Cold Flat of Tricarico and small streets

Heading even further south into the toe we drove into the town of Tricarico, following our oh so wise sat navigator, who has tested my sanity on more than one occasion which I will discuss more about later in the entry, I Hate Garmin. We proceeded with our van which is a modest size in American terms, but is fat as all hell when it comes to small Italian streets. We found ourselves within feet, then inches, then centimeters as the street seemed to become narrower as we went on as if we were in some abstract painting. One Italian man offered to drive it down the road for us, we at this point politely declined without realizing we were entering a labyrinth of tiny streets. Within ten minutes Liz was out in front of the car directing us slowly on like an air traffic controller, Emily was screaming profanity at the sat nav, and I had my head hanging out the side window making sure we didn’t scratch all along the walls, all the while a line of smart cars and midget trucks gathered behind us honking their horns. That always makes it better when it is clear we are having a hard time and they decide to lay on the horn as if that will magically help, thanks Italian drivers.

With the help of our whole team, and a few old Italian gentlemen we managed through the tight streets in about 45 minutes to a place where our flat was not even located. We called the teacher of the School in the town we would be working with and she called the flat we would be staying in, and around a hour and a half after arriving in the small hill town where we were staying. The old Italian women, not speaking any English ushered us into a massive, cold flat, that was once a rich villa, but has may have lost a bit of care over the past 400 hears. With all the windows closed, the three radiators blazing we were freezing, and all huddled around an extra electric heat, to top it off the water was nice and cold, sweet. I must say though that it is places like these that make you enjoy the super nice accommodations. Luckily the teacher of the town Mimi was a very sweet lady. Her and her husband treated us to a great dinner at their friend’s restaurant, drank some wine and talked English, as they both were English teachers that had studied in England. They were so eager to speak English as I don’t think they get a good English conversation that often. Thank god for wonderful Italian folk, they make a cold flat and a cold shower not quite so bad.