Almond Joy
“One with oat.”
“Yes, hot.”
“No, could I get oat milk in the cappuccino?.”
“Avena?”
“Uhhh.”
Across the street from our apartment located right on a main road in Florence, a cafe called Blend Eat had the sweetest workers. As Americans embarking on our study abroad adventure in Italy, the language didn’t come easy. It came here and there with time and conversations with the locals. Ordering a cappuccino with oat milk, a task my friend Alex and I thought would be fairly easy was not at first.
The long shiny brown-haired girl with a soft smile stood beside a taller darker-haired girl with bright big eyes behind large framed glasses attempting to take our order. We went back and forth over pronouncing “oat” “almond” and “hot” with laughter shared as we were all funnily confused by each other. One began to steam Alex’s OAT milk as we talked about why it was so difficult for them to understand what we were saying.
Italians often hear “hot” when we say the word “oat” for oat milk. “We think you are asking for cappuccino hot, and we laugh because cappuccino is hot,” said the taller waitress with a chuckle. We all shared a laugh and a mutual understanding that interacting with different first languages is quite hard. Granted Alex and I were probably being a little difficult when we ordered one cappuccino with almond milk and the other with oat.
“So how would you say ‘oat’ in Italian,” Alex said as she took out her wallet.
“Avena!” The waitresses said together.
The next two weeks, Alex and I would go to the cafe for our caffeine kick before the gym and ran into our new friends working behind the counter each time. “Oat and almond, yes?” Alex and I looked at each other and laughed, “Yes!” We replied with excitement that we had become regulars at a coffee shop in a foreign country.
There is something so special about everyday errands and a routine that is established in a foreign country. We are used to Beverly, Massachusetts and our routine at school of living on a campus, walking around in sweatpants, without a worry of miscommunication due to a language barrier.
Some would say that the language barrier was not only the hardest part of living in a foreign country but also the worst part. I would have to disagree with them.
Countless times I have found myself in situations where I didn’t understand the Italian language and the person on the other end didn’t understand me. At first, I would find it annoying and would feel as though I should just give up on ordering something, or asking that question. And of course I have no one to blame but myself for not learning at least some of the language before living in an Italian city for almost 4 months, but after a few times I found it more funny than anything and used it as a learning experience.
I loved to learn new words and share a conversation with locals about words or phrases we do or do not have in common. We were given the opportunity to learn each other's language at a minimal level, which I think is something so special. This is what living abroad is all about, immersing yourself in the culture, the language, and the people; so why get frustrated when you could make a friend out of the incentive to learn each other’s language?
I came to Italy hoping to get the best experience I could because I will never live in a foreign country in four months quite like this. I wanted to make friends with locals, learn about the culture somewhere other than where I’m used to. I wanted to learn more about myself and what I am capable of when it comes to creating a life for myself across the world.
Looking back at a sweet friendship built with girls more similar to Alex and I than we thought, I only hope that they found our daily interactions and laughs as special as we did. Because now that tomorrow Alex and I will be getting our very last almond and oat milk cappuccinos at our favorite cafe, I can’t help but want it to be the first time again.
