Earthquake!

Or at least I think so.. There's no news about it this morning but at about 3.45am the building was definitely shaking violently.. It could have been a dream I suppose cause I also recall Bikey telling me it was 5.6 on the Richter scale but I assume that was once I'd gone back to sleep (I typed school because my brain is telling me to eat breakfast and leave the house instead of typing) There was an earthquake earlier in the day when I visited djermana's interpreting/ language school. My dastardly good fortune continues: she has offered an exchange of Bosnian language lessons for advice on English language learning resources on my side. I'm definitely getting the better end of this deal..

Unfortunately my timetable means I have to take the advanced course rather than beginners and, if last night's session is any indicator, I am way out of my depth. It seemed like the teacher had to cater to 4 students with completely different levels- the first a Brazilian who I thought was a native with a non-standard dialect, then a dude from Arizona who said he'd been learning the language for a year 'for no particularly good reason'- he was also unimpressed with the Ronelle Alexander textbook I had but it's definitely better than any other options so what can I do? The next student was a girl who had been studying in Sarajevo for a month and was probably feeling almost as frustrated as I was but seemed like a patient type. And then there was me, two weeks in the country, first lesson. All in the advanced class together! The class began with some insane family tree with in laws, step families and halfchildren sprinkled about until I'd be at a loss to explain the relationship in English- especially cause they do the whole labelling everyone differently on the maternal and paternal side. The teacher then kindly brought the level of the lesson down for me and did a nice basic family tree.

I spent Saturday gadding about from Mrs N's to Djermana's to spending the blackout of Earth Hour wandering the streets with Suada. I'd only met her once before but it didn't seem like it- she's a fellow linguist and we spent two hours non stop geekily breaking down Bosnian, English, Spanish and German grammatical semantics- not just how definiteness is conveyed in Bosnian but why it's done in this way, the philosophy behind adjective order, compound nouns, collocations and culture.. Good times :)

ps. Mrs N's daughter lent me her Bosnian 1984 and after unsuccessfully attempting to read it, I discovered an English copy in the house last night! Rock n' Roll!

(edited to correct a couple of minor injustices)

A long day, wow. I was on a post-teaching high riding the tram until I began listening to Forget Her and watching the snow falling thick and slushy which made for a more pensive mood. I only got through the song 2 and a half times when the tram died. We were all in denial for a good 10 minutes and remaining stubbornly in our seats unwilling to face the cold wet night- but the driver began leaping about before us bowing sarcastically and pointing at the door... I considered calling Mrs Smiley to find out my options since the tram had essentially become a beached whale blocking the way for other hopeful tramlings. Well the phone had a pin code I didn’t know so I considered my other options- either taking the tram back to school at 7pm or perhaps I was walking distance from Otoka but probably not and anyway I had ridiculously soggy shoes already. So for once I did the right thing and stayed put until our lifeless tram was pushed along by another heroic engine. The next tram that came along was also a deadbeat being dragged through and then the third was heaving with people- it seemed to be bursting at the seams with the doors continually reopening as if it was trying to disgorge some passengers. I gave it a miss but the next one was almost as bad and some grandpa was bashing into me as I squeezed in. So I was pressed against the door as it was – and at the next was a crowd of hooting hollering hooligans all recklessly determined to get on as if it were Hillsborough stadium. It was worse than being in the middle of a Rome language school scrum on a Monday afternoon.

All of which slightly dimmed my high spirits but I had cooked dim bhuna the night before so I was able to make a hearty meal when I got home and I have four classes instead of 9 timetabled for tomorrow. I was slightly surprised to find the advanced sessions were so much easier to plan than the intermediate – but that might be because I’ve had double sessions with the intermediate so that’s quite a lot of time to fill with one to one conversation. It’s kind of like high pressure socialising- and my pitiful knowledge of science is possibly a little limiting- but I feel comfortable enough with them to chatter fairly effortlessly so the main thing will be working in the grammar and correcting their mistakes. Mrs N and Mrs Smiley were fun- they had plenty of tales to tell and sometimes it felt more like they were encouraging me to speak rather than the other way round! I met the art teacher today and she’s great- our next class will be a guided tour of a Sarajevo gallery :)


eta: I just remembered I cracked the phone pin just before the tram was towed. I was proud of my decoding skills but also glad I didn't have to play damsel in distress.

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Originally uploaded by warmastoast

fire poi

fire poi
Originally uploaded by warmastoast

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Originally uploaded by warmastoast

I’m sorriest today that I have no camera as I really have no words to describe the magnificence of the snowy mountains here with their great Christmas tree forests. The last few days were quite grey and snowy but the day dawned clear and bright with the sparkling pure white powdery new snow blanketing everything as far as the eye could see. Truly wondrous – my wonder was something akin to the boy in the Snowman as he flew above unbelievable sights.

