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| My host mom, Graziella |
That means “bad words” in Italian. We have a lot of fun in our Italian class. We are always asking Fiora for…. Lets say slang words. But if you think about it, at home we don’t speak textbook English either, and its not like Italians are speaking textbook Italian. I’m just trying to assimilate…
I am almost done with my Corso Intensivo. For 3 weeks, I will have Italian class for 5 hours a day, 6 days a week. I have already had 2 out of 3 exams. I’m in the intermediate level, but I definitely have the smallest background in it. I took 1 year of Italian 2 years ago, but it was only 1 year and that was 2 years ago… Spanish helps and it hurts. I understand all the grammar and concepts and know how to use it, but I just have needed to learn the Italian counterparts. Whenever I don’t know a word in class, I just use the Spanish word and I have about a 50 percent chance of being mostly right. Sometimes, it is exactly the same, just spelled differently (Que = Che. Cuando = Quando). Other times, it is more or less the right word, just slightly different (la actividad = la acctività. Las montañas = Le montagne. Igual = Ugual). My teacher, Fiora, says I need to stop with the Spanish, but I find I have a somewhat good chance of being close or right so…..
I have never taken so many notes in one day before. Ever. And it is every day. Literally, every time Fiora says a word I don’t know, I write it down. Which is about every other word. Before in Spanish class, it was never like that. I only studied the words I was going to be tested on. Now, I literally need to know every single word I can. This has been the most applicable class to my immediate life I have ever taken. I learn new words and grammar and then go and use it immediately at home with my family. Every day, I understand my host parents more and more (don’t get my wrong, it’s still rough). I know my Italian is still very rough because Livio has trouble understanding me. Graziella is always repeating what I say to him, but faster and more in depth.
We love repeating what Fiora says in class. When she is speaking Italian, she sounds like she is singing. She always says ALLORA, but more like AH-LOOOOOR-AAA, kind of a like a song. It’s precious. Allora means “so” and Italians use it frequently when talking, kind of like how we use it, or like.
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| Graziella's daughter, Simonetta, and granddaughter, Elena |
I finally got my class schedule today. It’s a pretty sweet schedule, or at least I’m chill with it. My intensive Italian course is worth 6 credits, and my 3 credits of Italian the rest of the semester is still more class time than 3 credits of Spanish at VT in a semester. Crazy. I’ll have Italian Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday 9 to 11 and Friday 11 to 1. Tuesday we have this reflective writing class where we write in our journals in Italian about our experiences about Italian and Sienese life. That’s from 11 to 12, then I have the History of Italian Cuisine 12:30 to 2:30. I’m so excited for that class. We’ll get to have tastings and take trips and learn about all the different food. YUM. Wednesday I have Art history of Italian Renaissance from 12:30 to 3:30. What’s incredible is that most of the artwork we will be studying, we will ACTUALLY BE LOOKING AT. Museum trips up the wazoo. Incredible. No textbook pictures for me. Thursday I actually have no classes. PARTY. Just kidding mom. And Friday before Italian is my internship reflection class for an hour. I will actually be interning, teaching English to elementary school students. I am beyond excited for this. Our directors said that they notice the most improvement in Italian for students through service. It’s crazy, but I’m stoked. I’ll teach probably at least 5 one hour classes a week, but I don’t know the times yet.
BY THE WAY, all of my classes are taught IN ITALIAN. Yes, that means no English whatsoever. Yes, that means I will be writing SEVERAL 8-10 pages papers IN ITALIAN. I dread writing 8 to 10 page papers in ENGLISH. Well, welcome to Italy!
Goodness gracious, has it been a lot though, almost overwhelming. It just hit me that I’m not just in Italy, but I’m IN ITALY. I’m not just taking a bucket of Italian and dumping it over my head until I dry in the Italian sun. No, I’m completely submerged in Italian, where you look overhead and you can’t see what’s above the water clearly. The water is a little cold, but diving in makes it easier. The current doesn’t slow down for you whatsoever. You can either drown, or swim, and I’m going to swim as far as I possibly can.