I'm at the airport saying good-bye to a fabulous, endearing adorable friend of mine, Pamela. She is from Australia but is living in London and she came to visit me for a whirlwind weekend here in Italy. Before she boarded the plane i thought it only proper to finish this overindulgent weekend of food wine talking and laughing with a nice glass of bubbly. As i swallowed the last drop of bubbly prosecco(aka 'pamelas water') from my glass, a sour taste came into my mouth. As i realised that once my fabulous bubbly friend gets on the plane, so to will our fabulous bubbly conversations in our native english.
We chatted frantically right up until she boarded the plane, Luca, the whole time watched in amazment at how fast our conversations changed topic from food, wine, food, travel, family, food and poo!
After she had boarded, we(Luca & I) took a little look around the ever fabulous 'airport shop'. I love airport shops, filled with nothing you need but everything you want. As i aimlessly wandered around i came across the magazine stand, about to just keep on walking because they are all printed in Italian then...i stopped dead in my tracks as my eyes focused on an entire stand dedicated to magazines in English print....I just stood there gobbling up all the glorious English words, just like i had gobbled up my delicious pizza the day before while nursing one fabulous hangover. I stood there staring at all the magazine cover and actually thought i saw a big glowing halo shinning around the entire stand, then i felt two strong, firm hands on my shoulders and i froze. I thought...'oh my god..its god!'. But it was just Luca, who slowly and kindly turned me around on the spot. Gently leading me away, reassuring me that it will not help me to learn Italian if i buy one of those magazines.
Once we got in the car and drove away from the airport i felt a tinge of sadness pinch me right in my chest. As i drove away from my near dear friend who, for three days delighted me with her effervescent, energetic, contagious zest for life. More delightful was the feeling of 'Self ' i got back over those three days being able to speak and interact with someone who is from Australia, who is a friend, who speaks and understands our cultural humour, who gets my aussie slang jokes first hit without awkward translations, who allowed me to speak with all the colourful details, thoughts and feelings i was needing so desperately to share.
I like to think of myself as a good conversationalist, the perfect dinner party guest. You can plonk me next to just about anybody and i will happily strike up a good, if not great conversation. Now although many of my friends here speak english, just like my basic italian, their english is basic. So... my basic italian + their basic english = a basic conversation. And after a while of these basic conversations you start to loose a bit of 'yourself'..well i found so anyway. Like when a conversation is in full-swing and all i want to is jump right in with my opinion, my thoughts, my feelings but my basic italian wont let me, i don't know the words to use...or really whats going on in the conversation. So i just have to sit back, totally out of the conversation and get on by with the basic italian i can handle. Once the overwhelming frustration of this truth wore of, i began to think 'hey, maybe iv just lost my 'great' conversation skills, maybe iv lost a bit of my personality. Maybe without realising i traded it in for the basic model'....
It only took me three seconds once Pamela arrived in Italy to realise that i hadn't lost anything, i hadn't lost me, I had been there the whole time. As i began to babble like a mad cow jumping from topic to topic in crazy colourful delightful conversation, right there at the arrival gate!
It only took me one whole day after Pamela arrived to realise, in fact i hadn't lost anything at all, i had actually gained something. As in between our colourful conversations i was able to order food & drinks for us, ask directions, opening times,...talk to friends in the street all in italian and even better i was translating from english to italian and vice-versa for her.
This is the law of the universe, of giving and receiving. In order to receive this language i had to give, or give-up, for a couple of months anyway, my motor mouth, my love of being the center of the conversational universe.
Once we arrived home from the airport there was still a little bit of melancholy hanging around so i began to tidy our room. As i was tidying i spotted a little black box in my hand-bag. It was a beautifully decorated box of 'Enghlish breakfast tea' that Pamela had brought from London as a gift for me. As i picked up the box with excitement, i realised that every side of this six sided box of English breakfast tea was covered in English writing. I smiled at the irony of this and then sat on the bed happily drinking in all the English words and sentences. I read the company name, the instructions on how to make the perfect cup of tea, the companies fair trade pledge and policies and even the recycling 'this product is bio-degradable' part. After i read the box 10 times, i didnt want to miss a word, i placed it on the dressing table right next to my perfume. I put it there as a cute little reminder that, just for the moment, i need to nicely& neatly fold all my descriptive, colourful English and put it in a little box, a box i can open at any time, if i want to. In return i can receive, if i want to, and i do, the beautiful gift of another language and i think thats a pretty fair trade!
That's a fair trade sweety. And if Reading your blog, imagining you were reading it to me personally over a glass of Sauvignon blanc @ 2am is the trade off for Italy borrowing you from us, that's a fair trade too (for now) as you write so brilliantly I can't get enough!!!! Bravo...
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