every day i forget everything i've ever learned

I am struggling mightily with the Italian language. Una lingua bella, certo, pero molto dificile. I so desperately want to be poised, calm, responsive, kind, polite, interesting...and I am lucky if I can get by without saying something really inappropriate, offensive, or--and this is what usually happens--just stupid.


Here's a small example, of which there are daily executions: 


me: enter cafe. calmly order a cappuccino e cornetto from the older gentleman at the register.
he tells me it costs .60 EU. I hear .70EU. He tells me again, several times, .60EU. I agree, emphatically, .70EU. I finally understand and take back my stupid .10EU.


me: stand at the counter and calmly, slowly order a cappuccino, and a cornetto cioccolato (yes, it's like a special kind of foreign torture: they make you order twice). But instead of pronouncing "cioccolato" like an Italian it somehow comes out like a mixture between spanish and a language I don't think really exists, so I have to repeat it three times and then finally resort to pointing because there reaches a point when one no longer wishes to be stared at by the regulars, goddamnit. 


me: I begin sipping my cappuccino and munching my cornetto. Then I see the barista (who I think must think I'm at least a little bit charming because he called me Bella, put some cocoa powder in my cappuccino and made a heart with the foamed milk) cut a cornetto in half and fill it with rich cream. Instead of saying "what is that called," I say the equivalent of "what's it's name?" like it's a puppy. 


barista: cornetto con panna (obviously). Would you like one? (Vuoi?). Somehow I hear him say "cornetto con panna. Where are you from?"


me: and so in response to the reasonable question "would you like one of these creations that you are clearly drooling over," I say "I'm an American." But instead of correctly identifying my gender (Sonno Americana), I manage to identify myself as American boy. Miraculously the barista accepts this answer and turns away to make a cafe negra. Although I am desperate to know what a cafe negra is, I do not ask. 


Estelle: Take me on a trip / I'd like to go somewhere. Take me to New York / I'd like to see LA. I'd really like to / com kick it with you. / You'll be my American Boy. American Boy.