Immigration, languages & kids

When you consciously decide to migrate to another Country and you are not really in a hurry, a couple of things should be considered especially if you have kids.

Language is one of the first. This sounds pretty obvious, I know. The truth is that obvious things can often surprise me. In 1950 migration from Italy to Canada, Argentina or US was quite different. Italy was a poor Country (now it is going there again, unfortunately) devastated by the Second World War. In the country yards people were literally starving and one of the best solution was to leave, to go where future was offering alternatives, opportunities, work and bread. Back then many people didn’t have many things. No properties, no money, no luggage, no Skype, no English or Spanish but a big, humongous, unbelievable courage. I do believe that circumstances and the need to survive can make people brave and able to go beyond their own expectations.

My generation is probably less brave compared to that although, in any case, to leave your certainties, family, friends and things you have been always known requires a good amount of courage. This occasionally can turn into something as pathetic as extremely hilarious.

We considered different options other than Canada. We started thinking to move from one city to another in Sicily (as if this could make a difference!), then from the south to the north of Italy, then from Italy to somewhere in Europe. When considering Europe, we thought that Germany would have been nice. Germany is actually nice but it was not meant to be. In a moment of rare wisdom I imagined myself and Alessandro dealing with 2 teenagers, Lorenzo and Maia, in need of help to complete their homework. We couldn’t have offered them all our potentials because of the huge barrier of language. I also remember myself trying to motivate my concerns starting from a matter of fact: generations have always been divided by an unquestionable ideological/behavioural gap. We were about to leave what we knew with the additional challenges given by a linguistic barrier. So, I proposed to look for a Spanish or English speaking destination considering we both were able to make us understandable when speaking them! Canada was our wisest choice, and the consideration of the potential issues related to the new language our second wisest one!

When we arrived here Maia was 14 months old. One of the nicest neighbours I have ever met, the second day after my arrival, proposed me and Maia to join her and her toddler in a Moms and Tots program at the library. Still dealing with the jet leg, I was seating among Canadian moms dealing with Canadian tots eating fishes and cheerios (different snacks from Italian kids) and singing songs I didn’t know. I remember I was finally extremely happy when the lady started singing “Old McDonald had a farm”. Finally I knew one! Only one thing needed to be change: instead of saying Nella Vecchia Fattoria, I needed to start talking about that old guy McDonald!

“Old McDonald had a faaaarmmmmm, ia ia yoooooo”, Maia was clapping with me...

“and in that farm he had a cowwwwwww, ia ia yooooo”, still clapping and smile...

“and a moo moo here, and a moo moo there...”, OK this was a little bit different, but manageable.

So, going ahead, there was a sheep that was saying Baaaahhhh versus the Italian Beeeeeeee; a rooster that was doing a cock-a-doodle-doo versus an Italian chicchirichì; a horse that was doing neigh, against an Italian ihhhhhhhh and so on until Maia started looking at me a little bit concerned and I started fearing that I had no hope to survive to that song. I was proud of my song though.

So, I decided to keep going until we arrived at the last animal: the piglet. What happened at that point will be carved in my heart and soul forever. I won’t forget for the rest of my life the deepness of the silence in the big, colourful room when against a Canadian oink, oink, my nose produced  one of the worst sound I have ever heard. In Italian it is written grunf, grunf but no doubt that word doesn’t reflect the sound at all! It is a sound that doesn’t come from the mouth, but from somewhere between the mouth and the nose...somewhere exactly in between!

Silence...Silence...Silence...In a slow motion, Maia looked at me and crawled away!

Three years have passed and our kids can now speak English fluently and without any Italian accent. We keep speaking Italian home (that is mandatory!) and, meanwhile, we can read, watch and help them with spelling, math, geography without difficulties. However, my prophecy made its way in our life earlier than foreseen.

Two weeks ago I could join Maia for her hip hop class. It was actually a Parents & Kids program again! After the first 15 minutes, Maia gently asked me to go and sit down. One week later, same scene, same request, same situation: Maia dancing happy by herself among other kids and other parents. Observing her I tried to understand her request and going beyond the human disappointment and sadness that a parent can feel when “refused”, I was actually happy. My 4 years old daughter is an independent person. She is not me, she is another individual and my role is just to give my hand to her trying to make her feel the urgency of respecting basic principles. I spent the rest of the hour looking proudly at her and her sense of freedom.

