Aiuto! Murdered by Vowels

Curiously, it's not the double consonants or the softer d's and t's of Italian that drive me to distraction as I'm studying the language--it's all those clustered vowels, such as the word for spoon:  cucchiaio.  Here we have four, count 'em!, vowels all in a nice neat row--and two of them are the same.  To my knowledge (and I could easily be wrong here) there are no English words that contain this many consecutive vowels.  Consequently, words like these are special challenges when it comes to proper pronunciation.  Most English speakers would try to make the 'iaio' into a diphthong, so that it comes out sounding sort of like 'ow,' as in 'ouch, that hurts!'  And how it does hurt.  It takes a lot of practice for me to say ee-ah-ee-oh, quickly enough that it doesn't sound weird.  

Even a simple and common word like euro is very difficult for me to master.  In English, we'd just say Your-oh, just two simple sounds, and that's that.  

And the very thing that makes Italian unique and lovely, it's lavish use of vowels presents yet another pronunciation hurdle.  Often when a word ends with a vowel and is followed by another word that begins with a vowel, the custom is to merge the two vowel sounds.  What this does is tighten up the flow of the words, so that it's not quite as easy to tell when one ends and the next one begins.  Sometimes this is indicated by an apostrophe, such as quest'anno.   Other times, the speaker is just expected to know when to run the words together.  This, of course, has it's purpose--to make the transition from the first word to the second smoother, but a little at the expense of clarity.  Still, like other language difficulties, after hours of practice, it begins to come naturally and we get the hang of it.

It seems that the Italian word for vowel is vocale; it's easy to see how both words came to us from 'Old Italian,' known better as Latin.  

A presto...

Ascolti! Capisci?

Understand?

Got a message from one of my Italian pen-pals today.  She said she wrote and understood English very well, but had trouble speaking and reading it.  Odd that it's almost just the opposite with me.  I could probably babble my way through a simple Italian conversation (though there would be lots of long pauses) and I can read it with the help of a dictionary, but it's the spoken Italian that I have the most problem with--though not nearly as difficult as spoken French.  This is especially interesting for me in that it seems to me that spoken English is very hard to comprehend.  There's so much slurring and colliding of words--and so many idioms and slang expressions used in a normal English conversation.  I'll have to ask her what her secret is.


Do some people just have more sensitive ears than others?  Can some recognize foreign sounds more easily?  As I've mentioned before, Italian seems to me to be enunciated with clarity and precision, so I've often felt that I'll be quicker in getting to the point where I can understand Italian spoken at a normal pace than either French of Spanish.  There are times when I'm listening to a Spanish or French TV program or film when I feel that I'm not catching a single word the actors have uttered.  Part of this stems from the fact that actors are reciting memorized lines; thus, they may be expressing more complex ideas than people normally would in day-to-day conversation. Perhaps it's better to listen to interviews.  Or, a friend sent me a brief sample of an e-book of The Communist Manifesto in Italian.  Just as he pointed out, so many of the words were anglicized Latin words (a lot of words ending in 'tion') that it gave the impression of being very easy to understand the gist of the book.

Any language is easier to read than to speak, in my opinion.  And most are easier to write, with the exception of  graphic-styled languages such as Chinese or Hindi.  So, in the meantime, I'll keep listening.  ...and I'll keep writing.

A presto...

Ever Wonder Why Italy Stayed Home?

 Sophia Loren doing the Mambo Italiano.  Bellissima!

I've often wondered why Spanish ended up spreading all over the planet and Italian sort of stuck to Italy and nearby.  I've wondered to that if Cristoforo Colombo had sailed to America on Italian ships instead of under Spanish authority, everyone in Latin American would be speaking italiano instead of spagnolo.  It just seems that the Spanish conquistadores were especially good with absorbing their conquests into their language and culture. 

Even now, in spite of the fact that Americans and the British profess to adore the Italian language, it still ranks fairly low in languages studied by non-Italians.  I've resisted it myself, convincing myself time after time that Spanish would be more useful, since Spanish speakers are all around me, but it seems I always find myself switching from Spanish and French instructional material and YouTube videos to the language that most inspires me.  

