Have you ever introduced yourself as an independent washing machine at a fairly important first meeting? You guessed it, I did. Oh, all those delightful moments when you – so blissfully unaware of any wrongdoing – make huge language blunders. It’s all part of learning a new language and enthusiastically putting it into practice too.
To anyone who asks me what would be my best advice for mastering a language as quickly as possible, I’d say: talk!
I have put the Italian language into practice from day one, and to anyone who asks me what would be my best advice for mastering a language as quickly as possible, I’d say: talk! With everything and everyone and already from the day you only know your first three words. Because if you do, I assure you that your efforts will be rewarded.
I sometimes like to use this opportunity to see if my accent can pass for Italian. So, with a straight face, I have claimed to be Roman, Neapolitan and even Sicilian
And the proof that such efforts really pay off is the fact that nowadays I get invariably asked by Italians: “ma sei italiana?” – “are you Italian?” – after we have exchanged a few words, and I see the doubt in their eyes because they hear a hint of an accent they can’t quite place. In situations where I’m not particularly fond of the person I’m talking to (strange men in a bar trying to chat me up, for example), I sometimes like to use this opportunity to see if my accent can pass for Italian. So, with a straight face, I have claimed to be Roman, Neapolitan and even Sicilian, while accentuating certain words. Of course, Roman is my specialty. I say magnà’ instead of mangiare, I shorten words – “sono d’accordo”becomes “so’ d’accordo” – I simply say “c’ho da fa'” to indicate that I have things to do, and shiao instead of ciao. At the same time, Italians regularly tease me about the fact that there are certain words that I apparently cannot even pronounce without a Roman accent. My most infamous word? Stracciatella. And let that just happen to be the ice cream flavour I always order.
The first time I became aware of my Roman accent was when I ordered a stracciatella gelato in Venice last summer, and the lady behind the counter exclaimed “Ah, you’re from Rome!”. I looked at her slightly surprised, as I hadn’t said more than three words
The first time I became aware of my Roman accent was when I ordered a stracciatella gelato in Venice last summer, and the lady behind the counter exclaimed “Ah, you’re from Rome!”. I looked at her slightly surprised, as I hadn’t said more than three words. But it was in the way my C sounds more like an SH, just like in the word ciao, and in how I pronounce the double L just a bit too thick and hold it too long making me slow down a fraction of a second too much, that not only betrayed that I live in Rome, but also that I grew up in the most southern part of the Netherlands where our accent is much closer to the Flemish language.
I said “lavatrice indipendente” instead of “lavoratrice indipendente”, which means that I was presenting myself as a washing machine instead of a freelancer. And it got even worse
Back to that event where I introduced myself as an independent washing machine, about a year and a half ago now. Where did it go wrong? Well, I said “lavatrice indipendente” instead of “lavoratrice indipendente”, which means that I was presenting myself as a washing machine instead of a freelancer. And it got even worse. As I wanted to tell the art historian I was meeting about a project I was working on, I immediately added “e faccio un mostro a Parigi quest’estate”. What I thought I was saying? That I was going to hold an exhibition in Paris this summer. What I actually said? That I was going to hold a monster (as in the meaning of a horrifying beast). The difference was only in one letter. Mostro means monster, and mostra means exhibition. Something I will never forget in my life, just like the face of the posh art historian who had approached me for a collaboration, shook my hand and had to hear that I was “an independent washing machine holding a monster in Paris this summer”.
When I get teased about my Roman accent these days, I don’t take it as an insult at all. In fact, to me it is one of the nicest compliments I can receive
And while this language blunder was probably my most embarrassing, there have been many more times when I have made hilarious and not so hilarious mistakes. I can therefore assure you that when I get teased about my Roman accent these days, I don’t take it as an insult at all. In fact, to me it is one of the nicest compliments I can receive, like a sweet reward for all my efforts to learn to speak the most beautiful language in the world. Even with that languid Roman tongue. Shiao!