First Impressions: Bratislava

     I'm going to admit something. I've kind of been avoiding writing this post, for a couple reasons. First of all, I don't have pictures yet of everything I'm going to talk about, and if I had pictures, I wouldn't need to write anything at all. But today was my first day at the school, and I feel that this story needs to be told with some semblance of chronology. Secondly, I'm not really sure how I feel about Bratislava yet, and attempting to put it down on screen was a little intimidating. But it also could be liberating. So settle in. Get some tea or coffee and some chocolate. This could take a while. 
     My plane approached Vienna through a cloud. There was so much fog, that we watched another plane disappear within seconds after taking off. It was a balmy 40 degrees or so, and for the first time in months I wasn't in danger of catching hypothermia within minutes of going outside. Border Patrol was a breeze, and my suitcase was one of the first batch out onto the carousel. As I headed through Customs, I tried to recreate a mental picture of the man I had seen only very briefly on Skype nearly a month before: the principal of the school, and the one picking me up. We found each other relatively quickly and he introduced both himself and his 6 year old son, who told me he felt happy. And sleepy, he added later.
     The car ride through the subdued grey of the outskirts of Vienna and the far eastern countryside of Austria was beautiful. It looked exactly how I imagined modern, small-town Europe would look. There were new buildings, some very modern and shiny, others very referential to the history of the area. The streets were narrow and windy, occasionally threading themselves under old gates and along former city defenses. Poplar trees lined the road, and eerily reminded me of Dachau. But then, all of the sudden, Dusan pointed to the left and said "There's Bratislava Castle."
     And there it was. We were still in Austria, but the castle was right there, perched on top of the hill looking very forboding and fortress-y, but also welcoming; an ironic contrast, I know, but one that would prove to pop up again. Crossing the border was as easy as crossing from Minnesota into Wisconsin. There wasn't even a sign. We did pass some scary looking buildings, but other than that, the only reason I knew we were someplace else was that the language on the signs had switched from German to Slovak.
     Immediately after crossing the border, we were in Bratislava, or at least a suburb of Bratislava. They aren't joking when they say the city borders two countries. It actually borders two countries. You leave Bratislava to the west? Austria. Leaving to the south? Hungary. Mind just a little bit blown. Anyway, we drove through a compound of what Dusan called Commie Condos- big, concrete blocks painted with oddly chosen colors and strewn about like a pile of blocks that's just been knocked over. It was really ugly. And this is where I was going to live. And indeed, we eventually pulled up to one of the blocks, this one with grey and yellow, and hauled my suitcases inside, through the decrepit looking lobby area, into the miniscule elevator, and up to the fifth floor where I was welcomed by both my flatmates.
     The flat itself is actually very nice. We each have our own bedroom, painted by the former occupants who were apparently pre-teen girls judging by the brightness of the color palate they chose. There's a good size living room, very usable dining room table in the entry, and a kitchen that's not absurdly small. Bonus: there is also a balcony off the kitchen. The WC and bathroom are tiny, but how much time should you really spend in there anyway?
     My first excursion was to a Slovak restaurant, where I had halusky- the national dish of Slovakia, and basically the most filling version of macaroni and cheese you can imagine. It was delicious. We then headed to a wine tasting at a bookstore. Unlike wine tastings in the States, there was nothing to spit the wine into, so sampling 12 or 13 types of wine was quite the undertaking. I cut myself off after about three quarter-glasses, and finished off the evening with peppermint tea and water, a much better companion to my jet lag. I met some very nice people, all of them teachers/staff at the school, although if you asked me now what any of their names were, I would not be able to tell you. We left, around 11, as I was about to fall asleep in my chair, and wandered back around quiet little streets before reaching the bus stop which is located on a main drag. And that was ugly too. Maybe it was the dark, or my sleepiness, but at that moment I was severely disappointed with Bratislava.
     However, the next day, after a good night's sleep and the first real, non-airplane food I'd eaten in at least 24 hours, we went back to the main part of town, this time to the Old Town proper. And it was gorgeous. The alleys were properly cobblestoned and winding, with towers and palaces at the ends of them. The buildings were ornate, but not overstated, elegant, but not snobby. It was whimsical, with funny statues of bears and men in three cornered hats leaning over the backs of benches. It's all a pedestrian zone, which is very appealing, and you can see the castle from almost anywhere. And, it's not overrun with tourists and gaudy signs advertising the best Irish pub, like other cities I could mention. I was absolutely enchanted.
     So that's the irony of Bratislava. It's both one of the most lovely places I've ever been, and one of the ugliest. It's old and charming, new and dilapidated. The juxtaposition of the 30 year old crumblings of a failed Communist state, and the majestic pink palace breaks my heart a little bit. Who in their right minds could be so blind as to let a city as beautiful as Bratislava seems to have once been become a mess of concrete blocks? Who thought it would be a good idea to wipe away such a rich history and cover it in cement? I just don't understand.
     In any case, I'm still torn. Peterzalka, the area where I live, is growing on me a little. Now that I've walked around it a bit, it's much less intimidating. Our balcony looks out over a long green lawn, and just on the far side of the next building is a canal with walking paths on both sides. It's not my forest wonderland of Havlickovy Sady, but for now, it might just be enough. Also, it snowed today, and everything looks better with a little dusting of white.