Once again, a new lesson: keep it simple! After few days, a revelation! “Maia, why didn’t you want to dance with me? Am I ugly? Don’t you like me?”... ”No Mamma, io ti amo!” ...”Why? Do you just want to dance by yourself?”... “I like you looking at me!”... “Maia, but I don’t understand!”

...

Silence...

“Mom?  You don’t know how to dance Incy Wincy Spider!”

Thank God, we didn’t go to Germany!

Immigration, Celebrations, Traditions and Bunnies

 

Moving to Canada implies many, many things. One of the nicest one, however, is that Canada encourages people to keep alive  their background, their native language, culture and traditions. This is definitely one of the reasons why I love this Country so much.

In some way, that makes things as nice as difficult sometimes. Having kids, in fact, exposes you to a multitude of questions and options and, not always, it is easy to come up with a good, logic, satisfying answer which is also capable to keep ancient traditions alive and stable.

One of the first example that comes to my mind is the dilemma with baby teeth fall. Every time one tooth falls down, my brain starts spinning trying to remember where I am, what my kids know and how to make them believe that if in Canada a nice tooth fairy leaves you money under the pillow, in Italy that is going to happen thanks to a mouse, a ladybug or something else depending on the region, or even the city within the same region. In Palermo, city where I am from, for example it’s a ladybug’s task to trade your tooth with money. Interesting is that the ladybug is the way kids identify St. Nickolaus. In the past, actually, it was spread the practise to hide the tooth in a hole and pray the Saint with the following words:

Santu Nicola,
Santu Nicola
vi rugnu a zappa vecchia
vui mi dati a zappa nuova.

The tooth fairy thing is just one example considering that this dilemma pops up quite often in a new comer life. So, not only you have to adjust to things essential to your survival, but you are also required to make your children believe that everything is manageable. In my opinion this is quite amazing and, no doubt, highly motivating.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Having said that, let’s talk about Easter, Easter Bunny, Easter eggs, Pupo cu l’uovu and Pecorella di martorana. Maia came back home from school few days ago reminding me that Mr. Easter Bunny was coming to leave Easter Eggs. “Who is coming?”, “Easter Bunny, Mom”. “He is going to bring me eggs, you know!”.

It usually happens while I am driving and I can feel Maia’s presence behind me that I start thinking about these differences. Of course, Maia’s curiosity and the daily report to let me know what she did during the day aren’t entirely negligible.

Who is Easter Bunny? In Italy we didn’t have him and I couldn’t understand why eggs were brought by a bunny instead of a duck, for example.We do have eggs though!

Easter Bunny, derives form ancient pre-christian pagan rituals celebrating fertility and productiveness. As according to the tradition, rabbits and hares are among the most fertile animals ever, they soon became a symbol of the renewal of life that in the endless cycle of seasons corresponds to Spring.

It seems that the cute bunny became a symbol of Easter in Germany in XV century. On top of that, the first bunny-shaped cookies were circulating always in Germany in 1800. Later, German and Dutch immigrants imported this tradition to America where Easter Bunny brings eggs in a basket for those kids who were nice during the year. The only problem is that, being Mr. Bunny a naughty fellow, he loves to hide those eggs in bushes and grass.

I had to move to Canada to be able to understand why Mr. Lindt (maitre chocolatier) sells tones of golden bunnies for Easter!

What about eggs? Egg has always been considered symbol for life and sacredness. Egyptians, for example, considered the egg the fulcrum of universe 4 elements. It appears that Persians used to exchange hen-eggs at the arrival of Spring, followed by other populations.

In Sicily, we do have chocolate eggs but also we use real hen-eggs to decorate special bread baked for Easter, Pupuo cu l’uovo (puppet with egg). I remember this type of bread since I was a young girl. One special person, Zia Valentina, introduced me to this and I like it or not, it is something important to me. The recipe for this special bread is common everywhere in Sicily. The only things may change are the name used and the shape given to it. I was so happy, happy like a child, when I went to buy some bread here in Vaughan few days ago and I saw a beautiful, reassuring pupo con l’uovo on the shelf.

 

 

Finally, another Sicilian dessert for Easter is “la Pecorella di Pasqua”. Everywhere in Sicily, in this period of the year, is possible to find this little sheep. Even if the recipe once again can change from one city to another, all these little sheeps have one ingredient in common: martorana or pasta reale (marzipan) and, in some variations they have pistachio or cedar compote. This sweet cute little sheep is always laying down on a green lawn realised with a green painted plywood filled with candies and little chocolate eggs. Finally, the little sheep has a golden and red“labaro”, banner, because in heraldry those are the identifying colours for Jesus Christ.

