I have an 8 a.m. class every day in Cortona. When I came to Italy, I wanted to take a painting class, and the only time it was offered was at the dreaded 8 a.m. time slot. I decided to suck it up. It was a good decision. Every morning walking to class, I get to see Cortona in the soft morning light. I also get to interact with some Cortonese as I make my way down the hill and through town to the painting studio. This week, my class has been working on landscapes. I situated myself on the Etruscan outer wall of the city, looking up at a bell tower whose bells chime every hour on the hour. A valley spans out below the city walls, and I enjoy watching the sunlight pass over the land, turning it into an ever-changing piece of art as my class time ticks by. Monday morning, two older women walked by as I was sketching. They smiled, said hello and warned me to be careful on the wall because the drop is far – all in Italian. Tuesday morning, they passed again and commented on how the landscape was beautiful. Wednesday morning, I only saw one strolling alone as I was setting up my easel. She smiled at me. When these women (or any Italian, for that matter) speak to me, they have to repeat themselves and speak in short, simple sentences. It has become apparent that my 5 years of Spanish classes are both helpful and harmful to my learning Italian. The two are similar enough for me to comprehend what is being said, but just different enough to make speaking more challenging. Despite my lack of understanding, they always talk to me as they pass my painting spot. I look forward to seeing them and hearing what they have to say, though I’m never sure if I have completely understood their comments. And since my goal for the summer is to grasp enough Italian to have a mediocre conversation with a local, maybe one day I’ll be able to carry on our dialogue.
—–Erin cracked Da Vinci’s code.Contact her at [email protected]