Now, for difficulty comparisons.  French seems easy to me, but probably because I've had years of formal training in it--though, as I've discussed in other posts, it seems to me the hardest to comprehend when spoken quickly.  Spanish superficially seems pretty simple, but as you begin to delve into the advanced grammar, it definitely has its quirks and difficult verb conjugations.  Italian grammar is hard at first, but gets easier.  But of all three, Italian seems to me the easiest to grasp when spoken at a normal speed.  Italians seem to leave a tiny bit more breathing space between words.  French and Spanish do a lot of running entire phrases together.  

But I've covered all this before.  Every language has its challenges for new learners, so it's best to just put one's nose to the grind and forget about how easy or hard it is.  Just do the work. 

Quando la vita è dolce come caramelle

Ciao, come sta oggi?  Another week begins.

A friend sent me a copy of the iconic Italian film La Dolce Vita.  I'd wager that not too many Americans have seen this Fellini film, but I'd also bet that they have heard of the title.  Like the French expression 'joie de vivre,' it has been adopted by English when referring to 'the good life,' or to express when things are going extremely well for us, especially financially. 

I find it amusing that English speakers have to borrow from other languages when we want to express positive things like how sweet life is.  Are we by nature a somber, unfulfilled people who always think that happiness is something only to be dreamed about or wished for?  Are continental Europeans happier than we are?

Americans are often stereotyped as always smiling and chatty.  Always overflowing with that can-do spirit.  But is it only a myth?  I've seen my share of mean-spirited, bitter, very negative fellow Americans.  In fact I used to be sort of that way myself.  On the other hand, is it la dolce vita that is the myth? 

I have no doubt that there are some unhappy, resentful people in Italy and France but, as I've mentioned elsewhere, practically all of my Italian pen-pals seem gregarious and at least relatively content with their lives.  True, when one is writing to a stranger in a language that is not familiar enough to him to express a lot of complex thoughts, he's apt to try to put his best foot forward, but it seems to me that Italians (other cultures also, but maybe not quite as much in some cases) do have a special reverence for life--in all it's beauty and in all its sorrows and disappointments.  After all, it's better than the alternative, death, non è vero?

In the meantime, I continue to try to feel as at home with Italian as I do with French.  When I'm listening to or speaking French, I don't have to think about the words so much--they just sort of come naturally and they feel more like they are coming from me.  I'm still at the stage with Italian that I have to grasp for words to express even the simplest things.  The words seem to be 'out there,' instead of within me.  In some ways perhaps this is good.  I think that like everything else, language loses some of its freshness and novelty when we get to the point where we are no longer conscious of the words and sounds themselves.  I wouldn't want that to happen to my Italian.  What originally attracted me to it was its musicality and beauty.  May that appreciation never fade.  Below is a nice Italian song, Nel blu di pinto di blu or, as we English-speakers know it, Volare.  May we all feel so happy that it feels like we're flying through the day. 

A presto...

Calling All Italians: Report to My House, Adesso

Buongiorgo, signori e signore, ragazzi e ragazze.  E 'così bello vedere di nuovo. It is never a drudge to write a daily post on this blog, because it gives me a chance to write and think in Italian.  Benvenuto!

I try not to think about it, i.e., how I might use my Italian, rudimentary as it may be, when just writing and listening to it are not enough.  It is times like these when I wonder if I'm not making a mistake not learning Spanish instead; the United States has an enormous Spanish-speaking population and I live in a state where Spanish is a vibrant second language.  Also, Mexico neighbors the country.  Finding French speakers would be a little more challenging; Haiti comes to mind and then there's Canada, which is so far away from where I live in the States, that it had just as well be France. But finding Italians in North America is not that easy.

But the fact remains (and I have to constantly remind myself of this, otherwise I find myself becoming a jack of all languages and a master of none, to borrow and adjust the old adage) that, though Spanish is useful and has qualities that I respect and admire, and even though I have the advantage of years of study in French, Italian seems to be the one that ha conquistato il mio cuore, captured my heart.  Yes, like a conquistadore, Italian has discovered and conquered my heart.   So, as for if or how I'll make contact with Italian speakers later on, well, I'll have to cross quel ponte when I get to it.  Perhaps there are ways to connect to Italian expatriates here in the U.S.  I'd love to go to Italy, but first, I don't have the funds to visit and second, I don't usually enjoy just touring a country--I'm selfish, I want to live there and get the full experience, both good and bad.

Nice skirt, no?

