So, I came to this country to teach other people's children.
It is a weird place, far too different from where I come from, and I thought that I'd get used to it too, but... Things are getting harder by the day, and not easier, at least not for me.
It's a country with no summer, unless it's summertime.
In the months of July and August remind of Crematoria, from the "The Chronicles of Riddick" franchise, from the distant 2004, as it is humanly impossible to go outside, and I mean it! The sun is not just shining, it is searing, scorching, actively burning, aiming for cause damage of such a high degree that you might want to visit a hospital to get checked on your second-degree burns after collecting the courage to get out of your home for 5 minutes to buy a pack of cigarettes.
In the beginning, I used to laugh at grannies, going out to do their early-morning shopping, each with an open umbrella over her head. No, no parasols – it's not such kind of country, this country is far too poor for luxuries like these. I laughed, because where I come from, summers are moderate and 30º C are rare, and forever on the national news.
Here, July and August are unlivable.
The rest of the year, you'll ask?
Well... In this weird patch of land on earth, the rest of the year is what people call "an English summer". Rain, and clouds and mud and dirt. The dust and pollution in the air falling to the ground, to join the other dirt there. It's cooler, sure, sure, but you might want to come equipped with Wellingtons!
It's an impossible place, with impossible climate, fickle and annoying, just like its populace. I have come to work here not for money, but out of charity. Because, as disgusting as the country is, its children are gifted. There is no other word for what I see daily.
Gifted. Talented. Endowed with reason and skills from God above.
OK. That's more than one word, alright.
And as a teacher, I might as well know this.
Maybe those of you who had been paying attention (a rarity in this day and age!) would wonder and ask the good, valid questions: Why would you rant so much about something so insignificant as the weather? Isn't it one of those stupid small-talk topics that only the stupid English people engage in?
Yes, quite fitting. And correct.
But I am not English, thank all gods!!! – and also: my story starts, and ends, in the month of September, when I made up my ultimate mind to go back home, and give up on other people's children, after a small accident I had here, well after I had somehow successfully survived the months of both boiling-rivers July and slow-grill August, and after two years of being completely broke – yup, yup, as a foreigner I got the exact same salary as all the other teachers here, and it was so inhumanly low that I had to bargain for my daily food at the local open market, or buy discounted good only. In this godforsaken place, your "salary" means money just enough to pay your bills.
Well, unless you are part of the mafia, of course.
In such a glamorous mood, I was travelling back home from work on a stormy, and annoyingly rainy Saturday – yes, I had to work the weekends too, I had to pay rent after all! The journey home, a usual 40-minute trip, was taking over 4 hours today, as most of the city's streets were dug up open, road works all over the city center, frozen due to the current torrential rain, and naturally – tightly stuck traffic jams, up to the skies, would take forever to unclog, making the drivers irritable as hell, and all the passengers – grumpy and militant, to say the least.
