Day 84: Thursday
Good morning Zak,
So I went to class today only to find that it wasn’t happening. Our instructor was in Rome, and he forgot to tell us. A friend of mine was there—another foreigner. He wasn’t happy about it. I tried to explain to him that this kind of thing is normal in Italy.
Italians are fantastically impractical. The other day I was running a bit late for a meeting. I was trying to buy a train ticket, but the machine wasn’t working. This was problematic because the Italians had installed a modern art gallery in the metro-station instead of a ticket office. No joke. The broken machine was my only hope…
Zak, this crazy country is too much sometimes. I recently saw a policeman writing up parking tickets. I’m not sure how he decides which of the cars lying every which way on the sidewalk to skip.
I don’t know how they get anything done in this place.
A different class actually did happen today. A piece of music we were looking at had a paragraph written in English on the first page. The Maestro asked me to translate. I did. Everyone was surprised by how well I knew English.
So anyway, my friend and I went to get a café together when we found out class was canceled. My friend is still relatively new to Italian.
“I’m having a café lungo. What do you want?”
“Uh, café decafenato.”
“What is this word, decafenato? Café with all the café taken out?”
Somehow that conversation was much funnier in broken Italian.