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For years, I'd wished I could speak Italian—a language I find more beautiful than roses—but I could never make the practical justification for studying it. Why not just bone up on the French or Russian I'd already studied years ago? Or learn to speak Spanish, the better to help me communicate with millions of my fellow Americans? What was I going to do with Italian? It’s not like I was going to move there. It would be more practical to learn how to play the accordion.
多年来，我一直希望能讲意大利语——这语言的美让我觉得更甚于玫瑰——但我从来找不到实际的理由去学。何不去温习多年前学过的法语或俄语？或者学西班牙语 ；这更能帮助我和成千上万的美国同胞沟通？学意大利语干嘛？又不是要移居那里。不如学手风琴实际些。
But why must everything always have a practical application? I'd been such a diligent soldier for years—working, producing, never missing a deadline, taking care of my loved ones, my gums and my credit record, voting, etc. Is this lifetime supposed to be only about duty? In this dark period of loss, did I need any justification for learning Italian other than that it was the only thing I could imagine bringing me any pleasure right now? And it wasn't that outrageous a goal, anyway, to want to study a language. It's not like I was saying, at age thirty-two, "I want to become the principal ballerina for the New York City Ballet." Studying a language is something you can actually do. So I signed up for classes at one of those continuing education places (otherwise known as Night School for Divorced Ladies). My friends thought this was hilarious. My friend Nick asked, "Why are you studying Italian? So that—just in case Italy ever invades Ethiopia again, and is actually successful this time—you can brag about knowing a language that's spoken in two whole countries?"
但为什么每件事都必须是实用的？多年来，我一直是个勤勉的小兵——上班 ；总是准时完成工作，照顾我的亲人、我的牙龈、我的信用纪录，投票等。难道这辈子只是关乎尽到责任？在这黑暗的失落期，我还需要什么正当理由去学意大利语，除了这是我此刻所能想到能给自己带来快乐的唯一事情？而无论如何，想学习语言也不是什么罪不可赦的目标。又不是像三十二岁的人说“我要成为纽约市立芭蕾舞团的首席女主角。”学习语言，是你真正做得到的事情，于是我报名参加某推广教育（亦称离婚女子夜校）的课程。我的朋友们觉得很逗趣 。我的朋友尼克问说 “你干嘛学意大利语？是不是为了——万一意大利再次侵犯埃塞俄比亚，而且这回成功的话——你可以夸说你懂得这两个国家的语言？”
But I loved it. Every word was a singing sparrow, a magic trick, a truffle for me. I would slosh home through the rain after class, draw a hot bath, and lie there in the bubbles reading the Italian dictionary aloud to myself, taking my mind off my divorce pressures and my heartache. The words made me laugh in delight. I started referring to my cell phone as il mio telefonino ("my teensy little telephone"). I became one of those annoying people who always say Ciao! Only I was extra annoying, since I would always explain where the word ciao comes from. (If you must know, it's an abbreviation of a phrase used by medieval Venetians as an intimate salutation: Sono il suo schiavo! Meaning: "I am your slave!") Just speaking these words made me feel sexy and happy. My divorce lawyer told me not to worry; she said she had one client (Korean by heritage) who, after a yucky divorce, legally changed her name to something Italian, just to feel sexy and happy again.
但我喜欢得很。每个字对我来说都是歌唱的鸟儿、魔术、松露。下课后，我冒雨回家，放热水，躺在泡泡浴缸中向自己高声朗诵意大利辞典，暂时忘却离婚压力和头疼。那些词语使我欢笑。我开始把我的手机叫作“il mio telefonino”（“我的迷你电话机 ”）。我成了那些老是说“Ciao!”的讨厌鬼之一。只不过我还是超级讨厌鬼，因为我老跟人说明该字的字源。（倘若你一定要知道的话，这是从中古世纪威尼斯人亲密问候的用语“Sono il suo schiavo!”缩写而成。意思是 ：“我是您的奴隶！”）光讲这些字，就使我觉得又性感又快乐 。我的离婚律师叫我用不着担心；她说有个客户（韩裔）在不愉快的离婚后，把名字正式改为意大利名，只为了再一次觉得性感而快乐。
Maybe I would move to Italy, after all . . .
Eat, Pray, Love
或许最终我会搬去意大利……
