Blogue d'un québécois expatrié en Angleterre. Comme toute forme d'autobiographie est constituée d'une large part de fiction, j'ai décidé de nommer le blogue Vraie Fiction.
Tuesday, 17 December 2013
An Italian moment
I mentioned recently in a post about mulled wine the restaurant dinner with Odin's former owners. What I did not mention then, because I wanted to write a blog post about it, is that the waiter was Italian. He could also speak a fairly good French, which he was eager to use, so he spoke to me in French, but knowing he was Italian, I said my usual: "Io parlo bene italiano ma non capisco una sola parola". I say it as often as I can. It always has the same effect: the native Italian speaker thinks I am fluent in Italian, sometimes even thinks I am Italian myself. Sometimes I sound like a Southerner, a Neapolitan, a Roman, this time it was a Northerner. I am an all round the map pseudo-Italian. Anyway, he quickly saw that I was not a native, but just for the effect the line made, I think it deserves to be considered a great unknown line from now on, if I haven't listed it among them before. I talked as much as I could in Italian that night when ordering. Moral of the story: there is none. It was simply an Italian moment.