Lo Sciopero

The last two days have been, in a word (or two), ABSOLUTELY MENTAL. 

I had to go to Rome for an induction to being an ELA, where they taught us loads of useful ways of managing the classroom, planning and preparing lessons, using games and songs to actually make it interesting to learn English, etc. etc....all of which was really helpful, as previously I had very little idea of what to do or talk about!

Maybe that's not strictly true. I did bring lots of postcards, a map of the roads of Milton Keynes, a train timetable, photos of my family...the list goes on. I also brought Marmite and English Mustard, which will be an interesting thing to try :P

But back to the induction. I managed to meet a girl named Charlotte who I haven't seen since we both went to a Royal Holloway open day about three years ago (she does the same degree as me now, but at Kent, which was my second choice), plus loads of others who are in Campania at least, if not Pompei, so we can travel around the region and see each other. 

All in all, the induction itself was lovely - free coffee, pastries and lunch, and a nifty British Council bag to boot; it was the journey back to Pompei that was the problem. There was a sciopero - a strike - today, which meant none of the city Metro or bus services were working. I had to walk to Roma Termini, but after having a mini panic attack I was informed that the inter-city trains were working, so I managed to get to Naples unscathed and spent the journey in a carriage with a Sikh, a priest and a woman with the biggest pink suitcase I have ever seen. 

Once I'd arrived at Naples, however, things went pear-shaped (or 'a forma di pera', which I didn't realise translated but it probably means something that is literally shaped like a pear...so..a pear...) when I discovered that the regional trains to Pompei weren't working either. So I rang Claudia, and she said she would come and get me, but then my phone ran out of battery so I couldn't tell her that I took the Circumvesuviana line - literally, the trainline around Mt Vesuvius - back to Pompei. When I got back to the flat, nobody was home, but luckily I plugged my phone in and rang Claudia and nobody was angry in the end, but now I am the butt of all the tourist jokes in the household.

Let's just say I will never travel in Italy during a strike again, at least until I can drive...