Now and then someone asks me how I am doing in my effort to speak Italian. I am far from fluent, but I am able to communicate in a basic manner. Our friend Francesco rated a recent email I sent him as an A- in Italian, but I think he was too generous. Maybe a B- would be fair. The good thing is I am self-correcting on many grammatical issues; the bad news is that I often realize I need correcting after I hit “send” or after I open my mouth.
The other day I told someone what he wanted, (vuole) when I meant to tell him what I wanted (voglio). And today I had to run through all six possibilities in conjugating a verb (I, you informal, he/she/you formal, we, you plural, they) before the “they” form popped out of my mouth while the Italian I was speaking to gaped at me wondering what was going to spew forth after my long pause.
This is a culo.
A few weeks ago my niece shipped us a portable crib in anticipation of their arrival with a two-year-old. When I went to pick it up at the Diplomatic Post Office they commented on the big box we had received. As I try to practice my Italian there – and they indulge me – I told them it was a culo. Cue the uproarious laughter as I told them she had sent me a “rear end.” The word I was after was culla. So many opportunities to make a culo of myself.
For my linguist friends, I think the International Language Roundtable would put me at a 2 to a 2+ on a good day. I am not certain whether wine helps or hurts my efforts.
This is a “culla.”
Girovaga 