The gym yesterday was a neat place- we didn’t go to the aerobics class but to the room with all the strange machines. The place was an all round leisure centre,just round the corner from here, with language classes (including bosnian for foreigners) and jewellery making and all kinds. I did 10k on the orbitrek and then tried to experiment with the various weight/ resistance training contraptions- I lasted roughly 2 minutes with each but I feel much stronger now :) Mrs N’s lovely daughter was there too but sadly she had an impending dissertation and couldn’t stay to undo all our good work at a restaurant in Travnik for lunch.

I do have photo evidence of the great restaurant Mrs N took me to, but it’s on her phone so I don’t have it on hand- it was pretty cool anyway with interesting details, like using old fashioned sieves as lampshades. I was hungry after our 1 ½ hour chatter/drive + exercise, so I quickly gobbled up their specialty Tarhana soup which contained a satisfying kind of doughy rubble. I also munched away at some yummy rustic cornbread while waiting for my main- which was dumb of me because, of course, no matter how enthusiastically I attacked my juicy roasted potatoes and veal to begin with, the portions were inevitably too big so I end up being like the last kid eating lunch in the school cafeteria; slow, plodding and pleading with my dining companions for help. The sad story repeated itself today at the smart, well hidden Feri restaurant we went to in the mountains today. Everything is delicious but I’m not a Bosnian giant/ giantess and yet I still receive BFG portions. I was entertained by the Smileys mind-boggling revelations of physicky phenomena- including some freakish stuff about the idea of left and right which I can’t even begin to explain. Speaking of Physics, Mrs Smiley was full of beans over her team's triumphant win over their archrival school in yesterday's competition. Sounds like it was hard fought and there will be glory awaiting them at school tomorrow.

I must plan my first lesson now- fortunately most of the teachers are roughly the same level so I can teach my lessons 7 or 8 times over to different people, suitably adapted of course, with Monday’s Aida being my weekly guinea pig, poor dear. I like the fact that their needs differ so widely- from the Maths teacher who is chilled out, secure in the knowledge that her symbols and diagrams are “the same in every language” to the RS teacher, who not only needs to get into thorny ethical issues with her students, but also adores the Premier League, London life and has a globetrotting son, and therefore is interested in a wide range of social language functions. Should be fun either way though- I’m being encouraged to explore the town with the teachers and get them to take me to cafes and museums and such. Not bad work if you can get it hey?

Zdravo!

I think I should give up hand sewing because needles are not friends with me. But I have long raggedy trouser hems and even longer non-raggedy ones that are impossible to wear. I don’t know if Italians are tall or I’m short – I need to lop off a good 6 inches at least before they begin to look respectable.

Anyway I don’t care if needles and hems aren’t my friends- I’m making plenty of people friends in Sarajevo, and managed to catch up with my dear giantess Šahida today. I’ve been here since Tuesday but only went about Baščaršija today for some cevapi (Sir Smiley will be wholly unimpressed by my managing only 5) and then cake and tea at the Book Club, which is a nice library/ cafe with fairly indie music (Portishead and such) in the background. Not grungy enough to be like a Northern Quarter dive but it was my kind of place.

I start classes next week- I feel like I’ve just been chilling out, maxing, relaxing all cool in the staffroom all week so far and I’m ready to start earning my keep. I’m being overwhelmed by generosity on all sides not least by the House of Smiley who are planning a trip to the mountains on Sunday. I’m also scheduled for Mrs N’s Ladies’ Fitness class tomorrow, which comes not a moment too soon. By my second day here I was coasting along on the tram to school and back, and grocery shopping no problem. Of course it would be better if I could actually speak to people but until then I just smile :)

The school itself is incredible- I was awed the moment I stepped up the marble staircase. Most of the teachers are quite close to my age, roughly the 23-28 range, and came to work here soon after graduation. Many also have a wicked sense of style- one girl in particular has a tailor create her own designs and they are Amazing, seriously. One was a knitted dress of white laceweight kidsilk like stuff with black ribbon trim and looked so cool I told her I wished I could get the pattern, and she said I could ask her tailor. Then, later she put on her coat and I actually broke of my conversation with, I think, my supervisor, to turn and stare at its magnificence. It was a kind of heavy, velvety cherry red fabric (kind of like the texture of Mrs C’s turqoise sofa) with webs of silver streaking around. Definitely arresting, and her being roughly 10 feet tall certainly helped add to the effect.