I have now one problem: explain to Maia that in our backyard no bunnies are going to hide eggs. An alternative could be to have a little sheep jumping like a bunny and hiding some eggs into a bread. Or, even better, I can give Maia some chocolate and...pray she is not going to ask any other question until next holiday!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Primavera, estate, autunno, inverno & Dollarama

I remember my surprise when I visited my first Dollarama Store.

The first thing it reminded me was a little store where I used to go while living in Spain, Todo Cien.

That was happening a century ago based on the perception I have of time. In 2000 I was living in Spain thanks to a university scholarship named Erasmus. So, I had the opportunity to study for a limited period of time in Valladolid, a little city of Castilla-León, once capital of the kingdom of Castile after the Catholic Monarchs, Isabel I of Castile and Ferdinand II of Aragon got married there in 1469.

Sometimes that experience was kind of awkward, especially when I was attending English Language and Literature class where a teacher was speaking English with a thick Spanish accent, translating and explaining in Spanish in a period of time when my language used to be mainly Italian. After three hours I remember me completely lost in a universe of words. However, when you are in your 20s, you just don’t care and the more something is odd, the more you think it makes you cool. Like when I decided to shave my hair or add my sixth piercing to my earlobe.

Going back to Todo Cien, long story short (just kidding! That would be impossible for an Italian), that was the typical period in one person’s life when everything has to be “New Age”. In other word, everything has to be as much as possible close to the style of 70’s. To understand what I am referring to, think of Hair.

So, Todo Cien was my official supplier of scented candles. Tones of candles bought just because it was ridiculously cool to light them on at night, instead of using a much more comfortable lamp, and observe in the morning the fancy shapes of a melted strawberry candle over a coffee table of a rented house.

In 2010, Dollarama in a sort of epiphany brought me back to my Erasmus time. Actually reminded me at least 10 Todo Cien altogether… It is a matter of fact that in North America everything seems to be much bigger than in Europe (men, don’t be so happy   J): highways, cars, houses, cans, bottles, Nutella jar, etc…

   After one year in Canada, Dollarama impressed me once again. To explain why, I should start speaking about the cycle of seasons in one year.

In Italian we have: Primavera, Estate, Autunno and Inverno. In Canada we have: Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter and Dollarama.

Dollarama is as cool as an app, a real one where you can physically interact with things, seasons and people. Dollarama goes beyond. It doesn’t passively follow the rhythm of our Mother Nature, it really gives us an extra-bonus. Dollarama tells us exactly where, in the solar calendar, we are at. If our crazy busy lives spent among full time jobs, part time jobs, not salaried jobs (house and kids), skating, swimming, yoga, toastmaster classes, birthday party, shovelled drive ways, lunch boxes, etc…, one day, leave us lost and confused, the only thing we need to do is to go to one of these Stores.

January has one shelf for New Year celebrations while the opposite one reminds you that you’d better start buying valentine’s cards, if you don’t want to remain without. When Valentine Day is almost there, here it goes: March is coming? You should wear a green something. Let’s celebrate St. Patrick Day with three-leaved plants, leprechauns & co.

But if you really want to celebrate, you’d better run…it’s almost Easter. Thousand of Easter Bunnies are looking at you from the shelves. Bunnies, multi-colour plastic eggs, basket to collect the hidden eggs kids are going to look for. So, between a jump and another it’s time to give room to items to celebrate spring and get ready for summer. Flowers, butterflies, dragon flies, pots, suns, backyard decorations, mini fence to protect your flowers, seeds, bird houses (mine became a beehive), garden solar lamps.

Summer means also the smell of barbecue spreading in the neighbourhood at 5:30 pm while you are riding your bike to reach the nearest park. Dollarama, indeed, offers you anything you need for a perfect barbecue, including a cute miniature of a backyard table shadowed by a mini umbrella under which you’ll find Mr Ketchup and Mrs Mustard, a cute couple waiting just to be squeezed. Canada day would be a perfect day to do that. So, why don’t you buy from one of those shelves a nice Canada Hat that matches with a nice Canadian Aloha - style necklace and a mini Canada flag?

