When I first moved here and started listening to things like TV news, the language started sounding punchy and aggressive. From the sound alone (since I barely understood the meaning), nothing ever sounded tragic—even if they were broadcasting serious content.
One of the key features of Italian words is how they’re accented. In any given word, the syllables that are stressed and not stressed are clearly defined. Words made up of three or four syllables typically follow defined rules about where the accents go, so it’s pretty straightforward—though there are many exceptions.
Italians even put accents into Japanese words. They pronounce my name, Yuriko, with about ten times the stress on the second syllable, barely even saying the yu or ko. It comes out something like yuRIIIko.
As an aside, words with several Rs or Ls are difficult for me. Sometimes there are two Ls in a row, which I’ll stumble over as the Italians stare at my face—which looks like I’m biting my tongue as my brain and my mouth freeze up. I still get anxious saying the word parallela, for example (meaning “parallel”), even though I’ve used it countless times. It’s one of those words that can’t be described any other way, so I have no choice but to embarrass myself every time I come across it.
Back to Italian words ending in vowels. Both first and last names typically end in vowels, too. Recently there’s been a trend toward giving people English names rather than traditional Catholic names, however, and I know a few Italians named Brian, or David instead of Davide, Daniel instead of Daniele.
Surnames are interesting in Italy. For the most part they end in vowels, but every once in a while you’ll meet an Italian whose last name doesn’t. At first I just thought that their ancestors must have come from somewhere else. Of course there are people like that too, but I later learned that there’s a profound story hidden behind the consonant ending. Long ago, those who failed to pay their taxes were punished by having the vowel stripped from their last names. Back then I guess the neighborhood gossip went something like, “That guy’s grandfather must not have paid his taxes—his name ends in a consonant!” Of course, few modern Italians know anything about this, making it no more than a little parting gift from the ancestors for the few who do. That’ll teach people to stay in line!
Incidentally, there have been some controversies around people giving strange names to their children. You see them in Japan occasionally, and of course here in Italy as well. There are tons of Italians who love anime, and the government has added “Doraemon” to the list of forbidden names—probably because some superfan parents tried to register it as their kid’s name. If they hadn’t though, people in the future would probably just think back on their ancestor named “Doraemon” and muse about how anime names were popular long ago.
