Come si dice

Informal, and it works coming and going. With someone older or behind a counter, use Salve instead.

Sits between formal and friendly, so you never have to choose. Say it walking into any shop or bar; walking in silently reads as rude.

A greeting on arrival. Runs until mid-afternoon.

One word, not two. Kicks in around four or five — follow whoever greets you first.

This one is for leaving, not arriving. The standard exit line from a shop.

Same idea after dark. Leaving a restaurant, this is what you say.

Correct but a bit formal. Ci vediamo (chee veh-DYAH-mo) is what people actually say to each other.

Mille, with two Ls — literally a thousand thanks.

Goes on the end, not the front: un caffè, per favore.

Absurdly multi-purpose. Also what a shopkeeper says to you meaning "what can I get you".

Literally "you first". Waving someone ahead of you at a door or a counter.

For getting attention or apologising. Scusa is the casual version, for someone your own age.

Squeezing past someone, or stepping into a house. Very Italian and very appreciated.

Informal. To someone older or a stranger: come sta?

The answer. Male (MAH-leh) means bad, but nobody says it unless something is genuinely wrong.

Sì carries an accent so it isn't confused with si, meaning "one" or "oneself".

Raising a glass, or after someone sneezes. Same word for both.

You can drop them entirely — the verb ending already says who. Lei also means a formal "you", which is why waiters address you in the third person.

The polite default for ordering or asking. No need for io in front.

What Italians actually say at a bar. A shade more relaxed than vorrei.

Grammatically fine, socially blunt. Fine with friends, sharp with a stranger — use vorrei or prendo instead. In the negative it softens right down.

On its own, with a gesture, it covers sitting down, taking a photo, squeezing past. Or extend it into a full question.

Correct and clear. In practice people shorten it to quant'è (kwahn-TEH).

The default. Small, strong, drunk standing at the counter in about two mouthfuls. Asking for "a coffee" gets you exactly this and nothing else.

The standard Italian breakfast, and about as much as anyone eats before noon.

Macchiato means "stained" — a spot of milk, not a mug of it. They may ask caldo o freddo: hot or cold milk.

Breakfast only, as far as most Italians are concerned. Ordering one after dinner is the classic giveaway, though nobody will stop you.

More water through the same grounds — closer to what you probably mean by "a coffee". The opposite is ristretto: shorter, stronger, half a mouthful.

Usually grappa, sambuca or anice. Ordering one before noon marks you as a local or a lunatic, depending on the town.

The southern summer default — a shot poured over a glass of ice cubes. Caffè freddo is the pre-made, already-sweetened version from the fridge.

The one to get right: asking for un latte gets you a glass of plain milk, because latte just means milk.

Short for decaffeinato, and what everybody actually says. Caffè d'orzo, made from barley, is the other caffeine-free option.

Usually you sugar it yourself from the bowl on the counter. Amaro means unsweetened too.

You'll be asked. Standing is quicker and often half the price; sitting down adds table service to the bill.

Some bars want the money first: you pay at the till, then hand the receipt — lo scontrino — to the barista.

Swap the number: due, tre, quattro, sei.

To whoever you're with, before the waiter arrives. To the whole table: cosa prendete?

How one person orders for two. Per lei for a woman. A nod at the person is enough — no names needed. Adding "e per loro" covers the rest of the table.

When the person before you has ordered better than you were going to. Anche per me does the same job.

One dish between two, which nobody finds odd — especially with antipasti.

The menu runs antipasti, primi, secondi (meat or fish), contorni (sides), dolci. Ordering just a primo is completely normal.

Two of them are panini — the plural you already know from home.

Sparkling is frizzante (freed-DZAN-teh). You'll be asked which, every time.

Media is roughly a half litre, piccola a third. Alla spina means on tap.

Ho bisogno di… is "I need…" for anything at all. The di is doing real work — don't drop it.

For food. Buonissimo is warmer if you really meant it.

It never arrives unasked — that would be rushing you out. Catching their eye and miming writing works just as well.

Not always possible — plenty of places write one bill for the table. Splitting it evenly is fare alla romana.

Worth walking into. Most will pour you a glass of something local and tell you about it at length.

Holding up your phone with the place on screen saves you both the pronunciation.

Dov'è is "where is" for anything: dov'è la stazione, dov'è il parcheggio.

Part of the answer you're about to get, along with a destra (right) and a sinistra (left).

Expect the answer in minutes rather than kilometres, especially in the hills.

On doors, motorway junctions and car parks. The way in is entrata.

Ask it in Italian. Opening in English is the thing that lands badly.

Softer and truer: parlo poco italiano, ma ci provo — I speak a little, but I'm trying. That one buys real goodwill.

For the whole situation. For one sentence that went past you, non ho capito is what a native would say.

Piano means slowly here, not quietly.

Allergica if you're female. Say it before you order, not after.

For ordering on someone else's behalf. Lei è allergica for a woman — both the pronoun and the ending change. A nod at the person is enough, no name needed. Swap the allergen: al latte, alle uova, alle noci, ai frutti di mare.

The question to ask about one specific dish. Senza glutine on a menu means gluten-free.