Language barriers are one of the charming frustrations of traveling to a foreign country. Whether it be England, where “fanny pack” is completely different than you think it is, or in Germany, where the “okay” finger gesture is considered obscene, there are all kinds of fun misunderstandings.
While traveling in Rome, the future wife and I had a free day before our Trafalgar tour officially began, so we explored the city. I spoke very little Italian, and my only successful communication with Italians not involved in the tourism industry was with two old men on the train from the airport. Everyone knew who “Sinatra” – in fact, I had a Frank Sinatra CD on me – this was a time before I had an MP3 player. So Frank Sinatra broke our language barrier. Sort of.
Popping up from the subway into a neighborhood in central Rome, we needed some food before tackling the streets. We found a little sandwich shop and, after pointing to what we wanted and paying, the woman behind the counter said “Prego.”
Now, from my Italian language book, I knew that “prego” meant “you’re welcome.” This didn’t seem to fit, and it really didn’t fit when she was motioning us out the door and saying “prego, prego, prego.” Make sense? It didn’t to us either.
What she meant was for us to have a seat outside and wait for us to sit down. You probably will not discover that while listening to an Italian CD in your car. We later found out from our tour guide Tony that prego means whatever the person speaking wants it to mean. So of course, it became a running joke throughout the tour.