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Christmas Report
26 DecMy intentions regarding this blog are often higher than my ability to meet my own expectations. I envisioned posting my Christmas Eve photos that night, after we arrived home. But it was midnight and I tumbled into bed.
The magnificent Church of Santa Susanna. There has been a place of worship here since 330 A.D.
We started La Vigilia di Natale as temporary Catholics, attending the lovely Church of Santa Susanna, seat of the American Catholic Church in Rome. We’ve been to a couple of services in churches lately where everything was in Italian (or Swedish if you saw my post about the children’s concert), so it was almost a surprise to walk through the door and hear singing in American-accented English. Following church, about 20:30, it was already very quiet in the streets. The buses were half-empty and moving fast, the drivers enjoying freedom from the usual overwhelming auto traffic. Another Christmas miracle: a young man (French) gave me his seat on the bus. While it was a sweet gesture, I am a little sensitive to him thinking I am old and needed to sit. I prefer to think he was simply kind. And so we meandered through the streets of Rome by foot and bus, to our favorite trattoria.
We ate at this restaurant last Christmas Eve as well. In fact we have been dining here since our first trip in 2010 and go at least once a month, often more. We are regulars and warmly greeted. The feast on Christmas Eve is always fish and wine was included in the prezzo fisso menu. Since it was looonnngg holiday meal, we managed to drain our included bottle during the first two courses. So they opened another for us. An advantage to being regulars: no extra charge.
The antipasto course: smoked salmon, cured anchovies, seafood salad, steamed mussels and more.
The primi were a seafood risotto and a lovely mixed seafood pasta.
The secondo was a lovely whole steamed fish, succulent and tender, accompanied by tiny fried whole fish.
My intention was to do a photo essay of my magnificent Christmas Day feast, but I forgot to take a picture of the golden, juicy turkey before carving, and failed to take a picture of our glorious table. Our menu included an array of Mediterranean and Italian antipasti, followed by our crazy-expensive Italian turkey, stuffing with sausage & apples & raisins, sweet potato casserole, ratatouille and cranberries. For the first time in about 25 years I had to buy canned cranberries (available at the embassy’s commissary) because fresh berries were >$11.00 for a 10 ounce bag in the Italian market! We topped the meal with a homemade pear crostata. Our guest was a young man from the embassy who was highly entertaining and who has excellent taste in wine. Grazie, Ben!
Today is yet another holiday, Santo Stefano. Today we must get out and exercise. Never left the apartment yesterday except to go to the courtyard with our guest! I am a few miles behind and a few thousand calories ahead of plan.
Fear of Speaking
14 Nov
Pasquino, the most famous “talking statue” in Rome. Used since the 16th century to post messages and claims.
Lately I find myself thinking about language a lot. In Rome one hears a polyglot of tongues, from French and German to Swedish, Senegalese and Chinese. I have been asked for help by a Chinese tour guide, whose English was perfect, but who knew only the fewest words in Italian. In the market I heard an immigrant vendor speak almost simultaneously in Italian, English, German and Pakistani. On a bus headed to via Appia Antica, a French woman sought help in Italian, but the bus was full of Germans and English-speakers, no Italians. I was surprised to find my Italian was the common denominator as she spoke no English and we managed quite well in our shared foreign tongue. Yet English is the usual common denominator, the language in which an Italian and a German, for example, will engage to find clarity.
Old joke:
What do you call a person who speaks three languages? Trilingual.
What do you call a person who speaks two languages? Bilingual.
What do you call a person who speaks one language? American.
I want to be fluent in Italian, but my progress is so erratic. One day I am sailing through the Roman landscape, doing my errands, giving directions in Italian to people in the street (people are always asking me for directions), answering the office phone without totally losing my cool at the sound of an Italian voice, and navigating the whole hospital experience. I learn something new in Italian every single day and think how marvelous it is that after less than 6 months in Rome, I am not only surviving but thriving. Then the next day, I am totally flummoxed when the fishmonger asks me how I am going to prepare the fish. Dashed by the reality of my limitations, I struggle to stand up and walk talk again.
I pride myself on my English skills: I am often asked to edit others’ work, I am consulted on English usage, and I am even funny in English, I am told. When I worked with a group of linguists in the U.S., we challenged each other with word games, had in-depth discussions about usage, and compared grammatical structures of languages from Arabic to French to Japanese. How I admire multi-lingual people! Yet I am here, in a love affair with this bel paese, where they speak one of the most beautiful-sounding languages on the planet, and I feel like a 3-year-old in my language skills. I may get the gender right, but screw up the conjugation. I can only use four of the 21 tenses and I misuse prepositions all the time. How many times have I hit a point in a conversation where I have no idea what the right word is because my vocabulary is so small? (Non so la parola in italiano, ma….)
I tune in-and-out of conversations around me. Some days it is just too difficult and I revert to tourist-speak or totally block-out the people speaking mellifluous Italian around me. I was in my doctor’s office again the other day for post-surgery bandage removal. He and another doctor were chatting away while they cut off the mummy-wraps. I know they wondered if I was following along, and in fact may have been gauging my comprehension, but I was on a different plane. I was a bit stressed and had much on my mind that day (not to mention the fact that they were wielding scissors across my tender thighs). I tuned out when it would have been a marvelous opportunity to practice. Will the day come that I comprehend everything being said around me?
