hairless.

I sprawled out on top of her butcher paper covered table and spread my legs…

She examined my half naked body closely, slightly shaking her head with disappointment. I am no waxing virgin either, but I can’t say that I’ve ever had the luxury of being waxed into a whimpering howl. I clenched my teeth together as hard as I could, pleading with myself to ignore the pebbles of blood covering her sugar-wax strips and the slow after burn of my er.. vagina, if it’s still there. I focused on the conversation… …’now, are you sure you don’t want a diamond? … ‘that’s strange that a full wax is not common in California, I can’t imagine why?!‘ she says.   I squint my eyes in an effort to participate in her bemusement… ‘surly it can’t be because you just ripped out my clitoris…   nay?’

But really, the girl was so lovely… she was even lovelier from behind. The instructions were to crouch down onto my knees and hold my cheeks steady. I believe in that moment alone, I was re-born … European, no less. (I dunno who says they’re hairy… it just ain’t true) And after the pain subsided, alive... slightly thrilled. ….and I gotta say my partial bikini days are so over.

And Stephanie, the 23 year old waxpert, extraordinaire … who was just dumped by her 5 year long boyfriend and was on her way to look at a new apartment for her new life, …my new best friend! I told her, listen… (all the while thinking, girl, if you can do this… you can do anything!) same thing happened to me, and look… I’m in Belgium. hairless.

In Search Of The One.

If you’ve been keeping up with my blog at all,  you might have noticed a pattern in my last years wants… somehow I had found myself in a strange, unknown to me world of utter independence and somewhat of an emotionless existence. Maybe in fact this was due to the disappearance of my long lost friend who is finally back, or simply a path of self preservation… But what is blatantly clear now, is that

a) you should really be careful about what you wish for and

b) i might have gotten really good at being on my own (finally), but this does not indeed mean that I’ve learned anything about being with others.

I think you could say, I am a strong believer in balance too – but just cause I believe in it doesn’t mean I’m any good at it.

The biggest issue I’ve had in my relationships so far is finding a good balance between being independent and enjoying a  co-dependent existence. When you’re young I think, relationships come much easier. Because, lets face it, you don’t quite know who you are yet so the idea of balance between anything is pure nonsense… Identifying is what you’re doing at that point and what could be more fun than Identifying yourself with someone else, and even more importantly with the feelings you have for them. Once you actually know a bit about yourself and what you’re attempting to do in life, balancing that with stumbling into a new person you might like is actually quite difficult… ok, so enough code. Here’s the update:

There are moments here and there where I really like him. Like he’ll say something or do something and I am putty…. And then others, when if I could just get up and walk away at that exact moment when it just hits me (This is NOT for you!) , I would. But then of course, another hour passes and whatever it is that seemed so definite before, becomes a bit muddy again… and so it goes, the beginnings of that thing I’ve so diligently been avoiding, up until now. …Ah, I kinda remember this.

Still, I really want things to be black and white and will try to make a more coherent decision about our future relations in the next few days, …week…s… TOPS.

Ok, the truth is I sort of kind of already tried to break things off… but like I said, I’m terrible at it. And in fact, when a guy knows how to show their true colors when they’re being told they’re not really liked as much as they thought they were… all of a sudden, I melt… and become ones of those really lame people that can’t make up their minds. ‘… yeah, i guess you could still stay…’

Sometimes I think I do it in hopes of the other person getting fed up and pulling the trigger… then at least I get to feel all sensitive and hurt and not at all to blame. This brings us to yet another new years resolution to add to the list… Become more decisive. Doesn’t matter what you choose. just fuckn CHOOSE. (but actually this probably goes ENTIRELY against what it means to develop a relationship and feelings for someone over time… so, maybe I need to work on the idea that any sort of choice is involved… are we going with our head or our heart here, dear?  …damn it).

No matter how much I want to fight it, I am petrified of another few years of my life being devote to someone… someone else other than me, that is.

In talking with others, I’ve been reminded of the difference between someone who has spent their entire life looking for a serious relationship and someone like me who keeps getting burned by them. Somehow getting involved with someone even on the most superficial level carries with it a sort of warped assumption on my part that they’re here to stay (Only warped of course, in so much that for most people that in fact IS the goal… not so much for me … i seem to be under the strange misconception that a successful relationship is that which is fun, easy, short and temporary…um, where on earth did I get that notion?!). Maybe it’s my inexperience with break ups… historically, I’ve been crap at them and I can’t even remember the last time I was actually dumped. Honestly, you’d have to be pretty emotionally open to be blindsided by that kind of news and… I’m just not that kind of girl. There’s probably something wrong with that too…

