Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Holcom Shower Doors Model

ITA - Me and Alice

This is not a blog - the diary, for three months I have no time to publish some of my new short memories, but we are ready, only need a quiet moment to get here.


But what is happening these days in Japan has touched some chord within me that report directly to my childhood: I decided to write about it here live, because all I can do for Alice is to demonstrate my appreciation and friendship, hoping that this will give her a smile in these times that require courage and strong nerves.

Alice and I we were classmates in elementary school. That does not seem so great a coincidence, but, for starters, we were in smaller class ever: six from first to fifth, plus a few other comrades who have been with us a few months or just one school year. 5 girls and 1 boy, Fred, I always wonder how his years elementareschi memories, in a small all women with their staff and already pronounced temper.

And then an elementary school was not any. When I exit out of that school, I realized that none of my new friends of the medium had such an experience. Years have passed and I have not met anybody yet who has attended such a school. And I have come to believe that anyone who was a student at the Language School for Children in via Monteccucoli 2, Turin, spent five years of his childhood from 8 am to mid afternoon in an alternate world: we are all alumni of a secret school for this and share memories that no one else can understand. In our childhood were seeded of the habits that make us all alike, however different and far between us.

Our school was special: it was within a normal building, was not a school building, but you could tell by the way what were the windows of our classes because they were decorated with the seasons and holidays. On the sill of each class grew the plants grown from seeds placed in cotton and climbed the branches stuck into the sweet potato a plastic bottle. There was only one section, A, in all, we were perhaps eighty, in the refectory at lunch we were all sitting on three long tables. Lunch came with Antonia straddle the metal and announced that at first there was the White Pasta, Pasta Red pasta and then a third that was rather special, changed every day and went from the Cappelletti with Pesto Pasta with cream.
(I remember once we have committed ourselves to eat three meals each in turn: white, red and pesto, to several times the Italian flag. We are who we were young patriots). Of a second each of us was provided with lunch-box (which I have always called petanziera up to the age where I realized etymology) on which was inscribed the name and surname: Before you go to school the mother put the food in the lunch-and then Antonia and her maids in the kitchen heating up the dishes and carried them there. If the mother did not gave you the lunch-box, you paid the ticket to get the sticks or hot dogs or philadelphia Findus. Obviously lots of hot dogs hunted the ticket and were most ready to give in stews, meatballs, steak and anything else of their lunch-box, bartering with sausage ticket.
After lunch there was a time that we had to look at Quark, and to me the episodes with insects were back up any meal and food flask.
Every month we went on a school trip with the coach of Vigo, We had a label pinned on him by his full name and address of the school could be a trip out of Turin or went to museums in the city. Every year or so we had to the Museo del Risorgimento. Until I checked the syringes in the fields, we went to recreation in the gardens of the citadel, sitting down on the cannon of Pietro Micca and playing the Cat's Eye. Every month the teachers will have a party with performances, songs, dances, sets and costumes made by us. I liked acting so much. And I hated the teacher so much Pierina, who seemed a mountain climber, and on the first day of school, after having made us sing the Old boot much time has passed You can relive many memories Tuuu had decreed that I was hopelessly stonata.Nella our school the teachers but not teachers called Miss. Miss Susan was my favorite teacher of English, we put the stars of gold, silver or bronze on the drawings of animals and objects with the name in English and Italian and then added 10/10 very good. There was also a conveyor belt, which carried the mayor's band type, depending on the discipline required to week, and who took her was the class president. I remember there were 3 colors for 3 rows and consequent responsibility. Our school giving a lot of room for creativity: I think they always return home with dirty hands to the side of markers, paints and crayons. We girls had to take an apron long dark blue and buttoned back, a jacket to males of the same color it was probably a choice of director is to avoid soiling his clothes as we were constantly immersed in glues and colors and glitter, or to avoid realize as we were dressed and make any comparisons. On second thought now was a brilliant thing, because none of us knew if the other company had the best of the sweatshirt or jeans of 012 or more. But in those days, the first thing I wondered when we went to school with was whether we could take off the apron!

In this set of school characteristics, there was me and Alice. Alice was in tune and I was out of tune, while I had her solo voice instructions by Pierina open and shut in time. But both liked to write and perform. I remember once we had to make parts for both Cinderella and her stepmother wanted to do because we suck the recipient of the role of Prince Charming. This time the spuntai as Alice because I was the first of the class, Miss Susan gave her the most important part, that of Cinderella.

After the fifth to the language, we went to different schools, lived in Turin and the opposite, we reviewed only once, for a single class dinner organized in the first year of university by Silvia, another of our Class 6. I remember that I spoke recently with Alice that night, told me who studied languages \u200b\u200band was a little 'surprise, because in the end always being the first class I was expecting a little' stupid, that he had chosen astrophysics. However, of all languages, he chose the equivalent of astrophysics: the Japanese.

A couple of years ago, while surfing on Facebook, which had suddenly become fashionable in Italy, I saw the profile of Alice in the area where you report what you know. I do not remember who asked the two add the atrium. I remember I went instead to wander on his blog, and discovered that she was married she, like me, a foreigner and who had already had a child, Yui. Start each time, more than anything else commenting Facebook on our states, our photos .. we never told what we've done over the past 20 years, our petty everyday shared virtually gave each a more or less of what does and what kind has become another. We are both mothers married to foreigners, expats ... there would be enough to say that we have issues in common, but the fact that they were both students of the language is still something more.


The other days I was very tired, my husband was away for several days in the U.S. and my daughter had her first bronchitis, I was tired as only mothers expatriate without help and without a car can be. I looked on the computer if I had messages, that the only company in recent months is that which comes from my virtual friends scattered elsewhere, and I found it to Meme, who lives in South Africa and asked me if my friend was doing well in Japan. Why? What happened in Japan? It was lunch time and I still had not had time to watch the news ... as it opened the page in another window corriere.it same PC I had already loaded the Facebook Wall of Alice, who wrote the star well, she and her husband and child. From that day

Alice lives with emergencies that the earthquake has generated and also spends energy to reassure me and all those who ask about. As evidence that the strength of a mother, every time it seems impossible do more, increase it further. And, I like to think, like me, she pulls out her new strength from inner creativity, the creativity that we have been taught to cultivate in the secret world of language.

If you want to read about her, this is his blog http://allegroma.blogspot.com/

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