It's Okay Not to Be the Tough Girl

Yesterday when I arrived home from school, as I do each day, I changed out of my teacher clothes into sweats. I slide my toes into my cozy moccasin slippers and walked into my living room. As soon as I sat on the couch, I heard a loud "thud." Something had fallen onto the floor. Since the handyman had hung artwork the previous day, I assumed it must have been on the walls. I scanned them first. Nothing.

I stood up and realized one of my funky side table legs was on the floor. It had fallen off.  I love this side table and its quirkiness. I love the carpenter who designed it because he saw tree branches and their uniqueness and incorporated those into his art. These little nuances can make the table a little temperamental and vulnerable at times (aka, the legs have been known to fall off) but I love it a little more for those traits.

Post repair. This time the right front leg (closest to the camera position )fell off.

Despite the table's vulnerabilities, this table is strong. After loosing a leg, my table still stood supporting a heavy copper lamp, votive holder and even my half full glass of water. Not even slight wobble but obviously in need a little tlc.

As I sat on the floor to reattach the fourth leg, I realized that the table was a metaphor for me. I was my quirky 3-legged side table. I could still support lots of weight. I could still function but I needed some tlc too.

Each leg has a specific way it fits into the top. If they weren't so tricky, I'd flip the table over for a better view but today that seems like a little too much work.

Over the weekend, I unfortunately was in a bus accident. A pedestrian ran out in front of the bus I was riding. The bus driver slammed on the brakes to avoid them. This caused me and other passengers to be thrown from our seats. Thankfully my injuries are contusions. Thankfully I was with friends on the bus and they went along with me to the hospital. Thankfully they are also okay. I have contusions on my head, face and shoulder. I have typical aches and pains and bruises all over my body from being in an accident. Exhaustion from a late hospital night and from my body trying to heal.

Saturday I stayed home, rested and slept. Sunday I also took it easy. One brief lunch outting to test my strength, some massive lesson planning and assisting the handyman. That wasn't too much.  I was okay or so I told myself that I was.

Yesterday when I woke up, I was more exhausted than I'd been Sunday evening. I figured I'd pushed myself too hard on Sunday. Despite a tiny voice in the back of my head saying, "Are you sure you should go?" I went to school. I thought I was strong enough and being back into the normal routines would be just what I needed. Shortly after I arrived, I realized I'd made the wrong decision. The advice from family and friends both near and far, was right. I was going too fast. I was still standing, just like my table; trying to awkwardly balance, shouldering too much weight, pretending everything was fine.

After the accident, new friends and colleagues here in Prague reached out to support me here. Phone calls, visits, text messages. All with offers of help. How many did I accept? None. I said no to everyone. I said that I was okay and didn't need anything which I thought was true. I had food. I was resting. I was taking Ibuprofen. What else did I need? When I wasn't in the comfort of my home though, that's when I realized I should come home to get some more rest. I also realized I needed to accept the offers of help. Maybe the accident was impacting me more than I thought? Maybe I needed a little tlc? The table could stand on 3 legs and I could stand after the accident, but why should I struggle alone?

I'm learning that I have a need to appear independent. That I think it's weak to ask for help in my life outside of school unless it's for things like restaurant recommendations or where to buy ice cube trays. I need to be the tough girl. Especially when I'm a new member of a community.

What this accident has taught me is that it's not just okay, but it's good to be vulnerable. People want to help. It's okay to show your weaknesses to others because we all have them.

It's good to ask for help when it's offered; be it soup or company or a laugh, because even if you think you didn't need it, you probably do.

I need to be more open to ask and receive help. I need to accept the tlc just like my little quirky table does when one of its leg falls off. It's okay not be the tough girl because what you receive from others will make you stronger than you could have ever been without. It also sometimes involves amazing arnica cream, flowers and chocolate too.

Flowers and great company from a friend.

Being the New Kid

This morning I woke up with a bad case of homesickness. I desperately wanted to call my family and friends and say, "I'm homesick. Let's go to breakfast or meet up later for dinner." I wanted it to be easy, to just be myself with people who love me.

But right now it's not that easy. See I'm the new kid. Each interaction I have with people in Prague feels pressured. I feel as though I have to be my best self each and every time.  

A million questions and judgements flurry through my mind while I'm with others. 

"Do they like me?"

"Why did I tell that story? I should have shared this one instead."

"Be open-minded. Take the time to listen."