But anyway, what’s proving to be awesomely true about Belgium is that it’s literally presented me, one after another, with all of my so-called life issues – finally, giving me a chance to come to terms with them all. The russian thing for example has been amazing… I have never felt more culturally healthy and at ease with who I am – as I’ve learned to be here  – I couldn’t be more thankful for the opportunty to come to terms with that baggage…  I am literally in love with my new found appreciate for my cultural background, for my ability to speak another language, for my appreciation of many worlds… for my Russianess and my Americaness. How lucky that I am both and neither, at the same time. And it only took 4 months and 10 days…

Perhaps now, Belgium will teach me more about relationships…  how to love… or how not to love… to selfishly break up or or get hurt to bits. In the next year or so, how lovely would it be to wake up one day and actually be ready for the One.

But before that can happen, I might have to grow up a little…

For now, I don’t mind stumbling into love , but when it comes to the One, I’d like to actually go out and find him. A sincere apology to anyone I happen to come across until then…  (of course, the devils advocate in me screams, that’s your problem right there!!! 🙂 )

Mission: Parisian Fuck-Me-Boots

omg. I’m back… talk about a hiatus.  That was the longest that I had gone without writing  since I got to Ghent. Won’t happen again.

First of all I have to say thank you to everyone for being so amazingly thoughtful… the messages, the emails, the everything… were just what I needed to put life in perspective. …although I must admit, I was starting to lose my bearings there for a bit… No worries though – with a little help from you, my new friends, a few nights of a heavy drinking – not to mention,  a spontaneous sprint across the borders for a bit of Parisian soul searching in the form of fuck-me-boots, just the boots so far, and I’m back on track.

But in order to tell you how I got here, I suppose I should start from the very beginning…  that is, the day I wrote my last post. It was the day of our SQL exam, and lets just say a lot of people, not excluding myself, were in a bit of a shock. So much so, that we couldn’t bare the thought of studying for anything else… let alone our SAS exam which was swiftly approaching. So, instead we took our dazed minds out for a drink.

As I was walking over to our agreed upon meeting place, in the rain, in the dark… after having failed and then proceeded to not study all day for the next thing. I thought to myself, what on EARTH am I doing…  I don’t even like drinking. And how relived I was to hear my friend say the same thing… only she says it more hilariously, in Russian, always pushing my vocabulary to its limits – “Kat’, Shto za chush – kuda yedish?’ she says. Seriously, shto za chush.

But, as anyone could have predicted, a few beers in (Roomer to be exact – a special Ghent drink made out of flowers that float magically at the bottom of the glass)  and a few hours later…  a much needed break and new, albeit temporary, leash on life.

The next few days after that were spent locked up in our computer lab trying to absorb as much SAS nonsense as possible. By Monday, a day before the test, I was on the verge of getting sick and knew that pushing myself even a bit more would only lead me to having to take the test lying down, brain off. So I spent the entire day and night sleeping, in hope of awakening with at least the slightest ability to concentrate and even half the information absorbed –  i did lose 12 hours of studying time though, so that sucks. By Tuesday morning, I seemed to have slept it off and came to the test at least with my brain in tact. Four hours later, we handed in our exams and sighed deeply as we passed one another in the halls. No words required. Well, actually it went better than SQL… but that’s like saying death by hanging is preferable to the electric chair.

That day was also Amador’s birthday, so we all went out to celebrate and shake off the stooper. I didn’t get home until after 4, but managed to get myself up for class at 9.

Then we went out for chinese food and as I was sitting there thinking about what to do over the weekend… the first chunk of time I can remember having where there doesn’t seem to be an urgency to study… yes there’s a test in less than 2 weeks and hundreds of pages of reading… but no reason I thought, I couldn’t be doing this reading on a train, …or in coffee shop in Paris, eating a croissant perhaps … or tart?.. or french salad…? ( no worries, I had all three! 🙂

.

That night I had company at my place for the first time… tea and waffles, to be precise, so I didn’t get to sleep until very very late (or early depending on how you look at it), on top of which i woke up and realized… ah, I AM getting sick … but I wasn’t about to waste this precious weekend, being sick at home. Heck no. I packed nothing… just my backpack and a book, and headed to Paris on a one way ticket. Indefinitely.

Of course, I knew I was coming back.. i just didn’t know if waking up to a croissant would do it, or if I would want to stick around for a french dinner, or another morning – a walk to the eiffel tower perhaps, or a french haircut? Maybe a tattoo… I was keeping my options open. I needed this trip to cure everything and I just wasn’t sure what it would take… only that I needed to feel alive again, with a purpose… moving…  thinking… feeling.

