Friday, September 24, 2010

Spagnolo
So the saga of the Spanish Book is as follows.

First we got the book list from the school and then by chance someone said that it is best to get the books from the supermarket because you get a 15% discount. But because the school had lost T's file in the bottom of the drawer, we didn't know if she was in French or Spanish. So there were about six books that we had to order once T was assigned a section and a language.

The word was that at the end of August the list of sections would be posted in a glass case at the entrance of the school. Being Italy, on September 8th there was an unannounced public lottery in the auditorium where the names of the kids in each section were either announced or drawn out of a hat--picture the sorting hat scene from Harry Potter. As soon as we heard T's name called, we leaped up and ran to the bookstore near the school where a slightly sour-faced man took the list and told us to come back Tuesday.

Tuesday we returned and picked up our order, but when we looked closely we realized there were only five books, rather than the six we had ordered. A schlep back to the bookstore brought a curt, "That book is out of stock, we can order it, but it may be months before it arrives."

Well we ordered it, but to hedge our bets, we went to other stores and ordered it there as well. When school started, T still had no Spanish book. The Spanish teacher then yelled at all the kids who didn't have their books (though this was odd, because she didn't have her book either). Finally in desperation, we borrowed a copy and scanned it page by page.

Then when we offered to email the scanned pages to another girl in the class, her mom said not to bother because they were going to the book warehouse outside town.

HELLO??!! A BOOK WAREHOUSE??!!

Yep, it turns out there is a massive book warehouse/school supply store about fifteen minutes walk outside the walls... So F walks out there and returns successfully with book in hand. We then proceed around to cancel all our other orders around town, getting grief only from sour-faced man.

As a post script, a few days later looking at the receipt, we realize that the book warehouse is another branch of the sour-faced bookstore...

1 comment:

Laurence said...

I guess this is all stuff that becomes routine after a few years, but the first year will be ... a learning experience, I guess....

Still, it seems like a lot of work to go to for "¡Hola, amigo! ¿QuĂ© tal?"