walking the Land

Walking along my road I'm barely able to hear my mother language. Melting pot reached even the outskirt of the empire and my land is no more like when I was a kid. To tell the truth I am only happy that I can choose between pizza, kebab and fajitas for supper. But not everyone among we natives thinks the same. So all that I can say to them is "why do you think my grandfather was born in Brazil?!" A clue: they we're not on holidays....