the past few days. First, all the studying paid off on a few key grammatical rules, and I’ve internalized meanings, so I don’t get caught on words only to miss the rest of the sentence. Also, I’m starting to take chances with the language – there are so many cognates that I’m making educated guesses on what certain words might translate into, and more often than not, I’m right. One of the most helpful things I’ve done was to create a list of common filler words (although, often, each, then, etc) and studied them EVERY DAY so that I don’t get caught up in the little words.
I will also say, I’m getting out of the habit of tuning out what people are saying on the assumption that I won’t understand. In fact, I’m meeting someone for coffee in Parma tomorrow who speaks nary a word of English. (Most of my friends – Marco, Stefano, Pamela, etc – speak English at least competently, and I think this often allows me to be lazy).
Well, anyway, I’m far from being competent in Italian. And keep in mind I hang out with people who know my language limitations. Still, it was so fantastic to realize mid-conversation that I was holding my own, as opposed to sitting with my apologetic confused face or tuning out the conversation.
Such improvement also makes me a lot more excited to have my friends come visit. I didn’t like the thought that I wouldn’t be able to competently and comfortably introduce my friends to Italy.
Also, all the Italians here use the same hand gestures. But, instead of picking them up like you might imagine I would, I find myself making up and using my own hand gestures. I’m going to return to the US with these new gesture habits that aren’t at all Italian but are a direct consequence of my living in Italy.
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