But to shift gears back to the main purpose of this blog, to talk about learning Italian, as I continue to study foreign languages, it strikes me that one of the hardest things about expressing oneself in the target language is the fact that it's usually almost impossible to express a thought in Italian the exact same way you'd express it in English.  I see this all the time when my Italian pen-pals write to me in English.  They have shuffled the words in a sentence or used some preposition pronoun is a way that would not be used in English.  Often I have to mentally unscramble a sentence in order to get the gist of it.  For this very reason, even though a lot of language authorities disagree, I think it is almost obligatory to spend as much time, if not more time, learning entire phrases as memorizing isolated words.  Often I find myself having an English construction in my mind while I'm trying to express something in Italian, and when it finally comes out of my mouth, I sense very strongly that that is just not the way an Italian would say it.  Yes, vocabulary lists are essential when just beginning to learn a language (when we were babies, we first learned the words daddy or mommy before we learned 'Where's daddy?), but very soon in the process, we need to start thinking in full phrases, sentences, and expressions.  Otherwise, we're going to sound like a bambino.  Still, it's surprising how well you can make yourself understood by using a single word:  Piazza? for 'Where is the piazza?'  'Mangiare?' for 'Do you want to eat?'  This baby-talk, along with a plethora of physical gestures (just make sure you're not using a gesture that has a completely different meaning to Italians!) might work in a pinch.  Capisce?  

A presto...

Must I Spoon-feed you? New RSS Feeds for Learning Italian

As observant readers may have noticed, I've added some RSS feeds in the side panel of my blog.  One provides a new Italian vocabulary word with a short definition, changed every day.  Another one is an automatically updated feed from a language learning video set called Coffee Break Italian.  I've sampled a view of these brief podcasts, which consist of short, fairly easy Italian conversations, and find them helpful for beginning Italian learners.  They're probably not challenging enough for intermediate or advanced learners.  The third feed is just some Italian food articles for fun. 

Sample Marco's Charming Technique of Learning Italian

I'd also like to mention another interesting beginning Italian resource I discovered on YouTube.  It's Marco Nesida's Italian Course.  Go to https://www.youtube.com/ and enter a search for Marco Nesida.  There are several versions of the course, many geared toward Spanish-speaking learners, so be sure to find one for English speakers.  I've showcased a sample above. What I personally find endearing about Nesida's videos is their positive, encouraging attitude and tone.  If Marco does not truly love people, then he's doing a great job of making me think so.  This is not surprising, because he is a professional motivational speaker in Italy.   I also like the fact that his English is far from perfect.  It gives the course a very human aspect--we sympathize with his mispronounced words and incorrect stresses (he pronounces 'practice' as pract-ICE (with a long ''I' as in ice cream).  It sounds charming, and he does gently apologize for his mistakes.  It sort of makes it feel like we're all in this together.  Indeed, one Italian sentence he teaches is La vita è un dono (Life is a gift.).  Again, he starts with very basic beginners' Italian and does a lot of repeating of the material in various speeds, but he just wants to make sure we learn to pronounce Italian correctly.  Italian sounds are deceptively similar to English ones, but there are subtle differences.  For example, he points out that English speakers often mispronounced the ever-popular word ciao.  It's almost 'chow,' but not quite--you can't ignore that 'i.'  It's more like Cheeow, but delivered so rapidly that the 'ee' sound is barely perceptible, but definitely there, almost rhyming with a cat's meow.   Before seeing this pointed out, I was pronouncing the word very close to 'chow.'  

So, it's always good to have a lot of varied resources to pump up our skills.  I'll always be on the lookout for more. 

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)

The Borgia Pope

Has anyone seen the American Showtime production 'The Borgias'?  It's lavish and dramatic with a generous bounty of scenes from the Italian countryside and cities.  It stars the celebrated Jeremy Irons as Pope Alexander Sextus and the handsome French-Canadian actor François Arnaud as Cesare Borgia.  It's probably way more soap opera than history, but I found it interesting enough to watch it twice.  There's very little Italian spoken in it, but the writer (Neil Jordan) does try to avoid anglicizing most of the Italian names.  For example, Cesare is not pronounced Cees-zer, but Chez-a-ray.  Reference to Italian cities such as Napoli, Firenze, etc., however, retain their English equivalents.  

 François Arnaud as Cardinal Cesare Borgia

They were a fascinating family, the Borgias.  Apparently originating from Spain, they basically ruled a large part of Italy for years.  But enemies were all around and many influential Italians struggled to depose 'that Borgia pope.'  

