TravelEng 2 - A lifelong summer

"Close your eyes, breathe deeply and tell me: what's the first memory of this summer?"

If I had to carry out this delicate task I gave to my students, I'd have said: the taxi driver asking me "ok, where should I drop you off?" And I, without a clue, "at the central office?" Thus began my adventure in the immense English Hoghwarts-style campus, including creepy buildings with common rooms, passwords to get in and fields beyond the horizon. That day Miss Dash saved me, leading me to the central office while asking to herself where we were going, because she sill got lost. And I kept getting lost for four weeks too, without ever remembering where we were allowed to go and where it was "out of bounds" and walking every day along the 5 km road through the woods from the dorm to the canteen, using the camera flash to illuminate the path.

In four weeks I managed to break almost every rule that I had been given on the first day, first of all to not hug the students "but we didn't let you!" remarked the Colombian girl, as she kept hugging me.

I was a teenager too -strange but true- and I perfectly remember what it means to go on a study holiday to England at that age: it feels like opening the "Neverending Story" book, diving into another world, living billion experiences and emotions to 200% and then closing the book with all its characters and getting back in the real world, without knowing how to respond to everyone who asks you "So, how did it go?"

It went that I met great people, there was the Greek and the Other Italian, 007 and 008, the Funny and the Cute, the Scott and the Swed, the Talker and the Theatrical, and many, many others who are as always added to the map of my heart. Then it went that I danced to the songs I used to dance when I was 15, and I failed miserably when I tried to dance Scottish dances, but I also learned to Jump On It! and to dance to Korean songs. It went that I didn't hide my origins, and students also enjoyed having me on stage for the national anthem while in class almost everyone spoke English except one which continued undeterred, "ma cche mme capisci se parlo italiano?" (but do you understand if I speak Italian?) It went that I considered myself to be the most boring teacher on the planet Earth (or any other planet that was) but no, the students were crying bitterly when saying their goodbyes, they wouldn't let me go and everybody thanked me heartily. As I thanked them for every laughter we shared in class when they gave the weirdest answers ever.

It went that there's such a huge whirlwind of memories that I don't know where to start and where to finish, from our catchphrases among the staff (smashing, fabs, ball!, bullshit! -slap-, whaaaaaat?, can you imagine?!...) to the beach and the sea during the weekend excursions to the awesome performances during the international nights ... it's the Neverending Story, no doubt about it.

And like any good Neverending Story, we closed the book, said our goodbyes and stored our memories. I wonder if we can find the magic word next year, to reopen the book and start a new adventure?!

TravelEng 1 – The crossing

When you've sent your contract two months ago and not heard anything from the school, it's always a comfort to receive an email the night before leaving "excuse me, may I ask you when are you going to arrive here? Signed: your boss." Oh well.

Yes because, as pointed out by many with disappointment, amazement, humor and distrust, although I'm Italian I'm going to England for a month to teach English. So what?! It's a sign that I'm being considered a native speaker, so suck it up, please.

The journey begins in the evening, with a Ryanair flight which surprisingly (but not for the regulars) is an hour late, while we're also asked to tear out our boarding passes already... so then if we have time we should fly the plane, what do you say?! While waiting to board I stare in awe at the two-year-old boy who probably still doesn't walk with ease, but on the other hand uses his iPad as I wouldn't be able to do even after a 60-hours course "iPad for dummies."

The plane is packed with crying infants, lovely babies do you actually need to take planes at night and not let anybody else sleep?! Arriving at Stansted, I say to myself "smart as I am, I'm going to sleep on the chairs at the arrivals' lounge, nobody will have thought of it!" Not a single soul.There is already half of London's population lying in preposterous positions, on the chairs and on the floor. A group of German girls was ready with sleeping bags (in fact there's a temperature of 5°C), pads, pillows, so on and so forth. I have the super cheap kit and you can see why: it constantly deflates, forcing me to assume contortionist's positions and certainly doesn't help to sleep. At 4am I see a brave man taking all of his stuff and leaving 3 free seats, I almost throw my 20 kg suitcase: chairs taken! Too bad that after an hour I must get up and refresh myself with a crepe (I ask for white chocolate, they put dark chocolate... I wish they were all like this, the errors of life!), then go to the bus stop to get to London. Then you wonder why it only costs £ 2. Well, when this sort of small truck comes where you need to load your suitcase by yourself, you understand everything.

