Letter to a friend I want to tell you about my native land. A letter to a friend with thoughts about his homeland A letter to a friend about his favorite corner of his homeland

Hello, dear mom!

How are you doing? How is everyone doing? I finally found the time to write to you.

Today is a kind of anniversary for me: I have been living abroad for five years now. You know, at the beginning of the day I didn’t even remember the significance of this date in my life, but then the number July 24th reminded me of Russia, and emotions overwhelmed me. Oh, how everything has changed since then!

I was convinced that fate is especially ironic. Remember me five years ago. Could I have thought that I would miss Russia, and most importantly, my hometown? No, no and NO! The desire to leave here and rush off to conquer the world literally filled every second of my existence. I couldn’t think about anything other than a future life full of new achievements and acquaintances. Only now I understand that without the memory of the past it is impossible to build the future...

Now my whole childhood seems like a fog to me. It’s like the rays of the sun on a cloudy day, only occasionally there are bright moments that involuntarily illuminate my face with a smile. For example, do you remember how one day in winter the first snow fell. Huge snowdrifts rose like white mountains everywhere. And my dad, my sister and I went into the yard to build a snowman. Oh, how wonderful it was! We ran through the snowdrifts, threw snowballs at each other and were probably the happiest people on the planet at that moment. It was then that I didn’t understand, but felt, physically felt that happiness was nearby, happiness in the simple. I think you felt the same way when you looked at us from the window and smiled Mommy, I would give anything right now to see you again standing there and smiling.

Tell me, can I forget our yard, where every spring the poplars bloomed, which seemed to me then centuries-old giants, the streets of our city, along which I walked, it seems, hundreds of kilometers, the school, where I realized many truths of life, for example, how important prove yourself from the very first days of meeting? Can the love for this city of my youth, which once seemed so plain and gray to me, disappear in my heart? It turned out - no. Time has proven that true love remains with us forever. And attachment to our city, to our small Motherland lives in us even after moving to another city, another country, another culture.

Mom, I never considered myself a patriot of my country. However, here’s a paradox: I realized that abroad, closeness to my homeland, like air, fills every cell of the body, fills me with warmth and involuntarily evokes pride. Pride for everything done in Russia, pride for all people from our country, pride, finally, for those moral principles instilled in the Russian family.

After all, love for the Motherland is not empty words, but thoughts, feelings, sensations, memories. If it weren’t for those people who raised me, loved me, protected me in my beloved city, I don’t think that my memories would be filled with such light and warmth. For everyone, probably, their hometown is, in addition to houses, sidewalks, bridges, also people who filled life with meaning, who made that fairy tale called life come true.

What a pity that understanding of these things does not come immediately, only over time, when many things in life are already so difficult to change. You yourself know that fate can take us far, like taking us even overseas on a magic magic carpet. But this is how it turns out - memory is inseparable from our essence and often reminds us of itself with memories, sparks of significant events and dates. It’s not for nothing that I still feel homesick on June 12th. Although no one here understands it, for everyone except one person, it’s just another day at work...

That’s why, Mommy, I really wanted you to know today, on the anniversary of my departure, that I am devoted to Russia, I am still part of our city and, whatever you say, I am still a Russian person. I hope your heart will be filled with pride and, despite the thousands of kilometers separating us, you will feel the warmth that warms me on this cloudy day. Understand and accept my life choices. I'm not the only one with this fate. Remember our great writers, who had a hard time in emigration and who always wanted to return to their native land, which was their main muse.

The main thing is to know that I have faith in the best, hope for a bright future and... love for the Motherland. This holy trinity will help in difficult moments and lead me to the true path.

I love and miss your daughter.

Sayfullina Yulia. Lyceum No. 2, Bugulma, Republic of Tatarstan, Russia
Essay in English with translation. Nomination Documents, letters, resumes.

The letter to my friend about my hometown

I would like to invite you to my beloved hometown called Bugulma.

