{"id":10453,"date":"2016-11-08T18:00:35","date_gmt":"2016-11-08T23:00:35","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blogs.luc.edu\/goglobal\/?p=10453"},"modified":"2016-11-08T18:00:35","modified_gmt":"2016-11-08T23:00:35","slug":"my-first-real-italian-conversation","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogs.luc.edu\/goglobal\/?p=10453","title":{"rendered":"My First, Real Italian Conversation"},"content":{"rendered":"

“Fai una foto?”- \u00a0You take a photo?<\/em><\/p>\n

It was a Friday afternoon, and I had been journaling along Passeggiata del Gianicolo. It was a beautiful day, and I had found the most perfect view of the Vatican to inspire the day’s journal entries. Interrupted mid-sentence, I looked up at the older, Italian man who had spoken to me. He was holding out his phone.<\/p>\n

“Conosci parlare italiano?” – You know how to speak\u00a0<\/em>Italian<\/i>?<\/p>\n

I smiled, and responded, “S\u00ec, un po’.” –\u00a0Yes, a little<\/em>.<\/p>\n

“Ah, un po’.” He noticed I was\u00a0journaling, and said, “Scusa!” –\u00a0Excuse me!<\/em><\/p>\n

I smiled again and got\u00a0up to take his picture in front of the Vatican.<\/p>\n

“Bene?” –\u00a0Good?\u00a0<\/em>– I asked.<\/p>\n

He took his phone.<\/p>\n

“Conosci italiano?” he asked again.<\/p>\n

“S\u00ec, un po’.”<\/p>\n

“Scusa, grazie.” –\u00a0Thank you<\/em>.<\/p>\n

“Prego.” –\u00a0You’re welcome.<\/em><\/p>\n

I sat\u00a0down and picked up my journal, but he kept\u00a0talking.<\/p>\n

“Dei dove sei?” –\u00a0Where are you from?<\/em><\/p>\n

“Stati Uniti…a Chicago.”<\/p>\n

“Ah, America.”<\/p>\n

“S\u00ec.”<\/p>\n

We both smiled and I continued to journal. When I finished about ten minutes later, he was still there.<\/p>\n

“Scrivi in italiano o inglese?” –\u00a0You write in Italian or English?\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

I laughed, and told him\u00a0I was\u00a0writing in English.<\/p>\n

“Studi italiano? – You study Italian?<\/em><\/p>\n

“S\u00ec, studio in Balduina, at Loyola.”<\/p>\n

I started to pick up that he was\u00a0impressed\u00a0by my little knowledge of the Italian language when he asked, once again:<\/p>\n

“Parli italiano?”<\/p>\n

“Si, un po’. I miei amici e i mie insegnante parlano inglese.” –\u00a0My friends and my professors speak English.\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

“<\/em>Leggi italiano?” –\u00a0Do you read Italian?<\/em><\/p>\n

I responded yes. He told me it was\u00a0important that I knew\u00a0how to speak and read in Italian.<\/p>\n

He asked, “Che cosa tua nome?” –\u00a0What is your name?\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

“Mary Beth…Mary. Maria”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I’ve found it’s easier to just say Mary, or Maria, if they can’t understand me. Then I asked his name.\u00a0His name was Franco. We shook hands. By this point I had stood up. I was anxious to practice my Italian outside the classroom.<\/p>\n

“Uh, come si dice, ‘nice to meet you?’ I forgot, um, oh! Piacere!”<\/p>\n

He laughed. Then he said something about how I don’t speak Italian at school, but I could in Rome. He asked me when I had classes.<\/p>\n

I started, “Dalle luned\u00ec–” and he cuts me off, laughing. He prompts me to continue listing the days of the week in Italian, so I do.<\/p>\n

“…luned\u00ec, marted\u00ec, mercoled\u00ec, gioved\u00ec.” –\u00a0Monday thru Thursday<\/em>.<\/p>\n

“Finito? No venerd\u00ec, sabato, o domenica?” –\u00a0Finished? No Friday, Saturday, or Sunday?<\/em><\/p>\n

“S\u00ec.”<\/p>\n

He asked me when I was leaving Rome. I got excited because I was using phrases I learned in class.<\/p>\n

“Sono arrivata\u00a0in agosto e torno\u00a0in dicembre.” –\u00a0I arrived in August and I return in December<\/em>.<\/p>\n

My Italian professor would be so proud.<\/p>\n

He jokingly said something about how in December “andiamo,” or\u00a0we go,<\/em> back to this spot\u00a0and he can see if\u00a0my Italian has improved.<\/p>\n

“Ho lavorato ma…” – I worked, but…<\/em>he said, then pointed to his head and said a word I did not recognize. He said he had an Italian\/English dictionary in his car and went to get it. He then pointed at a word\u00a0that translated to\u00a0remember<\/em> and I concluded he had a poor memory.<\/p>\n

Then I figured I better continue on with my day.<\/p>\n

“Ho bisogno andare.” –\u00a0I need to go<\/em>.<\/p>\n

“Ah, s\u00ec.”<\/p>\n

I thanked him for letting me practice my Italian.\u00a0Then, like a true Italian, he pulled me in for a kiss on either cheek, and said:<\/p>\n

“\u00c8 importante, s\u00ec.” –\u00a0Is important, yes.<\/em><\/p>\n

And that was my first,\u00a0real Italian conversation. Despite stumbling on my words and not always\u00a0being grammatically correct,\u00a0I was able to communicate with him.<\/p>\n

These are the moments that make study abroad so extraordinary.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

“Fai una foto?”- \u00a0You take a photo? It was a Friday afternoon, and I had been journaling along Passeggiata del Gianicolo. It was a beautiful day, and I had found the most perfect view of the Vatican to inspire the day’s journal entries. Interrupted mid-sentence, I looked up at the older, Italian man who had … <\/p>\n

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