My Italian Progress

Maria and I are happy to be canning in the dining room where we can enjoy the pleasures of heat and the esteemed radio. On most evenings, the Panasonic RX-FS430 Stereo Radio Cassette Recorder (that is certainly senior to my wwoof partner Maria) is employed at 19 hundred hour by Gian-Luca. Judging by his constant laugher, you’d think it was Comedy Hour but in fact, he’s listening to the news which he finds most amusing.

Today, the Panasonic RX-FS430 is tuned to some sort of Morning Show. I measure melted Strutto (lard) into sterilized jars while Maria labels Lardo Pesto (fancy lard) of previously filled jars. We work in this manner while I attentively listen to the airwaves. Disappointingly, my hours with Rosetta Stone have insufficiently prepared me for the Italian dialog the radio host and radio guest engage in. I fish for a single recognizable word and am thus thrilled to discern my first Italian phrase:

Vu Vu Vu punto utube punto il

But things get even better. Later in the program, the announcer repeats a word as if encouraging the audience to reiterate after him. This is perfect.

“ obassan” he says.

“obassan” I echo.

“obassan” he says.

“obassan” I echo.

“yia yia” he says.

“yia yia” I echo.

“nagyi” he says.

Maria - the fluent in five languages teenager - interrupts, “What are you doing?”

“Practicing Italian.”

“But he’s teaching how to say ‘granny’ in Japanese, Greek, and Hungarian.”