<p>Right i'm an international student, and long story short, i was not made aware of how the application system worked. Anyway i would really appreciate it if someone could read through my essay and be as criticizing as possible. Thanks. </p>
<p>Btw the essay topic was the one about "in the service of all nations".</p>
<p>Were moving to Wales. </p>
<p>Wales? Is that in England? </p>
<p>I was 12, and positive my parents had gone mad.</p>
<p>The move from Italy to Wales was a huge step for me. After living among the foot of the Alps for 12 years, Wales was a shock to the system. Apart from the obvious difference in language, I initially found everything to be different. Teenagers were no longer ruling the streets with their motorinos, and the omnipresent smell of pasta and pizza was replaced with that of fish and chips.</p>
<p>But all this you can get used to, a few months and even the local accent starts to creep in, whilst rugby becomes part of the daily routine. Italy can seem like a different world altogether, and this scared me. Italy was my past, and I was afraid it wouldnt be part of my future. </p>
<p>I could feel I was starting to change; I tried to stop it but I couldnt.
In my mind I was still the little boy who liked rolling around in the mud and building dams in the little stream behind the house, but the mirror was telling me otherwise.</p>
<p>I started to feel like I had left part of me behind, and that I would never go back and get it. </p>
<p>People always comment on how the world is a smaller place these days, but thats a lie I thought. There are almost 1000 miles between Wales and Italy, and that hasnt changed for millions of years. One country is famous for its leaning tower and delicious cuisine, while the other is known for its bad weather and rugby. </p>
<p>It was in fact on a rainy day that I received the phone call. It was Manuel, my best friend. He was simply calling to see how I was, and wondering when I was going back to visit him, in Italy. We talked for a few hours, about nothing really but it felt like we spoke about everything.</p>
<p>I cant explain why, but that extraordinarily normal event inspired me. A month later, on a characteristically tepid April evening, I stepped off the plane. I was back. Even smothered by the odor of plane fuel, I could still distinguish the smell of pizza. This is where I grew up, where I spent 12 years of my life I thought.</p>
<p>I visited my friends and joined them during soccer practice. I dined with them and camped with them, I laughed with them and I argued with them. As I did this, I finally began to accept that I had indeed changed, but not in the way I had thought. </p>
<p>I was afraid change meant leaving something behind, but coming back to Italy had proven me wrong. I hadnt lost Italy or any part of me; as a matter of fact I hadnt lost anything. I still had my friends and Italy was still my home, the only thing that had changed was that now I had more friends, and I had another home, in Wales. </p>
<p>And oh yea, Wales is its own country, Its not part of England.</p>