"Why are you worrying about this when there are people with such 'bigger' things going on in their lives?"

And while all of this scurries across my conscious, another part of my mind desperately shouts, "Stop this. Just be you! They'll like you." 

This stage of feeling awkward and the wash of blue feelings will pass. What I need to do until it does is keep accepting the invitations here and just enjoy getting to know others. I need to reconnect with faraway friends and family to strengthen my sense of self.  And lastly treat myself with kindness.  That all sounds good but maybe for today, I just need to watch another episode of "Orange is the New Black," and go to bed early. Those are things I think I can do.

My New Home

I realized today while chatting with a friend who was sharing photos of their new home, that I had yet to provide the "grand tour" of my new apartment.

I decided to play with an app that's new to me to do this. It's called Photoshere and it helps to capture a 360º view.

*Disclaimer, The photos aren't perfectly aligned but feel like they give a good impression overall. 

There's more to do around the apartment, like hanging artwork, but definitely feeling settled in my new home. Without further ado, here's a little peek at my new place.

For those that need them, a few Photosphere tips:

• To use the 360º view, click on one of the images below and you can use your trackpad to explore.
• You can zoom in/out as well as look at all sides from the ceiling to the floor. 
• You can also click on the blue "view on Google maps" to open the link if that's easier for you. 

The hallway & entry

Views: Prague, Czech Republic by Megan Looney

Living room

Views: Prague, Czech Republic by Megan Looney

Kitchen

Views: Prague, Czech Republic by Megan Looney

My bedroom

Views: Mountain View, CA by

Second bedroom (aka laundry room for now)

Views: Prague, Czech Republic by Megan Looney

Stats

Most of my first week in Prague updates have been on Instagram (link here if you wanna see different photos or to follow me). Based on feedback there, this post is framed in the same manner. It's organization and info is little different than my typical post.

A few stats from my first week in Praha...

17,040 steps on average/day
Coming from Mumbai where I rode everywhere and considering this isn't a workout, I feel great about my daily step average. Using public transport, preparing for my apartment move and doing a bit of sightseeing encourages a lot of steps. Before I moved to Prague, I was curious about how living here would impact my daily movement so I joined the fitness tracker club (mine's a Garmin) and do feel that sense of satisfaction others raved of when I walk more than the previous day. I'm loving the ease of getting around here. It's one of the reasons Prague felt like it would be a good fit for me.

Gotta love Google maps & easy navigable public transport

Bus station timetables are posted and easy to read

Glad I've got comfy shoes for these streets.

3+1 = my apartment
In Prague apartments are rented and sold by the number of rooms. My new apartment is a 3+1 which means 2 bedrooms, 1 living room and a separate kitchen. When you read the apartment ads it's like a new code with things like 2+kk, 2+1, etc. I found a great place for me. Great neighborhood, rigth across from a large park with a beer garden, close to public transport and a farmer's market. Inside it has some old charm, great lighting and a modern kitchen. I'll get the keys later today and share pics soon.

By apartment building's door

My new street with some cloudy skies

??? liters of pivo
That's how beer is ordered in the Czech Republic, so don't think I'm suddenly drinking the whole day away. The Pilsner's cold and delicious. It's also cheap! It's only about 80 cents (USD) for half a liter. It doesn't fill you up (no carbonation) and is the perfect thing to have at the end of the day while catching up with new friends and colleagues.

Beer and bowling at my hotel

1 Free Tour
Since this is my first time here, I had to play tourist for a day. I took a advantage of a 3-hour free tour. It's organized by a company who's guides wages are based on tips. It was a great way to see some of the city and get oriented. I didn't go photo crazy either during the tour nor with my sharing here, just took some of those things I found interesting and/or beautiful.

Church of Saint Ludmilla

David Cerny's UnUtero; A pregnant woman who's womb you can climb into

The medieval astronomical clock at Old Town Hall

Old Town Square

20 tourists
I'd read and heard that sunrise and sunset over the Charles Bridge are the best times to visit. I had tried mid-day earlier this week and hated the crowds so decided to get up early yesterday and try it out. Now sunrise here is at 5:27 am with it being summer, so I didn't arise that early but made it to the bridge by 7:30 and at the most I only saw about 20 tourists. The peace made the area even more enchanting.

A gate to enter Charles Bridge

A bride out early taking some photos on the bridge

Canal in the Castle district

John Lennon wall

A few love locks on a canal bridge

View of the castle and Charles Bridge and this is just my iPhone not a postcard I swear!

