Meet Stefania e Pietro

I am Stefania and Ken is Pietro--at least for 6 hours every week. Together we are Stefania and Pietro. Italian lessons have begun!

Perhaps our new identities mean that we will soon be italiano fluent. But--if the first lesson experience is any indication, I will go to the grave being monolingual--Ken may do better but you will need to ask him.

Maybe if my history of language learning were less dismal, I would not now be wallowing in great pessimism. In the past I have tried French and Spanish--expending vast amounts of time and energy on the efforts--I was not a slackard at all. In fact, when working on Spanish, I had a Mexican secretary who faithfully would make me practice--or nothing got done as she, who was flawlessly bilingual, would speak to me only in Spanish. This was good because three-fourths of my parents spoke only Spanish.

Eventually I was able to carry on very rudimentary conversations with these parents who had such hopes and dreams for their children. But--after leaving that environment, I soon lost the language except for vocabulary--which sort of stays with you (much like never forgetting how to ride a bike once having learned.) This is quite helpful when in Spanish speaking countries as it is really quite important to be able to say donde baño when in desperation. Now I can also say dove è il bagno, per favore or per piacere--I actually have a choice! Truthfully, though, I did know how to ask this already--survival language, it is called.

Anyway, seriously, I am quite worried about this phase of our move because being able to communicate is so ultra important and the responsibility for this clearly rests on the shoulders of we immigrants. I know how incompetent I feel when just traveling in Italy (or another country) and so can not even conceive of what happens to self-concept when living there and being a perpetual tourist. This is not a nice thought--at all. Of course, the other alternative is always relying on our 8 year old for interpretation --another not nice thought. Thus---I am going to try very, very hard so that when August comes I will be able to communicate in the most basic of terms--which I am sure will cause heaps of inward laughter in the hearts of my listeners! But if they can understand that I want apples and not dish soap, I'll be somewhat successful. And I am told that Italians are very patient and kind to those who try to speak the language--except for the staff in the questura and other offices where one must, in all humility, get the necessary paper work to live there--legally.

That will be another story on another day--beginning with our experiences in March on our preparatory visit. And--that is assuming that we get our visas. Actually, this entry was going to be an update on where we stand on that--which is really no where. Or the entry was going to be on non-sequitors such as Cars, Dryers and Tacos--which, too, will wait until another day. Now, I am off to buy some clothes at Nordstroms.

Ciao e A Presto

Update: Back from Nordstroms--almost empty handed other than a pair of boots for Italy in March. But--I did finally understand why I am always wearing jeans and pants--that is all that is sold here in San Diego! No wonder I don't own skirts anymore--they just don't exist--unless you count those little skimpy, no material things that teen-agers wear.

I had decided that I needed a couple of classic, stylish long skirts--with nice slits for walking comfort--that look stunning with boots. Surely, I thought, this will be an easy task--but, no! I went to a multitude of stores and not one had anything remotely resembling what I was picturing. Maybe in Fireneze there will be something but the sales will be over and long skirts may be out of season. If I could sew--then voila!--resolved; however, I don't and so pants it will be.