The London filter

In the whole world, London is the city where I have the biggest amount of memories with my family.

To me London means past.

The Tyrannosaurus Rex from Natural History Museum, so huge when I was a child.
The wind blowing on my cheeks on Tower Bridge while a picture of me sitting on my dad’s laps was being taken.
The Victorian House where my mum used to cook custard cream and Vicky the Viking watched with my sister sitting on the carpet.
The card game to learn the family members in English and a toy gun that caused alarm at the 1990 border control of Heathrow Airport.

To me London means a more recent past.
The first moments of peacefulness after coming out. Discovering a love for theatre and for English language.
London to me is and has always been a symbol for discovery, absolute freedom, energy and vitality. A place where it doesn’t matter what you wear, what you think, what you believe in, who you love, what you eat or what music you listen to. There’s everything, regardless.

This city, with its constant changing and evolution, makes you feel like if you arrived a minute ago even when you’ve been living here for two years. Its continuous evolution pushes you to constantly evolve both personally and individually. It’s a sense of discovery and exploration that makes you see everything in complete awe.

I have always been shocked by the feeling of possibility that this city brings to me. I have always felt like I could be everything I wanted to be and do anything I felt like doing, whether I had been here for just a minute or a thousand years, I couldn’t help feeling this incredible and energetic will to do more, to improve, to grow.

I often hear people here talking about a career change of path and I genuinely think that this motivation in exploring new possibilities is kind of contagious, other than brave. Leaving everything behind to create something else, something different, the sort of thing you wouldn’t have even conceived up to a year ago, seems to be part of the incredible ability London and Londoners have to transform.

I’ve heard of lawyers becoming waiters and teachers becoming lawyers. I’ve heard of marketing managers decide to become teachers and teachers deciding to become visual artists.

London to me is present (and a present). It means finding out what it’s like to be a TEFL teacher first and falling in love with SEN world after. It means my first Gay Pride Parade and my 30th birthday.

Through the London filter I’ve seen my life changing so many times that I can choose which moment of my life I want to recall every time I sit on St. Paul’s Cathedral’s steps or I walk along Southbank.

Recently, I’ve been thinking what would be like to move to a smaller place in UK, somewhere different from London, maybe smaller or more family like, just in case…
However, this place has become so important to me, that I feel like it’s a person, a friend that I am struggling to separate from.

I don’t know if London will be my present for ever, but what I definitely know is that it will be in my future. Somehow.

Home

Dad: “You’re away from home for the entire year, you should stay with us for the entire summer holidays”.
Right.
Is it? Don’t think so. Maybe? Maybe not…
The thing is, when you turn thirty (and possibly even much earlier), “home” tends to be where you live or have been living for a while…your “family home” becomes…well…your family home.
Which leads us to the fantastic conclusion that we can spend our summer holidays wherever we want to, choosing among so many options of which the “family home” is just one.
What really drove me to write this post today, though, is what we mean when we say home.
Some people think that home is where they used to live with their parents, where their family of origin is.
I moved out from my hometown when I was 18, but I’ve always considered all the places I’ve lived in like temporary. I didn’t know where I would have been after Uni, and ended up having to go back to my hometown for a couple of months before starting my MA.
Even during my MA I felt like I was living “800 km away from home”.
I started feeling differently when I started working. When I was paying the bills and the rent and all the things included in my everyday life with my own salary. That little “detail” started making me perceive the house I was living in like my “home”. My friends and my partner became my new family and I started to go “back home” less frequently.
Leaving my second home for the unknown (London), was one of the hardest and most painful decisions I had to take in my life, but I only took it when I was totally convinced that leaving would have improved my life immensely.
Since I moved to London, one year ago, my biggest fear was not being able to build the same amount of happiness and family I managed to in Modena.

