Chi vuole imparare l’italiano? – Part One

Learning a foreign language is a form of self-discovery. It’s a personal renaissance. You become another version of yourself, and it’s divine. You’re starting over, and what a beautiful rebirth.

                                                                                          (Robyn Matthew, Language Logic)

After the summer holidays, I decided to switch gears and fully immerse myself in the Italian language by taking intensive courses, five days a week, right in the heart of the historic center of Naples. Before the summer I was unsure about making this decision, as the classes were costly and I would also be giving up incoming money to do this venture; but in the end, throwing myself into the Italian language was the best decision of my sojourn thus far. In conjunction with my solid grammatical foundation that my professors at UBC provided and my speaking and listening practice with Gio’s family and my Italian friends since May, taking intensive courses was exactly the push I needed to make it over my personal linguistic hill.

               Regarding my Italian classes, it was in my favor that there is currently a global economic crisis and that Naples has been getting bad press recently (for example, the American who got robbed minutes after walking off his cruise ship and subsequently died from falling and hitting his head during the ordeal). These factors have, unfortunately for the school, resulted in a drop in registration this year. Obviously, for a selfish language student such as myself, I benefitted tremendously from the low registration. For example, one week there were no other advanced students, so I had private lessons for the entire week. I was in linguistic heaven! Some students might find four hours of personal lessons a bit much, but at my level and in my situation (where I’m speaking Italian all day anyways), it was gloriously useful. I was able to take the time to work out the details, such as my bewildering mental block when pronouncing the stress correctly in the first-person plural of the imperfetto tense.

               Even though I did have one luxurious week of underpriced personal attention, there were other students coming and going in a steady flow, in my classes and the other levels. The Centro Italiano is a language school for foreigners, which means there is an ethnic mix of students; but, more importantly, there is quite a mix of reasons why each student has come to the school. I stayed longer at the Centro than the average student, so I got a good cross-section of the types of people who come to learn Italian. Here is a list of types of people who came to Naples to immerse themselves in the language. A number of people straddle two or even three categories, but for the most part, this is who I encountered . . .

The lovers

Le innamorate degli uomini italiani – The lovers of Italian men

I’ll start with the category with which I identify myself most.  Italy is sensually and romantically abundant in just about every way imaginable, from the food, to the art, to the weather and, of course, to the men. I say “men” instead of “people” because, as one of my teachers told me, in her 20 years of teaching at the Centro, less than five foreign men have taken classes to brush up the language of their Italian girlfriends. For whatever reason, which I still haven’t quite figured out (though I’ve heard many theories), Italian woman are less likely to fall for a foreign man than their male compatriots. The Italian men, however, seem to have made it their duty to make up for this shortcoming in love that Italian women bestow upon foreigners.

Let me confess that before studying at the Centro, I felt like my situation with Gio was unique and, well, special. It was humbling to be reminded that, no, we are not the only two people from different countries who’ve fallen in love. And no, we are not the only two people who’ve ever had to make some fancy life maneuvers to be with each other. In fact, according to the teachers at the Centro, just by taking a look at me and guessing my age, they’d have more than a 50% chance of guessing why I had come to take Italian classes.

So, while Gio and I may not be completely unique, we are in good company. It’s interesting to compare all of our respective situations, and see just how each couple is making things work. If there is a will, there is a way, especially when love is concerned. And, if learning a new language is a product of love, then I’d say a cross-cultural relationship is probably one of the best things a gal can do for her brain!

The military wives

Naples is host to an American military base, as well as various big-name industries. A number of women have chosen to follow their husbands on duty across the ocean to Italy. Because of the frustrating work-permit situation in Italy, along with the fact that it is very hard to get work if you don’t speak the language, taking language classes is a productive way to fill the day – and necessary if the woman wants to get work. For the most part, the women I’ve met are vivacious, late-twenty-somethings who plan on being in Naples for a finite period of time (from six weeks to a few years). Because of the temporary nature of their sojourns, the English speaking company they have in Naples, and an English speaking partner, there is definitely a difference in linguistic motivation between the two groups of lovers. I feel linguistically fortunate to be able to demand to Gio that “We are only speaking to each other in Italian from now on” (which I did!)

