Le Chat noir

I keep seeing this poster everywhere I go. In Rome. It's one of the things that keeps reaching out to assault my eyes and remind me that you arent here to share it with me... And yet I keep forcing myself to remember that this is Rome, not Paris, and this thing is as much on foreign soil as I am. I'm laughing at the irony, as these two high cultures collide, and on this soil, La Bella Vita nails bon gout hands down.

L'universite d'Oxford, c'est magnifique

I've spent the last two days studying French at the University of Oxford. Ants doesn't give a rats, cos he doesn't really get linguistics, or just how big a deal this university is amongst academics, but I'm jubilant. Exhausted, but ecstatic.

I always envied you Finn, with your five languages - three of them mastered before you ever left primary school. It's definitely the time to learn, when you're a kiddie.

I've worked hard these last two days, putting myself in a class that was probably a touch above where I was when I started, but one where I could more or less keep up by the end. I've filled in the gaps in my grammar and tested my vocab and found it better than expected.

My new job considers 'a second UN language to at least intermediate level' a distinct advantage, and after this weekend, I'm confident that my French is indeed intermediate. I reckon now you'd be envious, because you always struggled with this one tongue, though everything else came so naturally to you.

I know it's dreadfully daggy to be so happy about studying, but I'm rather chuffed, and I think you'd be proud of me too. I will always remember your encouraging smile and deep belly laughs when I ventured into the realms of Finnish. Especially when I improvised and didn't quite get it right. "Lenseni ovat rikki omdat minulle on oikein iso puulu'.

So far as I know, I've never got French quite as wrong as that night in Lapland when I asked the barman for a dick and milk, instead of kahlua (you pronounce the 'h' in Kahhh-lu-a, apparently, to avoid this booboo). But i press on undaunted.

Now all I need is to get my mouth around some Italian...

Romeward bound

I resigned today, and it felt great. I think sometimes the moments I feel most excited about my new job are the ones where I imagine the look on your face - the look that would be there if only I could really tell you. Your understated 'well done!' was always the highest praise, and made me glow from core to crown.

I'm frankly terrified, sometimes. Holy crap Finn- the UN.! Carbon Footprinting. Please tell me you'd be proud - I want someone to be proud of me who gets just how big this is for me. I'm scared silly of stuffing it up.

I'm even a wee bit terrified by the dream that's coming true - to live in a country where I just have to learn the language 'from scratches'. Be careful what you wish for, indeed.

But Finn- its Rome. Roma. Land of la dolce vita, home of trasteveres and vecchios, real pizzas and all the words that were part of our repertoire around the Colquhoun dinner table. I know I'm gonna wonder, when I go, if you ever made it there - something tells me you went with D?

And I'm doing this wholly and soully for me, but a part of me wishes you could see it, this latest face of European Gigi. I know you'd understand, in a way that no-one else would.