"Used To"

I taught twice this week, and I can honestly say I enjoyed the classes. In one of them, a student was trying to read "I used to do sport." Instead the pronunciation came out, "I used to do pot." I tried hard not to laugh out loud.

So the course is halfway through and even though it is difficult, I am sure I wont regret it. Im learning more about my own language in further depth than ever before (I know how can that be...I was an English major for pete's sake). Linguistics, phonetics, serious grammar... oh yeh I know you all wish you signed up for this course. I have three more teaching sessons and in week 4 Ill have an exam on all those previously listed subjects. woohoo.

I saw the catacombs yesterday, and I must say of all the things I've seen in my life, they have made the top 10 list. It was one of those eerie feelings, and it's possibly not what you would feel if you were there. I only saw a portion of them due to time and the law (you cant see all of them because of the poor ventilation in many areas). The guided tour cost €5, and besides the awe I felt in walking the tomb caves (apparently Peter and Paul had been/worshipped there), I also felt like such a teacher as the tour guide's L1 (or first language) was obviously not English. I wondered where he learned his English, and began, in my head, correcting his English and diagramming his sentences. I hope that will soon go away like when I first learned how to type without looking at the keypad when I would think...in my mind every word I thought, I would attempt to type on an imaginary keypad in my head. Yeh, odd, I know.

Supposedly I'm off to florence tomorrow, but it might not happen. Either way I'm sure I'll venture off somewhere, and I'll be sure to share the experience with you all. Mom, I ate a hazelnut gelato for you...so you owe me €2. haha. It was molto buono!

As I mentioned before, the long train ride to school seemed like a pain, and although it does make for a long day, I use it to read The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor D. I think he's my new favorite author, not only for his impecable writing skill and amazing descriptions, but also because he saves me everyday from the embarrassment of not knowing where to put one's eyes while riding any form of public transportation.

I made some new Italian friends...Fabio and Fredrico, who work in the coffee shop across from school. I practice my Italian with the uncle and nephew and my name is the easiest for them to pronounce. "Oh Gena, nome italiano" "Si," I say. I found out that Fabio speaks Spanish a little -- this has the same effect on me that gelato does -- a sensation of extreme joy. He makes cappucinos with smiley faces on them, they are simply amazing (for a non-coffee drinker to start drinking daily) and they are only €.80. Possibly one of the cheapest things I have found in Italy so far. When I say the Italian word for "wait" (aspetta) they laugh at me because I pronounce it as my grandparents do...e/shpe/ta...they right away say...Napoli...and I try to tell them in my broken Italian that my grandparents are from there. It makes them smile and laugh. It's a good thing I haven't told them the other words my grandparents have taught me! (Yes, meema and peepa and peepa...I'm talking about all those words I just seem to know so well, I can't imagine why?!)

Okay that's all for now...I'll leave you with some Dostoevsky,
THE MAN WHO LIES TO HIMSELF AND LISTENS TO HIS OWN LIE COMES TO SUCH A PASS THAT HE CANNOT DISTINGUISH THE TRUTH WITHIN HIM, OR AROUND HIM, AND SO LOSES ALL RESPECT FOR HIMSELF AND FOR OTHERS. AND HAVING NO RESPECT HE CEASES TO LOVE, AND IN ORDER TO OCCUPY AND DISTRACT HIMSELF WITHOUT LOVE HE GIVES AWAY TO PASSIONS AND COARSE PLEASURES, AND SINKS TO BESTIALITY IN HIS VICES, ALL FROM CONTINUAL LYING TO OTHER MEN AND TO HIMSELF. THE MAN WHO LIES TO HIMSELF CAN BE MORE EASILY OFFENDED THAN ANY ONE.