Trick Or Treat

For us Italians, Halloween is nothing but a monstrous carnival version. Vampire costume instead of Harlequin, witch make up instead of princess, candy sweets are eaten instead of chatter and pancakes, the game is soon done. But for the American community, Halloween is a serious business. Apart from the evening of October 31st, it’s all the excitement and preparation in the days before that I like. I believe it is linked to the memory of childhood that everyone carries within. For example, my favourite holiday is the day of the dead. Not for the meaning itself that of course is a bit sad, but for the child Maura. It was cold once in Italy (very cold, not like nowadays!) The

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Hong Kong: Modern Birthday Party

Children’s birthdays have always been an event. When we were little, the parties were all the same. They were strictly celebrated at the birthday guy’s home, we’re eating milk sandwiches with cooked ham or salami held together by a toothpick, chips, juices and Coca Cola with caffeine (no caffeine or Coca Cola Zero – didn’t even exist). Nobody, in my memory, had allergies. We played all together and no one was bored. We ran in the yard with a ball, the elastic and the rope, even in winter. In the most organized parties there was a treasure hunt. We organized shows for the parents who were always present, sitting on the sofa talking to each other, smoking (in the house

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Hong Kong: The Patience of Moms

Everyone says that patience is learned when you become a mom and that it evolves with the child’s age. It starts right away during the hours of labor torture. When doctors tell you to breathe and not to contract the belly, that eventually will pass, it’s just a couple of hours (or days for the less fortunate ones) that you are not dying, you are giving birth to a child. Then breathe, yell, think the worst things about your husband who did this to you, hate the midwife, turn off the light, switch on the light, walk, lie down, send to hell the nurse who try to let you drink a juice, but I recommend you, be patient. Than a

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Macao: Born for Trash

 Going to Macau is like taking a space-time trip. I love this island, a shrill of cultures, halfway between a decadent Lisbon, an ugly Chinese town and Las Vegas. In the old part of the city you can walk through the uphill slopes street paved with the typical Portuguese mosaic. There are old buildings falling apart followed by colonial houses restored with warm colors, secular plants, names of the streets written in Portuguese and Chinese painted on Azulejos . Coming here from China you immediately feel at home, the many churches that you encounter walking, the sound of the bells and the pedestrian street full of shops that flows into the ruins of the church of Sant Pau have the

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