Eva Trout, school, more pseudo-drizzle and poor German skills

"By habit, she looked round the room she sat in. Anything she could do to it had been done; what it could do to her seemed without limit."
One of the books I found at the thrift store is Eva Trout, the last book by Elizabeth Bowen. (That's her, holding court in the room full of serious girls, above.) I have never heard of either of them. She (either, both) is British, and has quite a tight and pointy sense of humor. The book is so different from anything I've read recently that I'm enjoying it highly. (Diane or Don, have you heard of or read her? Seems like something you might like. Of course, I'm only 3 chapters in.)
I've just been doing some reading about her, and she seems like a very interesting woman; she had a 32-year affair (mostly in letters) with a Canadian diplomat, most of which time she was married, and then the last part of which time he was (to his cousin). I know you don't come here for this but here's one more picture of her, and a link to a very interesting article in the Guardian in case you want to learn more.
Today I had a meeting with the director of the Schola Cantorum, which has been a while in coming. I was able to get my student identification card, so tomorrow I can start the process of receiving a Visa. It looks like getting a Masters degree will take 2.5 years to complete, which I knew; the Schola has created a course that runs throughout the normal two years and encompasses theory, ear training, and I think a bit of history, though it wasn't exactly clear. As the course has been specially designed, it isn't possible for me to begin this semester with classes. Therefore I will begin those in the fall. This semester, meanwhile, I will take lessons, and... well... it has been suggested that many students are doing their final recitals, and as the only other bass player at the school is among those preparing to graduate, I will (apparently) be in high demand. I'm not exactly sure how people are going to know that I'm here, though. There is no organized orchestra (I was told that it is impossible - for reasons not entirely understood - to schedule weekly rehearsals) or other school-run ensembles. I'll have to start hanging around school more, I guess. Skulking? Wearing some kind of sign? These options don't seem good. As soon as my lessons begin (next week?) I will feel more comfortable on the grounds of the school, and less like some kind of interloper.
The other thing I need for school is my original high school diploma. There was some confusion, in my own head at least, because in German-speaking countries university is called "Hochschule" - which translates to High School - and so I brought copies of my UCSB diploma. Unacceptable, apparently. Alas. Someone will have to go digging around in my Castro Valley storage unit... Dori?...


Also, I made the rounds today to the two printshops I've found out about; first, at the Papiermühle, I met the printer (Andreas) and gave him my information, with the hope of maybe giving tours in English, or doing some other kind of jobs around the place. It was great to be there during the week; it was populated entirely by jovial old men in aprons. Andreas is probably in his mid- or late 30s, and was the youngest by far. Everyone was making things, using the equipment. I was smart enough to bring close to nothing of my own work to Switzerland (the decision making process was not-not-random, in those last days before I came here; I'll remember that I was under duress) and so had nothing to leave behind. Any business cards would have the wrong number on them anyway. I should print new ones! If only I had a business card to show... good lord.

These pictures were taken last night out the glass doors that lead onto the balcony, overlooking the courtyard made up of mine and about 10 other buildings; there was this bat, flying solo, darting and zooming all over. It was there for longer than I could even stand to watch it, which was quite a while. (My arms got tired - several times - holding the camera up against the glass, trying to get a decent shot. The bat was going pretty damn fast.)
At some point, I noticed someone else watching the show:
Check that top-story balcony on the right. The owner has put up some netting, but do you think the cat would really try to leap from the 4th floor? Oh well, I understand feeling overprotective of our pets.
Meanwhile, inside, I was doing some gluing.