It hasn’t been easy so far and living in a huge capital most of the times means bonding with people who go back to their countries or go to live somewhere else at some point.
I kinda of have an opinion about that.
London is a place where it’s very hard to stand still. It spins around and it spins you around pushing you to do things every time of the day. It might be because of the immense possibilities it offers, or because of its weather, which brings you to do things when it rains (otherwise you think you’ll wait forever), and when it’s sunny ‘cause you don’t want to waste the chance to enjoy it.
It might be its kaleidoscopic soul, where every area you go to feels like a different city, a different part of the world, with a different rhythm a different music.
Some of the people I’ve met so far feel the need of living the city entirely, always going, always at high speed, always doing something.

I find quite hard meeting people who, sometimes, want to stop. And I don’t mean “stop” as in don’t want to do anything today, but simply because of the immense value of slowing down and standing still. So far all the people I met who wanted some calm went abroad, to places like Italy, Spain, or South America, as if the warmer the place, the calmer it would have been.

When I was living in Italy I was about to explode. I wanted to do things, but couldn’t find a way to do them. I ended up being unemployed for two years and spending my time sending cvs to companies which never got back to me or, in my “free time”, writing short stories I’d never had the guts to publish or even to send them to an editor for a feedback. Everything outside my window was most of the time “always the same”, which I didn’t find particularly motivating.

What is weird enough is that London is my home now. It’s always been home to me a bit, but now I feel like I’ve been living here for ages. And I still don’t know so many things about it that I can afford to feel like an eternal tourist, but at the same time familiar enough with the place to take a break and stop when I need to.
I don’t have many friends here, neither the house of my dreams or a very well paid job.
But I still have much more than I expected to have after one year in a new country.
I don’t know how long I”m going to stay here or if I am one of those people who, in the future,  will need to move in order to stop. What I know is that this city took out a side of me I knew existed, but I wasn’t too familiar with: my exploring side. 

When I walk around all my senses are completely awake. The smells of the coffee coming from the Starbucks around the corner, the Caribbean pasties or the jerk chicken scent filling the streets of the area I live in. When I eat something new, I feel like a child excited to play with food.
And then the roaring of cars and buses in the main streets, the infinite shades of white and grey of the clouds in the sky, the structure of the buildings always different and with different names: council, terraced, victorian, detached, semidetached, cottage, georgian, maisonette.
The way people dress, never following a trend or a specific pattern. The patterns of the walls, roads, streets, shop windows, signs, cars. People’s faces and stories, every market different from another, every park different from another….and more more more…

I can’t tell how much I love this city and how much I love the way I manage to experience it.
I can only say that this is home to me now. And it feels like it was always meant to be.

Creative writing is like Tangram

So today it turned out that the lesson was about creative writing.

Now, I think that for the first time in my all life I taught an entirely unplanned lesson and the big news is that I absolutely loved it.

I am currently helping some children aged 6-7 with literacy and numeracy skills, but I think that the main skill I am helping them with is building up their self esteem.

Today J. looked at me and said “I can’t write, I can’t draw.” As usual for him “I can’t” is the first thing that comes to his brain. So my job with him is more trying to find a way to “unlock” his skills and show him both that he can make it and that he can also be good at it.

But what really made my day this afternoon was seeing him interested, curious to know more about what I was telling him. And the best thing ever was that I was telling him something that I truly believed in. I was talking about writing. About stories and how you create them. How powerful it feels like when you create a character and you let them do whatever and wherever you like, with whom you like and letting them say something you want to share with the entire world.

I told him that writing is a game and that you can change all the parts of a story every time you want and the only limit to what you write is your own imagination.

And I saw a light in his eyes. A small tiny little light telling me that he wanted to try, he really wanted to see what his imagination was able to do, but he was just scared of getting it wrong.

So I told him that the best part of writing a story is that there is no right or wrong story, and that once  you learn how to play with your thoughts and out them on paper you can do it anytime you want.

He started writing. And he wrote a funny and cute story with a beginning, a middle part and an ending.

