This week has been a very humbling experience, but I knew all my bragging of remaining the only one of the group not to have gotten sick would eventually bite me in the arse. I started this week out with by passing a kidney stone, which I assume is the result of the combination of my calcium supplements, the ridiculous amount of dairy my family force feeds me, and the high calcium concentration in the water. The kidney stone was followed by the onset of Roseola, which apparently affects adults on vary rare occasions. As I sit her with aching joints and what look like chicken pocks all over my entire body, I must say I would have preferred to have had a cold like the other students. I am trying to remain optimistic, but we leave for Serbia tomorrow where I have been warned is not a very friendly place for asthmatics (since they still use coal for heating). I cannot rid myself of the image of my lying in a hostel bunk, wheezing, itching, and unable to pee. After packing all my medications, there was just enough room left in my backpack for a clean pair of underwear and a toothbrush, thank goodness.

Oh, this week has not been all so bleak, actually it has been rather humorous and exciting. What stands out among all these events however, is declaring my independent research project. I will be in northern Serbia, working with Roma (Gypsy) women and children, and attempting to understand why they are disproportionately affected by sexual violence, as well as victimized by trafficking. Honestly, I am terrified, but not for reasons you might expect. I have already been able to look past images of “Behind Enemy Lines” and Milosević’s destructive reign. It is not fear of my own safety, but rather my fear of the guilt I will experience when having to say farewell to this marginalized group. As I grapple with the month I will spend with these young women and children, I wonder how I will be able to leave them and come home to so much comfort and surplus. How will I say farewell, when I still have unanswered questions, and an unsatisfied desire to see this group empowered?

On a lighter note, Friday was a considerably strange night. After an intense week of studying we decided to go dancing. We arrived at a discotheque recommended as the best place to go dancing in Zagreb, only to be met by two men dressed in black suites who needless to say, looked disapprovingly at my converse sneakers, messy hair, and paper boy hat (ok, so my image has begun to lean a little toward the shabby side haha). Thank goodness I understood Croatian! They explained that that evening was a private party for the premier of a Croatian movie about windsurfing, so the crowd was mostly Croatian celebrities and athletes. Just as I sighed and turned to leave he asked me to hold on a minute. He explained to someone on the other side of his walkie-talkie that he had a special group of American guests here for the premier, and asked that someone be sent down to escort us. He winked at us, and told us to get him if we had any problems. Several moments later, after we checked our hoodies and sweatshirt at the coat-check, we entered a room full of modelesque women and men… we stood out haha, but it turned out to be one of the most amazing evenings we had had thus far. In retrospect, I think there had been a misunderstanding due to the language barrier, and everyone seemed to think we were important since we got VIP treatment, and were introduced to everyone there… Oh Croatia. Haha

All in all, this semester is passing far too quickly. I keep telling my parents that they should come here instead of me coming home, and while they laugh, I’m serious. I think that there is so much to be learned from the people here. I was interviewing a young activist the other day and she relayed to me how confused she was during her visit to New York City. She could not understand why sales persons were so kind to here but then turned to the next customer before she had a chance to respond how she was. “Why do American’s pretend to care about others if they do not?” she asked. I did not know how to respond. Also she was shocked by how selfish many individuals were that she encountered. She explained in horror how people would not let elders have the seats on the subways and individuals would not smile and say “hello” on elevators. “The thing is,” she said, “it only took me several days to also become cold, so I don’t think Americans should be blamed. It was much harder to learn to become warm again when I came home.” I told her that the south is probably a little different but not completely. It’s ironic how I had a preconceived notion of Eastern Europe as dark, bleak, and desolate, but it is here that it has taken me time to such overwhelming warmth. Strangers will take twenty minutes to walk you to the location you cannot find on your map, if you lack the amount to pay a bill, you will be told not to worry about it with a smile, and if you are walking in the rain, a stranger will often run up to you to share their umbrella. I am still struggling to accept this intense warmth without discomfort, but trying even harder to naturally participate in distributing it.