My favourite film is Casablanca. Even if you haven’t seen it or know anything about it, you know some of the lines.
“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world…you had to walk into mine” or “this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship”. And a lot more that I don’t care to type.
And it is all just so cool. All the boys want to be Rick, and all the girls want to be a lady like Ilsa. The bar with the staff from all across Europe is endlessly interesting and funny and touching.
And Casablanca was Mos Eisley before Mos Eisley was a twinkle in George Lucas’s eye. It attracted the scum and villany from across Europe. There were desperate people ready to pay anything to get out.
At the minute, I feel like one of the refugees, stuck in Casablanca. Endlessly waiting, waiting, waiting for the exit visas they need to escape the war and get to America.
We are waiting for the schools we are interested in to get back to us and either offer us a job or tell us they aren’t interested in us. Our exit visas are contracts.
We have nothing to do. We are sitting in a big conference room with all the other refugees teachers looking for jobs. We are trying to entertain ourselves with facebook or endless cups of tea. We try to look pleased for people who get emails containing offers of jobs. But we hate them all.
Still we wait.