the story of life in india.

well, i tried to sign up for violin lessons today. my teacher? possibly the sweetest indian man ever. i found his number on the internet...yes sounds sketchier than it really is. he teaches at the kolkata music school so i went to register today, however it just couldn't be as easy as that.
first i had no idea how to get there and unfortunately neither did my taxi driver... nor do i know how i will return there since public transportation seems to be anti kolkata music schools and their students who might need to use public transportation.
and of course i didn't bring enugh money for the fees. and of course none of the atm's in the area would accept my card. and of course i have to go back tomorrow because tomorrow's final registration day...and besides i do not want to make the office secretary angry. she is a woman you want on your side. like a mix between the Sinfield soup nazi and the immigration officer at the airport. yes, she is the one you bring chocolates to at christmas. she is the one who's feet i would kiss.

so again i realize, it takes so much time for such simple things here.
always.
the story of life in india. you'd think i'd be used to it by now. nope. i still want to come home and drown my sorrows in chocolate and diet cokes. but there's no diet cokes, so cold water had to do.
and with eye on the prize energy regained, i'll hike up my bootstraps, and return to claim my rightful violin registration.
tomorrow.