Angry Villagers

Unfortunately, I was sick again this week.  I haven't concluded whether I work with two of the most pestiferous children on earth, or I, in fact, have no immune system... the answer is still pending. This is the second time this month I have been sick with stomach/bowel region problems.  I won't go into all the lovely details >group sigh of relief<.  However, I can say with complete certainty, it's hasn't been pleasant.  

Normally, at the first sign of sickness, you can find me waiting in a doctor's office.  I am not a hypochondriac, but I believe in the least amount of suffering, thus trying to diagnosis and treat illnesses early.  However, I am not in my normal situation, and I lack the luxury to hop in Fernando the Hondo and zip over to my doctor.  Instead, I must go through the family who employees me.   I must explain to the mother of my ailments, when it began, my guess as to why it began, frequency, severity, etc. and hope that she is understanding the urgency.  

Yet I get the feeling Czech adults do things differently.  They believe in a more natural, doctor-free healing process.  Things like drinking tea and lying in bed all day.  

This is the second time I have been extremely ill with this family and wanted a doctor.  I voiced it this time, and I felt my initial request was shrugged off.  However, the youngest and I were both sick, although completely different illnesses, and the mom suggested I tag along to the pediatrician, and she could look at me too.  Granted, this was not ideal, but I agreed to it. 

The doctor's office was a bit provincial compared to U.S. standards having no equipment besides a white examination table.  Even the table was a bit crude, lacking adjustable features or nifty gadgets that pulled out, sprang up, or detached like American tables.  She "examined" the little one, listening to her heart and breathing.  She grabbed a tongue depressor and shined a light to the back of her throat.  Then, the doctor tossed the depressor onto a plate on her desk.  It was then I began frantically looking around the room for the overflowing jars of tongue depressors, cotton balls, gauze, and cotton swabs, which normally reside on the countertops.  However, I saw none, and my bacteria paranoia began. 

My turn was next, and I was panicking slightly.  Was she going to use the same tongue depressor on me? Does she have only a sole, wooden tongue depressor for all her patients? Am I going to be infected with some rare Czech disease from the saliva of previous patients? After listening to my heart and breathing, sure enough, she grabbed the same tongue depressor as she had used on Zdenicka.  With apprehension, I opened my mouth as she inserted the disgusting, unsanitary plank.  I should have bit down breaking it forcing her to use a new one on the next patients.  

After my perfunctory examination of her pushing on my stomach in different areas and me saying "owww" each time, she concluded her diagnosis and began spilling a lengthy report to Zdenka in Czech. I waited patiently, awkwardly, more concerned about the new diseases in which she lavished me with her popsicle stick, and waited for this interminable prognosis to end.  I was waiting, hoping, praying for the doctor to whip out her prescription pad and write me one for some antibiotics.  Instead, on a scarp piece of paper, she wrote the name of an over-the-counter drug and handed it to Zdenka. 

After thanking the doctor, we left and Zdenka began to tell me what the doctor said.  The following was the "professional medical" advice from the doctor.  I was to eat only dry food for the remainder of the week at five small meals per day.  The first day it should consist of bread and rice, sweet than salty, alternating each meal between sweet and salty.  I was to drink only mineral water and black tea all day, and 1/2 cup of peppermint tea, but only in the morning.  On the second day, I could have a banana and the third some chicken.  I was to rest and drink plenty of fluids.  The over-the-counter medicine,used to treat sour stomach and heartburn, was to be taken exactly one hour after eating.  Finally, I was to go into an empty field at 9:00 PM sharp during a half-moon, holding a lemon in my left hand and a clove of garlic in the other, I was to began spinning in circles and every fourth spin jump into the air exclaiming "Yupee!" (Czech equivalent to our "Hooray!") 

Okay, so the last part isn't exactly true, but these people didn't seem to understand I didn't need their hoodoo medical rituals, I needed a real examination with needles and discomfort.  I didn't have a mild case of indigestion from binging on chocolate, or have a sour stomach or a sodding case of heartburn! (I always use my same analogy.) It was as if I had swallowed an entire community of tiny angry villagers with pitchforks.  They were tromping around my intestines, brandishing their pitchforks and torches in upward motions, yelling "Kill the beast!" in something frightfully reminiscent of the scene in Beauty and the Beast when Gaston is rallying the villagers.  There was some gremlin if not Satan himself in my digestive tract ravaging it without mercy! I didn't need a half glass of peppermint tea. I needed antibiotics or a white blood cell count!

