{"id":2282,"date":"2016-12-11T17:27:54","date_gmt":"2016-12-11T15:27:54","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lisasdolceitalia.wordpress.com\/?p=2282"},"modified":"2023-06-27T19:18:01","modified_gmt":"2023-06-27T17:18:01","slug":"italiano-mangling-the-language","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lisasdolceitalia.com\/?p=2282","title":{"rendered":"Italiano&#8230;Mangling the Language"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>Like most Americans I did not learn to speak a foreign language until I was a teenager. My first attempt, German, was a disaster. &nbsp;I was in Jr. High, the worst possible age for learning a language (or anything else for that matter) and Herr Baker and I did not get along. &nbsp;I managed to somehow eek a C out of my two years of German and I can confidently count to twenty, say&nbsp;<em>ya und nein,&nbsp;<\/em>please and thank you. I can also order a&nbsp;beer but that was not part of our middle school curriculum. I learned to do that while traveling independently in my 20&#8217;s.<br \/>\nIn high school after having had such a miserable experience with German I decided Spanish would be my language of choice and after two years of Spanish my comprehension of the language was on par with my ability to speaking German&#8230;nada!<br \/>\nInspired by friends who had already moved abroad, when I packed my bags to move to Italy one of my goals was to learn to speak the language. I was a failure in the classroom but I was quite sure I could figure it out if I immersed myself in the culture.<br \/>\nHappily I was right! &nbsp;It was not an instant process and made harder by the fact that I was teaching English full time and didn&#8217;t have the money to take Italian lessons. &nbsp; Friday nights I would hang out with my expat friends and relished speaking my mother tongue. That was the night my brain would get to rest. &nbsp; The rest of the week I submersed myself in Italian and would lie awake for hours at night conjugating verbs in my head. Armed with a Berlitz book I studied on my own. &nbsp;Saturday nights were spent with my new Italian friends who helped me along and were super fun to hang out with. &nbsp;They spoke enough English to help me understand &nbsp;when I was stuck, had a great deal of patience, and open minds. Willie, Cappe, Enrico and their gang of friends will never know how thankful I was, and still am, for their friendship and patience. I rarely see them anymore (life is busy for all of us).<br \/>\nLearning to speak another language can also provide some laughs if you are not afraid to put yourself out there. &nbsp;One of the things I have noticed over the years is that people are scared of making mistakes and clam up even if they are capable of basic communication. &nbsp;We all make mistakes and with luck we learn form them&#8230;<br \/>\nOne of the funniest mistakes I ever made in Italian came after living here for about five months. &nbsp;The language school I was teaching at closed for the summer so I was out of work for a couple of months. &nbsp;Earning only 10,000 lire an hour ($5.00) &nbsp;I was burning through my bank account and the thought of having no income at all was daunting. &nbsp;A friend, Graziella, came to the rescue, or at least tried to. &nbsp;She knew a family who wanted an English speaking nanny for the summer.<br \/>\nI should have just said no&#8230;I have never been a babysitter&nbsp;and have great respect for people who work with kids. &nbsp;That would not be me and really wasn&#8217;t me in my late 20&#8217;s but I took the job anyway.<br \/>\nThe family I went to live with made up of a Fiat executive and his trophy wife whose names I no longer remember. &nbsp;She had two kids from her first marriage who did not live with them and the first word her 12 year old son said to me when I had the pleasure of meeting him was in English and started with the letter F&#8230;lovely child!<br \/>\nAt home she had a terrible two year old who was to be my charge. &nbsp;She didn&#8217;t work at home, and she didn&#8217;t have a job. &nbsp;She had someone in to clean her house and someone else in to iron. She sat around all day reading novels and chain smoking. &nbsp;Around two hours before her husband was due to be home she would disappear into her bedroom and get all dolled up. &nbsp; She didn&#8217;t do anything with her son, no reading, no games or even coloring, but because she was there he certainly didn&#8217;t want to play with a strange woman who didn&#8217;t even speak his own language.