A Lesson in Dialect

I can’t speak Italian. Neither could most of my ACLE colleagues. And that’s why my first camp director and her friend liked to get us to repeat various phrases we didn’t understand, falling about laughing when they heard them. One evening, they started teaching us dialect. And so, in the first week of my travels, a mission was born. I was going to learn the same phrase in the dialect of every region I visited.

Speaking of the country as a unified whole, Italy is very young. Its history is complex and confusing and I cannot make any claims to expertise here, but scholars generally agree that the Risorgimento that led to Italian unification began around 1815 with the Congress of Vienna and the end of Napoleonic rule, and ended around 1871, when Rome officially became the capital of what was known as the ‘Kingdom of Italy.’ Before this time, ‘Italy’ was separated into many different ‘city-states’, each with its own ruling family trying to extend their territory and influence, as well as overseas monarchs (such as the Holy Roman Emperor and the King of France) fighting over what part was ‘theirs’.

What does this all mean for Italian as a language? Florentines claim ownership of ‘true Italian’ as we know it; largely because the Tuscan dialect is the closest to classical Latin, because of how large and central Tuscany is, and because of what has been described as the ‘aggressive commerce of its most influential city, Florence.’ Florence also produced Dante, Petrarca and Bocaccio, who arguably did for Italian what Shakespeare, Milton and Tyndale did for English. However, across the rest of Italy, regions had developed their own languages that didn’t just differ from region to region, but from city to city and even town to town. Much like the similarities in the development of Cornish and Breton through their closeness in trade and commerce, you find surprising links and similarities in the dialects of various parts of Italy and its neighbouring countries. The further into the Dolomites you go, the more Germanic the dialect sounds. Likewise, visit Savona or Genoa, and their dialects are very similar to those spoken in the northern coastal regions of Sardinia – largely due to trade and migration. In fact, I remember my Savonese host mother telling me that when her mother, who was from a town just outside of Savona, Liguria, met her future husband (from Sardinia) – she felt she was only able to fully trust him and therefore marry him because they spoke such a similar dialect. Even across many parts of Italy today, dialect is what children grow up speaking at home and ‘true Italian’ is what they speak at school. So, when Italy became unified, there wasn’t necessarily one common language. My Savonese host father told me of accounts of utter chaos in the First World War, because young recruits from all corners of the country would assemble for training miles from home with little or no knowledge of any language apart from their local dialect, and be almost completely unable to understand the commands issued to them by leaders from other regions.

Therefore, dialect is still a stronghold across huge parts of Italy. Along with the Italian reverence for family, this is probably one of the many contributing factors as to why Italians have historically remained within the area in which they grew up. Their cultural identity isn’t just a national one but a regional one. Many of the Italians that I met are immensely proud of their dialect.

Here are the phrases I collected throughout my time:

Notes:

·         In the interests of pronunciation, I have followed each one with a version using British English phonemes where necessary.

·         I have grouped them according to location, with those areas close to each other listed together, so you can see the similarities and differences more easily

·         For any Italian readers, apologies for the expletive in the Sicilian phrase. It couldn’t really be helped!

·         Also for any Italian readers, please correct my spelling where necessary!

 ‘What are you doing?!?!?!’ (In sixteen different dialects, spoken with the necessary angry/confused hand shaking and in an aggressive tone)

Italiano (true Italian): Cosa stai facendo?! (Cozza sty fachendo?!)

***

Padovan: Coxa sito drio fare?! (Coxa seato dreeo fah-reh?)

Cavallino: Cossa sisto drio far?! (Cossa sisto dreeoh far?)

Venetian: Cossa ti si drio far?! (Cossa tee see dreeoh far?)

Vicentino: Cosa fetto?! (Cozza fetto?)

Mantovan: Cosa set dre far?! (Cozza set dreh far?)

Bergamo: Set dre a far?! (Set dreh a far?)

Castel Goffredo: Cosa se de a far?! (Cozza say say a far?)

Gorla Minore: Cousa te set dre fa?! (Coosa ti set dreh fa?)

Milanese: Sa te dre fa cousé?! (Sa teh dreh fa coosé.)

Savonese: Cose ti feh?! (Cousseh ti fé?)

South Piemontese: So cet foi?! (So chet foy?)

Roman: Che stai a fa?! (Keh sty a fa?)

Neapolitan: Ma che stai faschen?! (Ma keh sty faschen? I know there’s a problem with the way I’ve spelled ‘faschen’ in the Italian version – in the absence of knowledge I used the British phoneme to denote a ‘sh’ sound, but included the ‘c’ for stress and emphasis – it’s not an entirely soft sound.)

Pugliese: Ma cesta fa?! (Ma chesta fa?)

 Sicilian: Ma che minchia fa!!? (Ma keh minkia fa?!!!)

You can see from this how similar those ranging from the northern regions of Venice across to Milan are. Many people from these areas can understand one another quite easily when they’re speaking in dialect. However, when you consider how close places like Milan, Gorla, Bergamo, Vicenza, Mantua and Castel Goffredo are (they’re all situated within a roughly 50 kilometre radius), you realise that their dialects are really quite different. Move down south and the snappy shouts of the Romans, the Sicilians and the Pugliese are almost unrecognisable from the rolling syllables of the north. In fact, you would be forgiven for thinking that ‘Che stai a fa?’ and ‘Cosa sito drio fare?’ were completely different questions! Now, put a Roman army captain in charge of a contingent of Venetian soldiers speaking only dialect and you’re asking for trouble!