Perhaps, this is the flaw with the two systems, Czech and American, neither are wholistic methods.  American doctors, at least all of mine, are major pill pushers.  I can't count all the times I heard from a doctor, "I'm not sure what's wrong with you, it's probably viral.  But, I'm going to go ahead and put you on a round of antibiotics. If after it you aren't better after, come back in."  They are very eager to stuff a little pill down your throat, the quick and easy route, and usher you back to work.  No, no don't take in mind the long-term consequences of taking antibiotics and prescription pills for every little cough and sneeze.  Disregard the fact that  one's body might become immune to the antibiotics, and yet have no immunity to diseases and bacteria. Some might even wonder if American doctors are in cahoots with the drug corporations.  

On the other hand, the Czechs seem to be all about riding out the illnesses and the natural healing processes with herbal teas and rest.   Antibiotics and other prescription drugs seem to be the very last resort.  I also find this troubling considering significant damage can be done by letting illnesses go untreated and undiagnosed.  When I was raging with fever in Malaysia, even then, they seemed to believe I did not need a doctor, but simply more rest.  I find this excruciatingly annoying and potentially dangerous.

I know my body, and perhaps I didn't do a fantastic job at relaying the severity of my condition this past week, maybe I should have been more persistent.  I did magically recover this week by natural means, but I am still nervous that the demon is simply lying dormant until another time it can molest and plunder my internals!  There needs to be a medium between pill pushing medical tactics and complete finger-crossing, natural methods.  For now, I am simply hoping the parasitic varmint doesn't return to wreak havoc on my body and my apparently nonexistent immune system!

I Like Killing My Own Spiders

I teeter.  I teeter between loving and appreciating my independent state of singledom and feeling completely lonely and in need of a partner.  Life is slow here in Hluboka, which leaves numerous hours for thinking and getting lost in my own head.  Other hours are spent absorbed in movies where the characters find love and happiness along with some crucial life lessons in just two hours.

I was watching a movie the other day that utterly depressed me.  I intensely related with the character, empathized really.  She was a 30-something surrounded by a sea of married friends and other couples.  Unfortunately, she had absolutely no luck with men.  She was drowning in her own anxiety and fears of ending up alone, forever.  Her life became solely focused on her relationship status and her self-esteem was intertwined with this goal.

In the movie, she meets a man when she is least expecting it (riiiiight ...) They spend an amazing weekend together full of drama, passion, and lust.  Expectedly, circumstances force them apart because he must return to his own country (yep, he was foreign), and eventually, she decides to chase after him.  She goes to his country to find him, but through a series of mishaps, she can't.  However, she discovers some important life lessons from some people she encountered along her journey.  At the last minute before going back home, she sees him on the metro... happily ever after.   

 

Although, a decade younger than the character, I recognize the thirst she has.  Her intense desire to be with someone, to have someone, and have someone desire her, to have her, to need her.  I think there is something innate in all of us that longs for companionship and intimacy. For me there is an equal force that wants to be independent and not have to rely or answer to anyone.  

The other day I was speaking to my friend via Skype and we were discussing our perpetual singleness, when I noticed a spider scampering across my floor.  "Sssshit there's a spider! SEE! This is why I need a boyfriend, to kill my spiders for me!" I promptly jumped up, grabbing one of my high heels that had been strewn across the floor and smashed the little bastard with a swift and direct smash.  I heard my friend make a cringing "ewww" and the loud pop my heel made against the floor, and the obvious death of the spider. 

 

As I settled back to the computer, I had this realization.  I was glad nearly proud that I didn't scream, hop around waving my arms hysterically saying "Oh my god! A spider! HELP!"  I was more annoyed and repulsed by the spider's audacity to enter my room uninvited, unannounced, without baring any gifts.  

 "Wait, no... nooo, I like killing my own spiders!" I told him with resolve.  And that is the truth.  Not that I take some sadistic pleasure in killing insects, quite the opposite, but the fact that I can do it myself is the point.  I learned to deal with these situations out of necessity. As a result of my consistent single condition,  I can kill my own bugs, check my car's oil level, I know the difference between a flathead and Phillips head screwdriver, I can travel alone.  I have been able to grow as an individual rather than focused on being a couple and making that work.  

