Xke No-ing? Or Connecting With Friends

My Italian cell phone and I have had a rocky relationship from the beginning of my must–become–fluent campaign. Some days it’s my closest companion in Rome, the only being in the world who knows where I am, but other days it’s my greatest enemy.

I bought my telefonino at the beginning of my stay in Italy. The store clerk wanted to explain its features but I wanted to skip ahead: Can you please put in the SIM card for me? I feared I would incorrectly insert the smart card that connects me to my cell phone provider.

The young man slipped the thumbnail–sized card in place and then explained that service wouldn’t start until the next afternoon. A week later and four return trips to the store, I finally made my first call.

During that time, my vocabulary multiplied by ten. My understanding of the Italian–only instruction manual increased by the same measure, but once I began making calls, that wasn’t good enough.

The first afternoon of service, I flipped madly back and forth through the instruction guide. When I’d chosen my ring tones and set my clock, I’d accidentally set deviazione chiamate, divert calls to voicemail. I raced to discover the source of my error before six o’clock when my friend Marta would call to confirm our dinner plans. Like a tennis player sprinting to return an almost–out ball, I found the cancel feature only seconds before she rang.

One hard-won feature at a time, I gained mastery, padronanza, over my phone. I even sent simple text messages to an English–speaking friend. But figuring out abbreviations in my mother tongue was barely training for hurdling the same in Italian.

I had no choice but to step up to the plate and take a wild swing when my Italian teacher Daniella invited me to visit her in Frascati outside Rome where she lived. She told me to send a message letting her know when I’d arrive.

The night before my visit, I sat down with my phone. If only I’d known the Italian SMS shortcuts: xké for perché, dom for domani, and risp for rispondimi. Instead I wrote a message as long as Dante’s Inferno, pressed Send, and waited for a response.

Even though I hadn’t heard from Daniella by the next morning, I set out for Frascati hoping to connect with her during the day. I wandered the town’s stone streets, ate a porchetta panino, climbed to Villa Aldobrandini, and returned to Rome by train at sunset, disappointed that I hadn’t seen my teacher.

The moment I plugged my phone into its charger at home, it rang. If only I’d understood the icon warning me that my battery was dead, I may have understood Daniella’s message: “Xké nn c incontr dm verso le due?” I probably could have figured out that she meant “Perché non ci incontriamo domani verso le due?” which means “Why don’t we meet around two o’clock tomorrow?”

Copying from Daniella’s shortcuts, I wrote back: “Xké nn prov ancora?” Why don’t we try again? I signed off like a native speaker: ap for a presto—see you soon.

We’re having coffee next weekend in Frascati.

About the Author: Bonnie Smetts first fell in love with Italian when she decided to take a few classes before visiting a friend who’d moved to Umbria. Five years later, she’s studied all the grammar, read stack of classics, and participated in myriad conversation groups. The time has come for her to be fluent in Italian.