Secret Agent

This week I performed a taste test! This is by far one of the most interesting things that I can do at work. On the first floor of the Coop building, there’s a lab, where all sorts of studies and tests are carried out. One of the cool things about working at a company that runs supermarkets is that product testing involves food. I’ve already been given my share of free samples, ranging from pillows to detergents to canned mackerel (still uneaten).

Basically, it works like this: four identical products, from different stores, are assigned random numbers. The tester (me!) receives each numbered product with a corresponding form that asks me to rank flavor, quality, etc. I was testing apples (Renettas, which are a traditional Italian baking apple), so the questions were also about tartness, juiciness, and crispness. Cool, right? Afterwards the lab manager told me that I had ranked the apple from Coop’s major competitor, Esselunga, first. And I ranked Coop’s Renetta last. Oops.

This is the view from one of the bridges that I cross in the bus on my way to work. It's very pretty when there's daylight and sun! (Two rare things here during the winter.)


Speaking of putting my foot in my mouth, I spent this Thursday’s English lesson talking to my overachieving student, Andrea, about cars. It’s extremely expensive to own a car here, which I discovered after he made me a detailed graph of all the costs. So, trying to contribute intelligently to the conversation, I told him that I had heard that Fiats are bad-quality cars. But guess what? He works at Fiat, and he didn’t think that was very funny. He forgave me, though, and gave me a ride to the train station in his 1971 Fiat 500. It’s really that small. The car is entirely non-electric (mechanical?) and all its features (as in, headlights, heat, windshield wipers) are turned on by an actual switch – like a light switch – on the dashboard. And the motor sounds like a blender. Have you ever been in a car and felt extremely fortunate with every moment that it continued to drive? That’s how I felt. But Andrea is very proud of his car. It has an important history, too. It was the first car that Italians were able to buy after World War II, and it carried them long distances on honeymoons and vacations for the first time. Apparently, it can be seen as a symbol of a recovering postwar economy and populace. This September Fiat is bringing out a 2007 version. (Excuse any lapses in historical content, because my only source is Andrea.)

And, finally, it’s getting easier to speak Italian. I don’t mean that I can actually speak it (and I make mistakes all the time), but I can finally understand little comments and keep abreast of lunchtime conversations. It’s still very difficult to say what I want to say, but at least it’s feeling more like a process is taking place in my brain, and less like a constantly embarrassing and frustrating experience. It’s really amazing to see how intuitive language is. Expressions and gestures are so important, and carry as much (if not more) weight as words. Well, to Italians they are. So I’m very lucky in that respect!

My language triumphs are teeny tiny compared to those of others. Especially the people who sing in my choir, some from Cameroon, Turkey, or the Czech Republic, who speak four languages (and can sing in many more). It’s really humbling to meet so many people, on a daily basis, who speak so many languages – often motivated by economic need – when I have so often felt constricted by my choice to learn just one more. (The operative word being choice, because I had one.)

Meanwhile, Carnivale has begun here. I hope to see some of it. It’s very hard to get objective advice on where to go. My colleagues at work recommend the small towns near Bologna, where there are parades and candy thrown in the street, but my roommates will only go to Venice for Carnivale. No one agrees, and everyone has regional preferences. We’ll see what happens.