In there lies the dichotomy.  The gratitude and contentment of all that singledom helps cultivate: self-growth, self-reliance, self-love, individuality, and all of those other "self-" words. (feasibly even selfishness?)  On the other hand, longing for companionship, romance, love and intimacy and all those other things that are packaged with being an item.  I would be lying if I denied the yearning to be a "we" at some point.  I suppose the most important thing is, I have been an "I" for the crucial years of self-discovery and personal development.  I have been able to focus on who I am and what I really want to become.  I suppose I will continue to bounce between desiring a companion and loving the single life!  Luckily, at 23, I have plenty of time for it all!

Happy Birthday... to ME!!!

February 7, 2008- I am happy to report, my 23rd birthday was a major success! It all began on the 6th of February when the Grill family gave me a small party. It included: a cake, gifts, and dinner out, my choice.  It was super thoughtful and brought a tear to my eye, especially that radical smelling Versace perfume I have been lusting after the last two years. 

 

Recently, I had been feeling, not unappreciated that's not the exact word, but in need of some encouragement.  My communication with the parents is below par, and there is no structure to my job, often I get discouraged simply because I am not certain of their expectations of me are, and if I am doing what they want.  Therefore, my most cherished gift was a card that Zdenka wrote me thanking me for my help which she said is "perfect".  Also, she told me how happy they are with me and glad I am here.  These words were precisely what I needed to hear in this moment, as if it were orchestrated from her feminine intuition, sensing my need for recognition and appreciation.  It also made my heart warm to the family more, especially Zdenka because I know she was the one pulling the strings.

The following day, on my actual birthday, I boarded a bus at 16:45 that was heading to Prague.  Once in Prague, I navigated the metros to the train station where I bought my ticket, and asked the information man three different times if this particular train was going to Dresden and which platform I needed to be on.  Yes, I am an overly paranoid traveller, but in all fairness, the train's final destination said Basel, Switzerland, which is the exact opposite direction I needed.  (Apparently, the train split in Leipzig, Germany, one going to Basel and the other some German city. ) Plus, the arriving time of the train was different than what I had seen online. I ignored the irritation of the information man when I popped my head in for one last question.  

The train station was eerily empty and the only people lulling about were the many homeless people sleeping on benches.  Once I was on the platform, I asked another lady if this was the proper place for the train to Dresden, and I even asked one of the train controllers before boarding if this, in fact, WAS the train.  When I found a compartment containing only one guy, I joined, and then tried to ask him if this was the train going to Dresden. He couldn't understand me... magically, which made me a nervous.  Finally, when the controller came to check my ticket I asked him if I was on the right train, and if so, when would I arrive in Dresden.  He said, "Yes and it will arrive somewhere around 11." I was thinking, "Hey Bucko! I don't want vague figures here! When does anyone want generalized times when involving trains!? Never. Train systems are down to a very exact science!" Perhaps, my anxiety was palpable, because he smugly said after stamping my ticket, "I can check the exact time we arrive at Dresden main station, " Then he whipped out a handheld computer.  He flicked his eyes back at me giving me a grin that said to me, "Oh yeah... I'm a bad ass! You totally want me..." (Isn't it amazing how I can ramble about nothing for so many paragraphs. It truly is a genetic gift.  Next thing you know I will start writing what I got at the grocery store and how much grapes cost a kilo.)

At 22:45, the train pulled into Dresden hbf.  I was waiting by the door, ready to hop off the train tuck and roll style if I must, because I am that paranoid of a traveller.  I am not certain why I have so little confidence in my own traveling abilities? I have had no major complications in any of my journeys, perhaps my anxiety is slightly unwarranted.  All the same, I arrived and found André with his friend waiting... eagerly. For the first hour or so, André and I tortured his friend with reminiscing of Budapest, and only occasionally explaining who we were talking about. Poor guy! He was a super nice guy, too bad he had to sit through our conversation. 

We didn't go out this first night, and I was more than satisfied with this because traveling, especially being such a paranoid traveller, is tiresome.  We drank some wine and talked over my "Birthday Cake" André made me, which was actually a really delicious quiche, and a very sweet gesture.  I am not sure what time we went to bed, but it was a good night sleep in a exceptionally comfortable bed.  I woke up to André's smiling face, and somehow I managed to return a smile before burying my face in a pillow, even though my normal waking up reaction is a few grumbles, curses and evil glares. (I'm not such a morning person, you could say.) 

