Alright folks, gather ’round, it’s confession time. Perhaps it’s because we’re near the geographical epicenter of Catholicism that I’m getting this urge, or maybe it’s due to a deep underlying disappointment that I didn’t prioritize this activity enough. And this activity is…?, you ask. Well, I confess I didn’t spend enough time learning Italian even though I parted with hard-earned cash to get Rocket Italian a number of months prior to going. Sure, I’ve taken a number of lessons and enjoyed doing it, but despite Rocket’s best efforts, I fell off the wagon so hard the bruises have gone from purple to green. Learning a language is like going to the gym, however. If you only make it there, you’ll be glad you did, but the discipline it takes to get off your duff in the first place can at times feel unattainable. As a result, we’ll settle for simply calling it a work in progress.

Why am I telling you this? Because despite my sad level of devotion and effort thus far, I had still learned enough to express to the Interbus clerk that I wanted two (due) one way (andata) tickets (biglietti) to Siracusa and understood quaranta to mean 4o cents and then one euro to give me less coins in change. Proudly clutching my optimized change and our newly procured tickets we awaited the bus that was running later and later with a number of other buses rolling by. At one point, I jogged back to the clerk and with a hint of desperation in my voice I asked in English if we perhaps needed to take another bus first, e.g. to the airport and then switch to a Siracusa one. If she understood a word of English, it was not one of those words.

The bus proclaiming Siracusa did show up and as it did, I had to communicate with the driver that we needed to get off at a particular stop. In anticipation of this event I had feverishly used google translate to get some suggestions of what to say. I didn’t trust that I would be able say any of the suggestions under the stern, scrutinizing gaze of the bus driver so I settled for “Vorrei fermata …”, which loosely means “I’d like bus stop…” but the like is a like to eat or like to order kind of like. Nonetheless, I was greeted with a calm, nay serene nod and look of benevolence from this patriarch of transit, who 50 minutes later called out exactly the stop we needed to get off at. The moral of the story is that even a little is better than nothing when it comes to foreign languages. Not only do people generally appreciate the effort, but it can make all the difference when gestures, drawings and full body contortions are not practical or effective.

Now that we’re settled in beautiful Siracusa, it’s time to take another lesson.