Better Late Than Never

As promised, I will deliver anyone interested in reading a blog of my current life happenings! I can't promise the frequency of the posts and/or the grammatical errors since I am writing from a tablet, which is all I currently have at my disposal. It is not easy to type essay length posts on a touch screen! In any event, here is the first run through, and I hope you enjoy and comment! :)

Let me first start with some background information for those who may not be aware of my current situation. We have to go back a ways in order for this to make any logical sense, I apologize. Let's start with roughly a year ago. Last May, I graduated college from CMU with my Bachelor of Arts Degree in Anthropology and Spanish. I wasn't quite sure what I wanted to do with my life and the real world was a cold, hard slap in the face. With few dollars in my pocket, and fewer job offers, I returned home to live with my parents for the summer while I tried to figure things out for the next step of my life. I returned to work at the local coffee shop, which I absolutely love. Living on the west coast has never been a problem for me, since I love the people and the atmosphere. However, the lack of "real jobs" is a reason to look elsewhere. I applied for many jobs and internships all spring and summer. I know that you're supposed to search for financial stability, but I didn't really have an interest for money, and I never really have. My problem was that my true passions didn't really line up with any particular jobs that I could find.

However, in August, I received notice that I had gained an internship in the Special and Rental Events department at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago. I was very excited at the thought of pursuing one of my main passions, which is art. I was also excited to get my feet wet in the professional museum field. It's time for honesty, since I don't plan on sugar coating anything in this blog. Some of you may be reading this truth for the first time, so take the following as you will: Since my internship was unpaid and part-time, I certainly didn't have the funding to move into an apartment in the city on my own, so I moved in with my Aunt Gale. Super glamorous, amiriiiight? In any event, I also had just purchased a new car, and with a new car comes a car payment, so I was in need of cash fast. So along with working twenty hours a week at the museum, I took a thirty hour a week job working at a Mexican grocery store on the south side of Chicago. The clamorous life just continues on!

Working these two jobs simultaneous, along with living with my aunt taught me a lot of hard and fast lessons.

1: sleep is crucial. you don't realize that until you are working 50 hours a week, 7 days a week.
2: social interaction/friendship is also crucial. I knew next to no one in the city, other than my coworkers. No friends, plus no time/energy for a social life makes for an unhappy life.
3: you never realize your own privileges/stereotypes fully until you have to combat them on a daily basis.

Continuing on point three, I think I learned more at my job as a grocery store cashier than I did at my museum internship. Sure, my museum internship was professional, and it taught me many new things, but it was quite simple most of the time. At the store, I was a shiny goldfish in a bowl, and everyone looked at me as if I was some kind of abnormality. As the only white person working in the store, the Mexicans were amazed that I could speak Spanish. (This of course is the only reason that I was hired, at least my Spanish degree went to good use...) I constantly had to refute stereotypes that they held about me, and I was always explaining myself, telling my story over and over and over, and also asking for stories in return. During my time there, I learned more about Mexican lifestyle and immigration than I ever could have learned in a text book. And suddenly, there it was: the spark of passion that I had been looking for. Through language, cultural barriers were broken down and I was able to communicate as equals with my coworkers. Over time, they began to know me and trust me and befriend me. It was wonderful to finally feel involved, even if I would never be fully accepted into the fold.

So, my inner anthropologist was very happy at the grocery store, and it also gave me an income. Bonus! However, the rational part of my brain, the museum professional, and society at large, was telling me that one can not make a successful and happy living working in a foreign grocery store their whole life. As my internship drew to a close, I needed to figure out my next move. One of my fellow interns told me about a website where you can become an international au pair. Curious, with my passion for language and travel, I looked into it. I found myself suddenly immersed in a whole new world of opportunities. I knew that this was something that I could do, and something I could love. But the question remained, where?

I thought about Spain, and although I love it there and miss it dearly, I wanted to try something new. I considered the french that I had studied in college. Maybe this was the time to improve, and learn a new language and culture. A family from Belgium contacted me shortly after I joined the website. They seemed nice, and their two daughters looked cute. After a few emails and skype sessions, it was decided. I would go and live with them to be their au pair.

Now, that all sounds fine and simple, however, as those of my inner circle can tell you, this is anything but true. I spent nearly six months communicating, planning, applying for my visa to move to Europe. It was literally the most emotionally trying time of my life, thus far. Looking back, I can say that it taught me patience, however, in the moment it was pure emotional torture waiting every day for a precious piece of mail that never seemed to arrive.

Meanwhile, Brent had moved to the Netherlands in January to start his masters program in economics. Our communication was limited, and I was looking forward to finally being able to reunite in the same time zone, and the same continent.

Finally, on April 8th , my visa arrived. I booked my flight for literally less than twenty four hours later, and on April 9th, I was in the air on my way to Dublin. Now you may be thinking, why were you in such a rush? The family in Belgium had been waiting for my arrival for several months. I was scheduled to arrive in February, but my visa kept getting delayed for reasons still unknown to me. In any event, my flight went smooth to Dublin, and I landed and had a short layover before heading to Brussels.