In London it's raining -surprise!- but I find the familiar smell that I still don't know if it's smog, rubbish or restaurants but it's London's smell and I love it. I swear that the next British tourist who complains about the bridges in Venice shall be tortured to death. Try and run up and down the subway with a suitcase and a backpack and then tell me. Escalators and elevators, these strangers. Toronto 1-0 London.

I look for shelter at Starbucks'. Where the wireless connection isn't free.Toronto 2-0 London. But I'm ready for a true adventure in the pure English countryside, hoping that my shoes are waterproof. Meanwhile, today let's go and see "Mamma Mia!", tomorrow we'll think about the job.

I thought it would have been easy

I left more than one year ago thinking I could shut all my Italian life in one bag and forget about it.

I left after making peace with those unchangeable vices with which my country is filled, but it was that kind of temporary break one allows to somebody they don't want anything more to do with.

I left filled with prejudices on my people, already looking forward to that land I filled with good things and dreams to fulfill.

Then I arrived overseas, in that land which used to offer a bunch of opportunities and which now hates immigrants because they steal jobs to Canadians.

I arrived in that land where not only the weather is cold, but the people as well, as long as you don't know them.

I went to see Bon Jovi's concerts and the very first thing I was told was “Who says you can't go home?”

I went to see NBA matches, but then I would suffer while following the web report of Reyer's matches, my hometown team, while my girlfriends showed me our little stadium via Skype.

I went out for dinner with the Italian community, only to be told how jealous Canadians are of that bond that keeps us Italians connected to our home country, no matter what.

I celebrated Italy's Birthday preparing a well-known speech and listening a thousand times to "Buonanotte all'Italia" (“Goodnight Italia”) while crying for rage for that little country that could not manage to wake up.

I came back shutting my ears at the nonsense of the know-it-all's, fed up with the ignorance of those usual Italians standing at the bus stop.

Then I went back in person to our stadium, realizing that we're the only people in the world to clap while singing the national anthem, as if we were at a street festival or something.

And maybe the only modern country to accept dictatorships for a while, to then wake up from time to time.

A country that maybe is finding the guts to express its own opinion, even if it's not what everybody would expect.

A country where -contrary to what prejudices say- many things work as well as, if not better than, in the rest of the world. A country that will maybe be able to keep the “shift” pressed and call itself a Country.

I thought it would have been easy to break that bond and forget I'm Italian. Instead now I want to be one of those Italians who stay and fight. Because “even if in Italy there's not much, you can always find something to do!”

TR # 22 - Missing

The exact date of my return to Italy must be a secret for most of my friends waiting for me, but now it's useless to deny that the date is near or perhaps even imminent or maybe already gone. It's therefore time to take stock of and to count the things I will miss and those that I will instead be happy to leave behind.

