Tuesday, November 13, 2012
November 13, 2012
I woke up at five not certain that Ryan had set up the alarm to get himself ready to go to the airport at seven. He was up a six and we chatted as he had a cup of coffee and some pastry while waiting for the taxi driver to arrive. He mentioned his experience at Wasabi had been a good one even though it had taken them forever to get there in the midst of a traffic jam as it was still snowing.
There had been no let up in the snow falling except for the fact that it didn’t seem to sticking around. I pulled my coat from the suitcase and found it creased beyond recognition and the iron did little to restore its shape completely. Stepping outside, I found that the buckled up sidewalk was covered with icy clumps and my pumps had little traction to maneuver there, so the pavement was a much safer bet.
When I got to Lingua, Zarina came to apologize profusely for having misunderstood the taxi driver quote of a fare for Ryan saying that the 700 som fee was only for one way and not round trip and that Ryan hadn’t paid him that morning. I told her I’d compensate the driver that same day. I printed the handouts I’d need for that day’s workshop and went back outside to get the photocopies done. It was miserable out there with the snow still falling lightly and clumps of it dropping from the trees onto my coat, handbag and hands.
The taxi driver took me to the Russian Slavonic University and agreed to pick me up at three so I could avoid having to ride in the crowded marshrutka with all my materials at hand. I ate a couple of tasteless samsis in the school’s cafeteria and walked up to the fifth floor to get set up. Attendance was higher than I expected that day and we had a good session on teaching vocabulary strategies.
Back outside I went and the taxi driver was nowhere in sight. After fifteen minutes of freezing my behind out there, I called Zarina who once again apologized for not having called earlier to let me know Gulnara and Aigul had engaged the driver on some other errand and he wasn’t back yet. I can’t deny I was a bit angry, but just crossed the street and got in one of the marshrutkas and fortunately only had to wait a bit before someone who was seated exited the minibus and I got to sit down all the way home.
A short nap restored me somehow and after a steaming cup of coffee, I sat down at the computer to deal with emails, responses to the invitation to my housewarming party and other minutiae. After dinner of more leftovers, I got to watch “Dirty Dancing”, a movie I had seen when it first came out but of which I could remember little, not even the fact that the first dance lesson Baby takes is the merengue.
Went to bed around midnight and continue to read a bit of “The Perfect Man” by Naeem Murr, a British writer who’s residing in the United States for many years.