PATENTE UPDATE
Again today, Steve updates you and talks about saints.....
Grazie a S Medardo II
Driving to Agrigento, Stefano and I played a game. I tried to note all the things he did wrong in his driving, as he went along 115, ignoring the no passing signs, talking on his telephone, wandering off the side of the road, or crossing into the other lane in a dosso or a curva, and of course speeding.
We had fun with that little diversion.
Finally we arrived at what used to be the Office of Motorization, and now was the office of Terrestrial Transportation. Pretty cool names, eh? There were thirty people outside. Stefano had gotten a phone call while we were on the road, so he was already on the sign up list for folks taking their exam. We just sort of milled around in front of the bland looking building in the Agrigento suburbs, with a view of nothing. Stefano spent his time chatting up the other driving school owners and instructors. One older guy told a long involved tale to his three students (and Stefano and me) about how getting a license used to be a lot easier. As I listened to him, his voice and inflexion sounded exactly like Frans father Sam, and it occurred to me suddenly that the guy was speaking Italian (and a bit of Sicilian, not English like Sam does). That was a surprising realization, especially considering how well I understood the story. When he was finished, he looked at me and at Stefano, and Stefano told him I was American. He looked back at me and said You Speak Inglese? and I replied Si, e un po dItaliano, e niente Siciliano. Ma ho capito tutti! (I understood it all!) He gave me a big smile.
The doors to the building slowly opened, and the examiners had their last cigarettes, and folks started milling around. Stefano showed me where to sit, and told me it would be fairly soon. I sat about ten feet from the examiner. With the first test taker, I was not able to hear the questions, but the examiner was clearly frustrated, and the driving school teacher who sat two feet to the side kept trying to give encouragement and answers. It was no use, the poor kid failed.
I got to watch two more exams before my turn came. I could hear the questions. I knew all the answers. The instructors continued to sit nearby, and offer help when they could, and were told to keep quiet more than once by the examiner. I began to feel confident. I wondered if the interrogator was Totos friend Indelicato. Then it was my turn. Stefano did not take the seat reserved for the instructor, instead he just wandered around the large room. The examiner had asked all the others about fifteen questions, including recitations of when not to pass, or what a B license was good for. When it was my turn, he asked about five questions. The hardest was the short recitation of the meaning of distance of security used to keep from having an accident on a Salita Pericoloso. When I gave what he thought was a particularly elegant answer, he shook my hand and congratulated me, and I told him it was only because my teacher had been good. He told Stefano to come over and listen to the exam.
Then he showed me a picture of a five way intersection, and asked who had precedence. He told me if I got it right, I would pass then and there; if not he would ask questions for another fifteen minutes. I looked at it. Everyone was making turns this way and that, and all of them had to give precedence to another car to the right. I went around and around figuring who each would have to give precedence to. He showed me another picture, an easier one, a four way intersection, with all four cars going straight. Again, each would have to give precedence to the one on the right. I told him that, and said that I would wait until someone went, then I would cede precedence to the right. He smiled and told me that I was American, not Sicilian. In Sicily, all would go, and I said that then there would be another big accident, like always in Sicily. He smiled and shook my hand.
Later, Stefano told me the guys name was Vaccaro, not Indelicato. He also told me that he was confident all along that I would pass, that I knew the material, and now I could forget it.
I have my practical test on June 18th, and if I pass that (and I am told it is far easier than the oral) I will have my license that day. I noticed how beautiful the country side was between Sciacca and Agrigento, and felt strongly how much I have missed driving through it with Fran. I really look forward to taking the test and getting on the road again. Then it will be Saint Gregorys feast day on the Italian Calender, and of course none of the seven St Gregorys in my hagiographies have their feast day on the 18th. This Gregory must be another mystery, like St. Medardo.
My Penguin book of saints says it will be St Elizabeth of Schanaus Day, as well as Saints Mark and Marcellians (Marco and Marcelliano?) Day. According to the fictional accounts of St Sebastian, Mark and Marcellian were Roman twins, and their dates are not known. They refused the pleas of their wives and children to save their lives through apostasy, and were beheaded. The true story is not known. My other hagiography (Calendar of Saints for Unbelievers) says it will be Saint Osanna Andreasis day.
My all of the Saints be with me as I take my test, and may they be with you as you enjoy your lives.
