"Parla Inglese?"

Amidst our busyness in trying to settle in, I have been thinking about everything that has happened since the children and I arrived in Rome 12 days ago. You know, I borrowed the title "Living in a Foreign Language" and it seems to speak volumes into our journey thus far. 


My first experience in trying to communicate with someone was while we were desperately searching for our puppies once we arrived at the airport in Rome. We flew out of Charlotte on US Air and the pups flew out of Atlanta on Delta in their climate controlled cargo. We were all scheduled to arrive within 2 hours of the other and as they say here, non c'e un problema. We knew that customs in Rome would close early because it was Saturday, so we were working within a small time frame. Important bit of info that we were not given was that the pups were dropped off across town in a separate cargo location, NOT where we were. I knew the word for dog was cane, and after a couple of attempts at "Parla inglese", we found an employee with a badge and walkie talkie who understood what I was asking. So, I have just arrived in Rome with 11 bags, 2 kids, and 2 missing puppies. Ok, the story has a happy ending...BUT, not before Jon had to take a shuttle to pick up the pups, leaving us to stay behind with the bags, AND leaving the paperwork he needed to receive the pups. He returns to the airport, grabs the paperwork, then off he travels again. Five long hours later, he arrives back at the airport with the pups who successfully passed through customs and the vet check...WHEW!


Throughout the past few days as we've become more familiar and comfortable with our new and unchartered waters, I have been on overload with the language, how fast the words seem to flow, how everyone around me doesn't have to try and decode every sound they hear, how I feel my brain is working overtime trying to fall in love with this foreign language and learn it's linguistics ALL at the same time...here are a few examples:


A very seemingly sweet elderly lady was peering out of her 3rd story window, at our new apartment, looking down on the pups and me as they were on a potty break. Well, she proceeded to speak to me in italian while looking at the pups. I told her non parlo l'italiano and she continued to speak to me as if I knew every word she was saying. I gently nod, smile, and pray that she is not swearing to me about the pups. I'd like to think that she was welcoming us to the neighborhood...HAH!


A couple of days ago while shopping at the market, I knew the Italian equivalent for turkey was tacchino. I was proud of myself as I meandered "with purpose" to the deli section of the store and found tacchino. Well, I never anticipated the wonderful, and I must add, patient lady waiting on me not to understand ANY inglese. After a lot of body language and communicating with our hands, she determined how I desired the meat cut and how much I needed. I felt as if I had just worked an 8 hour hospital shift.


Last example, although I could continue for hours. Graci and I decided that we must have boots, especially when every person walking the streets of Rome looked like they have just stepped out of a fashion magazine, seriously! Our first attempt landed us in a store where the very attractive young Italian girl spoke little inglese. She grabbed another very attractive Italian girl and asked her to help us, which surmounted to her then grabbing a very attractive young man that worked with them and asked him to help us, because she was "off" duty. HAH! After trying on several pairs of boots and Graci not seeing any she liked, we said grazie and dashed out thinking we must get a shopping translator. Albeit, I thought shopping included a universal code among us women!! We did end up landing some pretty cool boots and at least our feet look great.


I know with time "living in this foreign language" will start making sense and our Italian neighbors will be able to peer out their windows, smile while we play with the pups,  and not hear me ask, "Parla Inglese?"