Then, Now, and Yogurts of Yore

Simply put: Fubright changed my life. It’s a straightforward statement, but the end result is anything but. For me, Fulbright was another era of “growing up;” it’s surreal to think it was already so long ago…

At this time last year, we were flying through preparations for linguistic presentations and, at least in my case, hoping to make it through that ridiculous conference with some small amount of dignity still left in tow. In late April 2010, we had already begun our ongoing discussion of going home…and more often than not, the conversation specifically focused on what we would eat when we got there (Mike wanted farm-raised beef and some sort of jam; Leanne was set on In N Out Burger and Mexican food sans ketchup; I spent more time than I care to admit on the Dairy Queen website, basically drooling on my keyboard). Fast forward one year: we’ve been state-side nine months, DQ has proven to be not that exciting—mostly because I stupidly missed pumpkin pie blizzard season—and I’m already revisiting the discussion of leaving yet again.

Reality check: it’s been three-quarters of a year; logic and practicality say it’s time to re-establish myself and get moving down that life road which I claim Fulbright so greatly altered. After all, what little language I did manage to latch onto is steadily slipping away into the netherworld, slowly being replaced with the rec kids’ names, the how-to skills of knitting, and useless Glee trivia These days, reality and I are good friends, so in many ways I have tucked away the past year (meaning I make a conscience effort not to begin every sentence with “when I was in Poland…”). I keep the Polish mutterings to a minimum, and continue to press on. However, this past week, I took a much-needed detour from my established day-to-day.

On Wednesday, I took a plane to the west coast, and a dear Fulbright friend—formerly known as my “Comrade in the Kidney”—met me at the gate. There was a moment of reunion rejoicing…which was promptly cut short by a bathroom quest. After two hours trapped in a window seat, I really had to pee.

For those who speak Grey’s Anatomy, Fulbrighter Leanne is “my person.” For the pop culture illiterate, let’s elaborate: last November in Stockholm, Leanne and I sat in our hostel kitchen drinking cheap coffee and simultaneously talking about everything and nothing. At some point in the conversation, she went to the fridge to add more milk to the caffeinated elixir that allows us both to function as normal human beings. Instead of tasteless Euro-milk from a box, blobs of yogurt plopped into her mug. We laughed for a solid minute, replaced the yogurt in hopes that its owner wouldn’t be offended by our borrowing (it seemed rather old and clumpy anyway), finished off that pot of java, and moved on with the evening. That night, I vividly remember thinking “this woman and I are going to be friends for a long, long time.”

The rest, as they say, is history.

And even though I am mostly full of beans and idealistic notions, on at least this one thing, I get to be right.

And now we've been to Boston in the Fall

No one said that what happened in Poland had to stay in Poland.

An Ode to Day One

A few weeks ago, I started scribbling in my notebook on the train home from Kielce; this is what came out:

In light of recent events (namely the Fulbright Powers-that-be’s decision not the renew the ETAs, a verdict that cumulated with an three-line e-mail of denial 2.5 months in the making), I have found myself venturing to that point of deep reflection which one often visits upon realizing that the end is near. That single e-mail muddled quite a few plans, but did make one thing clear: this experience, in this form, is drawing to a close. We’re on the downhill side of this strange whirlwind that has somehow become everyday life. So, with this new turn of events, what exactly is on my mind? Well…Dairy Queen, among other things…

As excited as I am at the prospect of home and all that it entails (ie. my bed that is not a futon, the accessibility of a Sportsman’s Corner bacon cheeseburger, and the ability to hug my grandma), I cannot help but dread the inevitable goodbyes that separate me from a plane to the US. When I think of “what Fulbright has given me,” “a year in Europe” is not the initial thing that comes to mind. Instead, it is the people I have encountered—and in some cases, who I have been fortunate enough to consider my friends—who have made these past eight months a defining period in my life.

I arrived in Poland rather green (naïve seems too strong of a word), thinking I knew more than I actually did. In Warsaw, I was introduced to a group of individuals who can best be described as “diversely and sharply intelligent.” They had read everything I had always meant to read, and what’s more, they could recall authors the way most people recall the name of their favorite cereal. Plus, they played the guitar, actually spoke Polish, and could navigate the Polish capital with minimal use of a map. Further adding to this intimidation factor, each had long ago finished their Bachelor’s degrees—or had take five years to complete three BAs in things I don’t understand.

All of a sudden, I felt as though I was running to catch up. Not only was I under-qualified for the Fulbright and unprepared for my position as an ETA, I was also grossly uninformed. Why had I not subscribed to the New York Times, or at the very least, developed an addiction to The Daily Show? Suddenly, my Saturday Night Live political orientation was simply inadequate. However, in retrospect being surrounded by this group of opinionated and self-confident students is one of the best things that has happened to me. That initial “running to catch up” quickly became a form of growing up. In this case, it meant learning to shut up and soak up everything possible.

So, I became a sponge, marveling at the self-disciple and drive of my new friends. One who regimented herself into a self-imposed day-to-day research schedule, simply because she really wants that Ph.D. Another who demonstrated what it means to have initiative and expect more from yourself than what is expected of you. And more than anything, to suck it up and make the best of what you’ve got. Cold War Corner be damned—there would be an MA thesis. The more time I spent with these individuals, and the more they allowed me to pick their brains, the more certain I became that this was the type of person I wanted to be. And so, I attempted to match their disciple, drive, Glee watching, and (unsuccessfully) their reading load. Some days, I’m running a race I seemingly cannot win: the students line up outside my office and Leanne’s books pile up on my desk. Life here is a day-to-day challenge. And that’s why I like it.

Sure, I am an English Teaching Assistant at a Polish University—I even come with an association to one of the US’s most prestigious scholarship programs. It all has a nice ring to it. Though the Fulbright name cannot guarantee me a job next fall…or even some sort of broad recognition by my university colleagues as to what my job is now, my year on this program has been an experience like nothing I could have anticipated. There have been challenges, uncertainty, confusion, and days that just flat-out pissed me off (the level of annoying/incompressible characteristics of Polish universities directly correlates to the amount of beer/vodka in this nation—just a theory.). But in the end, this has made me better…and hopefully, I have changed someone else’s experience in that same way. Even if it was only one day.

The main lesson (reiterated again and again by the Polish trains): it’s all about enjoying the ride. Only four more weeks to go…