As an ESL teacher, I can't count how many times I've heard these words come out of my mouth:
"It's normal to be nervous. Everyone is nervous when they are just starting out. You just have to keep practicing, and it will get easier."

This, of course, in reference to the fear of speaking one's new language with native speakers.

Even better, "You have to go out into the community and find people to talk to. I know it's scary, but it's the only way to improve."

Every time I say it, I feel myself a hypocrite. When I started learning Italian, it took me MONTHS to gather up the courage to sign up for an Italian tutor online. During that time, I used to tell my ESL students that they were braver than me, because they were actually DOING it, and I didn't even have the guts to sign up. The first time that I finally spoke with an Italian tutor, I was so scared that I nearly cried. After awhile, the online tutoring got (slightly) easier, but I could only speak with my tutors, no one else. I would walk into the Italian deli a few blocks from my house in North Van, telling myself that I would talk to them in Italian, and completely failing to do so. It was too scary.

Fast forward to a week ago... arriving in Catania. Turns out that almost no one in Sicily speaks English. Lucky for me, my Airbnb host does, but he's just about the only one I've met so far. On top of that, the neighbourhood we're in is not very tourist friendly. It's rather insular, eclectic and anti-foreigner. When I say that the neighbourhood is eclectic, I mean that on one side we have a Chinese Christian church, and on the other a mafia bar. There are mattress shops and car garages and cafes and meat shops advertising horse meat. It's a strange, strange neighbourhood.

The first day or two, the only Italian words I managed to squeak out were yes, no, and thank you. But I was set on following my own advice: the only way to get over the fear of speaking the language is to go out and do it, even if it's just a few words at a time.

The first morning--Tuesday--was a disaster. I went into the cafe at the end of the block--the Mirabella--and looked at the case full of pastries. I had no idea what anything was. I pointed at something and another customer named it for me: la cipollina. Ok, I'll try it. The barista gets it for me, and I also ask for a cappuccino. No problem. I know that you're supposed to drink the coffee while standing at the bar, so I stay there. He hands me both items and I try to give him my credit card. Nope, baristas don't take credit cards. I'm confused. He gestures towards the register, which is back by the door. Oh. I have to pay over there. Do I leave my food and coffee at the bar and go back to pay? Do I pay later? There are other customers on either side of me and they both start jabbering at me at once, instructing me on what I'm supposed to be doing. But I can't understand either of them because they're both talking too fast and at the same time. Total confusion. The one on my right sounds impatient, like I'm dumb. The one on the left is trying to be helpful but I have no idea what he's saying. The barista just stares at me and says nothing. I'm too terrified to do or say anything, so I just drink my cappuccino, take my cipollina, pay at the register, and leave as quickly as possible.

Later I ask Riccardo, my Airbnb host, what I should have done. He says that it depends on the establishment. In some, you pay first (if you know what you want). In some you pay after and it's on an honour system. You have to kind of go with the flow.

Wednesday, I went to a different cafe and took a tiny baby step forward. I managed to order what I wanted (this was easy since all I had to say was "una cipollina e un cappuccino"), then paid at the register while my order was being prepared. There was also a yes, no, and thank you in there. Slight improvement. Still no full sentences though.

Thursday, I made the mistake of going into an establishment with an exceptionally rude barista. I asked for a cappuccino and she shook her head, looked away from me, and said in an irritated voice, "non c'è latte". At least I understood this time--no milk. She said something else which I didn't quite follow, but understood. Only regular coffee (which in Italy means espresso). Ok then, no problem. She made a point of demonstrating through voice and body language that she was only tolerating me for the rest of the few minutes that I was there. I paid my .70 Euro for my coffee and left.

After these experiences, I was feeling pretty discouraged and intimidated. How can I practice speaking the language in these kinds of conditions? How does one function in such an unwelcoming environment? But I am determined to keep making baby steps... just a few words at a time. Everywhere I go, in shops and markets, I make a point of sprinkling in Italian words and phrases as much as possible, even though all that is returned to me is a cascade of unintelligible speech that is far too fast for me to understand.

Friday: I went back to the first cafe, the Mirabella. This time, I did everything right. I asked for my order at the register first, and the proprietor shouted it to the barista (whose name, it turns out, is Marcello) while taking my money. I went to the counter and drank my coffee while the ever-stoic Marcello still stood wordlessly as before. I may not know the language but I do have one super power: I can make my eyes twinkle at will when I smile. So I stood there and smiled at him over my cup while I drank, until he was forced to smile back. Riccardo tells me that Marcello *never* smiles, so I consider that a victory.

But the real victory came on Saturday. I went back to the Mirabella and this time I asked the proprietor a full question: "Cosa devo provare?" What should I try? Well this just made his day. He was SO happy. He took me over to the pastry case and pointed out something scrumptious to me. I agreed to try it with my cappuccino. He then ushered me into the little seating area (talking all the while, but I couldn't understand), and had Marcello bring me my coffee and some water. Then when I was ready to leave, he gave me an extra, tiny little pastry with little strawberries on it (which, by the way, was the best thing I've eaten since I arrived here). I made a friend. I don't even know his name, but he loves me now.

I returned this morning and he greeted me with a big smile and outstretched arms, telling another regular that I "always" come there. I again tried something different, and again received the tiny strawberry pastry as I was leaving. He tried to have a conversation with me but still spoke too quickly, even after I asked him to slow down ("lentamente..."). I'll keep trying. But now I'm a regular at the Mirabella. It only took a week.

What I need to practice most is my listening... Italians speak SO quickly that I can usually only pick out words and phrases, and can sometimes get the gist of what is being said, in context... but I can never get it all.

Maybe by the end of my three months in Italy I'll be able to have a real conversation? :D