??? cafe au lait
Cafe culture is big in Prague and I've had the caffeine to prove it.

Complimentary cookie and Sudoku at Cafe Lounge

13:00 - 17:00
Tomorrow IKEA will deliver my sofa, dishes, glasses and a couple of pillows. It's a sleeper sofa for those who are wondering...

It's crazy how easy shopping can be sometimes

Shopping for the "needs" like storage under tiny sinks

So not my typical post, in format or content, but thought I'd share a few more stats and some photos from my first week in my new home city.

Waiting Room Humor

Being in the U.S., I find doctor's waiting rooms always more interesting than those I wait in abroad. Why? My fellow patients' conversations and the ability to understand the nuisances of English and American humor.

Two stories from my waiting room time this week.

1. Changes
A man and woman who were in their late 70s entered. While he was checking in for his appointment, the nurse asked him the usual questions, "Has any of your personal information changed since your last visit? Insurance? Addresses?"

"No, I was just here last year," he replied.

"Actually sir, you were last here 6 years ago."

Laughing he responded, "Well, then yeah, a lot has changed."

The gentleman spent a bit of time reviewing his paperwork and then came to sit by his wife who was reading a Woman's Day Magazine.

As he sat down, he said, "So, the last time I was here was 6 years ago."

She nodded.

"And you came with me."

Another nod.

"But then you were listed as my friend."

"Oh," she said with a sly smile.

"So I crossed that out and wrote bossy wife. Figure that way they'll know it's you."

They both chuckled. She shook her head and looked back down to her reading as he kissed her left cheek.

2. Aging
A women, I'm guessing was in her late 50s, went over to the magazine table that all doctors' waiting room offices have. She picked up the magazine on the top of the stack.

She chose People.

"I won't know any of the people in this magazine. Not one. That's how I knew I was getting old, when I didn't recognize anyone," she chuckled.

I smiled at her.

"Every time I read one, I go home and ask my husband if he knows who these celebrities are and he'll answer, 'Who? No idea.' That always makes me feel better to know he's old too."

We laughed.

Waiting rooms always test your patience but this week they also gave me a few laughs.

Home Revised

It seems like there's a trending topic with bloggers I follow lately. The concept of home. I wrote my own version while on my flight home from Mumbai to Chicago a week and a half ago. 

Then I was met at the airport with huge hugs. 

After just a few hours back in the the States, I realized my original "home" post needed a major rewrite.

Until I boarded the plane, I had called Dekalb, Illinois and Mumbai, India home. In DeKalb, home held memories of Christmas Eve traditions including matching jammies. In Mumbai, it facilitated escape from beautiful chaos. Both places created safety, peace and comfort. 

The final few weeks, I felt like I'd lost home. My sense of having a place had evaporated. 

Which is where?

I was in stuck in-between places Trying to accept that I'd spend the summer holding a pin to put onto my map.

But then unexpectedly, I found home. A bedroom in my parents' new house that was decorated less than 24 hours after 2 closings. 

My bedroom for the summer including cute throw pillows

A sister trip to Vancouver with the Goo. Watching soccer out with my parents. Spending a Saturday catching up with dear friends in Chicago. I realized that sometimes home isn't one place. It's not the place your parents lived for 28 years. Not the apartment you painted in vibrant hues in Mumbai. Home is anywhere and everywhere. It's where I make it.

For this summer, not only does Kermit have a home but I have one too. The uncertainty I'd struggled with the final few weeks of the school year in Bombay has been unexpectedly reattached. Stitched back into the place by the people I love. Thank you.

Crashes

Yesterday the walls came crashing down. Literally.

One of the cabinet doors in my kitchen broke away from the wall as I attempted to put away my freshly washed french press.

At the time I thought it was funny. The external, literal falling down of things around me. Lately it's felt like I've been driving in Mumbai again; trying to dodge collisions and this one I couldn't avoid.

Yesterday though, I shrugged it off, put in my School Dude request to have it repaired (Yes, I know I'm spoiled by only completing a brief online form to have a handyman come to my apartment and make the repair for free) and went about the remainder of my day.

About 11:30 this morning, though there was a pile up. This crash came in the form of a doorbell and a table.

My friend's movers arrived to pick up the table she bought from me.

