This morning, in Verbania Intra's central market place, three hapless and pale figures waited at a rainy bus stop. Shivering in the wind. Bus after bus passed them by. No-one raised a listless hand to flag one down. Each took his turn wandering to the end of the street and back, then standing on one spot for five minutes before wandering off again. Vans stopped in the bus bay and the three looked askance at one another, then back at the bay, calculating mentally whether it would be possible to draw in a car behind or in front. All let out a sigh of relief when each vehicle moved on.
Eventually, a small Peugeot drew up carefully. The three watchers at the bus stop snapped to attention. A gay figure stepped out of the driver's seat and bobbed off down the street, seemingly in buoyant mood. The man in the front passenger seat beckoned to one of those waiting and he reluctantly climbed into the driver's seat, looking as if he were on the way to the scaffold.
Twenty minutes later the scene was repeated. More gay bobbing from the erstwhile driver, as if delivered from a fate worse than death. More shivering from the watchers at the bus stop.
Twenty minutes after that it was my turn to take my driving test.
And twenty minutes later, as I pulled back into the bus stop, the shadowy figure wedged into the back seat of the car - the man with the craggy jawline, the clip board and the stiff neck - leaned into the front, and handed me my Italian driver's licence before expelling me into the rain.
I bobbed off to catch a bus for Cannobio to make what I hope to be my last kindergarten-run on public transport.
Recommended : Autoscuola Ceno, Cannobio and Verbania. Thanks to Laura for the coaching for the theory test (and putting up with two screaming children in the car all the way back from Domodossola), and to Romano for allowing me to do the hill start the English way (i.e., using the handbrake). Whatever I may have written to make you laugh about my novice driving exploits, these guys are the most professional and most talented driving educators I could have asked for (and I've been through a few). And we never broke the law or endangered anyone's life...your honour.
Also recommended : chill pills containing a near-miraculous mixture of valerian, melissa and hops.
The rest of the story :
Learning to drive in Italy : No. 1
Learning to drive in Italy : No. 2
Learning to drive : epilogue
Home
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Wednesday, 30 April 2008
At the bus stop
This morning, in Verbania Intra's central market place, three hapless and pale figures waited at a rainy bus stop. Shivering in the wind. Bus after bus passed them by. No-one raised a listless hand to flag one down. Each took his turn wandering to the end of the street and back, then standing on one spot for five minutes before wandering off again. Vans stopped in the bus bay and the three looked askance at one another, then back at the bay, calculating mentally whether it would be possible to draw in a car behind or in front. All let out a sigh of relief when each vehicle moved on.
Eventually, a small Peugeot drew up carefully. The three watchers at the bus stop snapped to attention. A gay figure stepped out of the driver's seat and bobbed off down the street, seemingly in buoyant mood. The man in the front passenger seat beckoned to one of those waiting and he reluctantly climbed into the driver's seat, looking as if he were on the way to the scaffold.
Twenty minutes later the scene was repeated. More gay bobbing from the erstwhile driver, as if delivered from a fate worse than death. More shivering from the watchers at the bus stop.
Twenty minutes after that it was my turn to take my driving test.
And twenty minutes later, as I pulled back into the bus stop, the shadowy figure wedged into the back seat of the car - the man with the craggy jawline, the clip board and the stiff neck - leaned into the front, and handed me my Italian driver's licence before expelling me into the rain.
I bobbed off to catch a bus for Cannobio to make what I hope to be my last kindergarten-run on public transport.
Recommended : Autoscuola Ceno, Cannobio and Verbania. Thanks to Laura for the coaching for the theory test (and putting up with two screaming children in the car all the way back from Domodossola), and to Romano for allowing me to do the hill start the English way (i.e., using the handbrake). Whatever I may have written to make you laugh about my novice driving exploits, these guys are the most professional and most talented driving educators I could have asked for (and I've been through a few). And we never broke the law or endangered anyone's life...your honour.
Also recommended : chill pills containing a near-miraculous mixture of valerian, melissa and hops.
The rest of the story :
Learning to drive in Italy : No. 1
Learning to drive in Italy : No. 2
Learning to drive : epilogue
Home
Eventually, a small Peugeot drew up carefully. The three watchers at the bus stop snapped to attention. A gay figure stepped out of the driver's seat and bobbed off down the street, seemingly in buoyant mood. The man in the front passenger seat beckoned to one of those waiting and he reluctantly climbed into the driver's seat, looking as if he were on the way to the scaffold.
Twenty minutes later the scene was repeated. More gay bobbing from the erstwhile driver, as if delivered from a fate worse than death. More shivering from the watchers at the bus stop.
Twenty minutes after that it was my turn to take my driving test.
And twenty minutes later, as I pulled back into the bus stop, the shadowy figure wedged into the back seat of the car - the man with the craggy jawline, the clip board and the stiff neck - leaned into the front, and handed me my Italian driver's licence before expelling me into the rain.
I bobbed off to catch a bus for Cannobio to make what I hope to be my last kindergarten-run on public transport.
Recommended : Autoscuola Ceno, Cannobio and Verbania. Thanks to Laura for the coaching for the theory test (and putting up with two screaming children in the car all the way back from Domodossola), and to Romano for allowing me to do the hill start the English way (i.e., using the handbrake). Whatever I may have written to make you laugh about my novice driving exploits, these guys are the most professional and most talented driving educators I could have asked for (and I've been through a few). And we never broke the law or endangered anyone's life...your honour.
Also recommended : chill pills containing a near-miraculous mixture of valerian, melissa and hops.
The rest of the story :
Learning to drive in Italy : No. 1
Learning to drive in Italy : No. 2
Learning to drive : epilogue
Home
2 comments:
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Anonymous said...
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Congratulations Louise! Here's to a whole new era in transportation!
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Wednesday, 30 April, 2008
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said...
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Congratulations!!
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Saturday, 24 January, 2009
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2 comments:
Congratulations Louise! Here's to a whole new era in transportation!
Congratulations!!
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