the id, the ego, & the single misfiring brain cell

I'm in Latina for a one-week course in frequency management.

You can't learn frequency management in one week. What I'm saying is that this course is designed not as a basics course, but as a review for people who have already worked in this area, who have had trigonometry and electrical engineering courses and who remember what they studied when they did. 

This fact did not keep us from basically taking a vacation day--today--in Rome, however. Oh, it was couched in "a site visit," but the main point was to give us a day to slack and enjoy a "cultural tour"--or as Rene put it, "themed drinking."

Rene is a new friend of mine. He's a captain in the Dutch army, and is remarkably snarky. I liked him instantly.

But first, let me comment about air conditioning.

As I understand it, "air conditioning" is a function whereby air is cooled. At this point, I'm imagining that they might even spray a bit of euchalyptus into the mechanism to increase the enjoyment and the sensation of ease and--how you say?--non-heat. Air conditioning is The Anti-Calorie.

That's probably just a narrow-minded, arrogant American view of a complex issue, though.

When I first got to Ferrara (and for three to four weeks after), by the way, the air conditioner in our office did not work. It was routinely 35 - 40C with about 60%+ humidity and no breeze. We called the Italian civil engineers and they promised they'd come fix it next week.

As it turns out, "next week" is a euphemism for "go to hell."

Being the responsible (and American, and therefore constantly overheated) branch chief that I was, I quickly took it up my chain of command, which brought out the CE guys, who spent a while inspecting and troubleshooting after which they announced that they would fix it "Monday." Mmmmmmhm. Apparently (I learned after they left), they'd already been paged and had troubleshot the problem twice before, and I wasn't to get my hopes up.

This was a delicate situation. We're there at the pleasure of the host nation, so we can't exactly call the Italian CE guys on the carpet. Some tact was called for. Unfortunately, they were stuck with me. I cornered them. The lead guy said their own air conditioner was on the blink.

This was serious. I mean, you are roasting alive and you are the expert. Just...how...uh. I mean. Erm. JUST HOW LAZY CAN YOU BE?!

I don't remember how we got it fixed, exactly. Prayer may have been involved. I know there was the gnashing of teeth.

Cut to this week.

I'd reserved a room in a three-star hotel* here in Latina (because the decent pads were taken) that promised air conditioning (among other things). There was no air conditioning, of course. The fan runs, so it makes a noise that might make you think you're cooler if you're braindead.

* The Maggiara Rose Hotel. Avoid.

Monday night, I go down and tell the clerk that I have no air conditioning. He makes a face and says, "No!" like he's all surprised and offended. I say, "Yes!" He comes up to check. He looks at the thermostat settings and...I've set them correctly. He stands on a chair and checks for air flow from the vent. Hint: If you have to stand on a chair and put your hand on the vent and wait, the AC isn't working. This is not rocket science.

He apologizes and suggests I open my window. I point out that it's already open a little and if I open it farther, Italy has mosquitoes the size of hummingbirds and I'm prime bait. He shrugs and leaves. When the sun sets, the temp dips enough to sleep.

Tuesday evening, I come home having been promised that the AC will have been fixed. It is, indeed, cool in the lobby. I come up to my room, all hopeful, and...lord, it's a sauna.

I go back and politely ask that they fix my air conditioner. The clerk says--and I'm not exaggerating--"It's working!"

ME: No, it isn't.

HIM: Yes it is. The whole hotel was having problems yesterday, but it's fixed.

ME: Except for my room.

HIM: It's working.

OK. I suggest he go check it. He goes up then comes back down. He says I had my thermostat (fan) set on I instead of III, so the room wasn't cooling off.

I got the feeling that I was speaking with the Level One Helpdesk of an internet provider that's only equipped to ensure I remembered to turn the electricity on before attempting to connect to the internet.

ME: I've been in there two hours. I don't think the fan is the problem.

HIM: Give it time.

Just in case, he gave me a key to unlock the window* just in case I needed to get some emergency coolness. I left for dinner, came back late, and it was cool enough to sleep--but not air conditioned by any stretch.

* The window is a typical European sort. It has no screen and if you turn the handle 90 degrees, it should open like a car door. If you turn the handle 180 degrees, the top will pop inward to let in fresh air. In the down position, the window should lock. Mine was stuck in the top-popping-out position regardless of what I did. The clerk insisted my window was locked and all I needed was the key and it would work correctly.

This morning, I was fetching a capuccino when one of the young ladies (different person!) who handle the front desk in the mornings came over to me and asked for the window key back.

ME: It's in my window in my room. The lock is jammed. The window doesn't work, either.

HER: I'll call someone and have the lock repaired today.

ME: Can you just get the air conditioner working, please?

HER: It does work!

Wot.

These people are arguing with me about whether my air conditioner in my room works. I've been in the room. The first even checked my settings (just in case I, in all my American stupidity, had no idea how to get the AC on), and found that I was doing it right. Yet they both insist that my AC is working even while I stand there sweating in their presence.

For this young lady, I said, "Look. It can be 20(C) degrees outside and my room will easily be 28. Don't tell me the AC is working. It isn't."

She makes a horrified face and walks off.

So I go for my obligatory tour of Rome today with my classmates of various nations. The Italian military bus we're traveling in has neither AC nor windows that can be opened to admit a breeze. I was about sick by the time we got to Rome, then we sat on the same bus in the heat all the way back to Latina, where I was dumped at my hotel where my room (surprise!) still isn't air conditioned. And the window still doesn't open.

Izmir is so far better. Turks may take their time doing things, but at least they do them.