The luggage from London

Several years later, what I still cherish from the period I lived in the British capital are all the images, the thoughts, the words and people – who spent with me just a few hours or entire months – that strongly emerge into my mind, like sudden flash-backs…

[wpb-faa icon=”fa-suitcase” size=”20″ color=””] I do remember that.. it is better not to make a tiramisù ’cause the cream cheese will always taste like proper CHEESE, despite the addition of eggs and sugar, and honestely I don’t even like cheese.

[wpb-faa icon=”fa-suitcase” size=”20″ color=””]  that the way the train driver announces “we are approaching the Lovely Victoria” can be so exciting that makes my day.

[wpb-faa icon=”fa-suitcase” size=”20″ color=””] that I can easily gain 10 kilos eating out, just to taste a different kitchen every day, and realise it just when the only thing my brother can say looking at my pics is how big my bottom is.

[wpb-faa icon=”fa-suitcase” size=”20″ color=””] that I can point out I am not a Greek speaker after the gardener have talked to me for almost five minutes and been told he was talking in English.

[wpb-faa icon=”fa-suitcase” size=”20″ color=””] that it is better to climb the stares down slowly, if covered by carpet, otherwise I’ll reach the downfloor lying down.

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[wpb-faa icon=”fa-suitcase” size=”20″ color=””] that I feel prouder to be Italian when far from home and I find out it helps me to be also smarter, not breaking the rules.

[wpb-faa icon=”fa-suitcase” size=”20″ color=””] that I better avoid to loudly comment the way a girl is dressed in the tube, ’cause she might be Italian as well and understand every single word.

[wpb-faa icon=”fa-suitcase” size=”20″ color=””] that if all my friends from Italy start texting me asking how I am and then my phone doesn’t work anymore, it doesn’t have anything to do with stars aligning,  and the fellow on the bus, who was apparently quite drunk, wasn’t lying when talked about 5 explosions, but rather the driver had been very good in advising me to go back home in a very calm manner.

[wpb-faa icon=”fa-suitcase” size=”20″ color=””] that when I start reading Brick Lane many years later, I still feel the need to hear the same voice which that morning told me what had happened and luckily it did while I was already getting in, as soon after my knees started flickering.

[wpb-faa icon=”fa-suitcase” size=”20″ color=””] that when I’m back to Italy I can wear flat shoes and unfitted colours clothes on saturday night saying that is just the newest London style.

[wpb-faa icon=”fa-suitcase” size=”20″ color=””] that I can meet the same person three days in a row, in a tube station or on the trein, also in a 10 million people city.

[wpb-faa icon=”fa-suitcase” size=”20″ color=””] that I can openly talk about man and woman issues to an afghan man who could be my father by age, in the same way we talk  about the English grammar, the same man who picked the phone to tell me “welcome to New York” while working as UN-Ambassador.

[wpb-faa icon=”fa-suitcase” size=”20″ color=””] that I can spend a whole summer night on a rooftop, drunk with beer and chatter, looking at the stars with my Italian friend, a guy from Zimbabwe, two from Portugal – who work as juggler – an Afghan, a girl from France and another from Poland – who mimes English and doesn’t speak it – and get back home thinking of THAT was the best nigh in life.

Francesca

Francesca

She loves coffee in each and every form, but it has to be rigorously without sugar. Serial expat, she is in love with the world in every tone and latitude, has lost the heart in Africa, but she ends up look for it in other places. She talks less about, but she has a weakness for London and the Middle East.

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