After some breakfast and the purchasing of a toothbrush for me, (yes, I managed to forget 3 of the most vital things at home: toothbrush, toothpaste, and face powder...) we struck out on the town.  Dresden is a city situated on the Elbe river and was once called the "Florence of the North".  However, on February 13, 1945 American and British planes dropped approximately 3,000 tons of explosives on the city killing an estimated 35,000 people.  After a mere 14 hours of attack, a city that had existed and flourished for centuries was destroyed.  

Unfortunately, I don't think Dresden was ever restored to it's original Baroque beauty, but that task is perhaps impossible, so much history and priceless artwork was lost.  Not to be misunderstood, it is still a lovely city, but there seems to be a lot of construction occurring, and I won't even go into the major punk scene they have.  André showed me August the Great's palace, a ruler apparently known for his Casanova-like ways, the Frauenkirche (Church of Our Lady) which was destroyed in the 1945 air raids and reconstruction only began in 1990, and finally a cafe where we vegged out for several hours.  I am such a cafe whore, I love them.  Then, we purchased some goods at the grocery and he/we/but mainly he prepared lasagna for dinner.  Ladies, he can cook, he's smart, he's cute, he's German, and an eligible bachelor!! And after dinner, we met two of his friends, Sebastian and Sebastian, at a pub called Mondfisch.  We hoppedto two other pubs before we called it a night.  Now, that I am an old lady of 23, I can't handle such long nights! 

The next day was a rendition of the first with some slight variations.  We ate breakfast at lunch time, and eventually made it out to do some sightseeing.  We took a long tram ride to the part north of the city, (north I think?) and then went to a site where you can overlook the city and the Elbe river, and it was very beautiful.  After that, we used the remaining daylight to see some interesting building facades that were colorful, artful, and modern! Very cool! 

I was in dire need of a Mexican food fix, so we ate at a Spanish/Mexican restaurant, which ended up serving as André's hell. Germany recently passed some new laws prohibiting smoking in public places like restaurants, bars, pubs, clubs, etc. except in designated and separated areas. At this restaurant, their non-smoking area was too small and crowded.  We were ushered to a two-person table beside a large party which had two babies and a little girl.  For the duration of our meal, there was one or two crying and screaming babies, a little girl standing dangerously close to our food, eyeing it and exclaiming, "I'm hungry!" in German.  Our server was friendly enough but she did a poor job at the actual serving part, forgetting my water until mid-way through my meal.  The food was no La Caretta nor Camino Real, but it helped the hand tremors.  André did not enjoy himself, and at one point said he felt like this was some evil, prophetic vision of himself in 10 years.... eating dinner at 5:30, screaming babies, whiney children, annoyed wife, and all the while trying to make the most of your night out. 

Our evening was far from over, so we headed back to André's flat to get ready for our night with yet another one of his friends (who knew he had so many!?!haha jk) Norman, or as some might say, Stormin' Norman.  The doorbell sounded and André forced me to open it.  >Open< "Hello." "Hallo!" Then, I was accosted with rapid German.  As it turns out, Stormin' Norman doesn't speak so much English.  The entire night he kept speaking German at me as if trying to prove it was some hoax and secretly, I was fluent in German. We were able to communicate in English enough for me to discover his interesting taste in music, such as Neil Diamond, Johnny Cash, The Beatles, and other old fogey American music ;-). 

After a very short visit to a pub called FlowerPower, which boasts 70s decor and music, we found ourselves Downtown, which turned out to be a club.  Finally, a place I could shake a leg.  In the main dance area, American pop as well as German pop boomed through the speakers.  Excitedly, Stormin' Norman stormed up to André and I beckoning us to follow him to the next room.  In the next area, Abba's "Dancing Queens" was blaring, and followed by Jon Bon Jovi's "It's My Life." I found myself dancing and belting out "It's now or never, I ain't gonna live forever!" with Norman.  André had made a quick and slick escape.  I am not sure what time we left but it was a fairly ridiculous hour I am certain.