Those who are making optimum use out of their golden years

I have a particular sense of respect towards this group of learners. What an inspirational way to spend the time after a whole adult life of working! The people I’ve met in this category are about as far from the rocking chair as I can imagine; because, if they keep going with their linguistic pursuits, I’ve heard that language learning creates the same type of brain synapses that reduce the likelihood of diseases such as Alzheimers.

I hold these men and women in such high esteem because not only have they chosen to continue learning, but they have chosen to do this Naples. Naples is not an easy city for even the strapping-est of lads. It’s chaotic. It’s got ongoing garbage issues. It’s got the most incredible traffic in the Western world. On my walk to the Centro from the train station alone any number of things can, and did, happen: someone may just bark in your ear as you pass, another someone may follow you half a block pestering you for one of the cough drops you just popped into your mouth, or, perhaps! someone a good thirty years your senior might try to hit on you while you are trying to enjoy your morning cappuccino. I must have the luck of a whole SPCA’s worth of cats on my side, since I almost got hit by a car or a scooter every. single. day. My elbow did get bashed once by a side mirror as I was talking on my cell phone, and I still consider myself quite lucky. My point is, anyone with any sort of mobility issues is going to find the constant inundation of people and traffic very hard to deal with.  

To be fair, two particular golden-year friends I made have both expressed to me that they probably wouldn’t chomp at the bit to return to Naples anytime soon. Along with everything else, both were staying right in the center of the city, where the noise is unrelenting, even in the “dead” of night. However, both were able to get a lot out of their experiences in Naples, which is an incredibly rich city in terms of culture and art. And, I know that my new friends will be continuing their pursuit of proficiency in the Italian language. In some way or other, Naples and the Centro managed to foster their love of the Italian language.

Getting on an airplane, at the age of 65+, to attend classes, in the most chaotic city in Europe, with predominantly younger students, is an inspiration. They have become role models for me to never stop learning.

This is a two-part blog, since there are just too many people to speak about who want to learn Italian. Stay tuned for Part Two!

Questo blog è dedicato a Sandra ed Emma per la pacienza, l’aiuto e l’inspirazione che ogni giorno mi hanno dato. 

Party time

No matter the time of year, Italy seems to be in a state of constant celebration. For example, this summer I passed many weekends in the neighbouring hill town of Casertavecchia, and from there, Caserta below would explode in sporadic firework displays almost every night, commemorating some sort of sagra, saint, or personal achievement. They don’t call it la dolce vita for nothing, and here’s why…

A sagra is an Italian word for a town festival. Sagre happen on a regular basis all around Italy, and for the most part, these celebrations are all about, of course, food. Next month in Napoli, there is La Sagra delle Pizze (where I’ve been told, Japanese pizzaioli have won the competition for the past few years running!) In Tuscany there are sagre commemorating such things as funghi, cinghiale and, without a doubt, la bistecca. Sagre are all over Italy, but more typical in smaller towns. It’s basically an excuse to eat copious amount of the food that is in season at the moment, in a festive environment (like, firework displays).

Another community celebration is for the patron saint, santo patrono, of the town or city. Naples has a patron saint, San Gennaro, Caserta has a patron saint, Sant’Anna, and all of the other small towns and suburbs in between have their own respective patron saints. Usually the bigger cities have bigger celebrations, but that doesn’t mean that the smaller towns don’t know how to honour their saint in style. This summer, I thought the celebration for Sant’Anna would never end, as Caserta was decorated with all sorts of fanfare for weeks on end. But, Naples takes the cake for saint days, with San Gennaro providing a miracle not one, not two, but three times a year! In May, December and, most importantly, on September 19^th (the official saint day), San Gennaro’s sacred coagulated blood liquefies, much to the delight of the Catholic masses. There is a procession with his blood and statue from the Duomo as the streets are packed with devoted Napolitani, who all have the day off work. Saint days, from what I’ve seen here in Campania, are mix of religious tradition and modern celebration. Like many Canadians on days like Victoria Day, for the most part, people are just happy to enjoy a day off.

Speaking of Saint Days, not only does each town and city have their own saint, but each person has their own saint too. This personal day of celebration is called an onomastico, poorly translated as best it can be into English as “Name Day.” Most Italians have a name which is also a name of a saint, and each saint has their own day. I got creative, to make sure I didn’t lose out on all the onomastico fun, by figuring out which Italian name best corresponds to my own (Maddalena). To celebrate, relatives give each other money and homemade cakes are baked and then distributed to family members. Some people might have a special dinner with their immediate family. Basically, an onomastico is a slightly toned-down version of a birthday.