Apart from the fashion though, the school is like the kind of visionary place that our Mrs Ross would love AGGS to be, but it's not because she is building a business image not a community. This place on the other hand really seems to invest in both their students and their teachers; it seems like one class or another is constantly involved in some kind of cultural excursion or competition- just this week one group of biology students came back from the World Water conference in Turkey, some others are going to Zagreb in a week or so, and there's talk of San Remo, Albania and all kinds. They have both a day school with the national curriculum and another full afternoon timetable of IGCSE and Cambridge certificate students. So it's challenging stuff but the students seem eager judging from the RS discussion class I took. I got them to pretend to be a trial of a Bible translator, with a priest who opposed him and the judge who decided the translator should be burned at the stake- the kid who started off talking said "I don't think it was right to burn me alive" so clearly William Tyndale's ghost was presenting the argument for his defense.

I met with the Director as well who was very kind and gracious to me, while I continually thanked and praised everyone. I really need to stop doing all this kowtowing appreciation though cause it’s getting tiresome I’m sure- but people keep being nice so what am I meant to do? Like for example the Director invited me to join their trip to Albania- I mean seriously that’s awesome, it not like a small thing... And Pops has okayed it already so whoop! Also a good example of delightful kindness is the fact that the Smileys remembered my love of cherry juice last winter and had the fridge ready stocked with the sweet sweet (well, sour sweet really) nectar.

The flat is in itself a new experience of luxury- especially, but not limited to, the luxury of solitude. There is also cable tv which means I'm watching many strange and intriguing things on National Geographic, as well as learning to cook from the man on Bosnian morning tv. The tv cooks all wear the poofy tall chefs hat which is nice. But then they always splash a ton of some mysterious sauce over everything which renders their cooking demos useless. Chefs, if you're going to use so much sauce please tell me what's in it! I bought Vegeta so I'm hoping that's it..

To go back a few days to my last night in Italy- Jumi khala did a typical Ammu-style stressing out to the max to cook me a magnificent leaving feast. Mmm it was lovely and I thank her. I invited Valeria to eat with us- the kids were all agog with curiosity, especially Yusuf who was amazed at the idea of her eating with her hand like the rest of us. He kept a critical eye on her bhat-management skills during dinner and rebuked her when she used her left hand at one point. My little Fievel Mousekevitzy Fatima took us (well guided us in hopeless circles really) to the Uncle’s bead store, where I stocked up on some treasures. Val broke my heart a little when she told me a movie was going to be shot nearby the day after I left and were hunting for Bengali extras.

That was part of my Italy dream, though not many people knew- to get to be a movie extra. If I had only picked a flight on Thursday instead of Tuesday... Like the way I forgot there was a Venice Carnival going on and I booked my flight to Italy for the day it finished. Anyway these are minor regrets and I’m sure my chance will come again :) And if all my choices in Life and Transport were wrong before, at least the one to come to Bosnia seems blessed to the nth degree.

Day in the Park

I woke up at 5am and in a blogging frame of mind. For some reason the bathroom is currently singing "Happy Birthday" which is appropriate given I just realised I've recently been telling everyone I'm 22 when in fact I've been 23 for over a week now. Clearly I'm having difficulty adjusting- soon I'll be like one of the Oscar Wilde women for whom “35 is a very attractive age. London society is full of women of the very highest birth who have, of their own free choice, remained thirty-five for years.”

I was letting my lovely last Sunday in Rome waste away with only a sketchy plan to visit the Pantheon and perhaps catch the flea market. In the event I did neither unless you count seeing the Pantheon as the result of this conversation in the car or maybe bus: *someone points to a shiny dome in the distance* "what building is that?" "St Peter's Basilica right?" *much laughter* "No! How long have you been in Rome? A year?" "Actually maybe it is St Peter's..." etc until eventually, long after passing it by, we concluded it was probably the Pantheon and I checked it off my to-do list :)

None of the quotes were me I think- they were Vale(ria who speaks perfect english but goes into despairing teacher mode when I take advantage and stop making any effort to talk Italian) and Fede, her flatmate, plus assorted members of Fede's clan- brother sister boyfriend and dog. I took the wise step of calling to see what Vale was up to having packed my knitting and Teaching Tenses I thought I'd probably just sit in a sunny park- which some might view as a criminal waste of precious Rome time, but it's whatever makes you happy right?

My luck was in Vale & co were already lounging in the beautiful Villa Borghese park. They were playing a kind of vollyball circle game which brought painful memories of playing with the athletic giant Bosnians and my noodle-armed efforts to join in the fun, when really I should have followed Nemo's example and just sat looking pretty - a respectably idle female rather than a pathetically weak one. Happily these folk were more about fun than sport and at first we only lasted passing the ball around twice before retiring to the picnic blanket to recruit our strength with extortionately priced crisps and popcorn. Speaking of popcorn, according to young Fatima it's strange that we eat sweet popcorn in England. I told her that we know salty popcorn exists.