As we walked home, we encountered three Spanish girls. Excitedly, I tried to speak my terrible and limited Spanish to one of them.  It was one of the most disheartening yet encouraging moments! Although, she seemed to understand me easily enough with my wretched broken Spanish, the moment she asked me a question, I became mush.  I understood nothing.  I caught maybe two words, but not enough to piece together what she was asking.   That part was extremely discouraging and simultaneously, made we want to learn Spanish all the more.  I asked her where her friends were from, she said "Alicante y Malaga" and I understood this AND know exactly where these cities are located.  As we parted, I yelled out "Encantada!" and she responded, "Igualmente!" ('Nice to meet you' and "Likewise") It was awesome! I must learn Spanish!

The remaining walk home, Stormin' Norman insisted on letting me hear some of his musical delights.  I put an earbud in my ear and walked awkwardly, head tilted, body leaning in on one side, very Igor-ish in attempts to keep the blasted earphone in my ear.  My arm and shoulder eventually started to hurt from holding it and walking so unnaturally.  Yet Norman insisted I "must hear it! sing to me!" He said, "You sing good." We tra-la-la-ed on down the road, singing "Brown Eyed Girl."  The next song, would come on and he would say, "Kansas!" I would repeat, "Kansas!?" thinking that it sounded absolutely nothing like the band Kansas.... next song, he exclaimed, "Kansas!?" to which I retorted, "Kansas!?! again?" Once again, another song and the exclamation, "Kansas!?" This continued all the way home, and I was baffled as to why he thought all of these songs were by the band Kansas!? The next day André explained he wasn't saying "Kansas" but "Kennst 'es?" which is slang for "Kennst du das?" which apparently means, "do you know?" SOOO, he was asking me if I knew the song, and I was saying every time "KANSAS, AGAIN!?" Ohhhh the joys of language barriers!

My last day in Dresden was perfectly uneventful.  We woke up once again at some absurdly inappropriate hour and ate breakfast when normal people were eating lunch.  We really had nothing planned and I had no strong opinions of what we should do. So, we ended up sitting outside near the train station, enjoying the lovely warm weather, being silent, or chatting.  My train left at 3:10 and I think both of us were a little happy to see me go.  I know how hard it is to host a person, always worrying if they are having fun and such.  

 

This introduces another topic.  I think sometimes I irritate the crap out of André with my passive personality.  André seems to respond really well to strong, demanding, decisive, opinionated, grab you by the throat or scrot to get what they want type of gal.  A woman who doesn't care who she inconveniences if she wants something, and she always wants something.  Basically, that's just not the type of person I am.  Sure, I have many strong feelings and opinions about a plethora of things, however, what bar or site we see just isn't one of them.  I don't think André comprehended that I didn't care what we did because I was just so happy to be away from Hluboka and hanging out with him, to me it truly didn't matter what we did. Plus, I was in Dresden mainly to see him not the city.  The city was just a pleasant perk. Sometimes, I get the feeling André thinks I am some mindless puppet who let's everyone be my puppeteer, and have no strong feelings of my own.  Perhaps, my culture is too polite and passive at times.  We (most Americans I know) are so concerned with not putting people out, we generally will go along with things rather than speak up as to not be rude.  In reality, I am somewhat that sassy, bossy, I want what I want when I want it girl, but I have learned to be flexible and roll with the punches.  Unfavorably, this is an area André and I butt heads a bit, seeing to the fact he is German and they are a more honest, out-spoken lot.  It does open my eyes to areas I need to be more assertive, and I respect André for calling me out on it a few times.

Finally, to finish up this snoozefest.  My two and a half hour train ride to Prague was spent talking to a boy named Daniel from Melbourne, Australia.  He was on his way to Budapest, and it was so great talking about Budapest like it was my child. I shared with him all the sites and things he must do whilst in my city.  

When I landed in Prague, I had a mere hour to get to the bus station.  I stood fumbling with the metro pass dispenser, staring at the poor descriptions of various types of tickets.  I had no clue which ticket I needed, and as I intently contemplated which one I would purchase, a person stepped into my peripheral, and I instinctively stepped aside, assuming they wanted to use the machine quickly.  As I side stepped, my eyes climbed their way to discover the most gorgeous man, who was in fact speaking to me. He was tall, light featured, exquisitely handsome.  He said something in Czech, followed by a "Do you speak Czech?" -"No"- "Do you speak English?" he asked. "Yes." I was a bit weary of him, but I stopped short of being rude because he was too tall, Arian and absolutely beautiful. "Do you want this ticket?" he said handing it to me.  With some trepidation, I accepted the ticket with a cocked brow, "How much?" I asked. "For nothing, For free. My sister just left," ( I thought about inserting, 'and your girlfriend just arrived!' but my tongue was on the ground..) "it's valid until..." he then reached for the ticket, our fingers brushing... >swoon< (it doesn't take much for me) "tomorrow at 3:00. So, you can have it if you want it."  A big smile spread across my face and I extended my hand (mentally I extended my whole body to him, "Take me! I'm yours" type deal).  "THHHANKS!" I exclaimed/drooled with my eyes fixated on his broad, toothy smile. Did I mention he was phenomenally good-looking? 

