Strolling out of the school grounds to snatch a quick 'Similar' Cigarette (the smokeless version of something pretending to be one, a popular choice of Ryaniar bucket-and-spade travellers) - in other words, a teacher requiring an excuse to get off the grounds, have a fake smoke (due to half-inclination quitting urges which will most likely turn to dust once i get to madrid) and a need to escape for 5 minutes from one class swinging off the ceilings and having chalk wars to another class of seemingly automatons with no voice capabilities installed, the small of fermenting pig excrement is enough to turn one's stomach. It hits you hard in those moments.
The gymnasium i'm at this week is typically Austrian; crisp white buildings with a bizarre range of bright, block colours in the windows obviously designed by an architect on magic mushrooms. This one is science specific- in other words, the students have the enthusiasm for languages of an empty packet of crisps and a half-eaten chocolate bar between them on a good day. Getting blood from a rock is an understatement.
Vocklabruck itself is a back-end-of-nowhere town where i and a collegue appeared to be a fascinating sideshow; in the same way if you walk around Baku people dash to have a gawk at these odd people speaking another tongue.
There's a rather scary caretaker whom i nicknamed 'Filch' due to his ability to leap out of dark corners, scream and vanish again, potentially to find a cane. His beady eyes are cushioned by rolls of fat and excess amounts of wiry hair, who had a habit of barging into classes, bellowing at the students and running away again. All he was missing was the cat.
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