I pushed him a little bit when he finished asking him to use the junior dictionary to check for spelling mistakes. He said it was boring and he couldn’t do it. But when I left to help the other little boy, I saw him secretly taking the dictionary and trying hard to use it.

I wanted to tell him how lucky he is to live in this country. I think that the first time I heard of “creative writing” I must have been at University. I knew what a story was, I knew all the theory about it and I remember studying and analysing texts and books at school. What I don’t remember doing, thus because it never happened at school, is writing a story. A real story with a setting, fictional characters and dialogues. And I don’t’ remember drawing perceived as a class activity. I remember that we were allowed to draw during breaks or when we were very young and weren’t able to write yet. But drawing a self portrait, or the character of a story…no, that has never happened to me in school.

Which is maybe one of the reasons why I can’t really draw anything except for basic stickmen, some animals and flowers 😀 (although I have to admit I quite enjoy using drawings to explain the meaning of some words when I teach).

I don’t know if there have been any changes in Italian National Curriculum since I finished my primary school, and I am sure there are many teachers who aren’t totally happy with the actual UK curriculum and they find it poor or boring.
I can only say that when you deal with UK National Curriculum after having studied the Italian way for 29 years, the feeling you’ve got is that you are dealing with something pretty amazing. Especially when one of your tasks deals with exploring science through poetry or discussing a poem. Because if you start discussing a poem when you are 6 you will get so used to it by the time you get to high school that you could actually start feeling confident in writing a poem yourself very soon. While if you start commenting on a poem for the first time in high school, you might feel confident in writing one in your late 30s or 40s – being lucky enough to be still willing to write one.
I am not saying that everybody needs to be a poet in their lives, but it does mean that here children are given a chance to deal with a choice, to know what it is and to experiment with it.
Which I think is the best present a school can give to a child: the freedom of experimenting with the world surrounding them.

At the end of the lesson I just wanted to thank J. for that immense sense of achievement he gave to me. But when he came and asked if he could take home one of the science books to study it by himself, I was just overwhelmed by his enthusiasm, more than happy to give him the book and speechless.

So thank you J. for showing me once again the importance of motivation and for remembering that we need to try every path we can before finding the one waiting to be discovered and chosen.

Childhood Memory

Today lavender smells differently to me.
It smells of affection and love, it smells of long time ago.

It smells of me trying your clothes on from your wardrobe when I was 5 and you were not home.
It smells of a soap I used not to like and which now makes me smile.

It smells of the hug I keep remembering when it comes to days like these.

Mi piace il ver…

Mi piace il verbo sentire…
sentire il rumore del mare, sentirne l’odore…
sentire il suono della pioggia che ti bagna le labbra, sentire una penna che traccia sentimenti su un foglio bianco…
sentire l’odore di chi ami, sentirne la voce e sentirlo col cuore…
sentire è il verbo delle emozioni, ci si sdraia sulla schiena del mondo e si sente.
[Alda Merini]

Sometimes you w…

Sometimes you wish stars could just talk to you.  A.T.

Protetto: Lascia stare

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Questa la devo scrivere in italiano.

