This experience, of course, could not be different. Although, strictly speaking, this is almost inevitable that this will not happen. Everything seems more fragrant, more colorful and I do not think that depends only on enthusiasm for the new experience, as the likely demand, local, to emphasize anything that even the more mundane. Ѐ so maybe I can think that a school like our vote "Bravissimo" is replaced by a more emphatic "Super Wow" with a smiley face that rolls his eyes and turns his thumbs up.
The colors and the emphasis is always accompanied by attempts, sometimes a little 'clumsy diplomacy. But however clumsy, arouse in me a certain tenderness and a certain bitterness. This is really more than anything else caused by the awareness that as Italians are convinced that one of the kindest people in the world, I discover (but not too much) I was right in thinking that it is a commonplace, a topos that can join those more well-known mandolin, pizza, spaghetti. Ѐ through diplomacy that this task is a pretty well done "we're working on" a curriculum that terrible "is not bad but I write it like this" and so on with an endless array of options.
Here I met people who are really friendly and really rude people. In both cases, this makes the difference between a civil society and a less civil, no one at the time you are allowed to verbally attack me, trying in every way to convince me to be smarter than me.
even the famous cold Nordic countries seems more assured of warm greeting abuse of parking that welcomes me with a "command lady" and gives me the sack despising those twenty cents that I was not even required to give.
Now, however, I will not write a treatise on how wise was my choice to come and live in this country. That time will surely tell and an experience more complete and more mature. It all began with the smells and colors.
Palermo is pink and not because his football team to have that color in the official shirt, but because, as Goethe himself wrote the play of light and shadows make them take that tone (see note).
Trapani, for me, is an orange beam. The color of the city is that which arises from the magical glare of a blinding sun on the pools of a normal saline during the unique sunset that you know, I know, of salt. I know that tingling on the back, arms, after a day at the beach. I think of Love and discomfort. I know of something that belongs to me and that few people can perceive.
Erice is Bianca. Naples, green moss. Prague, yellow and mysterious. London, Red. Toronto blue.
Toronto is definitely a light blue. A blue that I know of and clean scent of fabric softener. A blue that I know of fresh sheets on which to stretch their feet in search of the pleasant sensation that brings me to a sigh deep serenity and fullness. Quandanche And the sky is gray and weighed down by a rain, Toronto remains in my mind a blue sky with white clouds upholstered. These are the same that my little Lorenzo has decided on his own accord, after seeking to capture the camera.
But that smell like Toronto? The city, without a doubt, know of cinnamon. Toronto is the cinnamon. And I think the cinnamon biscuits and cookies are good to eat.
Toronto is definitely a cinnamon cake with a hint of watermelon (the essence of candy, not the real fruit) and a dusting of icing sugar on a turquoise cover marshmallow.
NOTE. But also: "In the Sicilian capital marvels at the dirt that fills the main courses, but can also include humorous resignation the same Palermo (which even then demonstrate knowledge of the corruption in their city)." Http : / / ospitiweb.indire.it / ~ mipm0001/goethe/palermo.htm
photos taken by Lorenzo
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