At this point, screw the metro pass! I could have just floated on a cloud of euphoria to the bus stop. He and I were on the same metro, but I didn't try and strike up a conversation, I mean how annoying would that be.  The poor bloke is simply trying to do a good deed, and gets stuck with some babbling brook of a girl.  Luckily, I ordered some self-control because he got off at the next stop. As he exited the metro and walked down the platform, I willed him to turn around so I could give him one last wave of gratitude, or my hand in marriage.  Surprisingly, he turned and waved and I eagerly waved back. Then, he smiled a big satisfied smile. The kind of smile developed after doing something completely selfless and good for someone else. I briefly considering stalking him, but decided against it.  It was a nice finishing touch to a really lovely weekend! 

A special thanks to my favorite Evilweiß- André K, Zdenka, and to the stunning, let's make babies, Metro ticket bestower, hottie! 

Hand Me My Cane, Get My Prunes, Don't Forget the Bengay® and for God's Sake, turn that music down!

◊Sigh◊  I am old.  23 years old to be exact, and I am loving it.  It dawned on me a few weeks ago how excited and content I am with "growing up." I am grateful for all the experiences I have been given, which have bestowed invaluable knowledge and better understanding of my fellow human, in particular my parents, and even more crucial, myself.  It is a bit astounding to think who I was and what I wanted five years ago or even three, and tremendous to see my own growth and depth as a person and how I have subtly transformed. It is highly satisfying.

All of this led me to an important premise.  WHY, please WHY do we all celebrate youth so much?? If getting older is so fantastic and fulfilling, then why do we worship youth or the youthful looking at the very least!? I think about all the money poured into looking youthful. Time for facials, pedicures, manicures, laser treatments, don't worry we can sand that off, cellulite is no problem- use this cream, let's slap some porcelain veneers over those corn-colored, cracked guys, this acid peel should take off your first few layers of epidermis and at least 8 years, don't worry we won't discover the true side effects and repercussions for another 20 years.  Don't forget the hair, let's put some highlights and go back with some lowlights to cover all the hideous gray, and while you are at it, how about a spray-on tan, there is no excuse for pasty, white skin, I don't care if it's February!  A little Botox® here for those laugh lines and crow's feet, some Resilin for those deflated lips, this magical syringe removes all varicose veins, just bite down on this leather strap,  a nip here, a tuck there,  s  t  r  e  t  c  h this on over, push those bad boys on up, we'll teach gravity a lesson,  and TA-DA! Endless hours of discomfort and effort later, not-to-mention thousands of dollars, the outcome is a 50-something year old woman perfectly preserved to look not a day over 40! 

When I use the pronoun "we" I mean women.  Yes, it seems cosmetic upkeep has recently become more popular with men, but overall it's a woman's sport.  I can't say that I don't understand the enormous social pressure our culture places on women's shoulders to maintain appearance, nor the "need" or desire to stay beautiful in our world where "beauty" is a misnomer for "youth".  It's ironic that the confidence women search for throughout their youth and early adulthood is generally found in mid-life when women have passed their physical peak.  So, I do understand how incredible it would be to be able to possess both the beauty of their youth and the confidence, wisdom, and knowledge of being older.  I guess it is the classic female desire of wanting it all, especially what we can't have.

I digress.  I guess my main point is that I have made the realization that what I really want out of life is inner peace, acceptance and love of myself, which hopefully would flourish into self-confidence.  Therefore, this is a big goal of mine for 2008 and my 23rd year.  Learning how to love, appreciate, and accept myself just as I am in each moment of life.  This doesn't mean I will become a stagnate person and stop trying to improve in all facets, but understanding beauty is ephemeral, and self-love, respect, and confidence are enduring. 

For Lance :-)

It dawned on me this weekend that it has been 1 year and 1 week since I arrived in Budapest.  It's amazing how time goes so quickly, and memories become fainter and some even fade entirely. Tonight I was particularly reminded of some of the not fantastic times I had in BP, especially those first few days. 