The movers slide off their sandals, picked up the table and were out in again in moments. This move was perfect. A green light. After closing the door, I sat back down to work. My eyes glanced back to the lesson plan and suddenly, I started to cry. The collision A full on, noise making, eye squinting, boogery cry. I'd been hit.

Also when you move furniture you also realize just how dirty your walls are.

While washing my face, I realized this crash had nothing to do teaching but was all about my space. I'm a nester. My home space is important to me. It's sacred. This new emptiness made me feel as though the end had arrived.

The longer I live abroad though, I realize this is part of transitioning. It comes in waves. Today hit me. It wasn't so much about the thing. The table. It was about the people I'm saying goodbye to for a while.

Rather than wallowing in my sorrows in my emptier nest, I reached out to my friends who in an instant were there with understanding and support.

Friends quickly offered to move up our afternoon date. They arrived earlier. After lunch, manis and pedis and just some good talks and quality time with some of my girls; I'm no longer suffering from transition whiplash.

While I hope no more literal things come tumbling down around me, I do know that these collisions will be a part of the next few months ahead.

End note 1: In case you wondered, the French press was also a casualty. Shattered and not quite as shrug-off-able as the cabinet door.

End note 2: Yes we are riding in a rickshaw with a lampshade above our heads. All you need to know is that it made me feel better. 

A Prescription for Skies

A disease I've contracted from living in Mumbai blue sky-itis. It's main symptom is intense cravings for skies. For any shade of blue. Royal. Cobalt. Powder.

There are some days where I get my fix riding along in my commute home or occasionally from a walk along Arabian Sea. Most of the time though, I suffer without.

When I’m outside Mumbai I really notice the indigo. The azure. The midnight. 

Outside the city the blues are completely accessible. No partial view. No apartment high rises blocking them. Outside the city the blues are in their purest forms. No city lights interfering in their depth. 

When I escape the sky desert of Mumbai, I find ways to get a fix.

Lounging on the Koh Lanta's beaches and watching sky blues bleed into the sea.

Tilting my head back so far my neck starts to hurt in the salt flats of Gujarat.

 Filling up my memory card with photo after photo of the simple sky blues of Kashmir.

Admiring the brilliant sapphire skies that make the visible even in your photos in Istanbul.

I've become that girl, the annoying one, who notices the skies and interrupts conversations to share my noticing. I crave for the people I'm with to pause and marvel in their beauty. Most people oblige, nod in agreement and quickly the conversation continues. Some pause and support my silent appreciation. One even suggest a hashtag for my Instagram posts.

I linger longer in the blues and reap their curing powers.

Transitions Suck

Transitions suck.

They’re hard. I know what’s ahead. 

Packing. Saying goodbye.

Waiting. Sitting in between moments.

Being the new girl. Seeking possibilities.

I’ve done this before. I’ve watched family and friends navigate them.

New countries and cities. Jobs and marriages. Babies being born while loved ones grow older.

Sometimes we RSVP’d change and sometimes they’ve crashed our party.

I invited them. I invited change.

But right now it feels; I feel sad.  

Because I feel right here is right.

And that’s okay because it's just all part of this.

Ahoy! Language Lessons

Learning a foreign language has never come easy for me. I tried, with a bit of effort, to learn Spanish and Portuguese. When I actually put effort into studying them, my reading and writing abilities were average. My listening abilities were pretty mediocre too.

First Portuguese class at EAB. Moro no India.

A photo posted by Megan Looney (@meganlooney05) on Jun 22, 2012 at 9:24am PDT

Oh and my speaking proficiency? That fell into a completely different category. It was awful. Why? Easy answer. Mostly because I loathe speaking another language.

Whether in the past or in the present, my perfectionistic side speaks loudly and criticizes my abilities when I make an attempt to utter a word or phrase.

I'm transported back to my freshman year in college. My Spanish professor only spoke Spanish. Shocker I know; but from what I recall he refused to speak any English. I'd use the most strategic means I could think of to evade answering his questions. Avoid any and all eye contact with him. Shockingly, that strategy didn't work and he'd call on me. Even when I would ask in Spanish for help with a particular word or phrase, "¿Cómo se dice____?" He'd refuse. Now I'm not saying having high expectations aren't appropriate for students or that I disagree with the belief that "we learn best when we're outside our comfort zone" but I was in agony. I wanted to slide down off my navy blue college desk/chair combo onto the floor and cower under my desk until this moment in the spotlight vanished. Needless to say my frustration and anxiety caused me to drop that class and Spanish.

