First Day at School...

At the end of day one my head hurt!  It has been me and Joel (the Californian who seems to have left his wife at home and spent the last month travelling in Europe with the aim of eventually coming here to learn Italian), against the world.  Or Italy.   Or Daniella, our teacher.  We sat for three hours in a small classroom, and hardly a word of English passed between us.  I am surprised at how much I managed to get away with although both Joel and I speak some Spanish and we both throw in the occasional (or not so occasional!) word.  Joel has been here a week already but I still managed to hold my own I reckon, although there was plenty I did not understand.  But whereas Joel has got a lot of the grammar basics I have not such as the masculine, feminine and plural forms of things and counting and days of the week, I am able to use more verbs and tenses. So I am able to say I ARRIVED here yesterday and I WANT TO LEARN Italian because my grandfather WAS Italian and LIVED in a village in Umbria and then MOVED to England.  And that I WILL GO to Umbria after my time at the school.  But ask me what day I will leave and 'I don't know'. Or how old I am: 'I don't know'. Or how many times I have been to Italy: 'I don't know'. Or what day of the week is it: 'I don't know'..... (Although some would say that that has always been the case....)

Here is something I learned yesterday which is of interest.  When in the class I asked Joel - in Italian because that seems to be the law in the classroom - why he wants to learn the language.   I picked up a few facts such as his grandmother was Italian and his great grandmother was polish and something about a passport and lots of paperwork and some Irish in the family too.  When we went for a coffee together during a break and we spoke a little English I managed to fill in the gaps.  It seems that under a long standing law the son of an Italian is always an Italian, wherever he was born.  So it seems that if my grandfather did not become naturalised before my father was born (and that is possible as my grandfather was interned during the war) then my father was Italian in the eyes of the law.  And if that is the case that makes me the son of an Italian in the eyes of the law and hence an Italian too!  So, like Joel I could get myself an Italian passport.  How cool would that be....?  I could hold dual nationality and not even realise it!  Certainly something worth looking into methinks! 

I am now sitting doing my homework - yes homework - before I meet up with Joel and some other students and one of the teachers for a pizza.  And I am told by Joel who went last week that we are not allowed to speak English...  I reckon that after two weeks of this I will either have a good grasp of Italian or my head will have exploded....