• Let's talk about food. I'll be happy to have back the sense of taste, the tasty vegetables, juicy fruit, dense olive oil, pasta that doesn't overcook. I won't miss the cinnamon either. I think that in Canada it's second only to maple syrup, cinnamon I mean, and I don't even like it! I won't miss the Alfredo pasta and will happily find cream again, leaving the sour cream to its fate. Therefore I won't miss the Italian restaurants, where the value for money is unacceptable and that with their authentic-ish names serve dishes that throw us authentic peninsularians into despair. But I must admit: I will miss the international restaurants and food, the wide selection of quesadillas and perogies, and the cafés. Ok let's just say it, my struggle for the introduction of Starbucks in Italy goes on. But I even found better and certainly cheaper places, from Tim Horton's to Second Cup and drinks for every taste. And for God's sake, when will we decide to serve cheesecakes, cupcakes and donuts even in the Italian pastry shops???!! Really, we have only to gain and nothing to lose. In calories, at least.
• I will miss the seasons. Because here better than anywhere else we realize the transition from one season to another, with the sudden temperature variations, while the vivid colors as in a picture hit you with violence, and the light. The light is dazzling, no matter if it's sunny or not. The snow reflects the light, and so the lake, parks, the green islands which in autumn change in a thousand shades. I will miss the sunsets and sunrises over the lake, this oasis of peace where you almost don't hear the rest of the city with its hustle and bustle.
• The weather. I'll miss it a little bit, a little I won't. It's always extreme, in the heat as well as in the cold, but it toughens your body to withstand the unusual. And most of all it's dry, my hair and my bones are thankful! I will miss the snow, because I've never lived in the midst of so much snow, I've never played so much and I became a little girl again. And I'll miss the ice-skating rinks on every corner (even in the houses' gardens!), Not because I like to skate -I'd rather watch others skate- but yes, it's soooo American!
• The distances. I'll miss them sometimes, sometimes not. Now I'm used to travel at least half an hour for a coffee... that's a moment that I was missing for so long, the commuting one, where I can relax, watch other people and listen to music. But sometimes it's annoying, I'll be happy to walk anywhere and get anywhere in ten minutes. Windows' screens are also in the middle, I'll miss them a little and a little not. Here they are fixed, they can't be opened, which is great for insects in the summer and the rest of the time for squirrels and raccoons, but knowing that I can open the window and look out -yes, I need that!
• Speaking of distances, I won't miss the TTC, the local transport company. Forget everything I had said earlier: it costs an arm and a leg, it's unreliable and inadequate, it keeps you waiting in freezing temperatures for tens of minutes, the drivers lack any common sense... a disaster! Just as much as I won't miss the taxes. Someone please explain to me why I have to add 13% to any advertised price. But WHAT THE DUCK, if I have $10 in my pocket, do I have to do maths with my cell phone to see if I can buy a packet of crisps?! I won't miss the hectic workaholic lifestyle, the bureaucracy that lacks common sense (at least in Europe we have that, even if we're slow), the super expensive healthcare for non-citizens, and here again, with peaks of insensitivity and meaningless bureaucracy that Europe would not even consider.
• I will miss Tutorino. And here I start naming names, which I never do, because sometimes you've just got to. This company, founded out of sheer passion for Italy, has managed to do in Toronto far more than the Italian institutions ever strove to. It gave people like me the opportunity to work once you got here, which is precisely what, in my case, no one else did. The Italian consulate is completely useless, the IIC, the Chamber of Commerce and the Canadian Courier, when they deign to answer, it's almost always to offer unpaid internships. Not to mention Dante Alighieri, to which they keep cutting funds. And ironically, there are requests for Italian, and many too. It's about time to wake up! Nor will I miss the renowned UofT, the University of Toronto that offers Italian courses with teaching methods from the 20's... better for us, we welcome their students for private lessons. I won't miss the Italian community: where if you know someone, you can join them, if not... we're always the same.
• I won't miss the Torontonians, because as I explained to some people, it's not just the weather that is cold. People here don't speak, don't approach each other, no physical contact at all! In the subway everybody's bent on their book / Ipad / Ipod / blackberry and nobody chats. But I will miss some Canadians. Because there are some people similar to the "fearful mimosa", the plant in Pa's garden that would close its leaves if touched: if you get close to them, they close themselves, but if you give them time you'll find out that they are extraordinary people and unimaginably generous too. And I will miss the friends I've met here and that have been there for me... as any other traveler, I will mark their names on a map in my heart and keep in touch for a long time. I won't miss the hypocrisy of Canada instead, the much-bragged-about tolerance covering the barely concealed racism of the man on the street, the intolerance and religious fanaticism (both religious and atheist, to say the truth) of many Canadians, who generally have a high opinion of themselves and their homeland.
• Finally, I will miss the CN Tower. As it already happened for the London Eye, I will look out the window, puzzled, in search of the tower's slender figure in the distance, with its colors. I will miss it because it witnessed of all my experiences here, since the day I saw it in a taxi in the rain, the very first day, through tears and laughter, friendships and everything else. I take away with me a bigger bag than when I left, and not only because of the wool clothes to bring back, but because I'm a different person, grown up, knowing that I'm ready to write the next page. Perhaps from a window overlooking the London Eye.

"The circle is closed, the wheel turns, nothing else's there." Goodbye Canada.

TR # 21 - Moonlight and Valentino

I'm Luna, it's February 14, I'm going to see another concert by Bon Jovi. Could I choose a different title from that of the film starring Jon?!

The weather is mild - 5 or 6 degrees ABOVE zero! - I just finished crying like a fountain watching 127 Hours, great movie, and I proceed with the BonJovi-dressing-up routine with the legendary, long-sleeved jersey and the Reyer sweatshirt -two passions together. I leave with the Ipod in my ears that plays all my favorite songs, the cobalt blue sky and the red clouds that I feel I'm in a picture of Van Gogh's. I'm happy like ever on a Valentine's Day, enjoy the classic hot dog pre-gig and walk to the legendary Air Canada Centre, while also meeting my neighbor who will see the concert from the upper level.