Our conversation prospered wonderfully because although Vale was the only bilingual speaker in the whole group she managed to unflaggingly provide simultaneous translations as well as encourage and facilitate our fledgling efforts to construct sentences in Italian/ English. Of course whenever she left the situation would deteriorate dramatically but at least friendly relations were well established so we were able to weather her absence with cordial smiles. At one point Fede(rica) asked if I remembered her name- of course I disgraced myself by clearly not having a clue and furiously trying to rewind back to the memory of our introductions while they laughed reproachfully. I did remember them all without prompting eventually.

They were all curious about various things about Muslim culture for example the widespread dog phobia. Fede's dog was a little golden scottish terrier and very good, not at all scary, but at least until I prayed Asr I couldn't touch her. Afterwards when we played ball she would fetch the ball whenever it rolled down the hill (frequently) and proceed to chew out chunks of sponge until someone rescued it. Which left the ball somewhat spitty but it was post-Asr so what the heck. V says she has plenty of questions cause she's teaching mostly muslim guys all the time, but it's awkward or inapproprate to ask the students. I'm not one to filter what I say when I like a person so if she asks me something I try to answer although it generally peters away to ".. I don't know"

We sat in the park idling away in this manner until the sun dimmed and we were too cold to continue sitting forever. We decided to get some food, which naturally involved taking a car, bus and walking for an hour to get out of the pricey tourist area and find some pizza.
All in all a lovely day. This is my last day in Rome - I don't guarantee blogs from Bosnia but we'll see how it goes.

*edit to add* I completely forget about the drama on the bus home last night. There was suddenly a whole lot of Italian cursing and damning of the Spanish and it emerged that a pickpocket woman who looked around forty had been discovered with her hand in a Spanish woman's purse. The Spaniard was like "what the hell are you doing?" in her manner, but either too genteel or too inarticulate in the Italian tongue to defend herself against the torrent of abuse the pickpocket directed at her. Then some guy in the back jumped in and fired back a fluent comprehensive takedown while the rest of the bus cheered and clapped and the pickpocket jumped off the bus hollering as she went.
I learned a lot of new words.

Before I forget..

A few minor stories that slipped through the cracks..
When I find the camera cable I promise I'll go back and illustrate these blogs.

Firstly was a strange, alien interlude during my birthday-traipsing that somehow slipped my mind when I wrote the birthday post only to burst bright and luminous in my mind as soon as I switched the light off to sleep. It was a kind of Hunky-Parker Demon Headmaster experience (who, incidentally, I now picture as Jack Straw) combined with the zombie brain melting that happens when you get absorbed in the zooming starscape of old screensavers. I've been giving my new Italian acquaintances this blog but sometimes I think that they will not follow half of what I say you know..

To try for a more material description then of a fairly abstract experience-
I think just after visiting the eco-alt craft store RE(f)USE I was noticing a lot of huge bright FUTUROMA signs on the buildings until there was a whole series of them alongside one stately looking building. So I was walking and looking at the posters until I walked past an enigmatic glass door. Enigmatic because behind it was a long empty marble corridor and nothing connecting it to the signs outside. I decided it would be harmless to step in and enquire- I eventually reached a desk with two young receptionists who spoke little English but pointed to the left. Another long corridor- tall and red, this time reminding me of the surreal labyrinthine tunnels Willy Wonka led people through (in the 70s film)

There were posters on the walls of this corridor describing Futurism and 'the confusion between man and machine' and that the futurists' prophecy of the mechanic man is complete: man uses machines as a prosthesis of his mind and extension of our mental possibilities.

So far so Star Trek.

I know that's a lazy reference but I gave you the Demon Headmaster before so give me a break :)

Ok so I eventually reached a red enclave and got pointed into a dark room by a lone bellhop. This is where the screensaver stuff comes in- basically it was like a movie hall but with randomly placed leather sofas dotted with a few zombified people staring at a giant glowing, eerily intoning, musical mosiac square. Plus some pile of glowing rubble beside it. Feeling foolish but willing to submit to the noise, I sat down and waited to see if anything happened.

Well it was mind-numbingly boring- the glowing mosaic pulsed with light and strange otherworld sounds and slowly shifted colours. I wondered how long the other people had been sitting there enraptured, and why I was still sitting there staring at this silly square. But still I watched and listened to the mechanized music and thrilling shift from electric blue to violet light and emerging kalaeidoscope as if the day wasn't beautiful and sunny and a-wasting. It required the catalyst of a newcomer to our Matrix cocoon to jerk me to my feet. If the artist wanted to avoid 'the abyss of abstraction to which academic music arrived' I'm afraid he failed miserably.

