Thre is something wrong about me! I know this for sure. My family keep on telling me and so my friends. This morning one of the Libyans teachers came at the reception. She stood there with her friendly smile pointing at me and saying: " You!"
Me: "Yes? How can I help?"Her: " You!"
Me: :) at this point I could only smile.
Her: " You've got an arabic face!"
Me: still smiling
Her: " You 've got an arabic face!"
Me: I'm afraid I'm italian.
Her: "You 've got an arabic face!"
Me: "I'm Italian."
Her: " Are you from Bretagna?"
Me: "No, from Italy"
Her: "But your parents. Are they italian?"
Me: "Yes"
Her: "Mmmh You 've got an arabic face!"
Now, I had this sort of conversation before. I was in Tunisi, sitting at the table of the restaurant waiting for the waiter to come. He came and he started speaking to me in Arabic. I said in english that I wasn't Arabic, I was Italian. He said: "You've got arabic eyes, arabic eyes!"and he started speaking arabic again. For the second time I had to explain I was Italian. He wasn't convinced at all, he shook his head, he kept on saying "arabic eyes, arabic eyes" and he was waiting for me to speak arabic. I can speak english, badly but I can, I can speak french badly badly badly and spanish badly badly but I have to confess I'd rather speak Italian. It took him a while to understand but at the end he managed to take our order, still convinced I'm sure I was Arabic.
I lost track of all the times I've been told to be Arabic, Spanish, Morroccon, Greek and Columbian! My friends told me I have an international face?!?! You can't tell where I am from. Well, I tell you where I am from, I'm Italian, I come from a small pretty village, Offagna, on the east-coast and spaghetti runs into my veins !!!!!!

I'm ok really with this business of being mistaken for other nationalities, I really don't mind. I ve just had a boring day and that was the only thing worth mentionig. But still, it makes me think.
Why nobody ever pointed at me saying "You, you've got an italian face!" My parents are Italian as my grand-parents and my grand-grand parents. The only thing is that one of my gran-dad brothers decided to leave the family to go to Argentina. So I 've got relatives there, but it's different. Anyway I'm sure my dad is blaming his uncle for transmitting to me this gene called "desire to go abroad meeting different people and learning different things". I love differences. But still, I'm in England and I just had a bowl of pasta with grated parmesan( the real one!) I should dare more on the cooking front.

I think I'm lowering down a bit the level of this blog, at least the grammatical level. Apologies. Especially to you Mark. But you know, I'm Italian with possible Arabic, Spanish Greek and Moroccon ancestors in my family. My small brain is all confused and you know I've got a small brain.