And here I am for my last concert in North America; my adventure began three concerts, twenty degrees and nine months ago in New Jersey and I think of how many things have changed, how much water has flowed under the bridge and what still stays the same: the feeling of being, as Jon sings "Exactly Where I'm Supposed To Be", especially from the first sector from which I see them closer than ever. Apart from the very first technical observation - as my grandmother would say "ooohhhhh deeeaaarrrrr, he cut his hair how tiiiidyyyyy" - I enjoy a concert focused on love, with Jon that says the historic " Bon Jovi is like Viagra for women" welcomed by the cries of all of us, while the kiss camera looks for couples in the mood for romance among the audience. The setlist is no exception, with gems not to be missed (Thank You For Loving Me over all) and covers that make all the many couples in the stadium hug and dance. Here's the complete setlist: Blood on Blood, You Give Love a Bad Name, Born To Be My Baby, We Weren't Born to Follow, In These Arms, Lost Highway, The More Things Change, It's My Life, Runaway, We Got It Goin 'On, Pretty Woman, Bad Medicine / Bad Case of Loving You, Lay Your Hands on Me (Richie Vox), My Funny Valentine; Bed of Roses; Superman Tonight (Acoustic), I'll Be There For You, Who Says You Can't Go Home, No Apologies, I'll Sleep When I'm Dead / Start Me Up, Keep The Faith, Thank You For Loving Me, Wanted Dead or Alive, Someday I'll Be Saturday Night, Just Older, Livin 'on a Prayer.

Many don't know Bon Jovi, don't appreciate them and / or don't understand the reasons behind their success. Well, let me quote a comment to one of the videos uploaded on Youtube: "No other band in the world can reach out to their audience the way this one does ..... Tommy and Gina are in the background ... . dancing a slow song!" Yes, I can imagine Tommy and Gina too, hugging, despite the hard times, taking a moment to dance a slow dance without thinking of anything else. Because this is the strength of Bon Jovi: they reach the hearts of ordinary people, of all the Tommy's and Gina's around the world.

And I'm proud to be part of it. So I hang onto the free pins they give us while going out, I head back home and I plan the last crazy act of this adventure overseas. 'Cause before going home I'll drop by where it all began. After nine months, twenty degrees, and three concerts I get ready to go back to New Jersey, this time just for one lunch. At Jon's.

TR # 20 - Belonging

Outside it's -20 °, very good reason not to go out, and I look on the internet the latest episodes of "Che tempo che fa" from Italy, all focused on the referendum about the Fiat-blackmail. To cheer myself up a little, I open a folder always present in my mail, it's called "Dialogues" and collects all the most interesting and literary stimulating emails that I and others have written over the years. I open it with a specific purpose, to go and read the emails I wrote when I was 17, full of "x" and "k" and full of enthusiasm, anger and energy for my first encounters with the world. There's not much time left to my return to Italy and I'm sort of taking stock of my months here and looking back once more to that first trip to London. After coming back I was asking a friend: "Tell me, may there be a "Britain nostalgia"? Yes because I always heard of the "Africa nostalgia", but what I feel seems just like it! It was a vacation -but more than that, a life experience- truly wonderful and exciting." And he replied to me that yes, there may be all kinds of "nostalgia", or better it's a "situation nostalgia", the nostalgia of those places and moments that will probably never come back. Ten years later I know for sure that I will not suffer from the "Toronto nostalgia" because no matter how much I appreciate this experience and what it gave me, I won't regret these places and this hectic life (but I'll leave to another post the list of what I'll miss and what I won't). And I don't suffer from the "Italy nostalgia" either, although I miss my loved ones and sometimes the places, because I know I don't belong to my homeland either. Here it is, this is precisely the right verb: to belong. I want to find something or someone to belong to. It 's something you often see around, in those who talk about a place that's dear to them or about a loved one: there's a different light in their eyes, a very special excitement in the voice of those who speak to you about what they belong to. Some people have a "Colombia nostalgia" and staring into space they describe the difficulty in breathing for the thin air and the lack of seasons as something awesome, then there are those who have the "Italy nostalgia" although they have almost never been there, and you can almost see the image of the countryside and endless olive tree groves, and there are those who talk like that about a loved one, and no matter where they are in the world they know they belong to that person only and they feel at home anywhere. And I saw the "Europe nostalgia", the Brazilian saudade, and many other situation nostalgias. But I still have to find a place of which I can talk like that, and I'm strongly determined to find it. Meanwhile, I can say I'm happy to have lived this experience fully, in the sense that while sometimes things happen too fast for you to realize, in these months I have enjoyed every instant at the very moment in which I lived it. And almost without realizing it, I have accumulated experience in my field that will be invaluable in the future. So I'm definitely happy with what I got on a personal level and continue my search, going home for a pit-stop.

