Month in Review

I's weird to sit here and try to think about the last month I've had. It's certainly been one of the most tumultuous in recent memory. I'll take the good with the bad.

A little over a month ago I stood alone, unable to talk to a single person, with haunting thoughts of sex-slaverystalking my occipital lobe. I stood for 2 hours. I can't remember ever feeling happier to hear english when my ride showed up. I've since adjusted, the only constant has been taking out the recycling Sunday morning, full of empty bottles.

I remember feeling completely useless during the first few days of my stay. Learning how to take the busses and discovering town for myself were major victories. When you are addicted to things like the ability to get whatever information you want instantly (thanks internet) not being able to know how to buy food is quite upsetting.

Work has been more difficult than I imagined. I maintain my hope that that is some indication I am learning, or at the absolute least being challenged. That stuff must be good for my character. I think?

The people have all been amazing. The graffiti tagging every surface 8 feet from the ground made me feel like the city was grotesquely unsafe but I have since been proved wrong. Today while working to work I saw 3 men with giant vacuums cleaning the old city centre. All the custodial resources they are able to muster are obviously clustered in a tiny place.

In my first month in the real world I've enjoyed some great weather and parts of my view are nice. By contrast, in first year university part of the weather was nice and my view was great. I could continue on that thought train but comparing Bratislava and Queen's would birth an analogy far too painful to cement in writing.

One exception to the above: My flatmate Sarp is the polar opposite of my first year room mate Richard. Wow. Another blog post all in itself. I appreciate them both in very different ways.

My trips to the grocery store are getting quicker. Yesterday I found myself walking towards the Nutella without even thinking. I guess that means I'm adjusting. The rate determining step remains the hand of the cashier which she lugs around, almost as though it were molten lead oozing through her veins acting as the source of resistance. She's an older women though, so I am fairly confident it's a lingering memory or two of communism responsible for her sloth like movements.

All in all, and maybe ignoring a few days at the start spent in near complete isolation I think it's all gone by really fast. For some reason I feel disdain with myself for saying that.

UPDATE: Car alarms go off like crazy here.