In Transit

     I'm on my way! After leaving my house around 9:15 Thursday morning, I had an uneventful (short) flight to Chicago, and an uneventful (long) flight to London, which is where I am right now, waiting for my plane to Vienna. It's 8:15am here, but in my head it's 2:15, so forgive any nonsense I may put down, I'm a little out of it.
     My last few weeks in Minneapolis were wonderful. Knowing where I was going next definitely made a difference in my mood. I don't like being in limbo, but I'm learning how to deal. I'm ready for things to happen though. I am nervous about this job; I don't know how to be a teacher, and just because I'm an English major with a pretty solid writing background, doesn't mean I'll be able to effectively impart that to eager (or not-so-eager) young minds. But being scared is better than being bored. That's been my mantra, and it's gotten me through some moments of pretty strong doubt. Something my grandfather said really stuck with me as well. When he was 19, newly graduated from college and heading out to an assignment with the Navy, he was nervous about not being able to do what they needed him to do. But then he thought, "Someone gave me a diploma. Someone hired me to do this job. They wouldn't have done that if they didn't think I was capable enough to handle it. So if they're confident in me, I should be too." (Those may not have been his exact thoughts. But you get the idea.)
     The school hired me to do this job, knowing my background, knowing that I'm going to be learning just as much- or more- as I'll be teaching. They know that, and they want me anyway. So, yes, I am nervous. But that's not going to stop me.
     The only real hiccup in the whole process came right at the 11th hour. After zipping my gigantic suitcase shut, full of clothes, and other necessary items, I thought I had forgotten my glasses in the purse I had tucked into the bag (I was wrong, in fact. They were already in my carry on purse.), and needed to open it up to get them out. Only, the zipper wouldn't unzip! I tugged, and Sonja tugged, my mom tugged, and my dad got some tools from the workroom to try and force the thing open. Nothing doing. So Daddy cut it open while Mom and I went to Target, and bought a new suitcase 12 hours before leaving. It was such a stupid problem that it completely took my mind off my nerves. I don't know what I would have done if I got to Bratislava and realized my suitcase wouldn't open. I doesn't even bear thinking about.
     I'm running out of free Wifi, so I should wrap this up. 5 hours from now, I should be in Vienna, maybe even on my way to Bratislava. It's absolutely insane, but completely amazing that this is happening to me. I feel so incredibly lucky. I have some thoughts about what this kind of lifestyle means for people my age, but that's going to have to wait.
     Thank you all for your thoughts and prayers; I would never have gotten here without your love and support.

Arms Outstretched

    Happy 2014! 2013 was a year I will never forget. It began with hearing about the death of a dear friend, included a job I loved, an incredible adventure overseas, huge decisions about how I wanted to live my life, old and new friends, and the loss of both my beloved cat and grandfather. It took me on an emotional roller coaster. It scared, touched, moved, spun, and challenged me. I said goodbye to my kids at Sullivan, with a heart full of love for their eagerness, affection, and appreciation. I left for Prague in August with stars in my eyes. I came home at the end of October, without any idea what the rest of the year was going to look like, much less what I was going to do once the calendars were switched out.
     But that's not entirely true anymore. God's timing has come through yet again. In the middle of December, right when I was starting to think that my goal of going back overseas in January was unachievable, I spoke to a woman from my church who was hosting an exchange student from Bratislava, Slovakia. She said the school in Bratislava (a sister school of Minnehaha Academy here in the Cities) was looking for English teachers. Native English teachers with a degree- no teaching license necessary. So after talking to the student, I decided to contact the school about any possible job openings. About a week and a half later, I had an interview with the head of the English department who said she would like to set something up with the principal. At that interview, the questions about my experience and thoughts on teaching turned into questions like: This is how much we would be paying you. Would that be all right? And: You'd be sharing a flat with a couple other American teachers. Does that sound acceptable? And, finally: Would it be possible for you to get here on the 24th or 25th of January? All of the sudden, I had a job!
     I'm going to be a high school English teacher at a private high school in Bratislava. They already have a literature teacher, so my focus will be primarily on writing. Both people I talked to assured me that the school and the other teachers would help me through my learning curve, never having taught either high schoolers or writing before. I'm going to need lots of guidance, but I'm very excited.
     Bratislava itself, while not one of the blockbuster European cities, still has a lot to offer. In many ways I think it will be a better fit for me and my lifestyle than Prague was. It's small, the population is less than 500,000, and much of the city was rebuilt under Communism, so it doesn't have as much historic charm as other cities might. But I think that's ok. Prague was intimidating, full of so many people that I felt anonymous. There were so many tourists around all the time that it sometimes distracted me from my real life, and made me feel more like a visitor. Bratislava seems less intimidating. I've heard there are lots of nice restaurants and cafes in the old town, there's a castle on the hill, a notable, if not stellar arts scene, a UFO bridge, and a university. It is not the city with the highest beer consumption per capita in the world. It's about an hour to Vienna, less than 3 to Budapest, and less than 5 to Prague. There are mountains and rivers providing numerous opportunities for exploration.
     No, it's not Prague. It's not Paris or Berlin or Rome. But Minneapolis isn't New York, Chicago, or LA, and I love it here. It's home. Obviously, with my not having been there yet, I cannot say whether or not Bratislava will feel more like home to me than Prague did. But after my experiences in Prague, and knowing what I do about Bratislava, I think it has a chance.
     I'm leaving in less than three weeks, and it still hasn't sunken in that I'm really going. Every so often, I'll have a moment of panic where it all comes together in a blinding moment that all this is actually happening, but then I realize, like I did before going to Prague, that it's all right to be scared. It's all right to feel like I don't have a clue. Because I'm going to learn. I'm going to experience new things. I'm pushing away from the dock and leaving the breakwater behind me. It's times like this when I need to remind myself I'm not sailing this ship by myself. I have some of the greatest crew anyone could ask for. So I'll go. I'm ready. Ready to once again throw myself into the world and let the wind carry me across the ocean. I am so excited.