
Everybody can speak a little Italian. Whether you're ordering spaghetti alla carbonara in your local restaurant, bothering your barista for your daily cappuccino, or reading the papers for the latest political fiasco, Italian words are part and parcel of our daily lingo.
But there's one Italian word we tend to throw around like confetti that we really shouldn't say when visiting the Bel Paese itself. That word is ciao, and the history and meaning of ciao will surprise you.
Ciao comes from the Venetian phrase s-ciào vostro which translates as 'I am your slave'. This is not strictly speaking an Italian saying, but a remnant of the Venetian dialect (you might be surprised to learn that Italy has more dialects than types of pasta). But you don't have to be well versed in the intricacies of the Venetian dialect to understand its meaning is far from innocuous.
Granted, the reference to slavery didn't carry the same connotations it does today; we might more loosely translate the saying as 'I am at your service' or 'I am at your disposition'. But the phrase s-ciào vostro has morphed over time to become the Italian word for slave (schiavo), which explains the unease a certain generation of Italians might feel hearing foreigners throwing around ciao like confetti.
When greeting a close friend or saying hi or bye to someone you've already met you can churn out ciaos to your heart's content. You should not say ciao to your hotel receptionist, to strangers on the bus, or to the border officers at passport control.
To say hello, use buongiorno (good day) before midday or buonasera (good evening) after about 3pm. Italians rarely say buon pomeriggio (good afternoon) - a cultural-linguistic gap which daily reassures me that I'll never truly belong.
When saying goodbye, go with buona giornata by day or buona serata by night. Feel free to throw out a buonanotte (goodnight) at the end of the evening, but do try to avoid saying it to someone halfway through their late shift at work (here, buon lavoro (good work) is the safer option.
You can also say salve (SAL|veh) - a formal greeting originating from Latin. This is perfect for when you want to sound like a commanding Roman emperor/empress while, for example, showing a security guard your Colosseum ticket, or checking out of your hotel.
Just make sure that if you say buongiorno, you butcher it like Brad Pitt 😁
Bonjour Party GIF from Bonjour GIFs
We have American author and man of few words Ernest Hemmingway to thank for ciao's entry into the English lexicon. Appearing in Hemmingway's 1929 novel A Farewell to Arms, set in the northeast of Italy, it makes its international debut in a characteristically wordy section of Hemmingway's dialogue.
"Ciaou!" he said. "What kind of time did you have?"
"Magnificent."
We shook hands and he put his arm around my neck and kissed me.
"Oughf," I said.
"You're dirty," he said. "You ought to wash. Where did you go and what did you do? Tell me everything at once."
E. Hemmingway, A Farewell to Arms
Ciao's first appearance in Italian literature was in the Sicilian novel Eros, penned by the Sicilian writer Giovanni Verga in 1874. We'll forgive you for not having heard of that one though.
We certainly hadn't - and this kind of thing is our job 🥲
Ciao is infused into the title of one of Italy's most famous musical exports (no - not Nessun Dorma, and no certainly not Dean Martin - he's American).
We're talking about Bella Ciao, a partisan pop song-cum-cry for liberty written in the 1940s during the Italian Resistance Movement against the Nazis. It's safe to say that the meaning of ciao had shed all connotations of slavery in this context. Otherwise, there's no way it could have emerged as an anthem of the Resistance.
Below you'll find the lyrics with their translation in English. Just make sure that if you sing along you butcher it like Brad Pitt - and obviously at top volume 😁
Una mattina mi son alzato
O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao
Una mattina mi son alzato
E ho trovato l’invasor
One morning I awakened
Oh Goodbye beautiful, Goodbye beautiful, Goodbye beautiful! Bye! Bye!
One morning I awakened
And I found the invader
O partigiano, portami via
O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao
O partigiano, portami via
Ché mi sento di morir
Oh partisan carry me away
Oh Goodbye beautiful, Goodbye beautiful, Goodbye beautiful! Bye! Bye!
Oh partisan carry me away
Because I feel death approaching
E se io muoio da partigiano
O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao
E se io muoio da partigiano
Tu mi devi seppellir
And if I die as a partisan
(And if I die on the mountain)
Oh Goodbye beautiful, Goodbye beautiful, Goodbye beautiful! Bye! Bye!
And if I die as a partisan
(And if I die on the mountain)
Then you must bury me
E seppellire lassù in montagna
O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao
E seppellire lassù in montagna
Sotto l’ombra di un bel fior
Bury me up in the mountain
(And you have to bury me)
Oh Goodbye beautiful, Goodbye beautiful, Goodbye beautiful! Bye! Bye!
E le genti che passeranno
O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao
E le genti che passeranno
Mi diranno «che bel fior.»
Bury me up in the mountain
(And you have to bury me)
Under the shade of a beautiful flower
Questo è il fiore del partigiano
O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao
Questo è il fiore del partigiano
Morto per la libertà
And the people who shall pass
(And all those who shall pass)
Oh Goodbye beautiful, Goodbye beautiful, Goodbye beautiful! Bye! Bye!
This is the flower of the partisan
Oh Goodbye beautiful, Goodbye beautiful, Goodbye beautiful!
Bye! Bye!
This is the flower of the partisan
Italian is a living language, and as with all languages and cultures, there are few hard and fast rules. But listen closely, and you'll hear that ciaos are exchanged between close friends of the same age group.
Italian is a more formally socially stratified language than English, though this is a blog post for another day. Unlike English (but like French and Spanish) Italian has formal 2nd and 3rd person forms that are used when politely addressing strangers or authority figures. While in English we might, for example. have looked our teacher in the eyes and said 'why are you giving me detention?' an Italian would look their teacher in the eyes and say 'why is She giving me detention', as the formal form is the third-person lei (meaning she) not second-person tu (meaning you).
Anyway, all language is fluid and Italian is no different. Nobody expects that everybody who visits Italy should be au fait with the cultural nuances of this relatively recent language (indeed Italian only became the country's official language as recently as 1861).
But make the effort to swap in the odd salve for a ciao and you'll be surprised to see how much more welcoming Italians might be. Because nothing goes as far in Italy as making a good first impression. Or, as the Italians say, fare la bella figura!
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