La festa del ringraziamento

23 Nov

This is before we had the grappa.

I’m a little drunk right now (10:30pm). It might be because of the grappa the Swedes at the next table insisted we needed to try. We decided a few weeks ago that we could not recreate the usual American holiday spent with family and friends (you know who you are: Jonnie, Veronica, Barry, Derek, John, Susan, Debbie, Eddie), so we chucked it all and decided to embrace a different sort of Thanksgiving. We decided to continue our exploration of this marvelous city. Ric has to work tomorrow, and I committed to a couple of hours on Saturday, so leaving Rome was not an option.  We embarked on an urban hike up Monte Mario.It was a lovely fall day in Rome. We can see Monte Mario from our windows in Parioli and for

The green path up Monte Mario. Only 450 feet high!

the 6 months we have lived here have said, “We need to go see what’s up there.” So today was the day. Monte Mario is officially the highest peak in Rome at 450 feet. (Yes, Oregonians, it is a lightweight. Even Minnesota has a higher peak at Eagle Mountain. People here are always asking us how we manage the “hills” of Rome. To an Oregonian this is flatland.) Monte Mario was lovely! Rome is spread out at your feet, and the hoards are left far behind as only locals make the trek, often with their dogs. There is a magnificent vista from a cafe where we indulged in espresso and croissants. (Pictures from the top were less than stellar due to haze, but it was really quite stunning in person.) In 2 1/2 hours we covered Monte Mario and the Foro Italico (site of the 1960 Olympic Games and current soccer stadium). Great exercise. Va bene. In fact, this reminded us so much of our Portland “urban hikes” it was amazing!

We could be in Portland or in Rome, at this point.

So we explored a bit of Rome we had not seen before and worked off our dinner before we ate it.

We thought briefly about cooking a turkey. Very briefly. It’s a lot of work for only two people.  Once we discarded that idea of cooking, it was easy to decide what to do. This evening

Best melanzane al forno anywhere. If you come to visit I will take you here, blindfolded, I don’t want everyone going here.

we ventured to our favorite trattoria, where we were warmly greeted by the staff as we go here often (and have for two years now). With Australians on one side and Swedes on the other, we feasted on mussels, melanzane al forno (eggplant parmesan), and trippa. (Ric ate the trippa. I’m not having any part of that!) The mussels here are sweet and delicious. I could eat them all night. We also indulged in dessert and the Swedes insisted we needed to try the “good” grappa. My it was good! But it was also a good thing we weren’t driving! Every time we go to this restaurant we end up in conversation with wonderful people: Italians, Aussies, Swedes, French. (Not often Americans.) There were toasts to our American holiday, and reminiscing about favorite holidays in our respective countries. How lucky we are to have this experience in international living!Much love to you, our American friends and family. We’ll “do” turkey and all the trimmings with you again one day, but for 2012 this was our celebration. Hope yours was festive and that you were surrounded by love.

Fear of Speaking

14 Nov

Pasquino, the most famous “talking statue” in Rome. Used since the 16th century to post messages and claims.

Italiano  

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 Nov
Prior 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.

Via Appia Antica

5 Nov

For the past few decades, there have been efforts by the State to preserve and protect the historic area, limiting construction, acquiring private property.

We’ve been wanting to take this trek for over a year. Missed it last December, and summer was too hot, so now that fall is here we took advantage of the Italian holiday (All Saints’ Day) on November 1 and ventured out.  I gave my “new” legs about an 8km (5 mile) test, the longest walk I had since prior to surgery. It felt great! It is difficult to believe this is so close to Rome: just a quick Metro + bus ride away.

Not much of a narrative this time, just some pictures to share.

Ruins of a famous villa and “circus” or chariot race track.

Very peaceful stretch of the Via Appia Antica. That’s Ric meandering in the distance.

A peek through the gates at a private estate.

We encountered many cyclists during our walk. We think the ancient stones would be a tough ride, but there are some dirt paths alongside the road.

Piece of a sarcophagus

Along the road one sees many artifacts such as this statue.

Tombs once lined the ancient road. There are some intact crypts to visit, and many crumbling structures such as this one.

Happy Halloween

31 Oct

Today is a red-letter day: my bandages came off! Don’t worry, I won’t scare you with the dopo-intervento (after surgery) photos. My doctor says it looks good despite heavy bruising. It was only 6 days ago I had the procedure — and 6 very long days in bandages taking sponge baths. Now I feel free-as-bird without all that added bulk, and I can go back to walking 7km per day.

I cannot adequately describe the positive experience this has been and how pleased I am at the outcome. My legs are a mess now, but already the pain I was experiencing is non-existent. I credit my doctor for making the whole process easy. I had confidence in him from the minute I met him. As you know from my previous post, the hospital was excellent. While there were “moments” for me traversing this landscape with my limited Italian, I am glad I put myself out there and got the problem addressed. And I am oh-so-glad that many of you had a belly laugh at my expense. A few people have approached me and said “I need to get that done.” Ladies, do it! Wear the doggone compression stockings and get the problem addressed. Maybe you can do a medical vacation and have it done in Rome. 🙂  I can make a referral.

Today is Halloween, which is not really celebrated here. There were a couple of parties last weekend, but this time of year is really about the religious holiday of All Saints’ Day. So tomorrow, we have the day off. We get the Italian and the American holidays off, which means November is truly blessed: 1 Italian and 2 American holidays.  I believe the count is 6 extra holidays for us in 2013. Just to make my American colleagues feel better, if an Italian holiday falls on a Saturday or a Sunday, we do not get the corresponding Friday or Monday off.

We have no Butterfingers or Snickers tonight, and no cute kids in costume, but there is a nice primativo open and some dark chocolate around here somewhere. My friends also know I used to decorate the yard for Halloween, and my office was decked out the past few years as well. In celebration of getting my bandages off, and in honoring the day, here is my decoration for tonight.

Happy Halloween! The mummy bandages from last week have been replaced by my Halloween pumpkin socks. 

Bonus photo: Scene at Campo dei Fiori last weekend.

Just like the Portland Farmers’ Market, but with better espresso. I do miss the Santa Rosa Burritos, though. Can someone ship one here?

 

 

Girovaga

Formerly GoodDayRome

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