<br \/>\nHe would actually play with me while his mother puffed and read, and there were times I managed to get him to shriek with laughter. &nbsp;While momentarily satisfying for both of us, we didn&#8217;t bond. how could we? &nbsp; After two of the most miserable weeks of my life, I called it quits but I learned a couple of important things during the experience. &nbsp;First, &nbsp;I would never choose to work with children again, and second, &nbsp;I learned how to order <em>prosciutto<\/em>&#8230;or how not to.<br \/>\nOne day I was sent to the store to buy a few things, including <em>prosciutto cotto<\/em>&nbsp;(cooked ham). &nbsp;I was instructed on how to order by weight&nbsp;which was helpful and that it was to be <em>senza conservanti&nbsp;<\/em>(preservatives).&nbsp;&nbsp;On my walk up to hill to the local market I practiced the order in my head but I had forgotten the word <em>conservanti. &nbsp;<\/em>Since about 40% of the English language has Latin roots I decided that ordering my ham&nbsp;<em>senza preservativi&nbsp;<\/em>should work until the man serving me just about peed himself laughing. &nbsp;He was actually very kind and translated his response which was &#8220;that would be chewy.&#8221;&nbsp;by pretending to chew something very tough. &nbsp;I had asked for my prosciutto without condoms&#8230;that would indeed be chewy!<br \/>\nI have never made that mistake again but have made many others. &nbsp; Looking at the&nbsp;<em>pesci&nbsp;<\/em>(fish) on our peach tree (<em>pesca)<\/em> <em>&nbsp;<\/em>one day,&nbsp;Mauro&#8217;s response was to make a fish face and pretend to swim around the tree. &nbsp;I commented a on&nbsp;<em>buffalo&nbsp;<\/em>rather than a&nbsp;<em>brufolo<\/em> (pimple) on my face to one of my bus drivers and he pretended to be stampeded. &nbsp;And the list goes on&#8230;<br \/>\nAfter my disastrous attempt at babysitting came to an end I was depressed and broke as I wondered how I would manage to make it through the summer until my teaching job started up again when one of the best things ever happened&#8230;<br \/>\nMy brother called me out of the blur. &nbsp;I hadn&#8217;t seen or heard from him in a few years but that&#8217;s anther story. &nbsp;He had learned &nbsp;from our mom that my summer was not panning out so well and decided to extend an invitation to visit him in Taipei. &nbsp;One of his roommates had just moved out, I could &nbsp;teach English there and he would spot me the money for the flight. Yeah! I stayed with Jeremy for six weeks and had a marvelous time visiting Taipei but even better than that, I actually got to know my brother as an adult and found out&nbsp;that I liked him! &nbsp;We have been friends ever since.<br \/>\nAt the end of August I went back to Italy with the idea of spending another year to master the language&#8230;haha! &nbsp;That was nearly twenty years ago and here I am&#8230;still learning and occasionally still mangling the language.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Like most Americans I did not learn to speak a foreign language until I was a teenager. My first attempt, German, was a disaster. &nbsp;I was in Jr. High, the worst possible age for learning a language (or anything else for that matter) and Herr Baker and I did not get along. &nbsp;I managed to &hellip; <a href=\"https:\/\/lisasdolceitalia.com\/?p=2282\" class=\"more-link\">Continue reading <span class=\"screen-reader-text\">Italiano&#8230;Mangling the Language<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_wpcom_ai_launchpad_first_post":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[11],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2282","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-life-in-italy"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lisasdolceitalia.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2282","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lisasdolceitalia.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lisasdolceitalia.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lisasdolceitalia.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lisasdolceitalia.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2282"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/lisasdolceitalia.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2282\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6153,"href":"https:\/\/lisasdolceitalia.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2282\/revisions\/6153"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lisasdolceitalia.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2282"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lisasdolceitalia.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2282"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lisasdolceitalia.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2282"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}