I just read my friend Lance's blog.  He is studying Poland this semester and just arrived this past weekend.  My heart broke for him as I read about the difficulties mentally, physically, and emotionally he is facing.  It made me recall my first few days in Budapest, and being in such a similar situation; sick, sad beyond words, disappointed and ready to catch the next flight home.  I know too well the feeling of holding back tears while talking to your parents on the phone, and desperately questioning why I had chosen to do a study abroad away from everything I knew and loved. 

Originally, I was going to write Lance an email of encouragement and advice, but then, I started thinking. If Lance is experiencing exactly what I experienced, than surely, many people who go on exchange experience the exact same problems. We are not alone, I know this for certain.  So, I decided to make Lance's note of inspiration public.

Dear Lance,

I know what you are going through, I truly do.  My first two days, I was so broken down and disillusioned that all I could imagine doing was going home, and it was all I could muster to get out of bed.  I remember burying my face deep in the hostel pillow to cry, sob more like,  trying not to wake up my roommate. Later, I talked to my parents, painfully holding back the tears (that strange knotty pain in the back of the throat when trying not to cry? You know this pain?) and wanting to book a flight home the next day.  I had that wretched feeling of desperation and disappointment.  I thought as you did, "What the hell have I gotten myself into?" 

Within three days, my opinion was already starting to change.  I saw more of the city, I started to meet people, and I wasn't perpetually lost.  I magically began enjoying myself and within a week, I was loving it.  In fact, I bet you are already starting to enjoy yourself more by the time you read this! There will be moments throughout the semester where you miss everything at home, but that's natural.  Mainly, you will wish the semester could last forever! Hang in the there, the worst part is over!

Some last advice:

- Push yourself to be extra social.  For the first few weeks, go out even in times you rather stay in and rest or be alone.  Make your face seen and name heard, this way everyone will remember to always call you and let you know the plans (even if you choose not to participate you will still feel in the loop)! Also, get a phone as soon as possible and start gathering people's numbers.  Friends will be crucial to make this experience all it can be, and help you through those moments you miss home. Plus, the people you get lost with in foreign countries, laugh with on long train trips and create endless memories.

-Travel soon and travel often.  The biggest challenge of traveling is deciding you are going to do it, not just theoretical plans.  After you do it once, you will gain the confidence you need to do it whenever you want.  So, travel early this way you don't procrastinate and end up in April having only seen a few things you wanted, or worse get home to the U.S. and lament all the places you missed seeing.  

-Take more photographs than seems necessary. Try and bring your camera where ever you go and don't be deterred by people's stares when you photograph a trash can, if that's your desire.  Photograph anything and everything, even the little details .  It seems silly but otherwise you go home and think, "Why didn't I photograph that restaurant I ate at every week? Or the bridge I crossed every day!?"  

- Lastly, expect setbacks and plans to go awry, it is absolutely certain to happen.  You will experience many frustrating (small and large) obstacles and misfortunes, especially while traveling.  Don't be timid to ask questions or to use all of your resources.  Never feel stupid for double checking, triple checking, and have no regard for the workers in the information center that you might be annoying.  It's their job to help! 

Lance, you are in for a treat! I know it is hard to see past the tough start you have had, but things will get better!  My motto is, "All great and rewarding adventures begin and end with a hearty cry."  I hope by the time you read this you will be feeling 110% better about your situation! 

And for anyone else studying abroad, know that it will be the absolute time of your life, but you do have to put some effort into it. You can't expect everything and everyone to place all the opportunities in your lap.  You must seek them out, and be diligent! You can make life long friendships and memories, and that makes all the effort more than worth it!

Improvement

I recently concluded that I am a poor blogger.  Somehow, I have always had the notion in my head that each blog has to be exciting, poignant, and profound. This might explain the scarcity of my blogs. Clearly, not every day  is so enlightening, but that is no reason to not talk about it.  After all, this is my life.  Yes, often boring and humdrum, but there are always plenty of things to share, seeing as each day presents new challenges and lessons. Therefore, I will try and blog more frequently.

    

 The most pressing news is a recent discovery that I am actually starting to enjoy and appreciate the girls.  Sounds bad, right? Over 3 months into it, and I am just now beginning to fancy these little creatures.  Initially (and until a few weeks ago, to be honest), it was all I could manage to tolerate the girls.  I went through a cycle each week.  

