Hit and miss

Paninoteca = Sandwich shop

Pinacoteca = Painting gallery

One minor example of the linguistic obstacles which thwart my ability to communicate efficiently and elegantly in Italian. Somehow, the resemblence between Spanish, a language I can speak in a slipshod slapdash almost shipshape fashion, and Italian, a language I really cannot speak has lodged into my brain the idea that it is a better idea to speak to Italians in Spanish than to tell them that I can't speak Italian (no parlo italiano - that I can say) and ask, like every other tourist in the country does, whether they speak English. Anglophone shame: strange phenomenon, and one that I suspect may be both widespread and, as yet, inadequately documented.

Anyway.

There are few obstacles left to thwart the marriage of my friends Pete and Allegra this weekend. The occasion of their nuptials delights me. That the ceremony is taking place in Venice, indeed, in the great gilded marble confection that is San Marco thrills me further. That all of this excitement is occuring simultaneous to the swing of the Venice Film Festival and the end of the Biennale is almost too fabulous. The sun is shining brightly. In order to offset the risk of bedazzlement and to attempt to look the part, I have purchased a new pair of sunglasses. People are asking me for directions. I feel like a total local. Even genuine Italians are asking me for directions. Everybody gets confused when I answer them in Spanish.