What's Worse than an Enemy in the Italian Language?

falsi amici

false friends

Among the perils of the Italian language are words that look and sound like English ones—but mean something entirely different. “Falsi amici” (false friends). Italian teachers call them, and they can trip up even accomplished speakers—and trigger an argomento, which is a subject for discussion, not a debate.

Gentile and simpatico, for instance, both mean nice rather than gentle (dolce or leggero) or sympathetic (comprensivo). Crudo translates as raw (as in vegetables) while crude is volgare and grosso is large. Someone overly fastidious can be fastidioso (annoying) in Italian, but if you’re annoyed, you’re not annoiato (bored) but seccato.

In Italy you’re more likely to acquire educazione (manners) at home than in schools, which provide istruzione. Students may attend un collegio, but that’s a boarding school, not a college. And if you head for a ginnasio, you’ll end up, not in a gym, but in a high school.

An Italian camera (room) can be used for many things, but not taking pictures. You can buy books in a libreria (bookshop) and borrow them from a library (biblioteca)--both good places to look for a romanzo (novel, not romance). You probably won’t find anything to read in an Italian magazzino, which means warehouse, not magazine (rivista). You wouldn’t expect to see cows and pigs in an American factory (fabbrica), but you would on an Italian fattoria (farm). (The word for fabric, BTW, is tessuto.)

Be especially wary of adverbs. Eventualmente does not mean eventually but “possibly” or “in that case,” as in “Non preoccuparti, eventualmente vengo la settimana prossima.” (“Don’t worry. In that case I’ll come next week.”) Don’t confuse attualmente (currently) with actually (veramente or in realtà). Finalmente is translated as “at last” not “finally.”

False friends have led me astray many a time. I’ve confused fame (hunger) and fama (fame), sensibile (sensitive) and sensato (sensible), morbido (soft) and morboso (morbid). I’ve complained that a loud restaurant was noioso (boring) when I meant rumoroso (noisy). I thought the hotel clerk asking for my firma wanted the name of a business (azienda) rather than my signature. And I assumed the workers whom I overheard saying “Accidenti!” were talking about an accident rather than swearing.

I once reported to a puzzled doctor that a friend had suffered an ingiuria (insult) rather than a ferita (injury). When an acquaintance described her vacation as “una grande delusione,” it took a minute for me to realize she meant a big disappointment, not a delusion. A hotel manager chuckled when I commented on Americans' growing appreciation for luxury (lusso). The reason: I had used the false friend lussuria (lust). At least I didn’t make the mistake of a British man with a fondness for jam who asked a startled waiter for preservativi (condoms) with his toast.

Other Falsi Amici

confrontare -- compare, not confront

intendere -- understand, not intend

pretendere -- expect, not pretend

attendere -- to wait , not to attend

bravo -- good or clever, not brave

casuale -- coincidental, not casual

patente -- license, not patent

parente -- relative, not parent

Comments

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