Of all the
languages that I've come to hear in my life, Italian is the one that I find
most sumptuous to the ear. I can't help but think that all Italian's think they
live in a musical. Every word they say sounds like they're singing them to you.
The words start in a low tenor then they suddenly hit a mezzo-soprano before
sliding back down to a sultry bass. Ah,
like a day at the Riviera. They could be yelling at you but, that
doesn't matter, you can't help but smile and tilt your head at them as they
sing song the F-word to you. One of the
languages I just have to learn is Italian. Visiting Italy is one of the major
destinations on my register of life's ambitions and I don't want to go there
like a typical American, assuming every other country in the world should know
how to talk to me in English. I'd like to earn their respect and give America a
better name. Something other than stupid and arrogant would be nice. Luckily, I
happen to be fluent in Portuguese because of my parents. Both being immigrants
from Portugal, I grew up only knowing Portuguese for the first five years of my
life. Then eventually learned English as they did, watching Sesame Street together. Having a Latin
based background certainly helps the cause.
About two
weeks ago I loaded up my Italian version of Rosetta Stone and began lesson one.
Now, those of you who have never taken-on a Rosetta Stone lesson before... you
would have to be an idiot to not be able to digest and master lesson one of anything they mean to teach you. They
drill words and phrases into you that will have you waking up in a cold sweat
from nightmares, screaming in the language you didn't think you knew. Before
long you'll be dreaming of bambinos (little boys) on bicicletta (bicycles) with
their big drooling cane (dogs) chasing you as they scream the Italian you
haven't learned yet because it's all in lesson two of your Rosetta Stone. It
may be wise not to study your lessons just before going to sleep. Just saying.
After
finally having the second lesson of Italian completed and recently ingrained in
my head, and because I like cooking, I learned a generous helping of some
culinary terms to boot, I thought I'd take the chance and try to put it to some
use, or rather, show off. Today, while waiting for my train to arrive, I heard
a couple talking earnestly to each other while hovering over a sheet of paper they
held in their hands. My ear gleefully picked up on some of the words that I
recently acquired to my vocabulary as they were singing their Italian to one
another. They seemed a little confused so I thought I would try to help
them. I first stood around earshot, like
a stalker, and tried to understand what they were talking about so that I might
be able to better understand what the problem was before I jumped in. It
sounded like they were arguing about how to get somewhere and they didn't
understand the directions they had on their paperwork. Filled with great pride
that was able to put this information together, I put on my sweetest smile,
walked up to them and asked, "posso affettare?" (Can I slice you?) It looked
like their eyes were about to pop out of their heads and I think they stopped
breathing for a few seconds. Slowly, they begin to back away from me and went
to stand with a group of people across the platform, keeping me in their
peripheral vision. I was so confused and hurt by their reaction because all I
wanted was to win their approval. Jeez. What
did I say?
Later, I downloaded a
translation app on my phone to figure out what I had said wrong. Ah, now I see. Thought I was asking them
if I could assist them, (posso aiutarvi?). This is not the right way of going
about making Americans look good. Sorry
compatriots, I tried.
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