(All quotes from the 'PRESENTISM: Time and Space In The Long Now' leaflet)

This stuff builds up so much! The other couple of things were also just in passing- a conversation with a French Save the Children guy and also I went to see Slumdog again with my new teacher friend Valeria. 'Valeria' is the aunt's new favourite word, replacing 'sopracciglie folte'. The guy Vincent was doing the subscription gathering gig which is always difficult especially if the conversation starts with either an apologetic or an abrupt refusal. However we met Vincent and his comrade Jin outside and let them into the building. I was going to get the lift up with the aunt but decided since the guy spoke English and was a traveller doing good work, it would be a pity not to converse a little. My aunt sometimes despairs and thinks I wouldn't recognise a smooth-talking con artist if his jacket was lined with gold watches, but I like to think charity workers are more likely to be humanitarian types with a vocation than criminals.

This Vincent was full of movie recommendations from the get go- political stuff like Road to Guantanamo and Michael Moore docs. He also wanted my opinion of a couple of Urdu songs he had on his flashy Nokia n96 phone. He lived in Dubai or somewhere and said he really loved it there which kind've surprised me cause I generally had the impression that the Emirates were quite decadent and dull. He made an interesting point though that I hadn't considered before- that it's a good sign that the citizens are enjoying the wealth of such an oil-rich country. He said that there are other resource rich countries like Nigeria which don't allow the wealth to filter through to the public, so corruption keeps the people poor.

The aunt is curious to see what the cinema experience is like so we might go on Sunday. My wild ways are clearly corrupting the household- the bengali community will possibly be shocked by such bold behaviour but she can always use me as an excuse. On Monday I may take Valeria round the asian shops to check out saris and sparkly things. Look at all this cross-culture stuff I'm facilitating! ;)

Ok that's enough old stuff.
There are two posts to come. One all about today's eventful events (trip to the grand mosque! A new busker-buddy! Other new friends! One of whom knows my family from Aligarh, India to Cambridge, UK, Sarajevo, Bosnia to Dhaka, Bangladesh! Protest in the People's Square!)

Also coming: a series of street graffiti photos.

News

I've been leaving you all out of the loop lately. It's not that I've run out of steam or stories- but only that I realised that the young gremlins bounding around the room with questions about homework, the entire world, life and everything, was directly related to my late night blogging. The only way to be rid of themearlier than 2am would be to switch the computer off, make my bed and switch off the light. Sure I stay awake in the dark for an hour or two thinking about my day instead of blogging but it's peaceful. You may ask why I don't blog a little during my idle days- I can only plead the artistic temperament..

I will have to split my various news and anecdotes into separate posts but I think I should start with the main headline news:

- I booked my ticket to Bosnia and it's all arranged. Many thanks to The Smile-a-Lots, Bikey and miei genitori for helping me sort it out so fast. I'm told that my teacher-students are all young and friendly which hopefully means they'll be forgiving of a raw newbie teacher and not consider me a fraud.

- Young Y+F wore their poor father down with their begging for some kind of furry or feathery addition to the household. Their teacher was giving away her cat- some kind of tiny species that wouldn't grow above roughly A5 size. They wanted me to reassure their teacher that whatever unfortunate accidents had befallen their previous pet chicks were all their mother's fault and that they were wonderfully responsible. I refused partly because I was picturing the teacher as Rachel giving away her evil bald sphinx cat- she must be desperate to be flogging the poor thing on any hapless 10-year-old.

Anyhow we now have two chirpy budgies, grey, streaked with turqoise and yellow feathers, and a hamster is coming next week. Poor uncle seems to have an instinctive (rather Bengali) aversion to pets but the aunt added her voice to the insistent pro-pet chorus so he was rendered powerless. At first he tried to laugh away the suggestion, then to enlist the baby's support, citing her health as a concern, but it was to no avail. The kids ran to the shop two days later and bore their budgies home triumphantly.

Indecision2009

I'm still in a wretched state of indecision on whether to stay in Rome or go to Bosnia at the end of this week. This is a chance for all you silent readers to make a contribution. I don't often have Bikey-style dilemmas but this certainly qualifies and I'll try to put the case to you all clearly.

