live abroad for three years. Normally, a Briton who meets me for the first time can not understand where I come from (unless you know very well in Italy), it seems I have a weird accent, which, without even glancing approaching that of a native English speaker hides la mia provenienza ai piu'. "Are you French?" "No, I'm not"
Da quando vivo qui ho cercato ogni giorno di capire i Britannici, di conoscere le loro abitudini, i loro valori, di apprezzare i loro innegabili pregi e di farmi una ragione delle loro stranezze. Dopo tre anni sono ancora convinta che la Gran Bretagna sia un posto meraviglioso, un luogo che mi ha dato tanto sotto molti punti di vista. "Are you Portuguese?" "Nope".
In cuor mio so di essere stata capace di aprire la mia mente ad una cultura altra, imparando ogni giorno e tollerando (spesso accettando con rassegnazione) tante cose che non condivido. "So, from which part of Spain are you from?" "Erm..."
When I talk with other Italians continued undaunted to defend the British and Britain, to dispel the stereotypes that surround this country. Sooner or later I'll be able 'to make it clear to my countrymen that there is a kitchen and that the English roast dinner (if known how to do) and' not bad. "You are Polish, Are not You?" "Polish ... Seriously?"
My goal was to become a woman of the world, not one of those Italians who complain about the climate and want the mother's lasagna, God forbid. Now, after a few years beginning to accept the fact that 'integration' is a term that should be taken lightly, that as your level of language is excellent, you will always be foreign, as your ability to adapt is well above the average, there are things that you will continue to accept hard. Accept them, but it 's never a walk in health. When the party
British finally surrendered and asked me where I'm from, I always asked the same question, between half-jokingly: "Oh, Italy! Gorgeous! What are you doing here?" while pointing to the abundant rain that falls out the window. How to make them understand that I really do not care about rain or kitchen? That there are other things that act on you in a much more 'subtle but also more' pervasive? For example, the other day I reflected on a linguistic nonsense, nonsense that reveals a way of relating to his neighbor. The stupid thing that everyone wants (and I say all) people you meet, you ask "How are you?" but not 'cause they really care to know how you are, but simple education. Always to be polite you will have to answer something like "Very well, thank you. And you?" Even if you've had a day of hell, even if you feel like shit, unless you're not familiar with your partner.
How many times I wanted to say something like "well, to be honest I Had Better Days." But my complaint. Here is this nonsense language (or pragmantica? Ah, it seems distant now my degree in foreign languages!) Had the result that I censor my feelings, my emotions, my concerns with almost everyone, with one exception, Ben .
Cos'e una barriera culturale? E se le barriere culturali esistono, passano anche attraverso le stupidaggini alle quali non dai peso ma ti rivelano un mondo intero e cambiano la tua maniera di rapportarti agli altri? Posso io cambiare la mia maniera di socializzare senza snaturarmi? E perche' il piu' delle volte mi trovo piu' a mio agio tra gli sradicati come me che non tra gli indigeni? Le nostre discussioni non sono nostalgiche, tutti amiamo la Gran Bretagna, tuttavia ci sono momenti in cui percepisci chiaramente che loro sanno. Sanno come ti senti, conoscono sia l'esaltazione che l'avventura all'estero puo' darti, ma conoscono anche le tue ansie e i tuoi vuoti. Non lo so, come al solito non ho risposte. Quella della donna di mondo e' una maschera che funziona il piu' delle volte, ma che puo' celare una profonda solitudine.
Per oggi mi sono lamentata abbastanza :) buonanotte...
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