I suck at foreign languages. Although I have traveled to Europe four months a year since I was a child, I can barely compose a sentence anywhere in the east or south of England. But with a little creative communication, I’m just good enough to write guidebooks, produce TV shows, and enjoy Europe on vacation. And nowhere do I have more pleasure in communicating than in Italy.

Because Italians are so outgoing and their language is so fun, interactions are fun. Italians have an endearing habit of speaking Italian to foreigners, even if they know they don’t speak their language. If a local starts chatting with you in Italian, don’t resist. Go with it. You may find that you understand more than you think. Italians want to connect and try harder than any other European. Play at the same time.

I find Italian beautiful, almost melodic. It’s fun to listen to and even more fun to talk about. It has a pleasant rhythm and flow, from buon giorno et buona sera (“hello” and “good evening”), ciao (“hello” as well as “goodbye”) and per favore (“please”) to bellissima (“very beautiful”) and La Serenissima (“the most serene”, nickname of Venice). Two of my favorite phrases and feelings are la dolce vita (“the sweetness of life”) and il dolce far niente (“the sweetness of doing nothing”).

Italians are lively and dramatic, communicating as much with their bodies as they do with their mouths. You may think that two people are arguing, when in reality they are enthusiastically agreeing. When I’m in Italy, I make a point of being just as melodramatic and exuberant. Don’t just say “Mamma mia”. Say, “MAMMA MIA! With arms wide open and hands up. It’s liberating to be so uninhibited. Self-awareness kills communication.

In Italy, hand gestures can say as much as words. For example, the cheek screw (pressing an index finger into the cheek and rotating it) is used to mean “cute” or “delicious”. A nudge of the chin with the fingers means, “I’m not interested; you annoy me. ”The purse (fingers and thumb tucked together and pointed up) is a gesture for a question, such as“ What do you want? ”or“ What are you doing? ”It can also be used as an insult to say “idiot”.

The Italian version of the coarse middle finger involves clenching the right fist and lifting the forearm, hitting the biceps with the left hand. This giant version of “flipping the bird” says, “I am superior. If the Italians are frustrated, they could say: “Mi sono cadute the braccia!” (“I throw my arms down!”) – sometimes literally pushing their arms down to say, “I’m giving up!

Italians appreciate sensuality, which can be heard in their language. Rather than differentiating the five senses to describe what they hear, smell or taste, Italians speak of smelling (sentire):

“Did you feel the vibe as you passed?” “

“Wow, smell this wine.”

“Oh, smell those flowers.”

Instead of asking, “Are you listening? An Italian will ask: “Do you feel me?

One of the best ways to watch Italians communicate – and communicate with them – is to participate in the passeggiata. This ritualistic walk takes place in the early evening, when shoppers, families and on-the-go flirts all join the scene to stroll arm in arm, displaying their colorful feathers like peacocks. In a small, sophisticated town, the passeggiata is accompanied by soft murmurs of “bella” (pretty) and “bello” (beautiful). In Rome, the passeggiata is a coarser version of the big cities called struscio (grind). The young participants say the words “buona” and “buono” – which roughly means “tasty”. As my Italian friend explained, “’Bella’ is a woman you admire – without touching her. “Buona” is anything you want, something… a consumable. ‘Bella’ is too sweet for this struscio.

To truly immerse yourself in the culture, it’s important to take risks in the conversation. Italians appreciate your attempts. Bad communication can happen on both sides, but it’s part of the fun.

One evening my waiter said in English: “The cook is in the chicken. Later, when I ordered a tonic water, he asked me, “Do you want lice?

On another trip, I was eating at a restaurant in Assisi with a guide named Giuseppe and his wife, Anna. Anna greeted each plate with unbridled enthusiasm. Suddenly Giuseppe looked at me and said in English: “My wife is a good fork.

Shocked, I thought I misheard him.

Giuseppe explained: “Una buona forchetta – a good fork. This is called someone who loves to eat.

– This article was adapted from Rick’s new book, For the Love of Europe.

Rick Steves writes European guides, hosts travel shows on public television and radio, and arranges tours in Europe. You can email Rick at [email protected] and follow his blog on Facebook.