Option 1- Continue Roman job-hunt
Pros:
-I have no-strings-or-guilt-attached free living (food and board) in Central Rome
-Related to above- supportive family base so I won't be lonesome
-Am learning Italian quickly- averaging around 3 hours free lessons a day and up to 6 hours if i want.
-Have made a couple of fledgling friendships already- Valeria, whose teacherly instincts means she wants me to forget she speaks english, but if i spoke in italian alone conversation would progress at a painfully slow pace. With young Arafa I can have a more equal language exchange though her english is far better than my italian we both need practise.
-EU country so I can stay for an unlimited time.
-I can earn far more money because the job won't involve paying over 400 quid in plane tickets.
-I have at least couple of job leads.
-If I get a job I can work for a few months at least.
-My aunt is happy to have someone around for general chatter, shopping and help convincing her husband to buy a sewing machine. I don't actually say anything but she can use me as an argument in building her case for one, cause I definitely wouldn't let it just gather dust.
-I'm already here (duh) so there's no bustling around sorting tickets and documents and other headaches.

Cons:
-Everything is very indefinite compared to the Sarajevo gig.
-I've done the touristy thing here at least and I'd really like to try Bosnian living.
-I have family support but they live in a generally isolated immigrant community so it's harder to integrate socially. And I'm not the norm within that community either so there's the extreme of excessive curiosity and unwanted attention (eg, guys in language school) and wariness (the better-heeled Italian public)Young Arafa says that there isn't even a young muslim's type circle except for arab girls who keep things exclusive. Enquiries about socialising, movies etc drew a blank expression at first, then an explanation of her peers' strange fashionista attitudes. (Upon her commenting on a beautiful moon, her companion confusedly asking if she meant that thing up in the sky? Why? It's not like a painting or anything.. Which confused Arafa in turn)
-I won't have anyone looking out for me professionally- employment will be more sink or swim.

Bosnia on the other hand is a much simpler prospect. A short fixed term job in a city where I will have both professional support ( from Not Mr Bikey's mother) and a good social network who will give me a chance to be active in the wider community with their various community projects. The environment is just the kind of place and people that I would want to be part of- trying to be open and engaged, decent and academic. I'm obviously making it sound more utopian than reality but that is my overall vibe. I also have the whole free accomodation deal, and I would really welcome the peace of living on my own for a little while (I know I'm disgustingly fortunate - and I should take advantage of it right?) I like cooking anyway and could experiment with yummy Bosnian recipes for soup and pita and those walnutty syrupy apples. And cherry juice! Wow cherry juice.. I tried to find something like it in Manchester but it was a travesty of the Bosnian real deal.

There are two main BUTS which are
1) the cost of going and returning would absorb mos of my salary as it's only a 5 week deal. Which also means I'd be back in Manchester by May probably doing the call centre grind once more. Although I'm also thinking I should apply for a PGCE next year as it's probably what I'm most qualified for and I've generally gone for the path of least resistance form-wise.
2) The other BUT has i think mostly been overcome because miei genitori are now saying it's fine and 'if you must, but what if a robber climbs through the x-storey high window?' respectively.

It's also something I must decide asap cause the job would start next week!

Anyway my plan for today is to bake a belated birthday cake for myself using some bruised apples that are languishing in the fridge, and make it to language school. Also possibly check out a local yarn store I spied the other day.

I want this to be short...
My birthday was slightly befogged by a bad headcold but I managed to have a full and happy day despite the streaming nose. The plan was to check out an old book and engravings market near the fontana di trevi which closed 1-ish and then do a touristy wander. I found an amazing store called RE(f)USE which had stunning recycled art. I'll upload the spectacular(!) chandelier made from thick old-school NHS glasses- the kind i was too ashamed to wear in primary and most likely started my whole walking-the-world-blithely-blind thing. It was on a totally haute couture street where I'd be afraid to go inside any of the shops in all my dirt but this place seemed a little different- though no less immaculately presented.

Well I went inside and saw that it was all amazing, out of my league, craftwork but I was brave enough to engage the elegant counter lady in conversation and she let me take photos and when I went upstairs another girl took me into a special room of repurposed things turned into strange and amazing crockery and bags and all kinds. It was like entering a giant vault- I confess I had flashbacks to Princess Diaries 2 or something like it when their crown jewels are suddenly revealed to them. Seriously though it was pretty cool and hi tech. I asked the girl if their stuff is ever just art or if everything, like the crazy, scottie-like shredded magazine armchair, was useable- she said that if the stuff wasn't useful then it would just end up as another kind of refuse. They discovered their artists from all different places, including the internet- but they didn't create things themselves. Seemed like an interesting set up- the alternative, ethical craft scene at the high end of the scale- and apparently unique in Italy.

The antique book market was just a few little stalls with postcards and old pictures and leathery books in a sunny piazza. I spent forever browsing happily and nobody felt impatient when I finally plucked out one measly half euro postcard out of the pile of antiques. I'll show you tomorrow- It's three men on a tandem bike out riding a steam train.

