Dopo abbiamo perduto il cavatappi
After we lost the corkscrew (which we didn't actually lose, we mistakenly had stolen one from the catering company that was using our apartment to cook food, oddly enough, and they took it back), we were desperately attempting to open a bottle of wine. When you only have knives, a screwdriver, and a Leatherman, this is harder than you would think. The following exchange occurred.
French professor (to me): You are Magivay.
Me: Che cosa?
French prof: American television.
Me: Che cosa? What?
Italian prof: Like the American TV show. Mac-ee-fer. You've seen it?
Me: Um. No.
Italian prof: With all the... como se dice in inglese... the tools?
Me: Oooohhhh! MacGyver!
French prof: Oui! Ma-gee-vay!
Me: Si, vero. Semper parati.
Honestly, living at the casale is an international party 24/7. One day in class, I diagrammed the languages spoken. There is one person who speaks English, Italian, French, and German. The rest of us mostly speak only one language. My roommate Fiorella speaks Italian and French; the French professors speak only French, with a little English, but understand Italian; the Italian professor speaks a little English but no French. And then there's me. By day three of the French course - which is completely, utterly, and entirely in French - I could understand most of what was going on. Fortunately, some of the Italians don't know what's going on either, so I am not the only one.
OK, more later.
French professor (to me): You are Magivay.
Me: Che cosa?
French prof: American television.
Me: Che cosa? What?
Italian prof: Like the American TV show. Mac-ee-fer. You've seen it?
Me: Um. No.
Italian prof: With all the... como se dice in inglese... the tools?
Me: Oooohhhh! MacGyver!
French prof: Oui! Ma-gee-vay!
Me: Si, vero. Semper parati.
Honestly, living at the casale is an international party 24/7. One day in class, I diagrammed the languages spoken. There is one person who speaks English, Italian, French, and German. The rest of us mostly speak only one language. My roommate Fiorella speaks Italian and French; the French professors speak only French, with a little English, but understand Italian; the Italian professor speaks a little English but no French. And then there's me. By day three of the French course - which is completely, utterly, and entirely in French - I could understand most of what was going on. Fortunately, some of the Italians don't know what's going on either, so I am not the only one.
OK, more later.
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