    

 At the beginning of the week, I was a bit refreshed from the weekend, and only mildly dreaded drudging up the muddy forest floor to retrieve them.  By mid week, my patience would be bordering nonexistent, and I am sure they could sense the disdain and scorn emanating from my forced smile.  I patrolled the clock, anxiously awaiting the parents return at 5 P.M.  I would play and entertain them minimally, and because I had such a disliking of them, I found ways to evade having to interact with them. I was really becoming an atrocious and insensitive au pair.  

     

 In my own defense, they weren't pleasant to deal with.  The oldest mouthed off and possessed the attitude of a 32-year-old woman from New Jersey, minus the long, press-on nails, tight polyester outfits, and sharp, nasal accent.  Her disrespectful often spiteful attitude made me forget she was only a 6-year-old Czech girl.  In the rarest of moments, when every single aspect was to her liking, she could be surprisingly sweet and thoughtful.  

     

 The younger one as I mentioned in the past has a more loving and affectionate nature.  When she is sleepy she finds the nearest head of hair stroking it and twirling it between her fingers while sucking her thumb. Yet, she is dramatic and stubborn.  I could tolerate her more mainly because she hasn't acquired the vocabulary to verbally abuse me, except to say "You're not my mom!" to which I always replied, "Thank God!" Instead, she acts out in other ways, throwing things, hitting, crying, not obeying in the least. Obedience and discipline are two words I believe the children have never heard uttered in Czech, English or any other tongue, until a few weeks ago.  

     

 About two weeks prior, I was questioning how on earth I was going to survive until summer, which is when I plan to leave.  My brilliant mother suggested I develop some sort of reward system, since discipline didn't seem to be much of an option.  I had tossed this idea around before she even mentioned, but dismissed it because I thought the girls wouldn't care due to the fact they get most things they want regardless.  

 

 Despite my trepidation, two weeks ago, I made a chart with 5 words: Obedient, Respectful, Helpful, Kind, and Politeness.  According to my friend who teaches at the school, Fina is familiar with this sort of system because they do it in school.  I explained to Fina that she had to get 5 stars to get a "prize".  I promptly had to define that is was a "prize" and not a "present".  I told her she had to earn the prize, and I would only warn her a few times before I took one of her stars away for the day if she was misbehaving.  She seemed excited about it. I sense she is a goal-oriented person, and having something tangible, not just praise, suits her personality better. I have been told she is an excellent student and very bright for her age.  

 

 I had to ask for Fina's help to translate the new concept to Zdeni.  With arms crossed over my chest in an authoritative stance, I narrowed my eyes and had a slight grin, mainly because I had a 6-year-old translating. for me  As Fina explained, Zdenicka's eyes darted from Fina to myself, back and forth, and I would give her a nod as if I agreed with everything Fina was describing, not that I had any clue what she was actually saying.  I knew that she probably didn't understand fully, but she would learn quickly by example.

 The wildest thing is it actually worked! The girls behavior transformed nearly overnight.  Granted, I think neither is absorbing the concept of why they should be respectful, kind, polite, helpful, and obedient other than the fact that some trinket or goodie awaits them after dinner.  So far, I haven't taken any stars away and every night they have earned their prize. 

  Tonight, ironically, (I started this blog in the afternoon) I gave Fina her prize, which was a package of Hairbo gummie candies.  Instantly upon seeing the candy, she became deflated, saying "These again!?" through gritted teeth, even though I had never given them before.  Sulking, she turned and headed for the stairs not even taking the prize.  I was offended and angry, but mostly terrified that already the system was failing. My brain was screaming "Error! Error! Error!"  I coaxed her to come back to me and I squatted down and looked her in the eyes. (Some tip I remembered from SuperNanny how kids respond better if you go down to their level.)  I told her it made me sad she didn't like the prize and explained that she couldn't have big prizes every time.  I told her I would try and get something different, not candy.  Zdenicka, on the other hand, started jumping up and down with excitement, which is typical, she is easy to please. 

 Tomorrow, there will be a revision of the system and I will definitely be talking to Fina again.   I must explain to her if she is going to act like that then we will stop the prize system altogether! (oh god, please no no no!) I am hoping she will understand and reform her ways quickly. Maybe 'grateful' will be added to the chart as well?