usually in the evening in a multinational
Going once with her husband and mother and father in the car, drive through Piazza Kayatstso, African-Algerian island, sandwiched between Chinatown and Indian jewelry stores brakes at traffic lights. The husband looks around and throws thoughtfully: "Look, solid emigrants around! "her father, in the tone:" Yes, only them and see. " I distinctly from the back seat: "kh-kh, comrades, what is it?". Laughing all the way home!
Here is the story of one perfectly ordinary evening in Milan: ran out of work (by the way, we have in the office of foreigners more than, in fact, the Italians) feet in his hands and drove to her dressmaker-Chinese woman. In the subway in front of me sat my Auntie about 50 years, said in a half-vote by telephone in Russian. That's the only way and recognized I'm in her native land, or for what would have guessed. You know, I think that our immigrants are classified into three categories: those that are fully assimilated and so to stick with local, that are extremely difficult to recognize the Russian people, those for which in principle can be seen that they are not Italians, but it seems like a Russian does not accept and understand, "someone you'll be" and, finally, those who on the forehead with red embossed Made in USSR. So, the lady very unlike in Russian was: black coat, a black man backpack, boots without heels, short hair, dark brown hair and a complete lack of makeup. Their conversation in Russian, it completed the short phrase "I'm going to palestra. That's right, she went to the gym. I was struck by her eyes - those tired, so sad.
But I'm running on. Fly intersection at the supermarket, where traditionally hang and Algerians gorlanyat loudly on his guttural language, nearly knocked down suddenly vybehavshih around the corner two Hispanic adolescent girls (have you noticed how many total children of immigrants from Latin America? why they are so fed - so that clear was that the family is not a curse, as in the south of Italy?), and then swoops down on us Chinese grandmother, who chastises shrill in their native language grandson, who so and strives to jump out of the pram.
complete their marathon in my almost native dressmakers-Chinese woman, who gladly welcomed me, "Chao, buonasela, coma flocks? "and immediately, without waiting for an answer, said the news" Your suochera was utlom. And to know that I want to take in another thing, do not let up and roaring with laughter, "You take in everything, and she puts everything you lower it more ... hihihi. Had to spend ten minutes on the soul-saving conversation with my Chinese woman in the hope - it seems futile - to impress her that can not be very - a word or look - give to understand the venerable Italian signora in menopause, they recovered somewhat, because they are in this period are extremely vulnerable. Pay up, of course, bargain, run out and annoyance dropped "25 euros, damn you a fight! "to which immediately reacts Italian teenager, lazily smoking a cigarette from a neighboring porch" Yeah ... vasche expensive for the Chinese, of course. " "Everything becomes more expensive" - automatically support a conversation I had to run to the supermarket.
At the supermarket, smiling and cheerful cashier-Hispanic searchingly looks into my eyes and hopefully asks: "How are you with math?" I cheerfully respond: "Excellent - I have a calculator!" and begin to rummage in the bag in search of a mobile. Cashier, beaming, begins meticulously lay out the revenue per day for a bunch of: 1 piece of paper for 100 euros, 21 to 25 to fifty and twenty. Then carefully counts each pile, muttering in English and diligently thumb bills to check for stuck bits of paper, and looking forward at me: I promulgate amount it then rounded children's handwriting fills in the statement. Only here the Indian that stands behind me in line, all strives to break tash soulful tandem: 21h50 he equals then 520, then 540! But they also say that the Hindus as well disposed towards mathematics, as the Slavs - in foreign languages ... Yes, and that's the way and brothers Slavs, our Russian men chanting in a low voice displeasure about the "slow cow at the box office." But now all of a handful recalculated bills placed in the envelopes and duly signed and sealed, the bill is full and the cashier with gratitude and visibly relieved - "I'm here once the figures are not very" - Finally knocks me of my coveted jar of peas.
And finally, the Muscovite completes his marathon evening and leisurely trudges back home to do мужу-итальянцу русский винегрет к праздничной лазанье болоньезе (рецепт здесь , делюсь).
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