Double Trouble

One thing that I like about Italian is that, even more than in Spanish, every letter is distinctly pronounced.  I think this is why that, even though my Italian vocabulary is miniscule at this point, I seem to understand TV show and movies in Italian better than in French or Spanish.  What I mean by that is that the few words that I do know are so clearly uttered that I catch almost all of them.  In other languages, even a lot of words that I'm thoroughly familiar with slip by me, because they seem slurred or tripped over by the speakers.

If there is one thing about Italian that leaves me wanting, I suppose it would be its complex system of pronouns and how so many of them have to be accompanied by the appropriate definite article (alle, della, dagli, etc.).  When I first ran into these as I was learning grammar, I thought I'd never get the hang of it.  Now, though, after lots of practice, they seem pretty manageable after all.  Still, a lot of thinking has to go on when deciding what gender and number the noun is, because if you're wrong all the modifiers will also be wrong.  It takes awhile before this becomes more automatic.

Somethings that people find hard about Italian seem to come fairly easy for me.  The double consonant, for example.  I don't find distinguishing the pronunciation of mamma really that hard.  It's just a matter of timing.  Also it give the word a unique rhythm that make it fun to pronounce.


Do you have favorite things about Italian?  Things you find especially difficult?



For your reading pleasure, a poem by Giacomo Leopardi, with English Translation, borrowed from Wikipedia:

L'infinito

Sempre caro mi fu quest’ermo colle,  
e questa siepe, che da tanta parte  
dell’ultimo orizzonte il guardo esclude.  
Ma sedendo e mirando, interminati  
spazi di là da quella, e sovrumani  
silenzi, e profondissima quïete  
io nel pensier mi fingo; ove per poco
il cor non si spaura. E come il vento  
odo stormir tra queste piante, io quello  
infinito silenzio a questa voce  
vo comparando: e mi sovvien l’eterno,  
e le morte stagioni, e la presente  
e viva, e il suon di lei. Così tra questa  
immensità s’annega il pensier mio:
e il naufragar m’è dolce in questo mare.


This lonely hill was always dear to me,  
and this hedgerow, which cuts off the view  
of so much of the last horizon.  
But sitting here and gazing, I can see  
beyond, in my mind’s eye, unending spaces,  
and superhuman silences, and depthless calm,  
till what I feel
is almost fear. And when I hear  
the wind stir in these branches, I begin  
comparing that endless stillness with this noise:  
and the eternal comes to mind,  
and the dead seasons, and the present l
iving one, and how it sounds.  
So my mind sinks in this immensity:  
and floundering is sweet in such a sea.
(translated by Jonathan Galassi)