How long did it take you ask? It took 3 days and two nights… after-which I arrived back at St. Pieter’s station in Gent (after a few train mishaps) welcomed by none other than hundreds and hundreds of rowdy drunk college students standing in line for the city organized I<3TECHNO Tram 21 (I guess I won’t be taking that one home…)  and dozens and dozens of police officers and their dogs guarding this howling mayhem…  the slight but constant drizzle of Belgian rain, my feet tired from three days of non-stop trekking, the air warm but dark… buses re-scheduled again (where is the one I need??? i’m tired.), drunk drivers everywhere, there isn’t a weekend where this doesn’t happen – almost got knocked over  within 5 minutes of getting back… when I finally made it onto a bus, safe and sound, I peeked outside the window and there it was… Saturday night, in my precious Ghent. I just wanted to give it a big big hug. I am home.

Oh, and I needed boots and an Umbrella. Having not ventured out of my apartment for a few weeks now, and never at night – it all of a sudden dawned on me on my way to our Chinese dinner that it’s almost friggin winter!!… like BRRR cold… and like… holy cow, wet and slippery. And how these Belgians and Russians love to make fun of Miss California girl who only owns sandals. So at least, I left for Paris with a mission… go to Paris, clear my head, buy boots – come back when you know what you’re coming back for.

I will probably write more about this later, as surly it will be on my mind for many days to come. But here’s a quick few things of what I learned in Paris.

Standing in front of the Eiffel is a good reminder of this…

The best lesson you can learn in life – one that came to me much too late, but which I welcomed open-arms on this trip – is that there’s only one thing, and one thing only, that you can be 100% sure of in this life – you – exist – ALWAYS.  …regardless of where or how or what you’re doing. YOU, are the constant.

I know that seems like a silly thing to even mention, especially since most people mention this as a negative – as in, you can’t get away from yourself. But the truth is, it’s the best and most positive thing there is about our lives – the one thing that takes fear out of anything and defuses all pressure of any what-ifs. What if… you say? The answer is simple… you’re still there.

A lot of the time, when fear holds us back… from opportunities, from whatever… we find ourselves fearful of change, of not being able to ‘do it’ of having a hard time imagining our lives without something… or imaging our lives with something, or somewhere… like Paris … and then it happens, and we realize that in fact nothing is that big of a change… we are in both scenarios. we are the one constant – the one thing that doesn’t change – the one thing we can rely on and the one thing we won’t get away from. And what does this mean? It means, you need find yourself –  understand yourself, love yourself and realize, in all seriousness, there is no life without you – so get that right, and everything else will follow… So whether you’re in Paris, or Belgium, or San Francisco, or Pakistan or someday- Africa. You, are still you – albeit with a two pairs of amazing Parisian fuck me boots and a parapluie from an ACTUAL umbrella store and a french hat… but of course.

And, what did this mean for me? It made me realize I don’t need to go all that far, to find something that’s actually inside me. Next time I go anywhere, it will be to find someone or something else. But I dearly thank Paris, for reminding me that what I love about traveling should never be confused with what I love about getting away. More on this another time.

Also –  French men in black trench coats are scrumptiously dangerous and a VERY good reason not to live Paris. Serioulsly, it maybe confusing here to know where you need to speak which language… ( i spent the first few hours in Paris, kicking myself for speaking Dutch, then finally switching to Bounjours and Mercis … then back to Dutch, only to realize I was still in Wallonia.. f7ck, I mean Merci – Dank u… shit. Whatever, I’m American, it’s true.. HI.) But, French/Belgian border can be defined much more simply if you just look at the men.. just a quick glance and you’ll know what country you’re in. And if you’re me and staring a frechman in a black p-coat, no words come anyway…   so no worries about the language barrier.

Ok, so mabye they’re not all so scrumptious… at least not the few I had the pleasure of being chatted up by – I am not that lucky. But this morning, I watched the most entertaining pick-up I’d ever seen in my entire life… here’s how it went down. I noticed the woman first… she was walking in front of me… her jacket bright blue, her sweater peeking from underneath it’s rim… yes, I was studying it closely as there was something about the way she walked that captured my attention. I didn’t see her face – her hood was on – only because I was watching her did I realize what was about to happen. An absoltely gorgeous young guy starts walking along side her – tilted towards her – and extends his hand… he is smiley, cheerful and charming… he asks her if she knows french and keeps up the pace… something about the weather and possibly where she’s going… I was right behind them and waiting for her to give him the boot – certainly I would have.

