piacere

piacere

noun: pleasure, favor
verb: to please, to be pleasing

“Piacere,” Italians say when introduced, and the very sound evokes a tantalizing sense of delights to come. As he pronounces each syllable, an Italian man may clasp a woman’s fingers and pull them close to (but not touching) his lips. This chivalrous gesture, however quaint, never fails to charm me.

As a literary term, piacere dates back to the Middle Ages and the “sweet new style” (dolce stil nuovo) of the first poets –Dante foremost among them—who wrote in vernacular Italian rather than traditional Latin. Italians still take time and make space for pleasure in their daily lives. And they know well both what is to their liking and how to ask for it.

English-speakers declare “I like it” when they see, hear, or taste something that elicits their approval. Rather than such a blunt opinion, Italians register appreciation indirectly with the phrase “mi piace” (it is pleasing to me), words that capture the seductive, subjective nature of pleasure.

I learned the importance of choosing the right phrase to ask for a preferred pleasure years ago from a Venetian gentleman who chided me for using the word voglio (I want) in a simple request. “Voglio is for babies, shaking their hands and crying,” he said.

Vorrei—the conditional form, “I would want” or “I’d like”—functions well when buying a train ticket or ordering lunch. However, grander requests—a balcony seat overlooking the altar at Easter Mass in St. Peter’s Square, for instance, or a sunset spin around the isle of Ponza (in the photo above)—require language of a higher level.

“To get what you want, you must ask like a principessa,” my self-appointed Venetian tutor insisted. And so he taught me the elegant conditional form mi piacerebbe. (It would be pleasing to me). In Italy these gracious words conjure up a magic more potent than “Open Sesame!” Whenever I unfurl them as a preface to what I would like, no one ever says no.

Expressions and Sayings

a piacere -- as much as one likes
per piacere! -- please!
piacere [di conoscerla]! -- pleased to meet you!
con piacere -- with pleasure
fare un piacere a qualcuno -- do somebody a favor
mi farebbe piacere – I’d be pleased to (literally it would give me pleasure)

Ciao!

ciao

(chaow)

hello, goodbye

The cheery Italian ciao, which does double duty as “hi” and “bye,” dates back to the glittering heyday of the Venetian Republic. I learned its history on my first visit to La Serenissima (Italians’ nickname for the watery city) from a waiter at the café where I would sip espresso and watch the pigeons swoop across the Piazza di San Marco.

Ciao, he explained, was a local invention. Centuries ago Venice’s courtly correspondents signed letters, “Il Suo schiavo” (your slave). Meeting on the street, acquaintances would bow and repeat these ingratiating words. However, in the Venetian dialect, which softens the hard sound of sch (pronounced sk in other regions) to a chewy sh (as in show), Suo schiavo came out s’ciao or sciao, which melted into ciao as it migrated to other parts of Italy.

Despite its origin as a formal salutation, ciao has evolved into a casual greeting. Various teachers have instructed me to use ciao only with those I know by first name (and to include their names in the greeting, as in “Ciao, Luigi!”), with children or in informal settings like dances and tours.

Italian men of every age in any piazza cry out “Ciao, bella!” (Hi, beautiful!) to compliment passing lovelies. (None would stoop to a cheesy “Ciao, baby!”) Telephone conversations with my Italian friends end with a stream of ciao’s—not just the equivalent of bye-bye, but a rapid-fire ciao-ciao-ciao-ciao-ciao until one of us surrenders and hangs up.

When hundreds of thousands of Italians emigrated from their impoverished homeland in the late 1800s and early 1900s, they often lined the railings of the departing ships. Straining for a last glimpse of Italy, they stared at its coastline until it blurred into the horizon. One by one Italians bound for North or South America would whisper a final “ciao” to the country many never saw again.

During World War II, i partigiani, Italy’s underground fighters against Nazi Germany, a former ally, set new words to a workers’ folk song. “Bella, Ciao!” became the unofficial anthem of the resistance. Its lyrics tell of a young man who goes to fight with the partisans. If he dies, all he asks is be buried on the mountain, where a beautiful flower will bloom in memory of the partisan who died for freedom. Its chorus--“O bella, ciao! bella, ciao! bella, ciao, ciao, ciao!” (“Oh beautiful, goodbye. Beautiful, goodbye! Beautiful, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye!)—can still bring tears to the eyes of older Italians and stir the emotions of young Italians at political protests.

For a traditional rendition of this rousing tune, click on:

Expressions and Sayings:

Venetian dialect: “Oh, va be’, s’ciao!” -- “Okay, never mind!”

Milanese dialect: “Se gh’inn gh’inn, se gh’inn  no, s-ciao!”-- “If there is [money], there is; if there isn’t, goodbye!”