Learning to Learn

You--dear reader--should know that I am what I call a "real reader." Other people might call me an obsessed freak, but I don't listen to them! Right now I'm reading a book called Lone Star Sanctuary, a book about a gal trying to foil the evil plans of a psycho murderer by escaping to the horse ranch of her estranged grandpa. I've just finished reading a trilogy by DH Parker (Constancy's Waltz, Dark Diamond Reel, and Fiddler's Lament).
Tonight, I added my fifth book in a week to my pile (yes, I've been reading all those in a week. Maybe there is some truth to that nickname "obsessed freak" after all, yeah?) This new book is actually an anthology. The writers were all Americans who have Italian heritage. When I saw the book on my piled of recently unpacked books, I thought it would be a good addition to what I was now reading, seein' as I'm studying Italian. I thought that knowing the mindset--through the written word--of "Italian" Americans (i.e. Americans), it might help me understand the language as well. That was one smart move.
First, I must admit that, though I totally believe in the Rosetta Stone system of learning a language, I sometimes cheat in the learning process. I chalk it up to a lack of patience. I want to know NOW! The way I cheat is that I have the BabelFish website (http://babelfish.yahoo.com/translate_txt) up and I'll translate words now and then--if the pictures don't make sense.
One day, up onto my computer pops a picture of a boy with his arm around the waist of an older man. His conversation bubble said "Io voglio bene mi nonno" or something really similar to it. The page also has pictures of other people together saying similar phrases. I was stumped. What could this phrase mean? I knew bene mean something akin to good or well. So, I went to my faithful Babel Fish website. It pasted in the phrase and pushed the Translate! button. Up came a translated phrase which was something similar to this one: "I wish well for my grandpa."
{I want to pause here for a moment, Dear Reader, and request that you forgive me. My brain is turning 41 in three weeks (well, more actually, if you add seven months in utero, yeah?) and, well, it is getting a bit tired. I might not remember every single detail with spit shine detail. } I must also add to my "confession" that I might possibly be called naive. I just kind of believe what people--or computer systems--tell me. So, I believed the BabelFish translator and put that idea into my head as I'm learning Italian. Sooooooooooooo not a smart move. That isn't really what it means.
I was flipping through the anthology. I figured I might learn a few phrases that would help me in the learning process. I was right. While "flipping", many phrases in italics caught my eye. (the italics meant it was a foreign language) so I stopped and read a few of them. A smile appeared on my face when I read the phrase ti voglio bene. I thought, "I KNOW those words!" Then I felt kind of a cold shock wash over me when I read the translation that followed. It said "I love you." What? I thought it meant that other phrase about wishing well. Nope. This made much more sense anyway. I was relieved. I REALLY did think that the original translation was really weird, but just chalked it up to some Italian cultural thing that I would never understand since I wasn't raised up in an Italian culture. (That last statement made me wonder "What kind of culture WAS I raised up in? sorry for the bad grammar. The answer to that question will have to be the subject of another blog, however.)
Anyway, I learned my lesson. Don't necessarily trust the translation capabilities of a computer system. I guess I need to make some friends of some native Italian speakers, yeah? Whatever the case may be, I had a great adventure figuring out the real phrase. Learning is just so much fun.
I hope you're having fun, too.
love,
Lolly Fabulous!

The Wonders of Wordology # 1

Have you ever had one of those moments--perhaps while in college full-time--when some of what you're learning in one class overlaps into another class? A semi-recent example I can remember from my own life was the breathing/warm-up exercise which I learned in acting class which was also used--in a slightly altered form--in my voice and diction class. Sometimes--more rarely--something in history would show up in a literature class IF we happened to be studying things in the same era. The same thing is happening in my "real" life right now. Here are some things I have learned:

A) Lavandino means "sink" in Italian. I had heard--on airplanes--of restrooms being called "lavatories", so I didn't really think twice about it. But, when I began reading about lavender in my garden book "The Bountiful Container"( Stuckey and McGee, 2003),(thanks Vicky!) I was amazed at the intriguing tidbits I learned.

"The herb we call lavender is not named for the color, even though most of its flowers

are lavender-hued. Rather, it is the other way around: the color is named for the

plant.

The genus name, Lavandula, is derived from the Latin verb lavare, meaning

"to wash." Through many centuries, starting with the ancient Greeks and Romans,

homemakers have included lavender in the rinse water to impart a clean fragrance

to the household linens; they didn't know it, but they were also disinfecting.

Lavender was used in medieval times to clean the air in musty sick-rooms, and

was one of the most popular "strewing herbs" (scattered over the floor and allowed

to dry, for an air freshener).

Initially, it was the clean fragrance that appealed, and there was also a general

sense that the presence of lavender in a sickroom was healthful. Until the

beginning of the twentieth century, lavender was even used to dress battlefield

wounds.

Now, modern science has verified that the herb does indeed have antiseptic

properties, and so those long-ago homemakers had the right instinct.

B) During Eight Grade, I was in choir. And I have been singing often for the last 18 1/2 years since I became a Christian. The term "sotto voce" was taught--and done--plenty of times throughout the years. It means "a dramatic lowering of the voice." It isn't quite as quiet as pianissimo, but still--pretty quiet. It was, therefore, supremely easy for me to learn the Italian word for "under" which is "sotto." Strangely, though I learned them at the same time, I have a harder time remembering the word for "on" and "in." I think "in" is "negli" but I"m not sure. I'll have to re-do that section, I believe!

I'm sure there will be many more interesting "word" lessons in the upcoming months since I'm learning a lot of new things lately. Hope they help broaden your world--or at least not make you fall asleep whilst reading my blogs! ;-P

love ya,

Lolly Fabulous :)