I love studying words and etymology, particularly with regard to how social and political conditions have affected language, and this task of learning a little about Italian dialect was absolutely fascinating. It has provided me with a bit more of an understanding of Italians and their national identity, what has made them who they are, how they think, their history as a nation and how all of this is reflected in the Italy I experienced when I visited this summer just passed. What started by accident as a laugh with a camp director and my friends, has turned into a fascinating exploration of language, lifestyle and history, and I am by no means finished with it yet. 

'My Trip to London'

Looking back across my childhood, it’s really no surprise that I caught the travel bug. Although there were no sun-soaked holidays in the Med, no middle-class skiing trip in the February half-term, no money for much more than a leaky tent pitched in a half-empty field on the south coast of Cornwall (and what more, frankly, does a child need for a fantastic holiday?), I was always encouraged to be curious, to explore, to interrogate, to discover things for myself and to be open-minded.

I recently started to scrapbook my travels, and I’ve made some amazing finds along the way. I thought my scrapbook material only went back as far as my trip to Cambodia four years ago, but in fact, recent sorting-out of all the paraphernalia in my parents’ garage has unearthed ticket stubbs, brochures and boarding passes from a trip I took to New York aged seventeen, and even thought-provoking souvenirs from a battlefields tour to Belgium I went on with school, aged fourteen. But by far the most satisfying, most nostalgic, most heart-tugging discovery, was the account I wrote of the trip to London I took with my Dad, at the tender age of seven. I remember writing it on the train home, and now I’m a ‘grown-up’, I can see in it the tell-tale little signs of the nomad I would grow up to be. And I’d like to share it with my readers, whoever and wherever you are, if anyone even reads this little offering. I’ve left the spelling mistakes in because, well, it was written by a seven year-old. (And they’re cute)

‘My Trip to London.’

On Thursday morning we had to rush because we got up late. We rushed to the train station and got there just in time. We had Kit Kat Chunkies for breakfast! We got the train at sevon-thirty and got to London at eleven-twenty. We played hangman but the journey was really boring.

We got on the tube-train to Russel Square. We got on the Northern Line and the Piccadilly Line then we found our hotel. It was called ‘The Celtic Hotel’, it was clean and simple with very friendly people.

After a short break we went for a walk around Covent Garden. Dad was disappointed that there were no street entertainers. Then we walked on to Leicester Square where we went to the ticket stall and got three tickets to see Cats. I jumped up and down and was really exited. The girl in the ticket stall wanted to come with us.

Then we walked around London a bit more then maid our way back to the hotel where we waited for our friend Lisa to goin us. She arrived at six-thirty and we went for an indian curry. THEN WE WATCHED THE FONOMINAL FANTASTIC CATS! I got a program witch Old Deuteronomy signed for me. I didn’t want it to finish at all because it was so fabulous.

We walked back to the hotel very happy very exited and very tird after our first day in London, we collapsed down on our beds and fell asleep.

Friday

We got up at sevon thirty and had a bath and went down to breakfast. I had shreddies first with orange juice. Next I had bacon, eggs and beans with hot chocolate. My Dad had suger puffs and an English breakfast. Then we caut the underground to the Millenam Dome. We had to go on the Piccadilly Line then the Northern line then the Jubilee line. We got to the Dome at ten o’clok.

DOME

1. At the senter of the Dome we watched the millenam show with lots of people in the air. It had three acts
2. Sky scape. We didn’t get to do it.
3. Body. I didn’t like it very much the heart was horrid.
4. Play. I really enjoyed playing on a piano where you press a button and roll a ball.

I went on a maze I almost won. On my second go the boy said that I was eavern better than him. It was an interactive computer maze that I had to stand on.

1. Shared ground. We tell the time capsule about our naiborhod and our life.
2. Jorney. Jorney was about how we do and how we might travel in the futer.
3. Living island. Living island is about how we waist water in this contry.
4. Home planet. We travelled through space back to Earth again.
5. Talk. It is important to talk. I found it a little bit boring. Having my photo with E.T was great.
6. Work. We played computer games and answered questions on tel.no’s.
7. Mony. We didn’t get to do it.
8. Lernig. Lernig was a big school corridor with a horrid headmaster.
9. Millenam Jewles. Millenam Jewles was boring but pretty.
10. Our town stage. It was ok but it was in Welsh so I didn’t understand it.
11. Rest. We lied down on a hard stone floor and watched the lights change. I kept sliding down the wavy bits and Dad told me off.
12. Faith. We didn’t get to do it.

When we got back to the hotel we asked if there was anywhere for us to have an indian curry. Then we went back to the hotel and went to bed.

Saturday

We got up at sevon o’clok. We had breakfast then left for the train. ‘I don’t want to go home’ I told my Dad, just as we were about to leev.

The End.

By Charlie Jessica Murrell – Edwards.

I hope you enjoyed it.