Right now, as rain threatens California once again, I bask in the golden light of Italian language skills—or at least I would like to think I am happily basking. Let me define this “golden light” thing for you: I can get along very well in a restaurant or in a shop, I can even talk to my Italian neighbors for hours and hours over dinner, but I don’t ever make the slightest effort to turn on Italian radio because it’s sure to go over my head so quickly it would make me dizzy.
You see, I speak Italian like a three year old. I get my needs met. (If not I throw a fit which may or may not include tears.)
If you ask me of my Italian language skills in terms of the music inherent in just about every phrase spoken by a true Italian, I’d tell you I am “allegro, ma non troppo.”
You see, to become fluent in Italian might be nice, but it would take me out of the “golden light” into the harsh light of day. This would be unmitigated disaster. It would take all the romance out of Italy.
Here’s the thing. Right now I’m in California, yearning to be in Italy. We’ve just suffered through about 20 days of almost continuous rain after a month of no rain at all. Every dreary day I turn on the television to check out the weather channel. Every day some talking head tells me the same damn thing:
“Yes, today we’re in for another 3 inches of rain, turning to hail by early evening. Oh, isn’t that glorious! Don’t we just need all this rain! After all, we’re in a drought! Is this rain a drought-buster rain? Well, no, we need at least another 13 inches of rain, and the dark days will continue unabated; we should get that rain over the next week or so, mostly in sheets.
“So, will we get some sun after that? No! But you don’t want any sun. You see, by the time we get our 13 inches of rain in seven days, you folks out there watching the weather channel will be in a flood of biblical proportions! You don’t want to see that in the full light of midday, do you?”
“Oh, glorious rain!”
By that time I’m so depressed I could throw a brick through the television. (I don’t do it because with LCD screens violence against plastic is not as satisfying as it used to be with those antique, imploding, gas-filled tubes that sent shards of glass pinging against the walls and all.)
You see what I mean? If I watched television in Italy and understood what the Italian talking heads were saying I’d get into a wretched mood. I’d have to worry about what Berlusconi and the other crooks were up to; I’d have to endure the weatherman with his endless rain and the rising cost of pasta due to the flooding and heaven knows what other crap, repeated over and over, that’d raise my abused hackles like weeds in the garden. Plus, they charge a tax on televisions in Italy, if you can believe that.
Ignorance…no wait, half-ignorance is bliss.
Still, I do like to study the nuances of the Italian language. While I’m doing that, lots of new words creep into my vocabulary. I have to check every once in a while to assure myself that I’m not crossing the fluency line, but I can’t help it—I love learning new things.
In any case, I’ve discovered the bella lingua of Dianne Hales, whose new book, La Bella Lingua: My Love Affair with Italian, the World’s Most Enchanting Language, is finally out.
Dianne has a blog which is fascinating for those of us who fancy a peek into the crazy labyrinth of the Italian language. The title of her blog is Becoming Italian Word by Word. If you’re into la lingua take a peek.
What’s Dianne’s most recent topic? Weather! Wouldn’t you know.
Che tempo fa? Fa male.