Four years ago at this time I was making my way around Italy. Me, Drea, Nicole, and those five extra pounds of pizza and pasta camped in the freezing cold under dirty blankets, got off the bus on a dark highway and ran a mile back to our ‘tent’ and saw il papa himself on Easter Sunday. It was an amazing trip and now through a series of mainly inexplicable events I plan on going to back to Italy with at least a rudimentary level of Italian.
That’s right, your girl enrolled in the spring session of A.1 Italian. I will be able to introduce myself, greet new Italian friends, ask for information and express tastes and wishes!
It’s always been somewhat of a family joke that we would trade our culture for one with better food. I mean Norwegian and Irish have got to be just about the most bland and unexciting cuisines to come together since ritz crackers and cheese whiz. #bleh
Now Italian food is something that everybody likes! Not enough people follow this blog for there to be literally ANYONE that could disagree.
But I didn’t fall into this sudden obsession for learning Italian for the food. Or the wine. Or the potential Italian suitors. Those are all bonus factors though.
The real story is truly mediocre when you think of why people decide to learn languages. Usually for a loved one, their heritage, a strong passion, a calling. Well for me it all happened because one day I was bored and my fitbit was like, hey boo you’ve only taken 2,000 steps (probably less) and it’s nearing 5pm. Let’s say we get you out there? So naturally instead of working out, I walked to Barnes and Noble which is like 3 blocks away. I figured I would do a lot of browsing since I had no goals aside from glancing at some US weekly titles, giggling at the pet calendars and just seeing what the world was up to. Browsing = stepping.
The book I ended up buying was one of the first that I had picked up without any strong reaction or feeling towards it. I left it and went on looking. I looked at Fiction, what’s hot. History. Self-help. (Why am I here?). I almost bought Chrissy Teigen’s book ‘Cravings’ because…hello. So I was feeling like nothing was really calling to me which started to frustrate me. I went back to the original spot near the entrance of new-ish releases. I recognized the author. I liked what I read on the inside cover. It spoke to me about my experience learning Spanish and wanting so badly to know it and fit in but never really belonging.
One book along with two bags of chocolates (2 for 1 Lindt truffles ehem ehem), and I was on my way home. Turns out the book is a translation; Italian on one side and English on the other. I have now read this seemingly whole book in a matter of two days! Backing up to before I had even read two pages, I was online searching for Italian classes in Chicago. I was just going to see if anything was convenient. The teacher profiles are beyond impressive. I mean, I’m over here wondering why people don’t think I’m qualified to do any other job and then these teachers are translating manifestos and being lawyers and artists and also speak French. Just picked it up along the way. Bonjour!
The current extent of my Italian vocabulary is listing foods. Probably incorrectly and super American. Cannoli, penne, pasta, gelato, gnocchi.
I also registered for the class with the hope that if this spring I get a decent enough base of vocabulary and grammar that I can use my time of withering away on the couch while everyone else is off getting buck wild at Lolla and summerfest semi-wisely. Although pending pain level I might just cave and start watching Game of Thrones.
Anyways, it’s Saturday and I have to go do some bucato.
Also shout out to my parents on their anniversary. Nearing 40 years if I’m not mistaken? Although I would hope for 40 that my dad would have done more than use a recycled card that he did not sign and also gave to my mom 10 year ago. #weddedbliss.