Modena per me.
Modena per me è la mail di una sconosciuta che ti chiede se stai cercando casa anche tu e poi diventa la tua migliore amica per parecchi anni.
Modena per me sono Corelli, Archirola e San Paolo. Ma anche Mascagni e Sigonio.
Modena per me sono 4 traslochi e 13 coinquilini cambiati.
Modena per me è consapevolezza di una verità che mi ha sconquassato la vita e mi ha fatto rinascere allo stesso tempo e che mio padre chiama “stile di vita che non approvo”.
Modena per me è chiudere una storia dopo 4 anni con un uomo che a mio modo ho amato molto.
Modena per me è chiudere una storia dopo 4 anni con una donna che a mio modo ho amato molto.
Modena è la felicità degli anni universitari in cui a cena si inizia in 3 e si finisce in 12.
Modena è sushi con i coinquilini che poi diventa sushi con le colleghe che poi diventa sushi con le amiche.
Modena per me è il primo lavoro serio.
E’ la consapevolezza di avere una famiglia acquisita che ti si stringe intorno quando muore tua madre.
Modena per me sono le 5 di notte con spaghetti aglio, olio e peperoncino.
Modena per me è il primo vero Amore che ti massacra quando lo perdi e ti fa rinascere quando sopravvivi alla sua fine.
Modena per me sono i lavori che ho fatto e i colleghi che ho cambiato: i matti, gli arcigni, gli speranzosi e i vili, gli inutili e gli autosufficienti, quelli che sbarcano il lunario e quelli che tanto c’è chi lo fa per te, quelli che si fanno un gran culo al posto di tutti, quelli che siamo una grande famiglia, quelli che domani ti dico qualcosa, quelli che non devi cercare soddisfazione nel lavoro, ma in te stesso.
Sono le varie edizioni dei festival di teatro e di filosofia, o delle feste dell’Unità.
Modena per me sono gli amici che cambiano e non ti parlano più.
Modena per me sono le amiche che sono andate via e ti chiamano ancora per dirti che ora hanno un figlio.
Sono le serate al Frozen e all’Off, al Keller e da Vincenzo.
Modena per me sono le schitarrate a squarciagola e il karaoke ubriachi.
Sono le chiacchiere fino al mattino davanti ad un portone.
Modena per me è la scoperta della chitarra al posto del violino.
E’ capire l’importanza di Guccini, De Gregori e De André.
Sono Aldina ed Ermes. Sant’Eufemia e La Bicicletta.
La Pomposa e il Griffins. La Vecchia Scarpa dove eravamo rimaste in due ad andare nei giorni feriali.
La bici che si chiama Virginia e la neve che te la seppellisce ogni mattina di febbraio.
Il mercato europeo con 4 compleanni di fila e le torte al parco.
Un bowling, un biliardo e i bimbiminchia che ne conseguono.
Le tigelle che sono crescentine che si vendono nel “posto dove si si fa la crescenza” (lol).
Il teatro piccolo, medio, grande. Giovane, di ricerca, borghese.
L’Università troppo grande e troppo piccola, troppo vecchia e troppo giovane.
Le lauree e le feste di laurea e la biblioteca Delfini con i dvd in ordine di regista che ti salvano la serata.
I miei fruttivendoli di fiducia indiani al Mercato Albinelli e il banchetto con il pane in offerta solo fino a una certa ora.
Piazza XX Settembre che è la mia preferita per la luce che ha.
Gli Scioperi Sindacali, Se non Ora Quando e i baci in piazza contro Giovanardi.

Modena per me è condividere.
E soprattutto è stata speranza per sette anni.

Sono successe così tante cose da sembrarmi un’altra vita e qualunque cosa io scriva non posso riassumerli in nessun modo, in nessuna lingua, straniera e non. Non riesco ad esprimere quanto mi si stringa lo stomaco ogni volta che ci penso, o come mi si contorceva mentre guidavo una macchina piena come un uovo per riportare roba in un luogo che non sento casa mia.

Però posso dire che nonostante la tristezza infinita per quello che lascio, tutto questo cambiamento, questo sradicamento forte mi fa capire quanto sia fondamentale credere nelle proprie scelte.
Quanto sia stato fondamentale credere in Modena prima di trasferirmi lì e quanto sia fondamentale credere in Londra adesso. E in noi stessi sempre.
Le città cambiano, le persone anche e più spesso di quello che crediamo cambiamo anche noi (e non esistono più le mezze stagioni :D).

Ma il risultato del cambiamento non conta. Perché il risultato è temporaneo come tutte le cose.
Il processo è quello che ci porta ad andare avanti. Il presente, il momento che viviamo mentre lo viviamo, mentre non ci accorgiamo di quanto sia prezioso e lo insultiamo dicendo che è noioso.

