My Italian Neighbors!!!

When I was at the apartment on Wednesday, I heard something beautiful. I could overhear the people across the hall talking, and it wasn't English. At first I assumed it was Spanish since that's a pretty common language around here. But I listened a little more closely (literally, if they had walked out at that moment, I would have looked pretty stupid...) and heard a few words that were not Spanish but were most definitely....ITALIAN!!!

Now, you may not know, but one of my life dreams (right up there with going to all seven continents and climbing to Everest Base Camp) is to be at least moderately fluent in Italian. Really, a large part of me belongs to Italy, loving the food, the people, the architecture, the art, the history, the music, the wine, the scenery, and of course, the language.

I am not even close to being able to fluently speak Italian. I never was, although I was a lot better when I was last there two years ago. But I still have hope. I'm not sure if it will ever happen (how often will I really get to substantially practice and learn?), but like I said, it's still one of those life goals I have.

So this morning, I went over to the apartment by myself to take over a bookcase. As I got to the landing and got out my keys, the door across from me opened. A woman (probably in her thirties) came out and I said hello. She said hello and then said she didn't speak much English. I said, "Oh, what do you speak?" (while in my mind I was screaming "YES!!! She's SO ITALIAN!!!") and she reaffirmed my suspicions. I immediately began speaking in a horribly chopped Italian and she was most definitely shocked that I could speak it at all. I met her three children (aged 5, 3, and 1) as well as her husband who really speaks no English at all. Throughout our short conversation I realized that they have only been in the country for about three weeks.

There are some days that I honestly ache for Italy. I already have great plans for our neighbors across the hall. I want to love their children (Joy's a teacher!), share languages (we have already discussed practicing languages with each other), and have fun nights where we invite the others over for a good Italian-themed dinner and share a bottle of Italian wine while talking on the balcony late into the evening. I mean, they might be scared of me and we may never talk, but as of now, I have high high hopes.

When I left the apartment, I saw them again. I waved and said, "Ciao!" I am sure I looked way too happy and they wondered what was wrong with me. I didn't even care. I have Italian neighbors and that is a beautiful thing.