When I arrived to Italy, I discovered that I am beautiful. Oh well, it’s not that I thought I suck, but to be almost breathtaking was a pleasant Italian surprise. In fact, people gave me compliments of how pretty I am wherever I go.

“Hello, beautiful!”, this was a phrase that would accompany me everywhere. At the bar, at the market, at the hairdresser’s, at the tobacconist.

“The Italian men are so kind’’, I thought. “After all, giving a compliment to a woman costs nothing! They know how to do it! Madonna was right when she said that Italians do it better! “

But then I realized that they do the same, women to women. And men to men (of course, here instead of ‘’Bella’’ they say ‘’Bello’’). And then also to those that are not really beautiful. It is rather that they are beautiful on the inside, and the Italians are aware of it.

And apart from being beautiful, I also found out that I am dear to everyone, as well. In fact: “Hello, darling! Hello, dear!” was another phrase that alternated with “Hello, beautiful!” And I thought, “People are so affectionate here. They love me regardless, without knowing me. If all the world were like this, it would be a beautiful thing!”

But then I realized that they do the same with everyone else. Women to other women, women to men, and vice versa. Men do it with other men they don’t know. At least not so well. But they are dear to them anyway, so what’s wrong with that?

And thus I found that I moved into a country of a fairytale.

Where everyone will live forever being dear and beautiful!

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