I often wonder what I sound like to Italians when I stumble my way through their language. Very rarely when I meet a new English speaker am I not able to parse at least a little bit of meaning from their words. The fact that we’re interacting at all is always kind of a fun mini-adventure, depending on their sincerity, and my own.
I just had a lovely conversation (I think) with the lady at the cafe I’ve been going to, and after leaving I couldn’t help but recall all the silly errors I made. Intellectually, I know all the pieces that fit together to make simple sentences, but in the moment they just can’t seem to find their way to my lips with any semblance of order. How many times will someone patiently wait while I correct myself mid-thought (abbiamo incontrato; no, siamo incontrato; no, ci siamo incontrati!)?
The answer is three, naturally. Unfortunately, after the third attempt, I can rarely tell if I’m being corrected or if they are contributing to the conversation themselves, which leads to a fun ballet of stutters, awkward hesitation, emphatic eyebrows, and ever wilder gesticulation, all while I’m desperately resisting the primal urge to run away screaming in embarrassment.
Thankfully, since this lady was actually curious about who the heck I am (no, I’m not German; Canada is the one above the United States), she was able to offer subtle and gentle corrections as we spoke, which was kinda nice. This was especially so since I was describing my current situation which requires the deft juggling of tenses: perfect, imperfect, simple, progressive. Please God, keep the subjunctive out of it!
The constant fear of speaking (which I suppose is really just my omnipresent fear of failure) probably won’t leave me any time soon. I did notice, however, that when this nice barista asked me a direct question right out of the blue I didn’t even think twice–I answered her in her own language without hesitation! While the execution was less than perfect, seeing that this language instinct has developed enough to ‘just do it’ is a welcome relief from my constant hand-wringing and second-guessing.
For me, the best way to overcome all of my trepidation is to keep doing what I’m doing: putting myself in situations where I have no choice but to stumble on.
A Nix in Brixia 