At this point you make yours the spirit of summer, so you decide to buy water-bubble guns for your kids, a pair of fake crocks and some small shovels for the single day in all the summer you might decide to go to the beaches. My friends, it’s too late! Cannot you feel something changing in the air? If you are too excited to remember that summer won’t last forever, here’s your mentor to bring you back to the reality.

 Fake silk shining summer flowers leave room to yellowish-reddish leaves. A pumpkin here and an apple there, Mr. Sparrow and ultra plastic smelling rubber boots remind you to celebrate the arrival of Fall. It’s Harvest time! In the air the odour of cinnamon start stimulating your senses. You start desiring a fresh apple pie until you actually go with your kids for a pumpkin patch. The day after you decide to return to your friend Dollarama because you realised that you really need that cute sparrow to decorate your house. It makes you feel part of the neighbourhood. You and the family living in front of yours are on the same page. You share because you care!

Ooooooops! Too late! Mrs. Pumpkin and Mr Sparrow were turned into skeletons by a terrible spell. You go to Dollarama and you are not sure anymore that is a welcoming place where you really want to bring your kids. Blood, skeletons, fingers, monster’s masks, arms, tombs, everything you need to a make a perfect graveyard out of your front yard.

In this last case, I am really glad that Dollarama goes faster than the time itself. I am not fond of Halloween so the faster it comes and leave the better it is for me.

What is left? There is no need for me to tell you. You already know, and if you are not sure, just remember to visit one location by November and you’ll find the answer there just waiting for you.

Only one last thing needs to be mentioned. Dollarama is a friend of any New Comers. In a very discrete way helps you to understand the Country you are living in. It makes you feel part of the community: you learn what to expect next, you adjust accordingly and the day your kids come back from school and tell you that they’re going to have a Valentine’s party, you feel reassured because you exactly know where you need to go to get ready and celebrate it!

 

 

19 marzo - Festa del Papà

One of the first things I found out in Canada was the fact that Father’s Day is celebrated in June, instead of March 19. Somebody tried to convince me that the reason for that depended only on the initial letter of the month. Because we celebrate Mother’s day in May, and May is the month of Mary (not my cousin, but Mary the Madonna), the month of June is the selected one to celebrate our fathers.  Based on the “M” philosophy, “J” would be the letter for Joseph.

To be honest with you, that explanation didn’t convince me that much. Why not January, then?

 What about July?  Why? As, being Mary and Joseph a couple, they have to stay together. Could be?

Result? I did my homework and some research to improve my knowledge and show off today!

Let’s start from the beginning. In Italy, Father’s Day is celebrated March 19. In Canada, it is celebrated the third Sunday of June. The initial surprise, soon, became a real shock!

Father’s day, the way we celebrate it today (buying a tie, a new wallet, and all those boring things that no father in the world would love) comes actually from United States.  Can you imagine?

I am Italian so I am used to the fact the everything cool has been invented there (pasta, gelato, mafia, Berlusconi,  sun, good weather, small car, O Sole mio, hand gestures, loudness, stereotypes and so on). You have to agree with me.  Father’s Day invented in USA? The answer is: it sounds so!

 Apparently, the first time it was celebrated in West Virginia in 1908 in a Methodist Church. One year before, hundreds of men had died in an explosion. That was a way to honour and remember all those fathers and, in a spiritual way, a tentative to relieve the grief and sorrow of those who survived.  At least that seems to be the first documented one even though it didn’t have any success out of the village. It was not June, though!

A couple of years later, this celebration was officialised in Washington were a smart and beloved daughter, Miss Sonora Louise Smart Dodd was able to push so hard to obtain it. Why June? Because in June was Mr. Dodd’s birthday! Having said that, my friends, it sounds like we are altogether celebrating Mr Dodd’s birthday!

However, it was only in 1966 that the third Sunday of June was designated to celebrate our fathers.

Well, what about Italy? In Italy, Father’s Day is celebrated on March 19 date in which is honoured the memory of St. Joseph. Because Joseph is considered Jesus’ putative father, that seemed to be the perfect day to honour and celebrate the rest of the fathers.

 

I remember this picture on the wall of my family kitchen at the age of four, five and six. Then we moved and the picture disappeared from my sight, but not from my heart and memories apparently.

The way St. Joseph is celebrated in Italy can be very different depending on the region is taken into consideration. Generally speaking, we can assume that anywhere it is possible to register a certain mixture between a Christian tradition and an older pagan one. Many festivities reviewed by Christianity have ancient origins linked to the old relation between men and the cycle of Nature.