It is very beautiful and old. We have a lot of sights. It is a mixture of modern and ancient buildings.

You can visit our famous Museum of local lore, Jaroslav Gashek`s museum, Russian Drama Theater named after Batalov, the Center of Tatar Culture and to see the eternal flame.

We have a unique museum in our town. It is Jaroslav Gashek’s museum. This is the only museum in the world, where you can learn a lot about the famous Czech writer.

The museum of Jaroslav Gashek is in a very old building and it is an interesting place to visit. Jaroslav Gashek, a famous Czech writer-satirist, came to Bugulma on the 16th of October in 1918 and lived in this building, where there is the museum now.

This museum is visited by lots of people.There are many exhibits in the museum. There is also a collection of Jaroslav Gashek’s personal things there.

Whatever your interests - don’t forget to visit our local theater where you can watch different performances to your taste.

Bugulma is one of the most exiting places in the world. I hope you will come to us as soon as you get some free time and you won’t regret.

I send you some photos of my town, where you will recognize the places I have described above. I look forward to seeing you in my town.

Dear Kate,

I want to invite you to my beloved hometown of Bugulma. This is a very beautiful and ancient city. It has many attractions. It is a combination of modern and ancient buildings.

You can visit our famous Museum of Local Lore, the Yaroslav Hasek Museum, the Russian Drama Theater named after Batalov, the Center of Tatar Culture and see the Eternal Flame.

There is a unique museum in our city. This is the Hasek Museum. This is the only museum in the world where you can learn a lot about the famous Czech writer.

The Jaroslav Hasek Museum is located in an old building and is very interesting for visitors. Jaroslav Hasek, a famous Czech satirist, came to Bugulma on October 16, 1918 and lived in the house where the museum is now located.

This museum is visited by many people. The museum has many exhibits. There are also personal belongings of Jaroslav Hasek.

Whatever your interest, don't forget to visit our local theater, where you can see productions for every taste.

Bugulma is one of the most wonderful places in the world. I hope you will come to us at the first opportunity and you will not regret it.

I am sending you a few photos of my city, where you will recognize the places that I described above. I look forward to seeing you in our city.

Best wishes,

Hello, distant friend! I am writing to you again to tell you about myself. This time I will tell you about the place where a small part of my life passed, where a piece of my sentimental soul remained - about my native land. It is written on the envelope that I live in the glorious city of Belgorod, but THIS letter will not be about it. I'll tell you about the city of Volchansk.
This city is small; it can rather be called an urban village. The city has retained its pristine beauty in some places. As you have probably already noticed, my dear friend, the name of the city is associated with wolves. This place used to be a large forest inhabited by hundreds of gray robbers. But after some time, the forest began to thin out and people settled there. The area of ​​the small village increased; a stone bridge was built across the wolf ravine. Now this bridge is gone, as is the ravine. In place of the bridge lies a layer of sand and clay, compacted by feet and wheels. I'm riding my bike there now. And on the site of the ravine there is a grandmother’s house with a vegetable garden and a barnyard.
There are many other wonderful places in this wonderful town. For example, the Volchya River. My grandfather and I go there on bicycles in the summer, even though my grandfather has a car. Why waste extra gasoline if you can get there in 5 minutes over potholes? The river, when viewed from the shore, is very beautiful. And underwater it’s just like in a fairy tale! Of course, I can’t see underwater. I just put on my scuba diving goggles and dive in. When I dived for the first time, it was scary, but then I got used to it. A greenish light breaks through the thickness of the water, there are legs everywhere, fish flash, and at the bottom you can see the muddy landscape of an underwater garden. The river is clean because a cleaning projectile is launched there from time to time. On the opposite shore from the beach there is a large stadium. My grandfather and I once watched a parachute show from there and 2 helicopters landed there.
In addition to the Volchaya River, we visit the beaches of the Donets. At its bottom there are whole deposits of mollusks! Grandpa gets them for me. He doesn’t allow me to dive on this river, because the depth there is about 4 meters.
Volchansk is famous not only for its water. My family and I sometimes go to the forest. What I like most is the Count's Forest. There are tall trees, many clearings and different birds. And in the fall you can find mushrooms there. It’s impossible to say much about the forests of Volchansk; you need to go there yourself.
In addition to forests, in this area there are large fields where wheat and rye grow. Some fields are owned by people. They grow vegetables there. Honey plants grow in fields not sown with vegetables and cereals. In the summer there are constantly buzzing bees. You can also see an interesting plant there called goat's rue. This is the same dandelion, only very big. His flower is the size of a small saucer, and his cap is the size of an apple. Behind all the fields there is a small airfield. There are small helicopters and “corn makers” there. My grandfather once flew in a helicopter, or rather, a pilot he knew took him for a ride. It must have been interesting to see the city from a bird's eye view!
There are also a lot of interesting things on Grandma's Street. In summer, many different birds flock there. Whom you won't see there! There are jays, and woodpeckers, and orioles, and some funny, blunt-nosed birds jumping noisily on the ground... There are many miracles here. I associate this place with warmth and summer, because I spend my holidays here. And how in the evening, sometimes, I go out into the yard, throw on a warm jacket and sit on a bench, brushing off annoying mosquitoes and cicadas chirping around... I sit in the aroma of night violets and inhale the cool air of the evening Volchansk. This is a wonderful place.
If my letter inspired you, come here sometime, if possible, and you will feel all the splendor of the Wolf City.
Here my story is over. Waiting for an answer.