Birthdays are more or less celebrated in the same way they are around the world, with a few added details. If a person has a birthday party, the friends invited will all chip in to buy one big, expensive gift all together. Small personal gifts are just not done. Presents from relatives is generally cash and there is also a special immediate-family dinner. There is however one particular birthday that gets a lot of attention in Italy: the 18^th birthday. I’ve been very lucky that Gio’s brother here in Campania, and Gio’s cousin up in Tuscany, both did me the honour of turning eighteen in the time that I’ve been here. What makes this birthday different from other birthdays is the fanfare involved in terms of present giving and lunch eating. Both boys had five course meals in wonderful restaurants, one in the medieval town of Casertavecchia and the other in a castle in San Moltepulciano, with about 20 guests invited to each affair. The lunch progresses at a luxurious pace, because no one will be doing anything after eating that amount of food. After being fed to the point of bursting, an Italian eighteen-year-old is fit and fed for his passage into adulthood.

               In my opinion, there is a second celebration that more appropriately signifies passage into adulthood than the 18^th birthday: la festa di laurea (the graduation party). Most Italians continue to stay at home during their university careers, which is a financial strategy I know and appreciate well. The difference is, the age that an Italian student graduates can vary a lot, with the majority of Italian students staying at home into their late twenties or sometimes longer, if they can’t find a job (which is a major problem in Italy). If a student takes longer than the time it should take to graduate (between 3-5 years, depending on the program), the student is fuori corso – off track. Students who finish on time are definitely in a better position to find a job, since employers look at how long it took them to graduate to gauge their moxy. The catch-22 is, since said employers seem to be a scarce commodity, students are less than motivated to finish their degrees on time to impress these phantoms and step out into the “real world” of high unemployment rates. These sociological factors make la festa di laurea a real shindig, because graduating is a real achievement of adulthood. Students usually have a meal with family that is comparable to the 18^th birthday affair, but the gift giving is quite a bit more extravagant. Another restaurant party often happens with friends, usually with a more casual meal service, like a buffet. Again, friends chip in to buy the graduate a nice gift. I’m looking forward to the celebrations next month, for Gio’s second graduation party, for his Masters degree!

The final celebration, la crème de la crème of all celebrations, is of course, the Italian wedding. I had the honour of being invited to a wedding a few weeks ago, and got a taste of the elegance and extravagance of a traditional Italian wedding. Italy is well known as one of the world’s most romantic destinations, and the people of Italy hold this reputation true by celebrating proudly and lavishly the most important day for a couple in love. To begin, the traditional Italian wedding is a whole-day affair, from late morning to midnight. This wedding started in a beautiful medieval church, where the priest swiftly made his way through pages of religious scripture. (Much to my delight, the service was “subtitled” with a word-for-word booklet of the priest’s speeches during the service, making it possible for me to understand what was going on.) After the service, rice was thrown, balloons were unleashed into the atmosphere, pictures (upon pictures upon pictures) were taken, and everyone migrated to a villa in a neighbouring town to start the feasting.

A wedding feast to end all wedding feasts.

Though, the word “feasting” doesn’t fully encompass the amount of food that was presented at this wedding. The banquet was bookended by two buffets, an appetizer buffet and a dessert buffet, which could have fed everyone to satisfaction on their own; however, in between the buffets was a nine-course parade of Southern Italian delicacies, alternating gracefully between land and sea based dishes. Between two in the afternoon and almost nine o’clock at night, the dishes were served, wine was drunk, and entertainment (singing and dancing, mostly) got everyone moving enough to shake down the preceding course into our bellies, so that we could all make room to eat again. The evening ended with the dessert buffet of wedding cake and about ten different other pastries. During this stage of the festivities, everyone was invited to a decorated gazebo to make their own take-home “confetti” packages (small hard-candy favours), just in case anyone would be craving something sweet later on. The guests also all received a bomboniere, which in this case was a gift of Murano glass, to keep as a memento of the day.

If I’ve learned one thing from all of these festivities, it’s that Italians sure know how to throw a party. And if I could give one piece of advice to someone going to an Italian party it would definitely be: come with an empty stomach.

As always, comments and questions are welcome!