Bloody Laurie Lee

I have unsurprisingly in the last few months taken more than an avid interest in travel books and other people’s ability to grasp a foreign language.
I only have one language qualification from school. A made up by Lady Mary High School or possibly Cardiff Education Authority Spanish certificate, of which grade 1 and 2 were achievable. I remember the aural vividly. Sat in the hall by the stage whilst being questioned in Cardiffian Spanish what my address and telephone number where. Spanish people we were told say their phone numbers in tens ie, thirty nine, twenty four, eighty three. It was easier for me to make up my phone number so it was zero two, zero four, zero nine. My teachers’ eyebrows queried my reply but nevertheless I became the proud owner of a grade 2 Spanish certificate. The first in my family to have a foreign language qualification, and too open my eyes to the opportunity of the big wide world- not. It remains my only language qualification, and I have never visited Spain.
Laurie Lee famously did visit Spain and when explaining learning the language he poetically describes how slowly words became understood and people patiently listening to his efforts.
Well I can attest to the patience of others whilst I struggle to remember the word for hot, take (of which there are at least 6) food, rain etc. My friends have been endlessly patient with me, and have amazingly not got bored of my pathetic attempts at their language and dumped me. Correcting my mistakes, translating normal Italian into basic, easy to understand, s l o w Italian and speaking on my behalf when I am asked a question, a) I generally don’t understand and b) I can’t reply with all the words required.
But Laurie managed in one sentence to boast that actually he hadn’t had that much problem with the language and given that the rural Spaniards would have spoken no English in the early 1930’s I think he was lying, or at least had forgotten just how hard it was.
Learning to speaking a language is, you are often told, is in stages. Like a baby. However, unlike a baby I have had to communicate with plumbers and shop assistants and doctors so the stages have needed to improve quickly and not quickly enough for my liking.
The first stage is an endless babble of words, spokenatbreakneckspeedofwhichyouhaveabsolutelynochanceofrecognisinganywordorphraseexcept perhaps the word caffe. The first word I genuinely learnt out here was cappuccino. It is not pronounced ‘capp o chi no’ here but ‘ca poo cho’. It remains the most important word I know. To sit in a coffee bar surrounded by people who are willing to put time and effort into being your friend in the knowledge that you are nothing but hard work is a very humbling experience and one I hope makes me a nicer person (doubtful). Even being told people’s names is too much. It took me 6 weeks to work out all the women who I met at the school gate names. And I spoke to them every day: well I stood and listened, and then one of them would ask me in English and explain the conversation.
Next comes a recognition that Italians do actually breathe whilst talking and certain words stand out and are understandable. It may only be one word in a paragraph, but dottore, influenza, iper (the supermarket and my second home here) and scuola mean that you have an idea of the subject being spoken about. But beyond that nothing. You start to si and no and continue to smile gamely during coffee and conversations. You need a translator next to you to explain the conversation.
The next stage is that you start you understand some of the new words you have learnt during lessons such as cucina (kitchen), zaino (rucksack- obviously). The words similar in Italian and English start to become more recognisable, and when saying a word you don’t know in Italian (ie most of them) you add an o or mente or ale on to the end in the hope it turns said English word into an Italian word; for example rarely becomes raramente, peculiar is peculiarle and my particular favourite –spectacturale. This works a good 80% of the time, but you still don’t understand what people are talking about. You need a translator next to you.
Conversing over coffee is a finely tuned art in Italy as you can imagine. Normally 5 or 6 mothers descend on the coffee shop each morning for a caffe macchiato and for me, a daily Italian lesson. There are some weekly attendees and the more occasional visitor’s to our morning ritual. Eight is alot. Eight means at least 9 conversations around the table and as I am fairly mute during the proceedings 2 people are busy. It won’t be the same 2 people. The second conversation is a moving dialogue, which starts as one conversation and then moves, not always in a circular motion missing some who are deep in conversation with someone on the opposite side of the table. ‘Ascolta’ is used frequently, as is ‘escua mi’ as disagreements and common ground are discussed with great passion. My only decision is to decide which conversation I am going to look as if I understand and then attempt to follow. Frequently conversations are based on Italian news and if I keep up to date with the news I can hazard a guess at the conversation. The Earthquake was a complete boon as it happened 3 weeks after we arrived and as you can imagine it dominated the news and conversations for a good few weeks. It came just before Easter and whilst wandering around the local Supermarket on Good Friday we had 2 minutes silence. Well everyone but Tara & I had 2 minutes silence. We were deep in conversation about what crisps she was likely to like when Tudor nudged us and said ‘They just said silenzio, suush’. ‘What for?’ I whispered back looking around me and noticing that indeed all was quiet. ‘Is it for Jesus or the earthquake?’ ‘I don’t know’ was the irate reply ‘I just heard silenzio’. This being Italy I could quite believe that a supermarket would have 2 minutes silence for Jesus on Good Friday but it turns out I was wrong. It was for the Earthquake victims.
Influenza A or Swine Flu to the Brits has also been a good conversation topic. Britain having had the first wave of Flu I was considered an expert especially when I regaled the tale of some friends getting Swine Flu. Thanks to my poor Italian my initial impression of the flu was that you vomited for 2 weeks which was a little extreme. Further interrogation established that the vomiting was only for a couple of days, the weakness lasted for 2 weeks. With such conversations my Italian improved.
I am now at the ‘I can understand the words but not the meaning’ stage. This means that I will get what words they are saying- anche, solo, capito, pero, abbiamo, era, maestra, but what all the words strung together mean is anyone’s guess. This is fine if I am just following a conversation, but the minute a specific question is asked of me I flounder or si when I should no, or I should be giving an opinion. Sentences are opposite structured here confusing it is very. I think I need to start watching Star Wars more to see that little chap talk more. I may understand more then. I can ask basic questions in Italian in shops or the hospital but flounder at the reply. However I still come across the deeply frustrating scenario where I ask for an item – latte (milk) and having been ‘non capitoed’ a number of times I get a oh latte repeated back to me in the exact same way I initially said it. And I can only speak Italian or understand after my first coffee with my mums- nothing before, just a Ciao or Buongiorno and a game smile.
I hope to reach the ‘Nearly understanding the language’ stage soon, but who knows. With each stage I cannot imagine improving or understanding more but slowly I might get there. One day I might be able to say ‘ Well I improved slowly but surely’. But how slowly may become a distant memory, but I doubt it. The frustration and embarrassment will be burned on my brain forever.

