Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Io vorrei un gelato -- no, multi gelati

posted Mon, 20 Sep 2004

We had our first Italian language class this morning. The padre della casa – Mr Mami Camilla, I think – drove us to class, but told us we would have to remember for tomorrow – that we would have to walk or take the bus. In the short five-minute ride, he managed to get himself invited to Jenny’s for dinner when he goes to Washington DC next month. ‘I will to call and say ‘I am here baby!’ he teased.

The other students in the class are American, English, and Congoian. Zairian? How do you say – como se dice – someone from Congo?


The two teachers – Elena and Luana – are great. They speak slowly and are very animated and funny – like having stand-up comics teach. We have to introduce ourselves and say why we are learning Italian. The guy sitting next to Jenny owns an Italian restaurant in Kailua, where Jen used to live when she worked at Trippler Army Medical Center on Oahu. They know people in common. Like the brother of Jenny’s former boyfriend.

I get in trouble when I keep translating for the woman sitting next to me. After that, I zip my lips. Even though I am on vacation and not being graded, I don’t like being scolded. I know this will come as a great surprise to all who know me.

After class, after I have finally found a diet Coke to counteract the caffeine-withdrawal headache that is starting to hit, Jen and I go to a bakery to practice our Italian. Luana told us we had to practice right away and not let anyone speak to us in English, so we ordered a bunch of different pastries as homework. We are very conscientious students.

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