Firenze: Il primo giorno

Good news! It is difficult for me to switch back to writing in English after a wave of motivation to use Italian overtook me in the past 24 hours! I managed to go out and find a bookstore (librarie) yesterday afternoon, thanks to the handy energy supplied by a superb cup of post-pranzo gelato. I scoured the store looking for titles I thought would be interesting and also appropriate for my Italian level. Tempting as it was to walk away with Italian “literature” or a translation of The Da Vinci Code, I opted to stick with my guns, and buy a copy of Harry Potter in Italian, as is my wont, and also a copy of Le avventure di Pinocchio. It was in this interaction that my confidence was boosted, because I forced myself to tell the shopkeeper that I thought these books would be the right level for my Italian, and she SO sweetly responded in slow, simple Italian that Pinocchio is for readers from ages 3 to 99, and I was so chuffed. Thankfully, too, my American accent is virtually undetectable, much as it was in France (whether from singing or from the influence of the other languages I have studied, which was the case with my slightly German-accented French), so I think if I try, people will respond in kind.

Ever since then, I have been feeling the spirit. Especially after last night’s welcome dinner. We have an amazing team of leaders working on this program, and a brilliant group of young, adventurous undergraduates who are so happy to be here. I continue to feel more and more clear that I am meant to be working with this age group as my vocation- because they have so much life and spirit. They are so smart and interesting, brave and ebullient. I am, afterall, reentering this phase of my life in a way :-) Joie de vivre. I even got up and sang a Verdi aria at this dinner (before the tiramisù), which speaks to my trust of this group to not value me only for my singing (as the “talent” or the entertainment”). I came home and watched some Italian Netflix and cracked open one of my new books until my jetlag allowed me enough sleepies to fall asleep. Then, as I suspected might happen, because what I consume before bed often suffuses my overnight subconscious dalliances, I woke up with Italian brain. So rather than waste this language-learning gift, I wrote my morning pages in Italian, surprising myself sentence after sentence with how capable I was of expressing myself, not ever getting so frustrated as to switch to English and looking up a few words to get my points across.

I recognize that though I am living in Italy for 6 weeks, most of my time here will be spent speaking and listening to English. It is not a language program nor an immersive Italian experience. But I have opportunities, nonetheless, to stretch these muscles that I have been gaining all year in a special way for the next month and a half. All year, I have spoken Italian with a very special group of humans who all embarked on the same year-long journey together. We bonded from the very first day in our vulnerability of not even being able to introduce ourselves- like babies. Then, over the course of the year, we grew and matured to being able to talk about what we wear and when, what we did yesterday, our likes and dislikes, what we would like to do in the future, what are issues with the environment and immigration, etc. I have only spoken Italian with this beautiful and gracious group of people, but now, little birdie is launching out of the next, into a bright and beautiful world that is the point of language learning in the first place.

Alas! I sat down to write about my first day in Italy and not a manifesto on the benefits of language-learning. Scusate!

I made it to Florence with no issues- thanks to a ride to the airport from my friend Jefferson and a book my friend Sofia gave me last year for my birthday. The train ride from Rome to Florence was fascinating: first it was seeing Rome again, 11 years since my first trip, and being cowed by the depth of history looming between modern buildings. I must admit that I have quite a crush on Rome at the moment. Before long we were out of the city and chugging through the Tuscany countryside. In my jetlag, it hardly felt real. Everything from the window of the train looked like it came straight out of a movie, and I thought how much my mother would have loved that train ride. My fellow program assistant and his partner made it onto the same train from Rome, so it was much more pleasant to drag our heavy suitcases across the Florentine cobblestones together as we made our way to our residences, a half block away from the duomo. Having seen pictures of the duomo, I didn’t understand all the fuss- until it was there in front of me. Cathedrals have a way of doing that. The details and the vastness just can’t quite be encapsulated via graven image.

The day of arrival, I did little more than soothe my suffering jet-lagged self. But yesterday, the fun began! We took a short walking tour of the environs and then strapped in for our program orientation. We had a hysterical scare session with the head of housing, Daniela, who put the fear of God into these undergraduates as she lectured on the danger of forgetting your keys, of being out late and alone in Florence and o doing other stupid things that a grown human should know better than to do. It was comedy gold- not just Daniela’s dry delivery and turns of phrases in English, but the looks on the faces of some of these young adults. I do not think they will be forgetting their keys any time soon.

The icing on the cake was when we got back to the residence, and on our way out for lunch, my fellow PA and his partner managed to leave (lock) their keys in their apartment . We laughed and laughed at the irony of this situation, which was an honest mistake, and one that was easily fixable given the time of day.

That’s a wrap for day 1. Stay tuned for more tales from Italia.

Marie in Italy