In short, it's an easy, pleasurable way to acquire a little Italian history of one of the most turbulent and fabulous times in Italian history.  I'd like to see one about the Medici next. 

Italians in America

Watched a fascinating Public Broadcasting System (PBS) documentary last night called 'The Italian Americans.'  I learned a lot of things that I think most non-Italians may not know, such as the fact that most of the early immigrants to the United States were from southern Italy.  Also, even though I lived in New Orleans for a couple of years, I was not aware that the first wave of immigrants settled in that city; I had always thought it was New York.

Italians were not treated well in New Orleans for the most part.  At one time a popular politician (Irish, if I remember correctly) was gunned down on the street with no witnesses.  The Italians were scapegoated and several men were charged with murder.  Even though a jury found them completely innocent of the crime, a lynch mob stormed the prison where they were being kept and shot and hanged the prisoners.  According to the documentary, New Orleans is also where the term 'Mafia' was first used widely, with very little real evidence that such a thing existed at the time.  The film also discussed the Sacco and Vanzetti case, in which two Italian Americans were unfairly tried and executed, in spite of world-wide public outrage. 

I was also surprised that what is now known as The Bank of America was originally called The Bank of Italy and was owned and managed by an Italian immigrant.  Pretty cool, huh?

We need more such stories to help Americans get beyond the stereotype of Italian Americans.  They were a vital component of the flourishing of this country and too often vilified in TV series like The Sopranos or films like The Godfather.  Both of those were great films, but not to be viewed as history.  Hopefully, a lot of people tuned in to 'The Italian Americans.'

A presto...

As Pigro as a Pig

Now what was that Italian word for 'lazy,' again? Oh, yes, pigro. I've decided that I'm much more pigro than I have been ready to admit these days.  In fact, I feel totally inundated in pigrizia lately, so much so that I feel it is impeding my progress in learning Italian.  Indolenza is not a pretty sight to see.   Non va bene.  




I've been going right along, self-congratulating myself for listening to one half-hour session of Pimsleur's beginning Italian every morning, watching 'Zorro' in Italian, and doing about an hour of grammar.  Not a very ambitious schedule--especially for someone who no longer works or has a family to support.  It's going to take a long time for me to get my Italian to even a high beginner level, so I'm going to need to shift into high gear soon now.  There I go.  Pigro, pigro, pigro.  Anyway, I've jacked up my Pimsleur listening to a full hour (1/2 in AM and another in PM) and should probably will (d'accordo, will!) extend it to one full hour in the AM and another in the afternoon.  The time has come for commitment--impegno.  

And then there;s reading.  One reason my vocabulary in French has remained reasonably large is because I've occasionally read a novel, story, or browsed the online edition of Le Monde.  Because I'm still in the beginning stages of acquiring Italian, it's hard to get excited about reading something in Italian, because I have to constantly refer to the dictionary.  The solution would be to seek out simple dialogues and reading matter.  Easier said than done.  One resource that has helped with this is a book called Read and Think in Italian.  It offers many short pieces, the majority of which are about the geography, history, and culture of Italy.  It has a running glossary of difficult words with their meanings in a column on the side of each page.  This saves a lot of interruptions to look the word up, thus making the reading more enjoyable.  The book is part of a series in several languages.

Well perhaps I must get to work.  In a few days no one will dare call me pigro.  Though they might call me unilingual.  :)


Più tardi.  A domani.

The Eternal Yes

In the film A Room with a View, the kind Mr. Emerson Sr. opines to Mr. Emerson Jr.:  'Why shouldn't they have their view?' Why not, indeed?  Why shouldn't we all have a lovely view?  Kindly Mr. Emerson argues that it's only women who must have a view, but I don't quite agree with him there.  If enjoying beautiful scenery in nature is a feminine thing (which I don't think it is at all), then surely men have a bit of the feminine inside them, just as women have a masculine side.  On the other hand, in the last frames of the film, after the two young lovers escape to Florence, handsome Julian Sands is pre-occupied more with the view of lovely Helena Bonham Carter than with the gorgeous sun-drenched view of Florence outside their open window.  I think, if I'm not mistaken, this is not emphasized in the novel.  Film-goers demand a bit of smooching in a film.