After landing in Brussels, the panic began. I was extremely jet lagged and tired, nervous about catching the right train to Arlon, and on top of it all, there was a delay in the baggage so I had to sit and wait for what felt like forever for my suitcase to arrive. When it finally did, I tried to purchase a train ticket at the kiosk. Of course, the kiosk wouldn't accept my credit card, so I went to look for a ticket booth to buy my ticket with cash from an actual human being. As I was attempting to leave the terminal, I was chosen to be randomly searched by security. Not only did this waste my time, it also was embarrassing to have some random man rifling through my underwear and clothing undoing all my neat packing for the whole security line to see. Fantastic. At least I have cute underwear. After repacking my suitcase, since Belgian security finally decided I did not, in fact, have a bomb, I set off to find a train ticket. The teller told me that the train would leave in ten minutes. Cue me running like a mad woman through the airport dragging my suitcase along with me to get to the train platform on time. I literally jumped on as the train doors were closing. Trying hard not to cry from sheer exhaustion, panic began to set in as I realized my phone did not work, and there was no wifi for me to connect to on the train. How was I supposed to communicate with Sebastien, my new host father? How was he supposed to know when to pick me up? What if I never found him? All of these awful thoughts were running through my head. However, it was early afternoon and passing through the city of Brussels was hard to ignore. Just the marvelous joy of being in Europe again was enough to keep me mentally a float.

Until....I realized I had missed my transfer. I missed the stop and so I had to get off at the next one and figure out when the next train to Arlon was coming. I asked a platform attend if he knew when it would arrive, and he said roughly thirty minutes. I began to panic again, wondering how far this would set me back because of my stupid mistake. I went to a wifi hot spot and sent a desperate email to Seb, hoping it would go through. I told him what time my train was supposed to arrive and hoped for the best. After getting on the right train, I had a two hour ride to think/panic/enjoy the scenery of the Belgian countryside/try my best not to face plant from severe jet lag. I had been awake for over thirty hours at this point, but I could not risk falling asleep on the train and missing my stop. I listened to very loud music on my ipod and tried to focus on every detail of what I was seeing.

After what felt like the longest part of the journey, my train finally arrived in Arlon, Belgium. Arlon is a medium sized town that is on the the southeast border of the country, very very close to Luxembourg. Getting off the train, I had no idea what to do or where to go. I involuntarily began to cry a little from panic and exhaustion. But then suddenly I heard someone tentatively say: "Jennifer?" and there was a man in a navy suit coming towards me. I knew from skyping, that it was Sebastien. Not caring much about cultural customs, I ran to him and hugged him as if he were my family, not someone I had never met. I was so happy to know that he had figured out my train schedule and come to pick me up at the right time. His suit might as well have had a superman suit on underneath it. He took my bag and brought it to his super slick BMW. The cars here are amazing, I drooled when I got inside. After some brief getting to know yous, we drove to the city center to the government building to get me legally registered as a resident/employee of Belgium. It was tedious to fill out more paperwork when I was so tired, but legally this needed to be done. After words, he stopped in a cafe and bought me a sandwich and took me to my new home.

This house is really more like a mini mansion. Three stories, all white and crisp and modern and brilliant. There is a pool in the back with amazing gardens, a greenhouse, and a trampoline for the girls. I have my own wing of the house, literally. It has its own entrance and everything. It's basically a mini apartment that is connected to the rest of the house, it is more than I could have hoped for. I also have my own car to use while I am here, a VW Bug. I'm happy to be back in some German engineering! Time to put my stick shift skills to work.

I had a few hours to eat, unpack, and take a shower, but my downtime was short lived. I arrived on the 10th of April, and the next day, the family was departing for a ten day vacation to Italy, with me in tow. I repacked a smaller bag for the trip, and we departed for a two hour car ride to Tournai, where Catherine (my host mothers) parents live, since this is where Emma and Elise (the two daughters) were staying, and where we would be departing from the morning of the 11th. We didn't arrive till after midnight, and I was to share a room for the night with the two girls I would be nannying for. They were already sleeping when I got there, of course. It was nerve wracking to think that I would meet them for the first time so soon, but by the time I saw a bed, I was so damn tired I fell immediately into a dreamless sleep for a mere five hours.

When I awoke bright and early the next morning at six am, two small dark shapes were lurking near my bed. I sleepily rubbed my eyes and as they adjusted, I saw two girls. A blonde and a brunette, looking at me as if I were some sort of alien crash landed in their room. I introduced myself in shaky french and they smiled shyly back and quickly exited the room. Great, they hate me already, my half dead brain thought.

Till tomorrow, to hear about Italy. It is almost midnight here now, and my wrists hurt from typing on this tablet. I hope this is enough for now! I will post another blog and pictures tomorrow.

All my love,
XOXO