Greetings, dear peer. I am writing to you from the capital of the Southern Federal District, Rostov-on-Don. My city is often called nothing less than the “Gateway of the Caucasus.” Rostov-on-Don was founded in 1749.

My small homeland has a glorious history and bears the honorary title of a city of military glory.

My city was founded on the basis of the ancient Armenian city of Nakhichevan-on-Don.

The city is located on the right bank of the Don River. Agriculture, fishing, combine harvester manufacturing, helicopter manufacturing and other industries flourish here.

The sights of my small homeland are Theater Square, over which the goddess of victory Nika rises, and there is also a drama theater named after M. Gorky, made in the form of a caterpillar tractor. A smaller copy of this theater stands in London in the museums of world architecture. There is also a musical theater made in the form of a grand piano.

I would like to make a special mention of the Rostov embankment, the length of which is more than 2 kilometers. At the beginning of the embankment there is an office business center in the shape of a captain's bridge on a ship. Then moored steamships and boats stretched along the alley for several hundred meters. Next comes a real boulevard, decorated with flower arrangements, fountains, monuments to various figures of the Don land and fairy tale characters. The embankment is completed by another horticultural art complex, in the middle of which there is a sports ground for children and adults, as well as another boat pier.

Rostov-Papa, as the city is also popularly called, is divided into eight administrative districts: Voroshilovsky, Zheleznodorozhny, Kirovsky, Leninsky, Oktyabrsky, Pervomaisky, Proletarsky and Sovetsky. Each district of the city has its own unique places.

Thus, the Voroshilovsky district is represented by the Shchepkinsky forest. The railway area is represented by a clean lake formed at the bottom of an abandoned quarry. Kirovsky has on its territory the wonderful Don State Public Library, which has collected many unique books in its collection. The library building is designed in the form of a combine harvester. Leninsky district is represented by the Skazka park and rose alley. Oktyabrsky is unique for its springs and the ancient Armenian church "Surb Khach", Pervomaisky for its groves, Proletarsky is represented by the previously described theater square and drama theater, and Sovetsky is the city center with its unique architectural ensembles of the city administration.

In my small homeland, Rostov-on-Don, in addition to everything else, a huge number of ethnic groups live. These are Armenians, Russians, Belarusians, Ukrainians, Georgians, Chechens, Dagestanis, Azerbaijanis, Kalmyks, Abkhazians, Koreans, etc.