Later in the evening the aunt and I bought around 20 bottles of shampoo and stuff and a long window wiper which i twirled about on the way home like Dick Van Dyke doing his chimney sweep routine.

edited to add: I saw the fountain and it was big and crowded- I was more excited about my delicious ice cream. I tried eating it in MUJI but the tall black store guys said salaam nicely then threw me out..

yay! My Amazon UK delivery came- in just 4 days! I'm way impressed- delivery cost about 7 euros for three pretty heavy grammar books..

Food

Discovered strange and wonderful foods today. My throat is still sore from dinner but it was worth it.

Earlier in the day my aunt had me peel and chop long stems called 'kuchu' and she was surprised to hear that I was unfamiliar with them. Turns out I shouldn't have rinsed them before chopping- once wet they begin stinging like the devil. They may look like leeks but they have the heart of thorny nettles. The aunt advised me to hold my hand over the fire to cool the stinging pain.

Naturally I was a little apprehensive about eating the blighters, but they had melted down into an unrecognisable brown mush and after a tentative pinchful proved to be amazingly tasty I piled my plate high with the stuff.

Later on as my gobbling slowed down I began to noticed that my tongue and the roof of my mouth were itching like I'd sucked too many pear drops or eaten 6 kiwis. I asked my aunt, worried again, but she assured me that's it's fine if it hurts a little- you should only stop if it begins stinging so bad you think you might not be able to eat again. Man that scared me plenty, but young Fatima helped me out with the rest of my meal so I'm fairly sure I'll be in a fit state for breakfast.

Bengalis, man- this happy frog on slow boil attitude is way too common. Like teaching us how to crush our fingers into tiny bangles- just stop short of breaking your bones ok?

The uncle also bought home some wondrous Malaysian lychee-like fruit that looked like a small wild-haired tropical monster. The aunt also says she'll cook waterlilies or 'shapla' at some point.

Baby's Day Out

In which no mention will be made of puking in McDonald's (it wasn't the baby either..)

The baby as per Bikey's request. Taken during one of the aunt's baby shopping sprees while the rest of us are already dropping with fatigue. I took the kids out for some air while we waited and am sure we were mistaken for gypsy beggars* by not a few passers by: I the distraction/ pity plea, a young mother carting a little baby and two mischievous imps to do the thieving..




Silhouette of Basilica di San Pietro in Vaticano

(Edited to add- just realised the photo should rightfully be captioned "Fiddlers on the Roof" These figures are mostly on/ holding crosses it's true but still- Rome, fiddles, people on roofs, it all works!




Splashy fountain


almonds in a shop window. These street photos were taken while walking because no one would stop for my nonsense. Forgive the blur.

The Mikis Vive poster was pasted all around- I just looked it up and apparently "Mikis Mantakas was a Greek neo-fascist student who was killed in Rome more than 20 years ago. mikis vive = mikis lives" Anyone have any more info- I'm still not great at reading the Italian sources.


i liked the elegant spider web pattern traced out by the cables



These pictures unfailingly provoked guffaws from the young gremlins, and, inevitably, favourite question: WHY? "Eeeew! Dustbins! Oh my goodness! WHY? WHY?"

Earlier in the week: School Carnivale- Japanese style


*I know this is a stereotype and I wish Roma people well*

Clearly I was too optimistic in reading the EFL scene in Rome. Thankfully it was a beautiful sunny day for once, or else my foolish wandering around the streets of Piramida searching for this school could have been a much sadder experience. I gave myself 30 minutes spare to find the place which was 5 minutes from the station. After a detour which I admit was entirely my fault I was finally on the right path and two minutes from my destination when I decided to check the direction with the school. Big mistake.

They assured me I was walking the wrong way and should head right back to where I started, while the bar lady who had previously helped me kept coming out of her shop and vigorously pointing in the opposite direction, frustrated by my obtuseness. Eventually, half an hour later, they despatched a lackey to hunt me out in the street. Not the most auspicious beginning and all for a job that I knew didn't exist. All I got really was a pep talk on how it's wisest to come to Rome in August/ September..

On the plus side I've started the advanced class- chiefly cause the intermediate is always overflowing and though I was lucky enough to find seating space on a radiator, it was still painful compared to the luxury of an advanced class Chair.

Me and Jumi khala were totally fine anyhow- totally at home with the snappy pace and sharper wits present. 'Advanced' is a very relative demarcation- referring to confidence more than actual substantive knowledge. Perfect for an impatient student like myself.

I'm afraid I'm a bad influence already- I was surreptitiously giving a knitting lesson to the guy behind me. He seemed confident when he asked if he could continue my Saturday-in-the-Park jumper- but his skills were sadly unequal to the task and I was not in knitting missionary mode. I gave him undue credit for speaking in Italian when he could have just used Bangla- undue because he didn't realise I was bengali, even though I was translating half the lesson, probably incorrectly, to the guy next to me.