But poor Cecil Vyse's views are all artificial.  He never goes to Italy--only talks about it and occasionally spouts a bit of Italian for emphasis.   He can't fall in love, because he's in love with the abstract notion of love and he can't see the beauty of nature because he's intellectualized it all.  Charlotte Bartlett, Lucy Honeychurch's prim and proper escort, seemed to have had a view at one time, but lost it.

One scene that is underplayed in the film, but receives prominence in the novel and is of special interest to us language geeks, is when Lucy is in the Italian countryside and is seeking out the Reverend Mr. Beebe.  She asks the lusty peasant where she might find him, saying:   'Dov'è l'uomo buono?'  The Italian man (probably intentionally) thinks she means young George Emerson, thus leading us to the passionate kissing scene in the grain field. 

Lucy perhaps would have done better to ask for il sant'uomo or perhaps il sacerdote or even il padre.  Amazing how an inappropriate choice of words can, to use one of Forster's favorite words, put us in a muddle.  

But in the end Lucy does get her good man and her view.  Young Emerson finds Amore and stops leaving question marks all over the place, having discovered what is meant by The Eternal Yes, Il Sì eterno.  

A presto...

Giovanni, Marcel, Pepe, and William

For the past few days I've felt Italian.  I sometimes feel like Joanne Woodward in The Three Faces of Eve:  If it's Sunday, I must be Giovanni; if it's Tuesday, I'm Marcel; Wednesday? Pepe.  Last week I felt overwhelmingly French, and the week before I was a dashing caballero, only without the cool hat and a horse.  For the most part this posturing is harmless (at least I'd like to think so--others might say I'm losing it.), but I'm not sure it's good for my language-learning aspirations.  Since I'm Italian today and was also yesterday, I've been trying to prepare myself for some real face-to-face conversations with genuine Italians.  I've been writing pen-pals from Italy and most of them are at best tepid about just writing emails and exchanging corrected text--they want to do what Italians do best: parlare.  I mean really, if they can be courageous enough to risk making a fool of themselves, why shouldn't I be equally willing?  Seeing as how I also want to parlare, the side-effects of all this language-hopping, though, is confusion.  Yesterday, I found myself repeatedly mixing parlare with hablar (I'm also dabbling (or perhaps babbling) in Spanish)), and even the French parler.  As I'm already self-conscious about speaking any of these languages in public, it won't do to mix entirely different Romance languages while I'm skyping with an Italian conversation partner.  She will surely think I'm coucou--that's a French word that I learned from one of my pen-pals from France.  When she first used the word, I thought she was on to me and was assuring me that I'm crazy as a cuckoo, but when I Googled it, I discovered with relief that it's the latest texting-talk greeting, originally used with children--kind of like peek-a-boo--and is a sort of a cutesy way to say hi.  But I digress.

One thing's for sure, of the three languages, I'm least proficient in Italian.  I have absorbed the requisite grammar and vocabulary, or at least most of it, but it still sounds 'foreign' when I hear or speak it.  After decades of studying French, when I hear it spoken or when I speak it aloud, it feels relatively familiar.  Spanish also--presumably from having lived and worked in New York City for several years and hearing it spoken practically every day.  Italian, though, still sounds new on my tongue--even though the taste of it is molto delizioso.  What does this tell me?  Of course, I need to immerse myself more in it.  Joanne has to go; I need to focus here.  

One reason for my inconstancy is that there are specific aspects of each language that I like and that are unique to each one.  With French, it's the familiarity I spoke of above.  It's sort of become a part of me.  On the other hand, oddly, I find that the more I'm exposed to French, the less I like it.  There are certain puckered-up (can't think of a better word) sounds that make me cringe.  Spanish, en la otra mano, dazzles me with its logical grammar and conciseness, and the word for butterfly, mariposa, is more beautiful than in any other language I know of.  And Italian!  Italian not only has sonorous, vowel-rich words, but spoken Italian also has a distinct rhythm to it that is hard to describe.  A lot of it has to do with those double-consonants.  There's a certain endearing quality to the way they pronounce the word for mama, something like MOMMM-ah, though that's doesn't quite capture it.  Think of those old movies that featured Italian-Americans speaking English; it's exaggerated, but it does sort of give the feel of what spoken Italian sounds like.   It's way more than just melodious vowels.

So, I resolve to have a productive day today, shrugging off my polyglot multiple personalities and hunkering down to prepare for the next stage of learning: speaking.  And may you also have una buona giornata, caro lettore.  

 That's Amore.  From Google Images, Scene from A Room with a View.