Monday, July 08, 2013

Summer lulls

Sorry for the long pause, but lately T's life is much more interesting than ours and she won't let me tell you anything.

I have made two really nice friends at work, but as you can guess they are clients and not coworkers. I didn't go to the fancy gym's staff dinner. I didn't realize it was a special gala team building event, since not one of my coworkers or bosses bothered to explain to me where the restaurant is even though they know I don't drive. I figure if they really needed me there a little more effort than an anonymous text message could have been spent. I could have looked it up on the Internet, but it wasn't a good night for us so in the end all I can tell you is that the photos speak volumes. At first you see a bunch of the nicer staff members who are older and not course instructors standing out on a big lawn chatting. Then as the the background gets darker you see all the rambunctious, younger people drinking out of massive common cocktail cups with a thousand straws inside getting absolutely hammered. By the end there are photos of girl on girl kissing, plenty of red, bleary eyes and lots of wasted young men with their shirts off. The unspoken girl dress code was unfailingly a beige sundress of which there were a million varieties. Beige, as you know, is not my color. Nicolas told me the owner was disappointed that I wasn't there and so I assume that during the hundredth slide show of photos that I am not in with theme music he made a speech abou the newbies like me and then realized that I wasn't there. I apologized to him for my absence and he said he understood.

I went twice to Viareggio to the beach and I have to say that the best part is the company of my friends because the actual beach is kind of dirty and claustraphobic. Everyone who goes there pays for a little sun chair and a big umbrella and wants to make the most on their investment. Inevitably the conversation leans towards how much nicer the beach is other places, mostly towards the south like on the island of Elba or in Sardegnia or Abruzzo or the Amalfi coast. The sun protection tends to be of the Crisco variety and the myth that the darker you are the skinnier you look lives on as the women turn into walking prunes. P.S. the only thing worse than going to the beach when your stomach is bloated is going to the beach when your stomach is bloated and everyone keeps introducing you as their fitness instructor.

The numbers of clients who come to the courses is dwindling out with every passing day as everyone shifts their focus to the fancy gym swimming pool. Last week T was going to go to the pool with Giorgia who has a membership and the receptionist waved her finger in my face and let me know that -- employee or not -- the going rate for an hour or two of pool time is 20 euros and there were to be no exceptions for family members. Her eyes were iced over like a serial killer's and I was left feeling less than warm and fuzzy.

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