Back in the Sadle again

With this, my 8th time moving into a room where I will live for one year, I think I have almost perfected my packing skills. I remembered all my important addresses, recipes, nail clippers, music and only forgot three things I wanted to bring: chocolate chips for cookies, mosquito net for safe sleeping, and socks- only one of these things being terribly important. Imagine my dismay upon landing in a climate 15-20 degrees cooler than what I am used to and finding I had forgotten to pack any socks.

En route to my great-grandmother land, I enjoyed a detour from my pilgrimage in the very natural, clean, and charming Switzerland. I had a five hour layover in Zürich where I hopped a train into the city and hit the hottest architectural spots along the river. I must admit, I was quite scared of doing this because I had no idea where I was going and my German, to spite my 6 months of study, is pooh. So I took advantage of a young black gentleman who tried to pick me up in what I believe was an attempt to have a token white girl for the day. The situation went something like this: I am looking for the train station; he walks by and says “Hello.” I say nothing (but I do admit to smiling, a terrible habit I cannot control). Then he approaches me, says “hello” again, and when I don't respond, he starts to talk to me in German. So I say “hello” in English and he asks me “how long are you in Zürich?” I say while walking away, “not long, just a few hours.” He says “you can’t stay longer?” I say “no.” well, actually I kind of laughed it. He says “You can’t stay a day for me?” and I say “No, but can you tell me how I get to the city from here?” So he gave me directions, helped me buy a ticket, wished me a good trip, and left me alone. Strange man.

Landing in Poland later that afternoon, I found her exactly as I left her. Mike, Ania, and Kris picked me up from the airport and along with others such as Monika and Irina, I am being lovingly watched after. I shouldn't be surprised because my brain knows myself, and yet, I am shocked. To spite all the stressing I did over returning to Poland, it is how I said it would be: I am glad to be back and it feels as if I never left. The sun still shines in my south window, I still get headaches from days spent in Warsaw, and my feet have remembered which steps and sidewalk slates not to trip over.

Mike said I am a little different this time, and that you can see it in my eyes. I think he called it the look of experience and something calmer. I am not sure. Maybe it is just because this time I am not running with fire behind me. Everyone has agreed though that my Polish has improved.

Auditions at the Academy are September 26 and after that, what will be, will be. If I pass and if I can get this visa, the first thing I will do is buy a carpet for my room. It don’t take much to make me happy: a little carpet, being able to breath through my nose, (something I can achieve in allergy-free Poland) the beauty of low-maintenance.

It's Sunday in Poland, which means the streets in my neighborhood resemble the boardwalk at the Jersey Shore with mobs of people coming at you stuffing their faces with ice cream in an post-church sort of celebration.