Florence, Italy: Swimming through Cognates

You’d think while studying my third language I’d finally learn. Nope. I’m consistent: I never do the preliminary work to make my life easier. Before going to Seattle three summers ago I put off learning to do things which would make life easier — like learning how to cook full meals. Two summers ago I could have made my arrival at Boston easier by perhaps looking at a map beforehand and knowing, at least somewhat, what section of town I was living in. This past summer it wasn’t until two hours before I left for my internship in Keokuk that I actually wrote down what route I needed to take to get there; and even then, I didn’t have an Iowa road map with me and I’d only briefly glanced at a zoomed-out version on Google Maps. For Florence, I perhaps prepared worse than all of those situations combined. I didn’t start packing until late the night before I left. I’d only briefly skimmed over some guides before taking off for Europe. I knew so little of what I was getting myself into.

So I’d hope that since I’ve taken three years of Greek at TCU as well as a year of German reading in two months that I would have at least tried to learn a little bit of the language prior to arriving. Nope! What’s worse with this one is that I had a friend who’s a priest who lived in Italy for a while give me a great way to study. Jack recommended that I get the Gospel of Mark in both print and audio in Italian and then read/listen through it several times to at least get a feel for the language. Did I do it? Nope. I actually downloaded the MP3s for free online and the text, but never spent the time to read it.

Today may mark a turning point in my semester. I know, I’m only in my third week, but I’m now at the point where I need to concentrate. Florence, or at least the center of it, is famous for not requiring Italian to live here. You can speak little bits of English and the people generally know what you’re talking about. I’ve had it — I’ve got to work on my Italian more than I am. The 1/2 hour I spend on it five days a week somehow doesn’t absorb as much as I want it to. I know: what a shock.

The sad thing is that I followed this exact pattern with Greek and German. My first weeks were lackadaisical and it picked up after that. The only reason the Greek is still there is because I took so much of it (and it is still there — I’m working on translating different parables while I’m here!). I forgot most of the German about three months after I left Boston. So I’m stuck here tonight picking out cognates here and there, knowing that at some point this language will click with me. Now I’ve got to figure out how to make sure it doesn’t wait to click until the few days before I leave!