The teacher Mario was a volatile character, with a fun but slightly terrifying Jekyll and Hyde personality- his laughter quickly turned to booming outrage when the aunt didn't remember the meaning of thief. There was lots of role-playing cops-and-robbers stuff which was a little out of my league but much more fun than the passive nature of the other class. We had to describe people, eg the thief, and the aunt sketched the most alarming portrait of a tall bald man with a moustache and monobrow, upturned nose and almond shaped eyes. She just enjoys the funny words and keeps saying sopracciglia folte and nas all-insu around the house(monobrow and upturned nose respectively)Not so long ago she was continually rolling 'cherrymerry' over her tongue like it was a delicious aniseed ball..

Cryptic tales/ Tales from the Crypt

Turns out I am still too much of a baby for the high flying school- but Welsh girl sounded sad that this was the case so what can you do..

I called up another 5 or 10 schools, and, because I'm steadily losing confidence in my Italian language skills, there was often a daunting language barrier between me and the receptionist. One girl seemed to think repeating pronto 10 times before hanging up was an effective way to handle recruitment. I don't know..
Happily one school asked me to come round this afternoon for an interview and if I seem promising she says they'll clear a space in the afternoon for me. She sounded encouraging, but she's also Italian which adds that extra dimension of anxiety.

Class yesterday was a nice blend of hilarious and mortifying. Like that thing where you can see yourself and the class from the outside and laugh, but you're also inside yourself and, really, it's sad times. It was my teacher's fault or maybe mine for making her my new friend before class. Ah, I suffered for it.

Picture this place with rain and at least 50 mostly Muslim, often Bengali guys hanging round. It's paradoxical perhaps but somehow the more similar your backgrounds are, the further the distance you want to create..
La mia scuola:

(I changed the photo because Val tells me that the last one had shocking obscenties scrawled all over it)

I'm trying to think of short version of events but I can't organise my thoughts so we'lll just see if this flows. Concise was always my forte in school essays but somehow this never applies with blogs. What was once called thinking is now thought of as writing a blog post in my head- like yesterday I was writing a whole long piece comparing the strangeness of my current literature, Stuart Little, to the range of myriad anthropomorphic rodent stories I've read in my time from the Deptford trilogy, to Pentecost, from the Rats of Nimh to the wistful A Rat's Tale, not forgetting our darling Fievel Mousekevitz. It's just that Stuart Little plays fast and loose with our suspension of disbelief- it doesn't try to create a new universe at all but bends the rules of our own willy nilly, so at one moment it is entirely practical and reasonable in considering the problems of a mouse living a human lifestyle but at the same time seems to demand we accept that no one is more than mildly surprised to discover his human mother somehow gave birth to a mouse. The Rats of Nimh at least had mutant genetic experiments to account for their lifestyle and Pentecost was the most naturalistic of all once you discount the Brummie Rat Mafia.

I don't know if I want to talk about the class- it feels like I'm avoiding the tale talking about talking mice. Anyway I'm going to wear glasses today.

I went to the Colosseum and roundabouts yesterday. I'm no archaeologist or even a historian. My reference point looking at the ruins of the Roman forum was Shelly's Ozymandias:

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
`My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.



San Pietro in Vincoli had the same ornate ceilings, white marble statues, and vast Biblical murals as St Peter's in the Vatican. Not the same of course but I didn't have a guide to tell me the stories and anyway it sometimes feels uncomfortably blasphemous when I see this statue is supposed to be Moses and his wives or some such. I don't like to take too many photos when I'm inside a church cause it feels intrusive, even if they are trying to catch all the tourists they can, I expect they probably hate the necessity at the same time. But the place had a few ghoulish touches that appealed to me..

I'll get round to the touristy stuff eventually but you know they're not really stories and I was too lazy to dig up the histories before I came, so most of my knowledge comes from one or two glossy picture-filled pages from my guide book. Man I spent so long picking that Baedeker guide book- opening out all the maps and comparing content with about 50 others in Borders but having lived with it a week I'm not in love with it. I think I got distracted by the shininess and detail on the map..

Anyway I went wandering today on my own tour and I have one question I want to put to the Jehovah's Witnesses:

How do you learn so many languages? Seriously I want to go to your school- your people's range is really impressive!

Bead heaven

I see you're all bored by the endless chatter now so I'll just put up some photos with mininum captioning. The boy didn't want me to talk about his birthday either so there wasn't much story besides..

I visited the uncle's shop for the first time and was completely unprepared for it's magnificence. A gleaming Aladdin's cave of swarovski crystals and pearls in every shape and size.. I expected ready made jewellery only but no this was a craftsters' paradise.

A few examples of the glories within: