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Never Try to Change Me

There are nights when I find myself browsing through photo albums from my parents’ youth. Their photos tell about journeys around Europe in the eighties. In my parents’ stories one could not recognize almost any product from a shelf of a grocery store abroad. Only Coca-cola and Kellogg’s had conquered Europe broadly. After visiting Italy, my mum had a chance to make her sister and friends amazed. She made pizza, a delicacy that none of them had seen before.

Maybe at that time it was easier to point out differences between cultures and people in different countries. Still, when I lived in Slovakia for almost half a year I took a challenge trying to discover the Slovakness. Moments when I believed I am experiencing something that is part of the nation’s personality. Or things I had never seen before.

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