When talking of Italian traditions, language, cuisine in Italy it is always safe to keep in mind that we could find many variants and many historical and social reasons behind those variants depending on the region. Some variants can even differ from one city to another.  To celebrate St. Joseph, indeed, in some villages a feast for the poor is arranged or a “Processione” with the Holy Family; in others, we can have  a feast where 13 virgins are invited, a special bread which is baked to represent some holy figures or just “fruits” of Nature (birds, flowers, etc...).

 

I remember, when I was a child of about 6, 7 that in the suburb of Palermo (Sicily) where I used to live it was part of the tradition to light a high bonfire where old pieces of wood were burnt (Vampa di San Giuseppe). That was definitely deriving from the ancient tradition to burn all the untamed to prepare the land for the summer, for example!

 

It would be too long to go through all the variants we can find. However, the last thing it is worth to be mentioned is the tradition to eat Zeppole or Sfinci.

One day, a Canadian friend asked me if the Zeppole you can buy in an Italian bakery in Toronto were the same sold in Italy. That was an interesting question for me too. I had to realise once again that an answer to an easy question, not necessarily is an easy answer.

The Zeppole I’ve been buying in Toronto are definitely not the one I used to see in the bakeries of Trapani and Palermo. Does it mean that they’re not the original ones? Not at all! That means we are dealing with a variant, the strongest one which was able to cross the ocean and reach Canada together with some immigrants.  The one in Toronto belongs to Campania’s tradition and it is a fried ciambella, dusted with icing sugars (zucchero a velo) and filled with cream. Finally, to end with a bang (per finire in bellezza), three sour black cherries (amarene)should be put on top of it.

 

 

In Sicily, Zeppole di San Giuseppe become Sfinci di San Giuseppe and like the majority of pastries belonging to the Sicilian tradition one of the main ingredients is ricotta cheese. It is interesting to notice that the origin of them, in any case, is really ancient and, once again, they’re only another variant of something that existed in the past. It looks like Romans used to eat a first variant of Zeppole during some celebrations called Liberalia that used to happen in March. On the language side, instead, it is interesting to know that the Sicilian word “Sfinci” has an uncertain etymology and origin. Some think it derives from Latin, some others from Arabic isfang , which means “sponge”.   And this would make perfect sense to me if I consider the history of Sicily!

In conclusion, being immigrants, we had to adjust on this as well? Which one we were supposed to celebrate? The solution came out naturally. My children who are growing up in Canada celebrate it on June. My husband celebrates it, as a son, in March. I celebrate it as a daughter both in March and June. Yes, twice. Canada was so nice to me to offer finally a solution to one of my life-lasting dilemma: I have a father and a step-father. To celebrate them on the same day didn’t make sense to me, it was not easy and most of all I was always feeling guilty towards one of them. Now I celebrate one in March and one in June and, simply, like the rest of the things I decided to live perpetually on a swing: going back and forth (not up and down) between my “italianity” and Canada picking what matters most to me, what is nice, what is just perfect!

With Love,

 

Claudia

Agosto 2005

 

Gennaio 2009

Happy Birthday...when words are not needed!

 

___Thoughts of an Immigrant_____

Before we moved to Canada, we were reading a lot about other’s people stories and experiences. About the weather in Ontario, day cares, jobs, neighborhoods, salaries, transportations and, of course, there were both confusion and concerns. In other words, we had no clue at all!

On the other hand, we were lucky compared to other people who don’t have another option but leave.  Expectations were different and many results were unexpected. We literally decided to move, to leave everything and re-start all over again. So far, it sounds like a scaring, moving story and it could be so, if it was not that the person who is writing was fine with all of that.

I knew it was not going to be smooth and easy, I knew that it was going to take time to be settled and I also knew we could make it, because our personal goals and motivations were strong enough to help us. Additionally, we had 2 kids and that means you don’t have other choice but work hard and make it work!

Many Canadians born in Canada don’t know how many things a New Comer has to go through to be settled. Few things are not fun at all; other things – looking at them now – are literally hilarious.

When I came here I was 32. I had, for example, to retake the test for the driving license again. The first time, I failed. Why? They gave me the test in Italian. I didn’t understand a word! I failed.

That was my first time I was so lucky to witness the way a language evolves, changes depending how far it goes from the native land. I am thinking, for example, of words such as “Pushare”, “Apparcare”, “Bega”, etcetera.