Signora McManoos

Birthday

Ciao a tutti,

This week has been my son's 11th birthday. His first away from home (which will forever be England) in Italy and he's been sick.

Properly sick, with whatever bug is going round. It could be Influenza A, it could be just a bug, but as in the UK we have not been told whether any other virus's are about its all (need italian accent) Influenza A. According to the news reports the main concentration of Flu A is Napoli. This doesn't surprise me. Its always Napoli. If someone is shot its in Napoli. If any Mafia are arrested its in Napoli. People are dying of Influenza A- its in Napoli.

So the birthday is on Monday, and the dizzyness, grey palour and sniffing start on Sunday. They are ignored as we have been invited to a friends Confirmation (Cresima). We have only been here 7 months, and feel very honoured to have been asked. The church is packed to the gills with standing room only, but we have seats. So when son turns grey and looks faint in church he and Dad are sent out to get a coffee and cake to revive small boy & keep going through the 2 hour church service, I desperately try & keep at least one of the seats. I fail. However it is outside the church the real party is taking place. When I pop out at some indeterminate point during the mass there are at least 60 people stood outside all chatting, and approximately 50% of them smoking. Its raining out there and is pretty miserable, but unlike inside the church there is air, and the ability to talk loudly (not even the Italians would talk loudly during mass, talk yes but not loudly). According to my husband the coffee shop is doing a sterling (well euro) trade during mass, with people popping in to get that caffine fix in an espresso cup and returning to church full of holy fresh coffee. One twix and a cappacino later boy is ready to face the rest of the day.
The lunch after Mass is at a local trattoria down a single track road. The car park is full & complete with umbrella's and coats we skip the puddles to make it to the patio where we are eating. Thankfully the patio has been enclosed in thick plastic for winter and has a stove burning (not near the plastic) and is cosy for the 40 of us in the party. Now much as I can string a couple of sentences together in Italian about all manner of subjects my understanding of what is being said back to me is limited, so there follows some very slow conversation with my poor Italian neighbour who doesn't know me whilst she endlessly repeats the most simple sentences.

After the first course of Antipasti and first glass of Vino Rosso I start to care less about my lack of understanding & rabbit on even more. There follows Risotto (one of my favorite dishes) of lovely creaminess, then squares of lasagna, then duck with funnel puree and roast apple, followed by chicken & rabbit in a potato and tomato sauce and more vino rosso. As each course arrives I'm not sure I can eat anymore but never one to be defeated by food I struggle on.
Prosecco and Cake finish the meal before we head back to our friends for Fruits of the Forest cheesecake & an orange cream dish the name of which I have been told a number of times, but as its Italian and not obvious like Pizza I always forget.

During this mammouth meal small boy with dizzyness plays outside in the rain and cold. My insistance of coat wearing is completely ignored in favour of finding dead frogs, alive cats and sparkly stones.

A warm bath is administered on our return but to no avail. Monday arrives with a temperature and more dizzyness. Merenda (tea for children) is cancelled with our neighbours and a small batch of fairy cakes with icing are made to stick candles in for Tanti Auguri & Happy Birthday later in the day. Plans for a meal out are postponed until well probably sometime before Christmas as is bowling with the Italian friend for a birthday treat (I am thankful for this for 2 reasons 1) I loath bowling and 2) I was dreading the whole dealing with and being responsible for an Italian kid for a number of hours outside of the safety of Magenta.

Daughter & husband have also gone down with the same bug so birthday week has turned into a nursing and disinfecting week for me with the added advantage of learning new phrases such as 'Can I have some cough medicine for an 11 and 8 year old please'.

However this has been the limit of this weeks Italian speaking as I have had to forgo my coffee with mums and the best Italian lessons I get every day. The television has also been taken over by the sickies and I have not seen any of my lovely Italian Cooking programmes this week. One of them is Ready Steady Cook in Italian which seems somehow much more glamourous than British RSC: no offence to Fern or Anslie and is set in the middle of a programme that makes my mouth water and improves my Italian recipe understanding no end. But instead we have had an endless diet of Doctor Who & Disney films.

Daughter is back to school tomorrow so only sick boys remain. I may go to the Outlet Store near Novara.

Arrivederci