Thus, my dear peer, my homeland will open you to many adventures and pleasant acquaintances; it is not for nothing that our city is considered the most hospitable.

Hello, dear friend!

You have long been interested in my homeland, that is, the city in which I was born and live. But before embarking on this topic, I would like to reflect on what, in my opinion, is contained in this painfully familiar, but very capacious word. Motherland... Fatherland... Fatherland... These words are familiar to us from early childhood. But what is this - Motherland? If you look in an explanatory dictionary, you can find an explanation of this word, simple and understandable. Homeland is the country in which a person was born.

Where does it begin? Speaking in dry geographical language, we would name the extreme points of our country, the parallels and meridians between which it spreads its expanses. But in fact, my Fatherland begins with the smallest things: from a courtyard next to my father’s house, from a birch tree at the gate, from a school bench, from my native street, from a town, village or small village dear to my heart. This is a tiny piece of land that cannot be found on a geographical map. But it was here that we were born, took our first steps into a great life, with eyes full of surprise, got acquainted with the world around us, met our first true friends, learned the joy of victories and the bitterness of defeats. And the word “homeland”, which we found in the explanatory dictionary, becomes more significant, more significant, more native. It’s not for nothing that “homeland” and “native” came from the same root. And wherever we are, wherever fate takes us, we will always remember with special trepidation, with great warmth, the small courtyard, the birch tree at the gate, and the narrow street. Here are our roots, here are our loved ones, from here we stepped into a big life. I remember the words of V. Lazarev:

I don't just live.

I am like a river

I start in a lost place...

My “lost far away” is a town called Novomichurinsk. Someone, looking at him, might say: “...provincial outback, gray and dirty...”. But I love him. I love to wander through its friendly green streets, meet familiar faces, and enjoy the clean air. And if you only knew how beautiful my hometown is at different times of the year! In the summer it is all lush green, in the bright colors of flower beds and meadows, in sunny gilding. And in the fall... Multi-colored maples, yellow lindens, still green poplars, brownish oaks... In Novomichurinsk, autumn is not a “dull time”, but a wonderful time of year, simply “charm from the eyes.” In winter, Novomichurinsk is filled with magic and poetry. When you look out the window or go outside, your mood is always immediately lifted by the sight of sparkling and creaking snow and trees covered with silvery frost. And, of course, spring... A sea of ​​light, greenery, flowers and aromas. White-trunked birches, fragile willows, and delicate willows decorate themselves with luxurious earrings. The trees dress in light green dresses. Apple trees, pears, cherries, plums put on their wedding attire... Novomichurinsk is fragrant, drowning in emerald greenery, flowering linden trees, and the aromas of gardens.

And in the most ordinary outfit

You are sweet, Fatherland, to the point of tears.

Brown strands suit you

Your beloved birches.

But not only nature decorates my city. My city is famous, first of all, for its people and power units. The Ryazan State District Power Plant became the largest power plant in the European part of Russia, so many foreign delegations came here

You are such that you will not find anything more beautiful,

At least walk around the whole earth three times.

You are like the sea, no, like our heart,

Forever with us, Motherland, in our breasts!

But along with pride in their hometown, there are also notes of sadness and regret that all its property is drowning in piles of garbage, that the residents of Novomichurinsk do not always treat it well. Almost all of the trees planted long ago have survived to this day, but the small sticky trees planted there recently have already been broken. I love admiring the gray-haired giants while walking along quiet streets, and how painful it becomes when, instead of lush crowns of trees, I often see only stumps. Due to the fault of people, the water in the Pronya River has become dirty, the springs that once surrounded my city have disappeared, the former beauty and grandeur are fading.

I want to tell my peers, growing children, and the adult population about our city and its problems, to engender in their souls a love for their native land, pride in it, a desire to help it and make our Novomichurinsk even more beautiful.

On this note I end my letter. I would like to believe that now you have an idea about my town. I invite you to my hometown. Let's wander around my favorite places together. And you will see for yourself how beautiful he is. Goodbye.