Of course, he was cute,  but I wouldn’t have wanted him until I’d seen him from this angle… she wanted him. She took off her hood – she’s asian –  and they walked giggling for about a minute, then he took her hand in his and clutched it warmly. Surly, I thought, she will tell him to go to hell now. But instead, she played along. If i didn’t know better, I would have thought they surly knew eachother…. they walked, hand in hand, rubbing shoulders… smiling… fast-paced – oh how I wanted to know how this story ends. But then they turned down a strange alley, and I thought maybe I don’t…  But here’s the funny part. If it had happened to me, I surly would have been uninterested… I point blank declined an invitation just a day before that, and the one before that as well… But watching this girl enjoy his company (ok.. and also lets be honest, he was HAWT… but I really don’t know if that would have made a difference for me)… and not shooting him down off the bat, gave me something to think about… something to strive for, perhaps… assuming of course she wasn’t an asian hooker (shame on me!)  I think it maybe time I soften around the edges a bit. Yes, Paris taught me that.

Paris taught me a lot more, but I think it’s time for bed…  I will say this though, I really really loved it… it is everything that everyone says it is… beautiful, grand, so french… just gorgeous on every level … and damn, those men in black p-coats. Oy.

But who would have thought that I missed school and studying and my precious Ghent… dorky Belgian boys and all.

… alles is goed.

 

I just about to write something about my utter state of frustration… with this program, with this assignment, with this country, with my STUPID PC that has some sort of fucked up weird security settings that are totally fucking up my SAS program. And a million other things that culminated into one big about-to-blow-up moment, until out of the corner of my eye, I saw something fluttering by my window and when I looked over there were all these birds in my tree…. and two new ones, two gorgeous new ones that I had never seen before. And it made me happy… and instantly at ease. Not that it’s fixed anything or that anything’s figured out, but just that it will be… and alles is goed

 

 

Talking to ‘America’

Some days there is simply nothing to say, and on others there is so much, it’s hard to know where to start… I haven’t really found groove yet with this whole blog thing.

How much of my life should I document? How bored should I leave my several readers? If I knew who my audience was, at least I would know approximately what direction to take. But, I guess I know a few of you, so maybe I’ll just pretend I’m writing you all emails. Most of you would only be concerned with food, cultural mishaps, maybe a tiny bit on school and perhaps the occasional love quest. But do let me know if I’m missing out on any important topics.

Things here are going well. I hesitate to use the word great, or amazing as I tend to always hang back on the fence, and have to leave some room for a few doubts and, god-forbid, jinxing.

Of course, every chance I get (which is not a whole lot due to insane amounts of time spent studying) I enjoy all the little things that come along with living here.

The thousands of fall colored leaves paving my way to school, the exposed bird’s nest perched atop the autumnal tree outside my window, the crisp near-winter breeze, the ginger breaded houses lining the pastries shops, the chocolates, the pumpkins, specialty teas, Kaas Mecca  YES , an entire store filled with cheese and a wooden bucket of freshly laid eggs, the butcher shop across the way, a whole store of honey –  with everything honey from all over the world you could imagine, textures, flavors, colors, you name it!.. , the film festival buzz, fliers upon fliers of amazing events I will never have time to see, the Christmas market readily approaching, talk of spicy hot wine and December plans… and those lovely bells that chime, chime, chime far in the distance… all swirling inside me, constantly giving me reason to be happy.

And yet, what most of my classmates and I have come to discover is that there is no time for it, at all. Just the other day, we were joking about how over the weekend we completely forget that we’re in Belgium…  seriously.

But, of course, I don’t mind studying – in fact after having worked for a few years it only makes studying more fun, yet more natural. Somehow doing it all day doesn’t seem wrong – after all, that’s how work is anyway. But, what I’ve found is that there still isn’t enough time in the day to do it all – and the time that I do take to relax, I am extremely inefficient at. I should be out at least having fun a few times a week – just for an hour or so, here and there. Yet, the guilt of all that there is to do, is constantly overshadows everything… and somehow I find myself spending that time, just worrying about the fact that I’m not studying… like right now.

But of course, my classmates and I make it a point to go out to lunch every day after school. So that’s been really nice and at least gets me out of my head for a little while. The program is funny too, we are a group of interesting individuals – that’s for sure. But I’m digging everyone more and more with every passing day. There’s always something to laugh about, something new to learn or something to share. I’ve really missed the comradery that comes along with being in school – at work of course you get that too after a while, but it’s a lot more work to establish it, where as here it’s just a natural part of belonging to a group of people with exactly the same goals – it’s wonderful.

I’ve also made a few Belgian friends, although those come with a little more work. You of course won’t be surprised to hear that Americans are not exactly anyone’s favorite. I mean, everyone tries to be nice – some more than others – but, I won’t lie there’ve been a few instances where it’s come across rather clear. Couple that with some things lost in translation and you have a whole international relations fiasco. In stores, on the street … even in the classroom.

