Showing posts with label Italy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Italy. Show all posts

Monday, 16 April 2012

Trilingual?! – Because I get this question a lot.


So let’s clear this up once and for all. My mum’s Italian. My dad’s Belgian. I was born and raised in Belgium, but I travelled a lot, mainly to Italy and the UK. My dad’s Belgian, but London and all things English run through his veins (long story). And now I live in Malta, a.k.a. the rock.

At home I spoke Italian and English. At school I spoke Dutch. Does that make me trilingual? I suppose so. It’s a very unusual situation, I know. And people just don’t get it. Many are skeptical, and I don’t blame them. How can you speak three languages fluently? How can you feel comfortable switching between them? Which one’s your mother tongue? Does your voice change according to the language you speak?

First things first: I feel more Italian than Belgian. My readers know that I have a penchant for il bel paese. Unfortunately I was born in the wrong country. Not that I don’t like Belgium, ma non mi fa né caldo né freddo. I don’t miss it at all. And I certainly don’t miss speaking Dutch. It’s a language that makes me feel uncomfortable. Whenever I meet my colleagues in Belgium I feel awkward knowing I have to speak Dutch. But when they hear me talk – or when they read my translations – nothing gives away my lack of confidence. Or so they say.

I consider Italian to be my mother tongue. Apparently I dream in Italian. Once my dad woke me up, in English, and I mumbled something in Italian. Hubby-to-be and I speak mostly English – although when we first met, we’d switch between English and Italian; there was no logic, yet it worked. When we argue, I switch to Italian and he switches to Maltese. It sounds complicated, but it isn’t. It comes naturally. Our house is a happy mishmash of North and South.

Hubby-to-be says my voice sounds “better” and “sweeter” (whatever that may mean) when I speak Italian, con la cadenza veneta. It’s less harsh, probably because Italian calls for a softer, more rounded pronunciation. My English has probably been influenced by Minglish* over the past few years. My Dutch has a hint of Gents in it.

So why do I write in English? No idea. Just like shouting comes natural in Italian, writing comes natural in English. The brain works in mysterious ways. Maybe one day I’ll decide to write in Italian or in Dutch, but for now English it is.

I am so incredibly grateful for the opportunities I’ve been given. My parents should be very proud of themselves. Not because I speak three languages, but because I’m so happy being who I am and doing what I do. Languages are my passion, and they instilled that in me. They taught me the importance of communication. They urged me to keep perfecting my skills. They made me the optimistic “trilingual” person I am today. Grazie mammina. Thank you daddy.

* the English spoken in Malta

Friday, 13 April 2012

Photo motivation - Italy


It’s Friday. That means Facebook and Twitter users will soon start posting their “TGIFs” and photos of barbecues and dinner tables to illustrate what lies ahead – if they don’t work weekends that is. I usually don’t work on Saturdays and Sundays, except when I’ve got some urgent assignment to finish. So for me, Fridays are motivating days. Sort of.

Motivation – it’s probably my no. 1 problem. When you don’t have a boss looking over your shoulder, it can be difficult to tell yourself “Go on, work!”. Discipline is key. I take short breaks and then I “get crackin’” as my Malteser says. And during these breaks I like to… look at photos of my favourite places. I find it soothing. It brings back memories. And we all know how powerful memories are.

Italy is my passion. It’s where I find solace when I feel lost or stressed. Italy is pure beauty. Italy is love in all its forms. Italy cannot be described, it can only be savoured to the full. Like every other country it has its own scents and colours, and a unique atmosphere that takes me back to my youth, to happy times, family, friends and laughter. Italy is a feast for the senses…

Florence, Rome and Venice. Cities that reflect who I am. What’s more motivating than looking at the beauty of art, architecture and the Italian lifestyle to make you feel alive, to make you smile and to get you through the day? When you're feeling down, remember that it's the little things in life that count - sure, the bills still need to be paid, dinner won't magically appear on your kitchen table and your report won't write itself, but at the end of the day motivation is a reflection of your will to keep going, to never give up, because life is worth living, with its ups and downs, with its Mondays and Fridays. La vita è bella. Sempre e comunque.