Languages

Being multilingual has always been a fantasy for me, being bilingual a goal. Every time I travel abroad I get confronted once again by this desire. It's nice to know a little language, enough to say please, thank you, hello, how much, and where are the bathrooms? But I love to communicate. When I studied abroad here in college, I learned that European school children learn at least three languages: their own, a neighboring country's, and a major language (English, French, Spanish, German). I was jealous, thinking back to my limited Spanish language training in elementary school.

While my family napped in Florence, I hung out in the cafe downstairs. A couple walked up to the bar, speaking some Scandinavian language (from what I could tell). The man tried ordering his drink in Italian, but the Italian-speaking waiter could not understand him. They both switched to English--problem solved. I wished it were me.

Emotional languages communicate fairly well among emotional people. That is, within Western culture there's a certain connectivity possible via simple expressions and gestures, body language. For instance, with a man in Venice who spoke no English, I laughed and smiled; we enjoyed each other and I expressed approval over his books. Another example: I saw two teenagers necking in the park today in front of St. Paul-Outside-the-Walls. The girl was obviously not into it, maybe playing coy; the guy clumsy but insistent. She sat straight up and would not look at him. He coiled around her to get to her face. Body language.

I experienced some frustrating language difficulties when I reached Rome Termini the other day. Trying to reserve a train to Venice, I was directed to three different people. One just looked at me, banged her fist down like a stamp, and pointed. Finally I was told I needed my passport. My dad had it. The station was hot, and I was more than ready to leave. But I persevered, went and got my passport, and headed back to the long line to get my Eurail validated. At the desk sat an older man. I had been praying, "Lord, please let me speak with someone who understands." I looked at him hopefully and said, "Anglais?"

He squinted his eyes and said, "Little little Italiano?"

I shook my head no. Then I thought of something: "A little Spanish."

He said, "Aha!" We proceeded in broken English until I had a question. He just did not get it. So I switched to Spanish and--Voila!--problem solved.