Once again, I’ve retreated to the tongue that gives me comfort—English.
Despite years of back-and-forth with my parents trying to practice Tamil.
Despite taking four years of German in high school, and letting an intermediate level college class my freshman year intimidate me from going further.
Despite being enamored by the idea of an adventurous life abroad—first being swayed by Spanish but then pushed towards the direction of Italian, due to available job opportunities in my career field.
But it’s not like I’m monolingual either.
Give me a few minutes, but I can piece letters of the Tamil alphabet together. I remember the phonetics–a, aa, e, ee–and eventually my brain puts two-and-two together.
But are my relatives patient enough for me to spit out the syllables?
In German class, I reveled in the moments Herr L. gave me a 100% on the oral parts of our German exams, or when he awarded me the top German student award my sophomore year of high school.
Did I really let a cold, middle-aged teacher’s assistant get in the way of furthering my Deutsch?
And in graduate school, I thought I wouldn’t ever want to leave LA. But then I experienced a short solo trip abroad, and it led me to daydreaming about a new life chapter in Southern Europe. I took weekend Italian classes for fun. Got my former boss to approve my taking of an introductory Italian course at the university I was working at as a freshly-minted PhD, since I was applying for a post-doc research position abroad. Just when I thought I was doing the right amount of preparation, mixed with a healthy blend of enthusiasm…
COVID-19 hit. Along with other obstacles I wasn’t expecting—little by little, my enthusiasm and motivation for learning a language I thought I would be ready for—Italian—was fading away by the minute.
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I’ve met expats here in Italy who say if they could have changed one thing about preparing for their life abroad in Italy, it would have been to learn the language before arriving. But I have to ask, how much is enough? My casual approach with and exposure to Italian began in December 2018, followed by a summer break, and then a university-tailored introductory semester course in Fall 2019. Even with all of that I didn’t feel prepared, but I did feel motivated. I remember telling my Italian teacher at the end of my “mid-term exam” that I would be moving to Milan in February 2020, and he quipped that I had enough of a foundation to build on. That I was all-set for a really exciting time.
Needless to say, the dire situation Italy was in during spring 2020 left me troubled and crushed. How could I stay motivated with what was going on in the world? With no end in sight, how could I be so sure I would be moving to Italy at all?
So, I took a break from Italian, that is until things seemed to reshift back into balance. When I finally arrived in Milan late June 2020, I had a quarantine to get through. This allowed me to “stall” in regards to communicating with others, as I was nervous about how much I could get by with, with the little Italian I thought I knew.
My new work colleagues appreciated that I was learning, but they were quick to “assure” me that I would learn Italian as time passed. Not to worry, you can get by with English for now.
But this attitude only left me frustrated, because I was genuinely trying to be vulnerable. I wanted to meet someone who would force me to only communicate in Italian, but everyone seemed too impatient for that.
I soon grew tired of my “switch-to-English” giveaways. My Bank of America credit card. My United States passport. Upon seeing these clues, the baristas, the delivery guys, the grocery store clerks, and the government workers wouldn’t give me a chance to try.
It just felt like I was always getting shut down.
As I continued into summer 2020, I did my best not to give up. I signed up for a premium subscription to a language learning app called Busuu, since it seemed to offer language level tests (that A/B/C system) and certificates to prove your language level. Supposedly, the app even adjusted the predicted time you would reach a certain level (i.e. B2) based on your progress, however I never noticed any changes despite my daily log-ins and obsessiveness to meet the daily time goals. I was able to reason with myself and decide that I would keep my language learning as a solitary activity for the time being, and put things into practice with people as time went on.
The chance to practice with others did present itself as short-lived language exchanges. I was able to attend these events on a weekly basis from September through end of October 2020, and even though the idea of participating in a language exchange seemed perfect, what usually ended up happening was that the native English speakers helped the native Italian speakers more than the other way around…
What it really ended up being was an excuse for late evening aperitivo (and dinner for me!) at “trendy” places like the Duomo or Piazza Gae Aulenti.
But even with a language app and in-person language exchanges, I quickly realized that being in Italy, why wasn’t I taking the opportunity to pursue private lessons with a native speaker? So I met with a girl who was in the same Whatsapp group for international women in the city that I was in. She was a native speaker, and even though she studied languages in college and seemed to be “fascinated by world cultures”, she was anything BUT a patient teacher.
I started my lessons with her, twice a week, at the end of September 2020. I would leave from work on Tuesdays and Thursdays, exhausted as could be, and somehow found my way to her tiny apartment in Lambrate, only to be scolded constantly about everything I was saying wrong.
By our 8th class, I was fed up with her attitude. She knew fully well what my background was—a foreigner with basic Italian, looking to improve her conversational skills. Yet this girl could not hold back on her attitude, telling me I needed to study and memorize as if I was taking lessons from her for an upcoming exam.
Missy. I came to Italy for what I thought would be an enriching experience. Not to be repirmanded by a impaziente brat like you.
I took to Instagram to “clap back” at her so to speak, and I was met with numerous comments in support of my situation, with commenters agreeing that this so-called “tutor” had no right to act the way she did. That teachers—especially foreign language teachers—should show kindness, patience, and empathy.
A fellow expat helped me connect with M., a British woman who spoke fluent Italian. I thought perhaps taking lessons with someone who could understand my background better was worth a shot. And given that COVID lockdowns were reinstated in late October 2020, our bi-weekly Skype sessions were appropriate with the new mandates.
M knew that my weakest link was with speaking. A couple of lessons in, we would devote the first half hour of lessons to just having a conversation, which I appreciated at first, but then found mentally draining.
Going into 2021, I was feeling extremely exhausted. Extremely depressed. There were other factors in my life that were taking precedence, and trying to hold onto Italian lessons when I felt like my foundation was crumbling was unbearable.
I remember not signing into a Saturday morning class at the end of March 2021. I was feeling frustrated and angered by the events that had played out by the end of that work week. I couldn’t shake away the emotional turmoil I was feeling.
M. had called wondering why I hadn’t signed in for class that morning, and I felt bad for not giving her enough notice, knowing that she was taking time out of her day too. But I had to be honest with myself, and I left her an audio message with uncontrollable sobs that intercalated with my shaky words.
I wasn’t sure if this was worth it. If I could stick it out here. And if I couldn’t…what was the point of learning this language?
She was kind in her response, and empathized with my situation with sincerity. She knew my desire to address some major factors in my life, and understood that in order for me to do that, lessons would have to take a backseat.
Once I acknowledged that I needed this hiatus in order to tackle the issues that seemed to be clouding my life, I felt okay. Italian would certainly be more fun to learn once I was in a better state physically, mentally, and emotionally.
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My goals have changed since that first Italian class in December 2018. Life’s twists and turns brought me to Italy, but the experiences that followed have tested my patience, my strength, my confidence, and most importantly, my humility.
It depends on the situation, but I have accepted that there are times I need to be kind to myself on this journey. If I need to recruit a native speaker to help me with governmental paperwork, I don’t feel guilty if they end up making numerous phone calls on behalf of me, but I still do get frustrated if someone cuts to English with me if I feel like I’m doing okay.
I’m still waiting on a lot of things. Opportunities that will perhaps push me to practice Italian more. Situations that present themselves as worth learning Italian for. But until that happens, I’ve allowed myself to “take a break” from actively learning Italian, even as I continue to live and work here.
And for those that doubt my language learning journey or question my why, I must say this: there is nothing wrong in retreating to the language that gives you the words to express the deepest feelings in your soul. There is nothing wrong in seeking comfort in the language that gives you your voice, while trying to understand your purpose in a new world.
