Before I begin checking email, or facebooking, or anything else, I need to purge.
The day is beautiful, but . . . OK, so I have more train station classes, one of which is not at the train station but a bit past the fortezza here in Florence and from my place in Coverciano it takes roughly an hour to get there. I wake, prepare, do laundry, etc. I’m actually on time for a change. Once I change buses at the station, I notice there is another strike this afternoon, but I don’t have to worry until later. I arrive at the school. It is hot in the sun. I wait. I go get a coffee. I wait some more. I enter the building and go to the offices of where my students usually work. An angry lady asks me what I’m doing. I explain I’m waiting for my students. Consternation crosses her face.
Phone calls are made. Beckoning to me, I am handed the phone. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why Alessandro isn’t there. I told him I wouldn’t be there.” It is one of the students. Apparently, there was also a strike by the train people. Hmm, ok, two hours wasted (but I do still get paid). More hot sun. Impossibly crowded buses. I come back home.
I eat. The school is insisting I take a class which begins Monday. Monday evening I have plans at the Consulate here. I try to explain. I’m making calls to verify. People are upset. Bosses are upset. I’m beginning to feel a bit angry too. Finally compromise. I will teach the class and then get a lift from Antonio on a motorcycle (while I’m dressed for party) therefore only being a bit late. Everyone is happy.
Then I teach my class. This student apparently has forgotten everything in 2 days that I have tried to teach him in the past 8 months. I can actually hear my blood pumping through my head. I try to not get angry. We all have bad days. Right?
More conversation about the Monday problem. Agreements are made. Things will be fine. I leave.
Then, walking to the bus stop, I remember. Oh, yeah, another strike. I walk home.
Needless to say, I’m drinking a glass of wine now. And there is a chance of a concert. The worm turns in the right direction. (Let’s hope.)
(As an aside: I was too tired to go to the concert. Instead, Luigi treated me with a call during the song “Baudelaire” and I danced on my balcony. Ahhhh, Baudelaire.)