Marina's Bloggariffic

It’s close to 3 years now that I’ve been living here in Rome. For me, I think that’s the amount of time to really get used to living here. The first few months was probably the hardest, being all homesick, missing friends and family. It’s not so much about the language barriers, but the sense of loneliness that kills you.

I can completely relate to Carrie when she was in Paris and happened to walk past a bar with 4 friends laughing and having a moment together.

Even now, sometimes I miss spending time with my besties Jules and Hema. We went to school together, and since then, we’ve done a lot of activities together, and so there are loads of memories. It could have been the simplest type of meet, but it’s the company makes it joyful.

It might take a shorter time for others to integrate, but for me, I needed time to assimilate and really feel like, “This is my home. This is my life,” instead of it feeling like a long stay-away. Which is probably what the mentality of a number of people that I’ve met here, have. They know that they are not going to stay here long term and eventually go back to where they came from. But it’s different for someone who’s married to an Italian.

It’s hard to abandon the metaphorical tree that I’ve sowed and start on a new one. And it took quite some time, but I finally have close friends whom I can confide and hang out with. It doesn’t feel so lonely anymore.

And I feel so amazed that it was just about a week or two ago when I’ve felt like I’m stuck in a rut, missing my financial independence. But now I’m getting more work opportunities. What I’m doing right now, is not my dream job, but at least I feel wanted and that my skills are not stagnating.

I feel like I’ve a more social life now, about twice a week I hang out with the people at the centro sociale, where there are quite a number of interesting activities held there. It’s a fun, stress-less, non judgemental place just to bond with others with a mutual activity.

I’ve been taking better care of myself, exercising more and watching what I’ve been eating (more or less) and I’m increasingly happier with I look at the figure in the mirror. I’ve went past my pre-wedding weight now and just a couple of kilograms more to my ideal BMI!

All these small things makes me feel motivated and I feel blessed. Things are looking up. It seems as if my new tree is growing healthily. And if there are anyone who’s just migrated in a new country like how I did, just hang on in there. It will get better.

I was reading with interest, this blog post by NYC Ragazza.

I got the feeling that she’s the lady who asked on how to pronounce cocomero while at the Gelato event last September

In her post, she writes that it’s quite easy to be lazy and not speak Italian because there are so many expat meet ups where you could socialise in English. And if you’re travelling around in the center, there are many shops and restaurants servers who are able to speak English well enough to get by. While at home if you had cable, you could simply change the language from the dubbed to the original language which is mostly in English.

But it does get a little harder for someone who’s married to an Italian. Because they’re pretty much expected to integrate which on the one hand is great because it is immersive. It’s tough though. It’s like teaching a person to swim by throwing him in the deep end of the pool. Some might be able to pull through, but some might just trash around the water in fear.

Although I did learn a little bit of Italian back in Singapore, it was a different ballpark altogether when I moved to Rome – the speed, the dialect and the slang that the people here spoke, was vastly different compared to the contained classroom environment. It was pretty overwhelming.

And as much as I appreciate Cart trying to assimilate me, taking me out to meet with his friends, try as much as I could to concentrate, it tends to be hard to focus after a while because :

1. I don’t understand what they were talking about because of mainly because of the vocabulary that they used and I didn’t want to be of a hindrance and interrupt the flow of the conversation to constantly ask what was going on.
2. Because they’ve been friends for a long time, there are a lot of context and inside jokes that I didn’t get. Sometimes I feel like, unintentionally, being pushed out.

Hence, I’d rather just listen and watch the conversation and even when I do contribute to the conversation, there are times when I struggle to find the right words to express myself and it gets frustrating.

I took some Italian courses here in Rome, and while it was daunting in the beginning, eventually, it got easier. It did loads to my independence. It’s so much easier going to the supermarket by myself, buying a ticket at the tabbaccaio, taking the public transportation by myself, without having Cart to help me.

All the normal, every day sort of activities. But it was terrifying for me when I was new here. But I feel a lot more comfortable when I’m by myself now, and I don’t panic when I’m walking outside and some random person asks me for directions for example (although it’s a little puzzling as to why they would specifically ask me, when there are others because I look obviously foreign )

I don’t speak perfect Italian, but people seem to understand what I say more or less.

But sometimes Cart can be so hard on me. While I’m marveling at how much I’ve progressed, he pushes me to speak perfect Italian, which usually doesn’t go well with me.  Because my philosophy in learning is to be nurturing and supportive. Kind of like how a baby learns. The baby tries, and the parents motivates her with positive words to continue. Why should it be any different from an adult?

It might sound quite juvenile, but when someone pushes me like that (be it for learning Italian, or learning to drive etc) instead of being motivated, I feel like closing up instead. Which is probably the wrong approach, but I easily lose the joy of learning that way. I need someone to clap their hands or say, “You’re doing great!” every now and then. Learning should be happy.

Kind of like Carrie asking for a little milk in her coffee, so it’s not too bitter

Cart recently psycho-analyzed me and claims that I’m homesick and thinks that by my resisting in speaking Italian, I’m trying to hang on to my bit of home. While I do get pangs of homesickness, I’ve already long resigned that I’ve be living here long term. So I don’t think that, that’s it.

But nevertheless, the way that I’ve been treated, I’ve slowly grown a sort of mechanism. While I used to be flighty, now I have the mentality to be more patient, and to just not care  too much and just speak Italian as how I’m comfortable with, without (mostly) thinking about people will be judging me. Sort of an insensitivity training if you may.

Which is not bad for a rather egoistical person, such as myself

Sidenote : Somehow I’m reminded of a scene of a literature that I read about a foreign woman who’ve lived in England for many many years but still didn’t speak any English at all.