In Love with France, At Home In Italy

 This being Italy, today started out great. And then there was no electricity. As on most wintry mornings, to warm up my bathroom, I turned on the wall heater whose swinging lever swung right into action. Next, I turned on the little-but-effective space heater I bought from Lidl and got ready to face the day. But then suddenly, all of that nice flow of warm air came to a halt:trouble in paradise!     Of course I figured it was all my fault. But I had done the same thing every morning without incident for the past few weeks, so for once it didn't seem like a case of mea culpa.     I hadn't yet eaten anything, but fortunately for me, someone had left the fruit salad out of the fridge, so there was no need to open it and jeopardize all the stuff jam-packed within. But then N got a hankering for some of those delicious Slovene beans perfumed with the neighbor's sausage, left over from yesterday. He pulled them out of the dark fridge quickly, ready to cho...

I call before the holiday weekend to tell the gas people that our meter is down to 15. “Non c’e problema, signora. Plenty of time. We will come tomorrow.” The Xmas holiday comes and goes, and nobody shows. When we next look at the gas meter a few days before New Year’s, it reads ZERO! Uh-oh! I am not great at being demanding in any language. I like to leave that to my husband. But in his Italian classes, he hasn’t yet gotten to the lesson that teaches how to be indignant—not that that would ever work in Italy, anyway. So unless our son is here, who knows just the right noises to make to get the natives to do what he wants, that job falls to me. Usually it works, since I manage to say things that are more comical than offensive;for example, I told the gas company “we are at ZERO, e zero non e buono!” Apparently that line was memorably funny, and they said they would send someone right away.  When it started getting dark with no sign of any gas, I was unanimously elected to call b...

In my French classes, I always emphasize what will be the key words of the semester: marquer, se débrouiller, and se depayser. I tell my students that my mission is to "mark" them with a lifelong passion for French, and that our classroom is a place for them to get out of their element--to free themselves to invent a French persona that may be completely different from their usual self. Maybe in their mother tongue they are a shy person. But in French, this does not have to be the case. Sometimes a name change helps. I have had reserved Heathers (unpronounceable in French!) who became Gabrielles, and nerdy Sammys who became suave Pierres. For me, one of the most exciting things about speaking a new language is the opportunity to become someone else, and I am told that I have a different personality in each language I speak. If by some accident my students overhear me speaking English, their shock is palpable. In any case, the key to survival in an any language is to be able...