I’m on a hot streak! 36 days and counting. Granted I’ve used a few of my hard earned “freeze tokens” to keep the streak going, but essentially I’ve been doing it every day for over a month. Learning Italian, that is. Nearly every day for the past month I’ve been setting aside about 10 minutes to learn one of the five (and arguably sexiest) romance languages. It’s just a little unfortunate that I don’t feel any more fluent than I was a month ago.

I’m studying Italian for my upcoming trip to Italy. I’ll be there for only two weeks, so I probably won’t get the best returns on my efforts (4 months of language learning for 2 weeks of usage), but I still want to have it. I’m a perpetual tourist, even in my own city, and I like to experience as much as I can about a place, even if only for a little while. I love to travel, to meet foreigners on their home turf, to taste new cuisines, and to smell the savory air of a warm summer evening in a foreign land.

Ever since I had the ability to travel abroad on my own, I’ve attempted to learn the languages of the places I visited. When living abroad, I tried learning the local language to fit in, broaden my perspective, and lead a normal life. Even when visiting a new place for only a couple of weeks – like this summer in Italy – I try to do as the Romans do, and speak the native tongue.

I believe that new languages are doorways to new perspectives, and that having an understanding of a language, even a little bit, gives me a unique experience that I wouldn’t have otherwise. Each language has its own cadence and rhythm, and one can enjoy the Italian language with one’s ears, in the same way one can enjoy Italian wine (and pizza) with one’s mouth. I want to savor the Italian language and appreciate its subtle notes, because the sounds of a place are just as essential to the experience as any other stimulus. The main problem is that it’s just really hard to learn a language.

As a 39-year-old monolinguist, learning a new language is pretty tough, and Italian is no exception. As one of the romance languages, it has a lot in common with other languages I’ve dabbled in, namely French and Spanish. But even though there are some shared lexicons between Italian, French, and Spanish – like the word for tree, which is albero, arbre, and arbol respectively – this overlap can also be confusing.

For example, Buongiorno, the Italian for good morning, is just like the French bonjour, but much less like the Spanish buenos dias. And while an Italian house is exactly the same as a Spanish house (both casa), neither are anything like the French maison. What makes matters worse is all the les and las and uns and unas that make up the definite and indefinite articles for all of the thousands of nouns, which each have their own genders. And verb conjugation? Fuggedaboutit! Suffice it to say, it’s a literary field of lexical landmines.

But learning a language isn’t just about my experience with myself, it’s also about my shared experiences with those whom I meet. I’ve been to about 30 very different countries – places like Thailand, France, Senegal, and the U.A.E. – and I’ve found that learning some basic words and phrases, whether pleasantries or jokes, can make a big difference in my experience with the locals. I’ve seen people open up like flowers on a sunny day when I greet them in their own language, especially when they can tell that I’m stepping outside my comfort zone to do so.

It makes sense. If the shoe were on the other foot, and I could tell that someone was making an effort to communicate with me in English, when English wasn’t their first language, I’d be more receptive than if they insisted on talking to me in a language that I didn’t understand. Especially here in America, people can even be intolerant of those who can’t (or don’t) speak English, rationalizing that if you’re in our country, you should speak our language. And it’s not just Americans; I’ve witnessed this in France and Germany too, when I’ve tried to get service by using English instead of French or German. My lack of language in those places prevented me from getting my laundry done, and getting lunch in the food car on the Eurorail.

It’s understandable too that someone will be put off by a foreigner trying to communicate, let alone transact, with them in a language they don’t know. Folks might feel ruffled or even inadequate at being asked to respond when they don’t even know what the question was. I don’t take it personally, but I can empathize with those who feel insecure and frustrated in such an interaction. So at the very least, I’ll always learn how to say Thank You.

It doesn’t take much. Perhaps, the only phrase I’ll truly need on my upcoming trip is: Dov’e mangeria pizza? But I also want to say buongiorno and grazie to people I interact with, to make a deeper personal connection with those folks, and maybe even learn a little something from them too. In this way, one of the souvenirs I’ll be able to bring back is a bit of foreign wisdom. And this could be the best souvenir of all, because wisdom is duty-free.