S
Grazie a S Medardo II
Driving to Agrigento, Stefano and I played a game. I tried to note all the things he did wrong in his driving, as he went along 115, ignoring the no passing signs, talking on his telephone, wandering off the side of the road, or crossing into the other lane in a dosso or a curva, and of course speeding.
We had fun with that little diversion.
Finally we arrived at what used to be the Office of Motorization, and now was the office of Terrestrial Transportation. Pretty cool names, eh? There were thirty people outside. Stefano had gotten a phone call while we were on the road, so he was already on the sign up list for folks taking their exam. We just sort of milled around in front of the bland looking building in the Agrigento suburbs, with a view of nothing. Stefano spent his time chatting up the other driving school owners and instructors. One older guy told a long involved tale to his three students (and Stefano and me) about how getting a license used to be a lot easier. As I listened to him, his voice and inflexion sounded exactly like Frans father Sam, and it occurred to me suddenly that the guy was speaking Italian (and a bit of Sicilian, not English like Sam does). That was a surprising realization, especially considering how well I understood the story. When he was finished, he looked at me and at Stefano, and Stefano told him I was American. He looked back at me and said You Speak Inglese? and I replied Si, e un po dItaliano, e niente Siciliano. Ma ho capito tutti! (I understood it all!) He gave me a big smile.
The doors to the building slowly opened, and the examiners had their last cigarettes, and folks started milling around. Stefano showed me where to sit, and told me it would be fairly soon. I sat about ten feet from the examiner. With the first test taker, I was not able to hear the questions, but the examiner was clearly frustrated, and the driving school teacher who sat two feet to the side kept trying to give encouragement and answers. It was no use, the poor kid failed.
I got to watch two more exams before my turn came. I could hear the questions. I knew all the answers. The instructors continued to sit nearby, and offer help when they could, and were told to keep quiet more than once by the examiner. I began to feel confident. I wondered if the interrogator was Totos friend Indelicato. Then it was my turn. Stefano did not take the seat reserved for the instructor, instead he just wandered around the large room. The examiner had asked all the others about fifteen questions, including recitations of when not to pass, or what a B license was good for. When it was my turn, he asked about five questions. The hardest was the short recitation of the meaning of distance of security used to keep from having an accident on a Salita Pericoloso. When I gave what he thought was a particularly elegant answer, he shook my hand and congratulated me, and I told him it was only because my teacher had been good. He told Stefano to come over and listen to the exam.
Then he showed me a picture of a five way intersection, and asked who had precedence. He told me if I got it right, I would pass then and there; if not he would ask questions for another fifteen minutes. I looked at it. Everyone was making turns this way and that, and all of them had to give precedence to another car to the right. I went around and around figuring who each would have to give precedence to. He showed me another picture, an easier one, a four way intersection, with all four cars going straight. Again, each would have to give precedence to the one on the right. I told him that, and said that I would wait until someone went, then I would cede precedence to the right. He smiled and told me that I was American, not Sicilian. In Sicily, all would go, and I said that then there would be another big accident, like always in Sicily. He smiled and shook my hand.
Later, Stefano told me the guys name was Vaccaro, not Indelicato. He also told me that he was confident all along that I would pass, that I knew the material, and now I could forget it.
I have my practical test on June 18th, and if I pass that (and I am told it is far easier than the oral) I will have my license that day. I noticed how beautiful the country side was between Sciacca and Agrigento, and felt strongly how much I have missed driving through it with Fran. I really look forward to taking the test and getting on the road again. Then it will be Saint Gregorys feast day on the Italian Calender, and of course none of the seven St Gregorys in my hagiographies have their feast day on the 18th. This Gregory must be another mystery, like St. Medardo.
My Penguin book of saints says it will be St Elizabeth of Schanaus Day, as well as Saints Mark and Marcellians (Marco and Marcelliano?) Day. According to the fictional accounts of St Sebastian, Mark and Marcellian were Roman twins, and their dates are not known. They refused the pleas of their wives and children to save their lives through apostasy, and were beheaded. The true story is not known. My other hagiography (Calendar of Saints for Unbelievers) says it will be Saint Osanna Andreasis day.
My all of the Saints be with me as I take my test, and may they be with you as you enjoy your lives.
S
posted by Sicilian Mama at 2:08 PM
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