Thirty years ago, I stayed at a five-star hotel in Switzerland.
Everyone there — the bellboys, the maids, the concierge — spoke several languages fluently.
But among themselves, they always spoke Italian.
When I asked the concierge why, he smiled and said,
“When we speak Italian, our voices brighten. It makes us feel alive —
and that makes it easier to greet our guests with real smiles.”
Later, I told this story to a friend.
She was so intrigued that she joined an Italian conversation class.
After her first lesson, she told me, laughing,
“It didn’t start with grammar or pronunciation — it started with gestures!”
That detail stayed with me.
Perhaps language is not just about words, but about the body —
the tilt of a head, the rhythm of a hand, the warmth behind a tone.
Every language carries a posture of the soul.
Some languages make us think; others make us sing;
Italian, perhaps, makes us smile.