#62: Nonna Brutality
Ciao Nonni,
I write from a very unusually warm and sunny Lucca. In fact, the last month has really been almost nothing but sunshine and blue skies. It is quite incredible for this time of year.
Last year, October and November were awful, weather-wise. It rained non-stop, the skies were grey all day long, and everything was damp. At the time, I convinced myself that it was fine, but in hindsight it was tough going. Apparently it was an unusually long wet season.
Every day I wake up expecting to find that the classic northern Italian grey skies have finally descended over our beautiful town - but still they have not. Long may this continue! Certainly makes laundry in the land of no tumble dryers much less challenging.
This week I have been back in my Italian classes (after a week off when the school was closed for the comics festival) and I continue my epic battle with the congiuntivo. Although I've now added in a new mortal enemy, the pronomi combinati. As if direct and indirect pronouns were not enough.
Honestly I have days when I am not sure if I am ever going to get there. And my lovely (albeit brutal) nonna neighbour isn't helping with my confidence levels. She speaks at me in a mix of rapid fire Lucchese / Tuscan / Italian, and then when I inevitably look blank in response, she asks me if I am ever going to learn Italian.
Usually I just try to laugh these comments off, but I must have shown some of my exasperation when we repeated this exchange yet again a few days ago. For probably the twentieth time. I huffed and said that I AM studying. I go to school four days a week, for four hours a day - plus working and looking after children. And if she would occasionally try to speak a bit slower then maybe that would help.
Her reply?
Brava, ok - you are getting better.
Lukewarm praise at best, but I am taking it as a big win.
While the language is coming along slowly for me, the kids are flying. Raffy is completely comfortable speaking Italian all day long at her new school. I love it when I go to pick her up. I often try to spy on her before she sees me, so that I can listen to her. It's very cool.
David went to Leo's parent-teacher interview last week. Apparently his teachers are completely smitten with the little guy, which is super cute. But the surprise was to hear that he speaks exclusively Italian at school. They said that if they didn't know us they wouldn't know he comes from an English-speaking family.
All this from the child that only six months ago was basically mute, and a particularly strident GP in Melbourne told me was possibly hearing impaired because of his significant language delay.
Finally, I'll leave you with photos of our very fun weekend. We went olive picking with friends who own a farm about half an hour outside Florence. All four of us had a fantastic time. Not least because we also got to try the most incredible olio nuovo, fresh from being picked and pressed only days earlier.
I'd never even really heard of new oil before coming here, but it is phenomenal. It is radioactive green in its colour, and it has an almost spicy kick to it. It is only produced at the start of the olive harvesting season, and as such is very special. It isn't able to be bought easily in shops, so everyone here has olive oil contacts. I've never heard so many conversations about who knows who, whose uncle's cousin has access to the best olio nuovo in the region.
We've found this time and time again, but this was just another reminder of how much of this country operates on connections.
All my love,
Kate
