I needed this trip to be transcendent, to make
up for all the procrastinating I’ve done since college and to distract me from
all the awfulness that has been filling my life since then.
I needed this trip to be transcendent to
compensate for all the things I’ve given up to make this move possible.
I needed this trip to be transcendent so I
could rub it in the faces of all the people who told me I couldn’t do it and
that I was crazy to even try.
So imagine my surprise when I walked through
the door of my new “home,” bracing for the worst and saw a truly amazing
apartment. 1 bedroom, 1.5 bath, kitchen, balcony, washing machine, stove, oven,
pots and pans and cutlery all slightly dusty but waiting to be used! By me! For
those of you who remember the disaster that was the last apartment I blindly
took as a part of a teaching job, you’ll understand why this was such a big
deal. And it had internet. Surprisingly fast internet. Possibly even better
than my internet at home. And the lovely man (let’s call him H) who had so
promptly and perkily picked me up at the airport would be returning in a few
hours to show me my new school and to bring me a phone. I was hopeful (and you
know me, I’m never hopeful).
But then…
H was an hour and a half late to meet me. I
know I have to get used to the chronic lateness as it is cultural, but I’m a
little bit German and thus, every time someone is over an hour late, I want to
punch them in the face. Luckily, I was able to distract myself with indecision
and self loathing. I spent that hour and a half trying to force myself to get
over the debilitating fear of going out alone, so that I could get some food.
This made me physically ill. And incredibly pathetic.
But then…
Just as I had finally worked up the courage to
open the door and then hopefully step out of it, H appeared, like a knight in
dusty armour. I wouldn’t have to go out alone after all! He walked me to and from
school, giving painfully slow, clear and loud directions, as one would to a
brain damaged monkey or a tourist. I felt patronised, but still not entirely
sure where I was or what he was talking about. But in theory I now knew how to
get to work. Baby steps.
The men I met at work are all admin people, not
teachers, and, as previously stated, men. I have not met a single woman. The
men looked at me like I was naked and seductively gyrating at that, when, in
reality, I was almost entirely covered in baggy clothing that left everything
to the imagination and was trying to hide behind H, who was giving them
meaningful looks. I missed St Giles.
But then…
I became aware of the horrific blisters that
had developed on my feet, making it incredibly difficult to walk. But if I were
ever to leave the house again, I would need a test run with a guide. So, feet
be damned, I was going to stick it out. And maybe I would catch a glimpse of
somewhere that sold food. I still hadn’t eaten anything other than apple sauce
on the plane, and I couldn’t remember where the stupid supermarket was. Obviously
I was going to starve to death and my parents would bask in the glow of a
thousand I told you so’s.
But then…
H took pity on me (as, by this point, I was
truly pitiful) and walked me to the supermarket. I was now in close proximity
to food! Starvation was no longer a pressing issue! I momentarily forgot about
the festering wounds on my feet and my complete lack of directional abilities.
I felt I knew what I was doing. I told H I could make it back on my own. He
looked doubtful. I told him I’d be fine. I could do this! He raised an eyebrow.
I walked into the supermarket.
But then…
I couldn’t do it. I spent half an hour circling
the 6 blocks around my apartment, being leered at the entire time. I finally
gave up and called H, who was once again extremely and genuinely helpful
(although now slightly worried about my ability to survive in the wild) and
showed up to shepherd me a block away from where I’d been sitting, to my door,
which I’d passed 5 times without realising it. By this point, my feet were
actually bleeding. I tried to pretend that it wasn’t a big deal because I
technically work with this person and didn’t want him to see me fall to pieces.
But then…
I realised: I have internet access so I can
call my mum! I can tell her about my soul-crushing embarrassment and loneliness
and throbbing foot pain and hope to God that this approximation of human
contact will make me feel better! It rang…once…twice…three times…She picked
up…I burst into tears…the connection died. That previously perfect connection has
not come back since. I’ve been trying for hours. I’ve restarted, unplugged,
patched, troubleshooted and reverted. I’m a woman possessed, completely unable
to stop restarting and unplugging and patching and troubleshooting and
reverting. Because now I’m totally alone. And I have nothing to distract me
from it. And because for once I was actually hopeful, and now I just feel
stupid.
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