A beginning

Washing the dishes in the morning, Anna, one of our new flatmates, told me I looked like a doctor. I was so surprised I only now thought of asking her what exactly she meant. Something wrong with my style? The eyeglasses? Maybe the plastic gloves I was wearing (why do people make fun of me for using them? Isn't that what they're for?).

I was the first person to enter the library today, prompting an extra-enthusiastic "Guten MORGEN" from Frau Scherzer. After a couple of lessons, I came home to wash up (rough morning) and pick up Petra, still suffering from her headaches (my diagnosis: social stress aggravated by a new confusing situation at home) for lunch at the oh-so-romantic Mensa, where we were joined by Thomas, freshly back from France and already working 27 hours a day. The Finnish chicks were there, too.

A breather at home - I used it to throw out yesterday's pasta I had at midnight and clean the pot - and then it was out again to the KUG. I kicked out Transfer Flatmate C from a class which was reserved for me (sorry), after which I had another lesson. Then, the moment we had all been waiting for: our monthly stroll across the street to our landlady. On the way, we remembered we had forgot to bring along the receipts we always make her sign - after a debate at the front gate, Petra declared that if things went to court, we would all testify that we saw the others paying the money. There were no protests.

Of course, our landlady was especially sugary today because of the new flatmates. Us old cronies warned them not to be deceived by the false smiles and the oh-so-cute dog - they weren't going to get a summer discount. After our first casual house meeting afterwards, I went to conduct my first ever female choir rehearsal with the promising name "Frauenstimmung Lassitzhöhe" (One letter discarded to preserve anonimity). The set-up was the same as in previous similar situations here in Graz: I'm picked up by someone from the choir (Arrangements on the phone: "So I'll be the one in the white car with the license plate GU532CK - if you leave out the numbers it's Guck! Get it??") who drives me to the rehearsal, and on the way both try to think of entertaining conversation subjects (I usually ask one question about the choir's history and the subsequent ecstatic sermon is enough to let me not say another word the whole drive).

I really enjoyed the atmosphere at the rehearsal, and the women did a very good job sight-reading renaissance three-part music. During the second half of the rehearsal, I realised I was actually making jokes my teacher here makes. It looked like I was going to have to take the train back to Graz, something I was cursing in my mind when one of the singers enthusiastically told me she could drive me since it would give her a chance to show off her brand-new car, complete with a GPS machine (or whatever they're called) I knew how to interpret better than her ("I think Merangasse should be that red line there..." -"What, we have GPS in this car??").

Someone is in the kitchen. The light in Thomas's room is on, and in the corridor one can hear Petra chattering away in Hungarian. I am going to sleep.