Mama Kat asks in her Writer's Workshop this week: What were you blogging about last year at this time? What has changed?
Val responds:
One year ago I was on the down-slide to midterms in my second semester of a wine studies program in Tuscany. We had just returned from a trip to a winery in Alto Adige/Sudtirol, the northernmost region of Italy which borders Austria and Switzerland. Pictures of vines, terroir, story about silly Romans who'd kiss their women to make sure they weren’t drinking the wine before serving their men (you can probably hear my eyes rolling) here.
I had also gotten friendly with my new pasta maker I bought in Siena and took my first crack at ho-made tagliatelle without the supervision of my chef teacher.
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But on this very day, one year ago, I was bombed on same Northern Italian red wine had all but issued a fatwa (can a recovering Catholic, in fact, issue a fatwa?) against Ms. Stone. Some of you will remember that I have an ongoing love/hate relationship with Rosetta Stone. The throwdown du jour was over the word “pickup” as in “pick up truck.” Really.
Again, maybe I didn’t hear her correctly over the sound of my eyes rolling. Between swigs of wine, it went something like this:
[This is] ... the lesson pertaining to industry, farming, and shopping (um, too late, I have the word stivali (boots) down pat, thank you very much). Chickens, goats, donkeys, cows, tractors, coal, shovels, wood, steel, trucks, and corn. Yep. Although it's easy to confuse pig (maiale) and honey (miele), and ball (palla) and shovel (pala) - hey - this is important stuff here! The only reason I already knew "wood" and "steel" was from reading the back of so many wine bottles - as it's important to know the difference between being aged in wood, steel, pigs, or balls.
And here I thought the word agricola - aGREEcola was going to trip me up. Nope. Pickup.
Peek-up.
Peek-a-up.
Peek-a-UPpa.
Peek-the-f**-UP. Pickup!
Ma che c***zo?! Questa non e parola italiana! (What the f***?! This is not an Italian word!)
I'm screaming at Ms. Stone at this point. I got the parolaccia (cuss words) down. But sadly enough, not the pickup.
NOTE: I have since been informed that pickup, like "internet", has been added to the Italian dictionary.
And here I thought the word agricola - aGREEcola was going to trip me up. Nope. Pickup.
Peek-up.
Peek-a-up.
Peek-a-UPpa.
Peek-the-f**-UP. Pickup!
Ma che c***zo?! Questa non e parola italiana! (What the f***?! This is not an Italian word!)
I'm screaming at Ms. Stone at this point. I got the parolaccia (cuss words) down. But sadly enough, not the pickup.
NOTE: I have since been informed that pickup, like "internet", has been added to the Italian dictionary.
So what's changed? One year, hundreds of kilos of pork and pecorino and litres of vino hours of Italiano later, I still butcher the language daily in e-mails, sing Eros Ramazzotti songs off-key, and struggle to roll my Rs. As for il mio blog stupidino (my silly blog) I try to post more photos when I travel, (more ooh ahh, less blah blah blah), and I've discovered that blogging is not just about spewing your thoughts out into thin air, as I once thought. I've connected with other bloggers and have found a community of interesting, funny people and a whole world beyond my own travels.
Considering I now spend my days filling my brain with knowledge (no, really!), planning which bottle to open next my next trip, and spending a few hours a day here vice being chained to a desk in some fluorescent-lit cubicle, I can say with a blissfully stupid smile on my face (and the occasional translation error), "Hai fatto molta strada, baby!" (You've come a long way, baby) - just not by pick up.
Alright I give in – pray tell me how a wine – any wine – can be aged in a pig and balls?? Cos I’ve been on the dark side of the moon for way too long, and I’m clearly getting a bit rusty with all this wine techy stuff.
ReplyDeleteI believe a recovering Cathaholic can issue as many Fatwas as she likes these days. The Islamist fundamentalists are always glad to steal one from the opposition, especially when she hits the ground bombing, and starts dishing out reams of Fatwas.
Sorry to hear youre a bit of a ‘coffee snorter’ Valerie. (You might want to revise that term of phrase by the way).
And yes…do not under any circumstances try to blag your way back into my blog until youre at least halfway bladdered please. Sober is for Sad’’s on my blogette.
And don’t forget to ‘sign in’ by playing my blog anthem up on the right hand side – first. It’s a blogethic thing of mine.
And Yesssss Valerie…it’s still a really nice cutie of a ‘tag n tomato’ – My Valerie, aren’t those tomato’s of yours weally wed. Arent we weally weally clever.
Can I go now ?...
LOL, I know I shouldn't laugh but I have a visual of u doing this. Worse, I can see my daughter doing this her first year in Italy...omg....Would u believe the first two years she was a bit rusty and when she went back to live there for her Master's she met up w/her other sister and amazed her.. The Italian just flowed out effortlessly... Needless to say the younger daughter was proud and amazed.
ReplyDeletePhil - no clue - must have been an ancient Roman thing - maybe the women did it to get back at their men. A girl needs her hooch.
ReplyDeleteSpeaking of hooch-am working my way from post-nap fog and taking a nice long draw from this Napa stuff before heading over your way. I'll bet you're looking forward to a drunk broad in sweats singing your anthem as she issues more Fatwas - this time against lazy slobs who don't return their shopping carts and let them roll around the parking lot. Losers!
Sorry, was at the grocery store earlier looking for fake red tomatoes. Again with the tomatoes? And where the hell do you buy your tomatoes, Phil?
OK, pouring a glass and heading your way - that anthem better not suck!
@Chrissy - sometimes it flows, sometimes I sound like an Italian Rain Man. It comes and goes - I'm glad your daughter finally got the hang of it - best to learn when we're young (which must be why I understand the French better than the Italian sometimes.)
ReplyDeleteItalian is a funny language. I overheard a woman at a stall in Lucca say "Cattivo!" to a male colleage in a spirit of friendly banter. Then I discovered that cattivo means evil! That's a bit strong, isn't it?
ReplyDelete@Bananas - It is a funny language, especially when it comes to the body language, but I find it incredibly beautiful (I'm convinced it's because most of the words end in vowel sounds). "Cattivo" has many shades of "bad" depending on use, of course. Many of the words take on so many different meanings, as I'm sure you know.
ReplyDeleteIn friendly banter "Tu sei cattivo!" can mean "You're naughty!"
Then there's "bad news" as in "Rambo, cattive notizie" - a sad testament to the fact I learned much of my Italian from RAI public TV..
While I was there a few months ago the animated film "Despicable Me" was released as "Cattivissimo Me" ("A very bad me")
Thanks for stopping by - I'll let you get back to the Congo now.