Yesterday for example, we had some group work to do for our Marketing Research class – our group consists of 2 international students (including me) and 4 locals from Belgium… and let me tell you, there was a point there where it was getting pretty tense. They of course gave the US market to me (as it’s of no interest to them) and requested to be grouped together with other Belgians (ya know, cause it’s easier). They’re actually all very nice and of course don’t mean anything by it, but I definitely get a distinct feeling that they don’t quiet know what to do with anything international – it’s just not as common here. Yes, they speak many languages (so they can deal with the language barrier across many countries – some of them know up to 6 languages), but when it comes to a cultural barrier, they’re really at a loss. Even Americans in SF have to be much more trained to dealing with a variety of cultures… I hope no Belgian reads this, but I get this sense sometimes that they kind of experience the world as flat.

Maybe I’m wrong and am the one being cultural insensitive here.  But anyway, there was a whole misunderstanding that took place on what a market research report should look like – somehow I was thinking power point based on work experience and the fact that we were suppose to deliver a case study report to management, but they were thinking single spaced word document as you would do for any other school report. I kept referring to dividing up slides, they kept telling me to forget the slides, but were diving up the same topics… anyway, it was all very confusing, until of course we realized why. The amazing thing though was what a shift that made in how we could relate afterward. Suddenly it was all clear… we were coming from different places, but ultimately we were here for the same thing… suddenly there was laughter, and eye contact and well, within minutes of this discovery, we actually became a team. And as we sat there together, wrapping things up, one of the boys addressed me by my name and as we talked, all I could think about is that somehow he was finally just talking to me… not America. I was not representing anyone or anything, I was just me again. And it felt good.

Bells Of The Belfry Tower

Happy Days.

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Don’t forget to WANT!

Do you ever awaken from life as if from a dream, pinch yourself – multiple times over – and wonder how you ever got here? I sit here, typing amidst that exact feeling. Tomorrow is my first day of school – for the first time, I will meet my new classmates, my new teachers, sit in my new classroom and get my first taste of my new life as a student.

Yes, it’s exciting – of course. But, really it’s more than that.

Not only has it been more than 5 years since I’ve been a student, …but I’m in Belgium. I just keep thinking, how on earth did I manage to make this happen. I know that might sound somewhat dramatic, but if you only knew how much it took… how much faith, and perseverance and most importantly desire – I can’t remember the last time I wanted anything as bad as I wanted this. I wanted it so much that I forgot to consider the possibility that it might not happen. I willed it into fruition, I really did.

For someone who never knows what she wants, this was big – really really big. I didn’t even for second consider applying anywhere else – I was not interested. It was this, or failure – there was no in between.

Of course, had something gone wrong it wouldn’t have been the end of the world, but there’s a great big lesson in here that I hope I never forget – WANT. (Don’t forget to want, you!). That’s all, just want – something, anything… want it enough and you will find a way to make it happen. And going forward, I just hope that I find the next thing that I want as bad.

And so, the clock is close to striking midnight of September 27th, 2010 …and ten hours later it all begins. But somehow that thought doesn’t quite fit into my little head –  the only thing that seems real right is the past – the first days, weeks, months of this crazy journey… As I look around my amazing new flat – every inch of which I am completely in love with, (especially my new orchid friend Phyllis who colorfully adorns my windowsill) – I am still not convinced this is real.

I keep having flashbacks to sitting in my office (yes, this may indeed be a sign of having worked just a little too much), starring at my desktop and my million things to-do list wondering if I’ll ever get out, if I’ll ever find anything better or more worth my time or energy. Don’t get me wrong now, I loved my job – I really did – but like a happy marriage or a satisfying meal, there’s just a right time and a wrong time for feeling completely content and settled-down and I was not ready to be a lifer. I had not learned enough, nor had I seen enough – who am I kidding, I really hadn’t lived enough.

So that’s what this is all about. Tomorrow is the start of new goals, new challenges, new relationships, new adventures – a new mindset and new skills. For the next two years (yes, until I’m 30, after which much will need to be re-assessed) I am excited to be alive and living… looking for new ways and opportunities to push myself. Please don’t let me forget this feeling, this want for it all. And, I hope you feel it too.

Good night.

Ghent rooftops…

…sometimes this city is like poetry to the eyes

Everywhere you turn here, history has a voice… be it quaint, charming, beautiful, captivating or ugly – this city is centuries in the making and there isn’t a corner or an alleyway which lets you forget – it’s been here long before you and is here to stay long after you’re gone – you and everyone else – it’s mere trespasser.