Goodnesss gracious…Rumor has it that third times a charm, so hopefully this attempt to portray a glimpse into my challenging, humorous, stressful and providential adventure in the Balkans will satisfy those of you to who had expected such an anecdote much sooner…My first attempt at blogging was on one of those days filled with so many frustrations that my blog appeared more like a list of grievances. Now, however, I have accepted that my time here will generously provide me with four months of culture shock, thus the day to day challenges of functioning are humorous, and if nothing else, predictable. Maybe placing “shock” and “predictable” together sounds like an “oxymoron,” but this word is actually not too far from an accurate description of my day to day experiences. I am sure I will be unsure about most things, I predict the unpredictable, and I suspect the unexpected. I am, however, functioning much more effectively, now that I have realized that all doors here open the opposite direction, and the first floor in every building is actually the second.

My second attempt to blog was almost completed when I lost electricity and with it my blog during a storm. So here I sit, with nearly three weeks of craziness on my mind, hoping to consolidate it in some coherent form for you. I believe that this attempt was meant to me. I just finished to exams today, one on the breakup of the former Yugoslavia and one in Croatian. I believe I dominated them both, and I attribute my success to the clarity I have derived from my new Yoga class as well as my fervent efforts to learn Croatian to that I can understand what terrible and immature things my host brothers are saying behind my back.

I can’t say I expected to begin regularly practicing Yoga in Croatia haha, but it is one of the essential element of my day, and rather funny when I take a step back and think about it. I am the only non-Croatian in the class, so my instructor insists on speaking in broken English so that I can “understand.” I don’t know how the other 20 members of the class feel about this. I had to find some sort of physical activity to counter act the effects of this culture of eating….My families favorite part of the day is feeding me. They have this game called “feed Becca every single one of her favorite foods at every meal and make sure she eats all of it.” At first it was nice to have caprese salad, omelets, yogurt with granola, brochette, cake, cookies, and coffee at every meal, but after three weeks it becomes a little overwhelming. I have begun to feel a little bit like an overfed exotic pet.

I say “pet,” because last night I learned that the reason that my host family “adopted” me this semester, is because Bepo, 12, my youngest host brother, wanted his own American, hahahaha. Bepo was so proud last night as he showed me his English test where he was asked to write about himself, it read as follows:

Hello, my name is Bepo. I live in Zagreb, Croatia. I have a mom, a dad, a
brother, a sister, three turtles, a fish, and an American. She does too much homework and does not play with me enough.

I laughed so hard I almost fell out of my seat….

Academics? How could I forget to mention them. Are my classes hard? In short, yes, but for a very different reason than at home. The challenge of functioning out of my comfort zone makes everything more challenging. I am not used to commuting an hour to class, being in class most of the day, and going home to a family I then spend time with. I had not realized how overly comfortable I had become in my independent and selfish life. Coming here has been a reality check, but for the better.

Oh, Croatia. I already see a love-hate relationship developing between us. Zagreb is a lovely city, but with an element of sadness about it, which never seems to completely subside…the city leaves me with a feeling similar to that which I experience when viewing a masterpiece I cannot step away from, but which simultaneously provokes uncomfortable feelings and sadness. They say that ignorance is bliss, but I don’t see how I can be happy without understanding the sources of pain of many women in this region. I had expected to hop across the ocean, understand everything around me, know the answers to all the questions….I was wrong. I must admit to the great challenge ahead of me, but I also feel a drive that gives me strength which I know it not my own.

I know this is a lot of babbling, but I am all over the place right now trying to learn, playing with my little host brothers, writing an essay on ethnic tensions, commuting to class from my little mountain village, and trying to find some time for rest. It is hard to believe that I am on the other side of the world, that here live millions of people I had no idea existed. New places and experiences sometimes remind me of one of those three dimensional pictures that you must look at very closely before slowly pulling away from for the image to appear, but without doing so, all you can see is a crazy splash of colors. I am trying to look closely and personally at this city and its people so that I am not overwhelmed by my lack of knowledge and the newness of it all, and ultimately, that slowly but surely a picture might emerge, one which I am meant to see and understand.