150/365 - "Come si dice...?"

I spent a month in Rome playing for an opera festival the summer between my undergraduate degree and the start of my graduate studies.  I won't tell you how long ago that was.  The festival wasn't much to write home about, but I couldn't really complain - I was in Rome for a whole month!

Strolling through the piazzas with their elaborate fountains and open-air markets, cafes and shops, extraordinary art, architecture, history and gelaterias everywhere I turned, I quickly fell in love with the culture and cuisine of Rome.  Imagine gelato that puts Häagen-Dazs to shame, enforced afternoon siestas (the locals yelled at me through my window when I tried to practice my flute), candlelit dinners on cheerful red checked tablecloths, delectable spaghetti alla carbonara, red wine served at every meal, melone con prosciutto, more gelato.

After a week or so venturing out on my own, I managed to befriend a couple of Italian women associated with the festival.  They were kind enough to show me some of the less touristy restaurants and sites and even managed to teach me to "parlare italiano un po'."  I loved how the soft Italian words rolled off my Midwestern tongue, and I vowed to continue studying the language when I returned home.

Toward the end of my month-long stay in Italy, when I realized I could no longer fit into my pants, I found myself in a small shop trying on clothes.  I was surprised to find that I was able to hold my own with the shop's very patient sales mistress, "per due o tre minuti" at least.  Of course, it's not that hard to decipher "maggiore" when hand gestures are involved.  Spoken like a true Italian, I suppose.

I did keep my promise to learn Italian.  After two semesters of intense study back in the States, I became proficient enough in the language that I was even dreaming in Italian.  I also maintained some correspondence with one of the women I had met in Rome, her writing to me in English and me to her in Italian.  It's hard to believe that I was once that comfortable with Italian, because I can hardly remember any of it now.  When I try to retrive the vocabulary and verb conjugation, it all seems to get jumbled up with musical terms and the Spanish I learned in high school.

It's no mystery that if you don't use a language you lose it.  But I am also learning that for anything to be functional and valuable in my life, be it meditation or writing or making music, I absolutely must invest in it regularly.  After all, what can be gained without faithful dedication to the art of living and living well?  Except a few extra pounds, that is.