Da alcune settimane frequento un corso di Critical Thinking, (English 096) presso il Seattle Central Community College. Questi sono i miei primi, elementari saggi in inglese. La grammatica, salvo sviste dell'ultimo minuto, è corretta dalla Prof. Lara Ramsey.
Before I tell you the story, I need to fix some assumptions and premises:
I have been in Seattle since march and actually I miss my Italian friends a lot. I was born in Italy on the same bed where I slept the most part of my life. Although living in a foreign country is not exactly a new experience for me. When I was 21 years old I lived three years in Peru and I appreciate this time of my life, because I was very young; also because Peru is a very special country and maybe because between, Italy and South America share the same “Latin” culture.
I moved to Seattle for love and in April Sara and I got married. My first time in Seattle, my energy and focus was to learn English. Also I like walking, a lot. For that my “entrance” to the local culture are all my body between the head to my feet. Since July my English developing skills are helping me to have more conversations and understand people pretty good, So I was thinking, “I'm ready to find a new friends!”
I took my first idea from Italy. Sure, I thought, the coffee bar could be a good place to meet new people! Suddenly I started going in to the coffee bar close to my home every day. After one week I took inventory: no one one person met, no one recognized me, but I had consumed a lot of coffee and I had spent a lot of money: so, my conclusion was that, the coffee bar is not a good place to meet new people. Maybe it could be a delightful place to drink some delicious things with people who one had met in another place.
After that I spent some more weeks to thinking about my goal: how I can meet new people? What is the way to make friend in this city? In July, I became a volunteer for some non-profit Organizations. I met a lot of people and I tried to tell them about me and politics, travel and how different my country is. Oh, excuse me, I forgot to explain: I'm a very talkative person if I can speak my own language! The reactions to my tendency to talk were different, but not one of them positive. Some people after talking with me for two minute would me gesture to their clock and say “I'm so sorry, I need to go!” Some people just looked at clock and they simply went going on.
Maybe I need more time. I thought, maybe my English is still too bad; maybe here there is no time to talk with friends; maybe because of all the reasons above, it is so hard make new friends.
Every day I came home really sad; every day I felt more gloomy.
One day I saw a person, maybe a woman. She was crouching down on the sidewalk, her head bent over a book. The book was a very old book with yellow pages, the kind of paper that smells dusty, a book that you can find stored in a old trunk. I found her clothes also dirty and ripped, but unexpected, without bad odor. On the floor in front of her, leaned, a little sign that was hand-written and also old. I don't remember what the sign said, but it was clearly a request of begging.
My action was mechanical, I took one dollar from my pocket and I gave it, to her.
In this moment and just a second before I extracted my hand from the pocket, she was raising her head and smiling, at me. She said; “thank you!” I was a little embarrassed and pretty surprised, and for that I gave her more attention. She was not a woman, she was a very young girl, so beautiful with two smart big, clear eyes and a precious smile.
In this moment many thought were going on around my head! Why was such a young and smart girl on the street? Why was she asking for help? Where was she having food? Where was she sleeping?
I needed some second to return on my self, just on time to say; “Hello, my name is Riccardo; I'm from Italy!” I said while I thought: Oh man! come on, you can speak something more, something more smart!. And she: “Oh nice. Nice to met you, Riccardo-from-Italy, I'm Betty, from Connecticut.
Since July I meet Bettytwo or three times a week. Every time we talk a little more than before. We talk about our different lives. Our first conversations was short, a little and with mutual embarrassment. You know, an old foreign man who is talking with a young homeless girl could generate a lot of bad ideas. But we continue to talk, and day by day our conversations are more deeper, more close, also sometime we brushed; now we are less scared. Now our “Goodbye” is changing in “See you soon!”
Walking home now I'm very excited when I'm looking her still to far. After talking with her, I feel very happy. My soul is improving at the same moment as my English.
I don't know what deep level our friendship can reach. Some days I want to help her, but still I can't imagine exactly how. Otherwise every day she is helping me, without knowing about that.
So I believe that Betty really is my first friend in this country. The most unexpected and pretty strange friend, although certain, a very important friend to me.
One day I saw a person, maybe a woman. She was crouching down on the sidewalk, her head bent over a book. The book was a very old book with yellow pages, the kind of paper that smells dusty, a book that you can find stored in a old trunk. I found her clothes also dirty and ripped, but unexpected, without bad odor. On the floor in front of her, leaned, a little sign that was hand-written and also old. I don't remember what the sign said, but it was clearly a request of begging.
My action was mechanical, I took one dollar from my pocket and I gave it, to her.
In this moment and just a second before I extracted my hand from the pocket, she was raising her head and smiling, at me. She said; “thank you!” I was a little embarrassed and pretty surprised, and for that I gave her more attention. She was not a woman, she was a very young girl, so beautiful with two smart big, clear eyes and a precious smile.
In this moment many thought were going on around my head! Why was such a young and smart girl on the street? Why was she asking for help? Where was she having food? Where was she sleeping?
I needed some second to return on my self, just on time to say; “Hello, my name is Riccardo; I'm from Italy!” I said while I thought: Oh man! come on, you can speak something more, something more smart!. And she: “Oh nice. Nice to met you, Riccardo-from-Italy, I'm Betty, from Connecticut.
Since July I meet Bettytwo or three times a week. Every time we talk a little more than before. We talk about our different lives. Our first conversations was short, a little and with mutual embarrassment. You know, an old foreign man who is talking with a young homeless girl could generate a lot of bad ideas. But we continue to talk, and day by day our conversations are more deeper, more close, also sometime we brushed; now we are less scared. Now our “Goodbye” is changing in “See you soon!”
Walking home now I'm very excited when I'm looking her still to far. After talking with her, I feel very happy. My soul is improving at the same moment as my English.
I don't know what deep level our friendship can reach. Some days I want to help her, but still I can't imagine exactly how. Otherwise every day she is helping me, without knowing about that.
So I believe that Betty really is my first friend in this country. The most unexpected and pretty strange friend, although certain, a very important friend to me.
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