Ten minutes later, they called me to try again (+ $10). The lady was so nice to offer me the test in Italian. I asked for the English one. Going back and forth between a “You can have it in Italian!” and “Please, I want the English one!” – I was finally able to go away from there with my approval for the driving test.

You now have to imagine that I was at that office with my husband, Lorenzo and Maia, a baby bottle, 2000 diapers (who never knows, right?), wet wipes, stroller, toys, books, baby’s saliva dots everywhere (Maia  was teething). When I passed the exam, at least, I could enjoy  a standing ovation from my family and a couple of Teddy Bears who were waiting for me outside. This is what happens when you are in a foreigner Country, two days after your arrival and you work as a team because if one fails, the entire family fails.

This is just an example but feel free to apply it to everything belonging to you daily life: grocery, family doctor, hairdresser, etc... Even the way milk is stored and packed is different! 1%, 2%, 3%, 18% meant nothing to me back then. Milk means breakfast. Breakfast means the beginning of the day.  Could you imagine how many different things you have to learn and go through before you could reach the end of one of your ordinary day and finally have DINNER? We were so lucky we didn't need a lactose free one!

That is fun! I suddenly realized I was extremely lucky. That was the sort of situation we desire to live once in a while. I am referring to that desire sometimes we have that is perfectly expressed by the sentence: “I wish I could go back and do it again! This time would be different!”

To move to Canada was my chance to “undo – redo” things I had already done in Italy, but  with more awareness and the wisdom of the knowledge! I know it sounds easy but it is not. What I am referring to is just the way I decided to embark on this amazing adventure.

I miei desideri a 7 anni...(Immagino mi avessero spiegato da poco l'uso del condizionale)

Scrivevo a sette anni...

Io vorrei la mia città piena di aiuole e di alberi lungo i viali.
Desidererei parchi immensi, in modo che i bambini potessero giocare liberamente.
Mi piacerebbe vedere dei vecchietti che passeggiano per le strade e attorno i loro nipotini che si rincorrono l’un l’altro.
Desidererei dei luoghi dedicati tutti ai giovani. Altri dedicati tutti ai grandi.
Vorrei le strade ampie e lunghe. Mi piacerebbe vedere una cagnolina seguita da tutti i suoi cuccioli.
Ma perché la mia città non è come quella che voglio?
Vorrei tante palestre in modo che i ragazzi potessero divertirsi.
Mi piacerebbe moltissimo vedere, al posto dei palazzi, graziosissime villette.
Vorrei guardare fuori dalla finestra e vedere tanti fiori colorati e profumati.
Vorrei guardare le farfalline tutte colorate, volare nel cielo turchino, liberamente.
Mi piacerebbe non vedere le strade sporche. Anzi, le vorrei vedere così brillanti da rimanere a bocca aperta.
Vorrei che nei parco giochi ci fossero panchine di modo che la gente stanca potesse riposare tranquillamente.
Vorrei che per le vie le macchine non corressero più. Per lo meno, penso che così non ci sarebbero più incidenti.
Desidererei che le persone cattive diventassero buone, e quelle malate guarissero.
Desidererei vedere campi immensi ricoperti di verdura fresca.
Mi piacerebbe vedere le signore vestite con abiti larghi e cappelli colorati.
Mi piacerebbe vedere i ragazzi monelli, buoni.
La mia città la vorrei piena di strade illuminate dal sole.
Vorrei che il mio Papà stesse sempre insieme a me. So che non può.
Vorrei che i ragazzi mostrassero la loro bontà ai grandi.
Desidererei che Palermo diventasse piena di scuole.
Vorrei che la gente disoccupata lavorasse e fosse pagata a buon prezzo.
Purtroppo la mia città non è quella che io desidero!
Vorrei che tutti non litigassimo l’un l’altro. Anzi, vorrei che diventassimo più buoni di quel che siamo.
Vorrei che i violentatori non esistessero più.
Vorrei anche che la mia città diventasse la più bella del mondo.
Quante cose mancano alla mia città!
Vorrei che fosse piena di turisti e che nelle scuole insegnassero più educazione agli alunni.
Desidererei che a Palermo le persone passeggiassero lungo i marciapiedi.
Vorrei che la mia città si riempisse di zoo con tutte le specie animali: gorilla, leoni, leopardi, ecc…
La mia città non è quella che voglio!

 

 

 

(Tema scritto quando frequentavo la scuola elementare. Si capisce perché

adesso vivo in Canada :-) )

é