When we learn a language, we accomplish so much. It honors the people and the culture. Learning the language allows us to stand on our own and helps us navigate challenging situations without having to pray that someone else will come along with the language skills to help. I’ve written about how great the hospital staff was, and because we each knew some of the others’ language, with un misto di lingue I made it through. But what if Ric and I land in a situation where there is no misto? What if I have to make a go of it in Italian for health, safety, or legal reasons? I must become fluent. I have no right to assume someone will speak English here for my convenience.
When we learn the local lingo, we can participate in a conversation, not simply ask and answer survival questions. On a personal level, I want to be able to engage people in Italian. I envy these very social people who can chit-chat about anything, everything, and nothing. Mastery will allow me to better serve my employer and represent my country. I want to be able to make people laugh in Italian on purpose, not because I am so terrible at it.
I should give myself some credit for progress. In the three months I have been taking private lessons here, I have progressed thanks to the tutelage of my fantastic instructor. (Who will think I am sucking up when she reads this.) She makes me speak and causes me to think on the spot and try to muddle through in Italian. In fact, I think in just 6 months of living here, I have made more progress than I did in the prior 2 ½ years of community college classes, because outside of the classroom in Portland, I was surrounded only by English. Here the situational immersion is obviously of benefit, but those classes in the U.S. gave me a valuable foundation to build on. (Grazie Lina & Kathy!)
However, when someone speaks English better than I speak Italian, I will always go to that safe place, unless I get over my fear. I fear being wrong, miscommunicating, looking stupid. So what I am going to do about it? Reading and writing are an important part of becoming more sophisticated in the language. I do quite well at comprehension in simple readings and on the Internet. And although it takes a lot of effort, I am starting to be able to write more clearly in Italian. The process of forming sentences in writing, using my own thoughts, is powerful. I am tired of learning phrases like “Dobbiamo prenotare le camere in albergo per nostra vacanze.” (Pimsleur, I love you, but come on!)
Here is my plan, my commitment:
- I am going to write at least part of this blog in Italian as well as English
- I am going to put myself out there and attempt to engage more people in spontaneous conversation in Italian
- I am going to work comprehensively on one new vocabulary word a day. This means not a simple definition, but to more fully understand words with multiple meanings, words that are nouns and verbs, words that have colloquial expressions intimately tied to them.
Here is a link to this same material in Italian. (GoodDayRome, now in Italian, too!) By the time I post this, it will have been edited by my instructor as I have made this a part of my formal training. Over time, I pray the correction ratio will plummet as I get stronger.
She laughed when she read the part about “sucking up.”
Election night in Rome
7 NovPrior to coming to Rome, it did not occur to me that our American election would be of such great interest to the Italians. Even more surprising to me was the phenomenon of the Election Night Party held by American embassies worldwide. I was fortunate to attend the event last night and (ahem) work. (Grazie il capo mio!)
There is passionate interest in the election on the part of our Italian friends. Had Italy voted, I daresay the popular vote would be for President Obama.
The event started at 22:00 and by 23:00 there were about 2000 people in attendance. There a was Tex-Mex buffet (yum!), trays of donuts were passed by tuxedo-clad waiters, wine flowed freely, and I was almost trampled in the rush of people clambering for the 1000 hamburgers MacDonalds delivered. (All donations, my tax-paying friends. The U.S. Government does not foot the bill.) Here are a few shots taken with my phone.
Ambassador Thorne addresses the jubilant crowd. Election results were broadcast throughout the venue.
Mr. Romney stands alone as Mr. Obama attracts a fan.
An attendee strikes a pose with Mr. Obama’s cut-out.
What an opportunity this was! I voted by mail weeks ago and was able to celebrate the American democratic process in a way I never have in the U.S.
Our place in Rome
3 OctOur household goods and furniture arrived in July, 7 weeks after we did, but it took a little time to get all the pictures hung and acquire some new storage pieces to replace built-in shelves, cupboards, and closets that we have in our Portland condo. So here, at last, is a peek at our furnished digs in Roma. The “before” pictures are with embassy-provided temporary IKEA furniture. I have to say, although the temporary furniture was spartan, it was great to move right into our apartment, and not have to spend 7 weeks in a hotel room.
Living Room “before.” IKEA temporary furniture: no TV, rugs, nor accoutrement. Bed pillows and a throw added for color. 🙂
Pictures hung, the new TV that is seldom used: it feels like “home.”
Another living room view, looking toward the hallway and kitchen, with the lovely Libby passing through.
Dining Room “before.” This was our multi-purpose eating space and office.
Dining Room “after.” Still partly used as a home office. My desk is in the corner to the right. Ric’s desk is in his train room, but he hangs out with his laptop at the table so we are together.
Kitchen “before.” This is really a nice space but we needed more storage. Note the long empty wall on the right which we filled with…
… a nice wood-topped cabinet. From IKEA, of course!
Our IKEA cabinet. IKEA wanted €200 to assemble, so we scheduled a do-it-ourselves day. It was a very satisfying project. No one was injured.
Forgot to take a “before” picture of the bedroom. It was quite spartan, to say the least. Libby makes another rare appearance and models one of her favorite locations.
We still have some things to do. Perhaps acquire some local artwork for the bedroom, and I plan to hang some draperies before cold weather sets in. But we are “at home” here in every way. So are the cats, who have traded our small garden in Portland for a window sill 4 stories above the street in Rome.
Dare-devil Janie on the (very wide) window sill. The metal braces are part of the shutter assembly. Libby watches from the cat tower. Window screens are a rarity.
Girovaga 