I awoke at 7:00, showered and went down to breakfast, where Haruko, my fellow strandee, was already sitting. I got a cup of coffee and a croissant. We agree to meet again at 9:30 and give Udine another chance.
Worth it, really. Lots of rennaissance statuary and fine things. I continue with my question: why do the Italians look so Italian? Amazing.
We pass a poster for the League (though I foolishly don’t check which show it’s advertising); promising a mixture of Tango, Bach and flamenco, and featuring a Vinka shot from the Angel Bustello show. Also a shop-window full of Maisy books that I worked on.
Back to the station where the Italian railways continue to play games with us: the next train is an hour and a half later, at 12:00, which is then delayed for five minutes, ten minutes and finally an astonishing forty minutes. We wait in various places before S?r Fritz appears. He is to take the bus, which he says he prefers.
The train appears and we roll off to Carnia, arriving forty-five minutes later.
I call for a taxi from the list of numbers on the wall. I ask for the taxi in Italian I’ve recently picked up from H then the chap on the other end of the line asks me a question in Italian, so I say "No Italiano", he says "Sprechen Sie Deutsch?", I say "Ein Bischen. English?" hopefully, and he goes to get a woman who speaks English. She takes my order and says thirty minutes.
Fifteen minutes later, Christian arrives. Thirty minutes after that, he calls the taxi company (as they’re more likely to speak German than English) and has a conversation (In English) that suggests the taxi will arrive thirty minutes later.
Some time later, the taxi does, indeed, arrive.
I think I’ve seen altogether too much of the inside of Carnia railway station.
Eventually the taxi deposits us at the facility.
I do various things, such as drink coffee and collect my email, hang out and see if I have any kind of hands there. There’s a meeting to sort out where we are, and I unexpectedly volunteer to assist with Dinner preparation. This is spicy pasta by Roberto with a Salad by Haruko.
Dinner is seven minutes late, but this is altogether in keeping with the tone of the day, and not unconnected to water that refuses to boil. I know that one. I promise to tell Roberto about my experience in Mendoza. Anyway, it’s delicious, and exactly what was needed.
After Dinner, there’s a League rehearsal, at first acoustic, then electric. We do a number of numbers, among them Evil, which I keep dropping. The electric vibe is a blast. I’d love to hear this band.
I’m psyched, you know.
Now it’s 00:06, and I’m sitting in the Dining room wondering whether to post this now. I think now, but it’s possible. Bed, I think, in my new, warm, bedroom.