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Cory Bordonaro

Journalist

Cory is the editor of skirt! magazine in Birmingham. A University of Georgia grad, she moved west to Alabama in pursuit of her journalistic ambitions. Cory had aspirations of working in magazines from a young age. Her first title, Cory's Story, printed on college-rule (using Crayola), was published...

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Pen Pal-ing around

Cory

I was just a wide-eyed college freshman when I sat in the back row of Professor Castaldi’s classroom for my inaugural Italian lesson. I  chose to fulfill my Fine Arts credits by learning the language of my ancestors. After all, I loved Italy because A) a visit to the boot had left me with an insatiable appetite for gelato and  B) I once read a book that quoted Spanish King Charles V as saying, “I speak Spanish to God, French to men, German to my horse, but Italian to women.”  To me, Italians were passionate romantics who lived life deeply and colorfully.

Simone Castaldi was a sarcastic Florentine, with a dry monotone voice and a quick wit. I listened to him drone on about grammar and vocabulary, esames and grading scales. As he reviewed the syllabus, my pulse quickened at the thought of partaking of his rich Italian culture. He finished his spiel and picked up a book of Italian poetry, reading to us in his mother tongue. I had no earthly idea what any of it meant, but it wasn’t long before I was transported into an alternate universe. I noticed a tear slip down my cheek and onto my student desk. It was simply the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard.

So, the love affair began. For the next four years, I took classes in language, literature and cinema. I even studied for a summer in Florence, skipping off on side trips to Viareggio, Positano and Lucca on the weekends. Though I never came close to fluency, I learned a great deal.

It’s been over a year since I last sat in Italian class, and I regret to inform you that most of what I’ve learned has slipped away like the waves of the Adriatic Sea. I was only six credit hours shy of a double major, for crying out loud. I fumble to remember even the most basic conversational words…

Thus, I’ve decided to find and correspond with an Italian pen pal. She can practice her English and I’ll have someone to chat with in my broken Italian, until I regain confidence. I sent out about 20 queries last night through a website appropriately called “Pen Pal Party.” I already heard back from one ragazza bella named Brunella. Che bello!