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Who am I? It's a question that's (snoop-doggy) dogged mankind since the dawn of time. From the vaguely-sublime ("Man, know thyself") to the ridiculous ("Are we human, or are we dancer?"), it is the question that our greatest human/dancer minds have been haunted by. Our bodies' cells are continuously in a flux of change as the old ones die to be replaced by the new. Therefore, who we are, at least on a biological level, is constantly changing.
That's all a bit high-falootin' for me though. When I wrote 'Who am I?', I meant as a person, not as an amalgamation of cells. So, how do I introduce myself to new people I meet?
Well, I'm a Scot living in Genoa, Italy. I moved here in 2008 and due to a combination of factors (slothfulness, slipping into a comfort-zone, not knowing what else I'd do), I'm still here. Since I arrived I've taught English, which is truly the native-English-speaker-without-a-plan's go to choice. It's a good job; meeting new people, getting the opportunity to learn their language and culture, all the time while being free to enjoy life in the sun. That said, after a few years, though still liking it, it started to feel a bit stale.
Not knowing what else to do and enjoying living in the bel paese kind of hindered me boldly striding onto life's next great adventure. Oh, how I used to wish that I didn't like it here. Then it'd be easy for me to leave and start being an adult. Sadly, this has not been the case. The weather is much better here than back home. The culture, while being broadly similar to Scotland's, is at times pleasantly different. Much has been made of the 'mediterranean diet's' health benefits, but based on my non-existent medical background, I'd say that people live longer here because they enjoy life a bit more. There's more sun. The wine's good. The food's good. There's generally less stress. Sure, the political and economic situations are dire. But as its unpopular neighbours say, Italy holds a certain 'je ne sais quoi'.