Non la destinazione, ma il viaggio.
E lo stato mentale che ci guida mentre attraversiamo la vita.

io sono fiero del mio sognare,
di questo eterno mio incespicare
e rido in faccia a quello che cerchi
e che mai avrai”

Ora basta con la predica. Vi lascio con questa:

About fear

Io sono sempre per l’istinto. La paura ti fotte e basta. Ti fa soltanto restare bloccato in situazioni da cui vorresti scappare. A.T.

Which are the achievements you are most proud of in your life?

Right, let me tell you about this.

I’ve done loads of interviews so far. Phone interviews, Skype interviews, face to face interviews, group interviews, individual interviews, video interviews etc.
And I know pretty much any possible question the recruiter could come up with.
At least I thought I knew all about it.
But there is always something that needs to leave you unprepared in an interview, doesn’t it?

Well, today my “unprepared” moment came when, after having asked me all the standard questions that I knew about, this lovely guy comes up with:

“So, which are the achievements you are most proud of?”

Now, let’s think about this question.

1) Starting with “which are the achievements that” means that they are assuming that you have achieved something so far and so that it is impossible to think that you haven’t.

2) The use of plural (which are the achievements) assumes that there must be more than one as well and that again, if you even managed to come up with just one, you would look like a loser anyway.

3) They are not asking you about an achievement in general, but the achievements you are proud of. Which means that they don’t want you to tell them random things like, dunno, “I graduated” or “I got married”, but something that you are proud of.

Needless to say I was shocked by the question. Why? Well, because I’ve always been thinking the other way round.
Usually when I come to terms with my personal or professional achievements it’s one of those bad days when I think “look at the loser I am, I haven’t achieved nothing in my all life”, and in those moments I don’t usually think “actually this is not true, I’ve done this, this and also this”.

So you can imagine that for the first ten seconds after that question I didn’t have a clue of what to say.

Then I thought “let’s see…I am living in a new country, I actually moved here and decided to start from zero, which shows determination and self motivation I guess. I qualified as a teacher in a country which is not my home country and I can teach a language which is not my mother tongue, which tells something about my capabilities and communication skills I suppose. Also, I managed to teach teenagers who didn’t realise I was from the same country they were from, which was particularly challenging and scary and tells you something about my accent :D.”

So this is actually what I told to the guy.

But when I left that office I started thinking about that question and realised many things about my answer.

a) They were all professional achievements;
b) They were all linked to the last 2 years of my life and so, to teaching English in England;

So what about the other 27 years of my life?

Well, there are other professional achievements I am proud of which are linked to my previous jobs (being published by a national magazine at the age of 19, successfully surviving the most famous theatre festival in the world, selling a theatre show which hadn’t been produced yet, covering a role of huge responsibility such as dealing with a government funding request – although my role mainly involved collecting datas and putting them in the bloody spreadsheet without mistakes -, being able to getting reviews from some rather posh journalists, quitting a job because I wasn’t feeling motivated or rewarded from a human point of you.).

But what about my personal achievements? There must be some, somewhere…

So here I am, writing this post while  I’m trying to come up with some special moments of my life.
And to be honest I think that the best achievement I have accomplished so far is that today, when I look in the mirror and I see myself I am proud of what I see. And at the same time, I know that everything will be fine.

Now, maybe for you this is bullshit and it might stop you reading further.

But for me this achievement is a turning point of my life.
It’s not something easy to accomplish, if you are used to be the negative person with the black cloud on their head who always thinks that “everything will go wrong” or that “there’s nothing to hope for”, because “things don’t change and life is shit”.

At the same time, though, it is something very easy to accomplish if you just start realising that living your life is the only tool you have to make it better than what it is. And accepting everything that happens to you is the best you can do to let things go and get rid of what you don’t like.

So, well, yes, I guess that the answer is:
“I am proud of being proud of myself. I am proud of being happy with what I have got and of being able to see things positively regardless of the situation.”