TR # 19 - The Ghost of Christmas Past

Nice to meet you, Luna Scrooge. I don't think it's a recent thing, my hatred for Christmas. I mean. First, when I was a child it meant I would stay at home from school and I liked studying a lot. Pureblood nerd, here I am. Then there was the stress of the tree (and every other year, also the Manger): sacred hush while Pa' unrolled the lights and equally sacredly swore at full blast because some didn't work. And then he tried to explain to us why some cables worked even if a light was broken while others not… mysteries of the electricity on parallel cables or similar stuff. Then bad words and crazy screaming if we didn't put the larger balls near the trunk and wild complaints if the tree was real (it only happened twice, I think) because it scattered pine needles anywhere. Shortly, 'twas a penance. And then the Christmas lunch that, although funny and very pleasant in the result, required a preparation and a long job of diplomacy between supporters of the lunch at home and supporters of the restaurant that Wikileaks would make a fortune out of it. And my family -that we weren't properly conventional wasn't yet clear?- follows the politics of “if you need something we can buy it during the year, there's no need to wait for Christmas” therefore there weren't even heaps of presents to unwrap. On the bright side, I found when I was 4 a more than rational explanation to Father Christmas and I keep sticking to it (I'll write about it in another post, it would be too long). What?? Do you still believe in Santa Claus? Not mentioning the fact that I met him when I was 18, yes, I still believe in Father Christmas. Just saying, you still believe in Berlusconi… let's make a challenge!! He's sure cheaper and less harmful for the general well-being, the Father I mean, rather than the Papi.

And let's admit it too, the more years go by the worse it becomes, the Christmas period. It feels like here in North America, everybody rushing to the malls to buy a whole lot of generally useless gifts, everybody stressed out to decorate their houses according to the latest fashion's criteria, God forbid the neighbors and guests don't see that they're not up-to-date… how boring! And then, daily demonstrations of an alarming hypocrisy -that I have especially noticed since I entered the job world- with gifts exchanged among people who can't stand each other, pretending to believe in the spirit of Christmas when instead they can't see each other and they would kick and punch each other rather than buying a “little thought”! The Japanese know it best, since they hardly celebrate at all and they even work on the 25th!

Then during the last few years life -or bad luck- also got in the way to create ugly memories to me, all concentrated in the dull days between Christmas and New Year's Day. There are memories of death, of diseases diagnosed on the 31st and toasts made in the entrance hall of a hospital. Memories of police officers at the work place, of crisis of anxiety and attacks of panic for the situation that had been created on my work place. And then it was iron's turn. Yes because around this time one year ago I started making iron injections for a serious anemia of which I was absolutely unaware before the blood tests. And on December 28 last year they very wisely thought of doubling my dose of iron, causing an anaphylactic shock that scared me more than anything ever. I haven't spoken about it a lot since then, but the feeling of losing control over my own body, with my heart pulsing like crazy in my back and the pressure rising and falling in a minute -I remember everything as if it happened yesterday. Just as I remember, on the 30th of December, the overwhelming terror to go out of my house: on the threshold I almost went back in because I was terrified at the idea of feeling sick again, not being able to control my body, even fainting or something like that. I fought the fear, went out, and nothing happened. Then on New Year's Eve we made a promise with Gica: this year would have been different, enough celebrations in Mestre square with the lame concert and drunk guys throwing firecrackers.

Said and done, I celebrate it in Toronto City. And here they know their stuff. The inauguration of the Christmas period was on the 27th of November, with a big celebration in the main square, a million people, fireworks hitting the buildings (yes, says Ma', they must have indoor fireworks............) and Christmas music while all the people were skating as if we were shooting “Home Alone 2: Lost in New York”. And once I left behind the baggage of the Christmas' duties and the snow fell, with no gifts to buy, I feel like smiling more than anything else. I even decorated our house with small houses, penguins, little trees and snowflakes. I also drank the snow (that is, I held my mouth open until a snowflake fell within) and I'll probably go throwing snowballs very soon, in the nearby park. The Ghost of Christmas Present seems therefore much optimist and even not knowing what the Ghost of Christmas Future has ready for me, I count on succeeding in throwing behind my shoulders every negative memory brought by the Ghost of Christmas Past.

Sincerely,

Luna Scrooge.