Moving to the Czech Republic, I know I need to learn Czech for a few reasons.

First the practical. I've read it's helpful. As in most countries, some people speak English and others don't. Also, as in most countries, people there appreciate it when someone puts forth an effort to try and speak the local language. Both of these are shocking statements I know. Please sense the sarcasm.

The second reason? It's personal. No more excuses. No more hiding behind sweaty palms and a frozen tongue. I'm determine to learn Czech.

Since I was bound and stupid determined, I began to research some options. I wanted to find something that would play to my strengths, by choosing a program that included visuals while at the same time providing me the needed listening and speaking practice I loathed needed.

So this week, as I rode in the car to and from school, I started studying.  This morning while out to breakfast with a friend, she asked me what phrases I knew. This impromptu quiz brought out those feelings of not being good enough or smart enough (insert Stuart Smalley mirror image here) but I told her the phrases I did remember. They were fewer than yesterday but still some stuck. And much more importantly, I said them aloud to someone other than my driver, who doesn't speak English, who hears me practicing all the time.

So "Ahoy" or "hello" to this new learning and starting to let go of the past.

My commute today has some new Czech stats: 2 lessons, 5 (maybe 6) confident phrases. Long way to go but I'm starting. #Czech #india #language #prague #megscode

A photo posted by Megan Looney (@meganlooney05) on Feb 12, 2015 at 3:34am PST

India's Coming Full Circle

The day I left for India

Life is coming full circle for me in India.

When I arrived about 3 and a half years ago, my right leg landed encased inside a boot. An ankle sprain caused by stepping into a tiny hole while wearing cute red patent leather wedges on an after dinner walk in Chicago with my family.

My arrival to India is held in my mind like hands wrapped around warm cup of tea. Many of the memories warm me mentally on cooler Mumbai mornings. Around the inside walls of the teacup though, there are ankle sprain stains. Memories of being "trapped" inside during monsoon season. Avoiding slippery sidewalks. Avoiding puddles. Memories of frustration caused by trying to be patient with my healing body while my soul wanted to go out and explore.

Flash forward to a week ago, Friday. Change the setting to school and a quick bathroom stop on my way to a classroom A combination of a wet floor and lack of signage warning me of said wet floor caused a new sprain. This time, my left ankle.

Friday on my way to school, ankle brace and all

As I sat nursing my ankle with an ice pack, a colleague I'm close to said, "India's come full circle. You're going out how you came in." I laughed. It was true but this was not in the way I'd hoped. 

I want to spent my last months in India exploring and embracing and being trapped inside my apartment again wouldn't allow for this. After this sprain, I again shut myself in and was a "good girl" who rested at home and didn't go out for a friend's birthday or errands or exploring. Those stains from 3.5 years ago came back. I had friends who came over and others who checked on me which helped as well as lots of reminders that I was "doing the right thing" from friends and family and a physical therapist.

Late last week though, I was reminded less of the stains and more of warmth. 

I was reminded that when the sun did emerge during monsoon when I first moved here, so did I. I explored my new neighborhood by leaning out of rickshaws. I met friends for Bollywood movies and even visited the Gateway of India on Independence Day. I was able to get out. Just not as often and frequently or necessarily when I wanted. 

Gateway, me and my boot

This time, small things like a visit to the framer, running several errands and a weekend where I wrapped my hands around a cup of tea while talking with friends brought the feelings of freedom. Despite the annoyances that come along with physical injury, I was reminded that in the grand scheme, it's going to be okay.

There will be more days of soreness. There will be days I feel trapped.There will be days that physical therapy will take priority over a dinner with friends. These won't be my only memories though. The circle's not quite closed and there's still lots of time and ways to keep filling up my cup.

Cracking the Code

I’ve had two personal blogs. Brazil and Bombay. This one makes three.

Blondie in Bombay’s been post-less for months. Brasil? Years. 

I’m missing the blogsphere. Craving it.

Why haven’t I posted on either one? Well, for one blog, that was an easy question to answer. Geography. I don't live in Brasil anymore. 

Bombay though? Finally I figured out the obvious. When I chose geographic specific titles for my blogs, I thought I needed to share insights into those places. Into Brazil. Into Mumbai. Into how life was "different." Both blogs confined my writing and stifled my words so much I abandoned blogging. 

But why? Maybe it was because at times people in the U.S. have said, “But your life is so different,” and I allowed the internalization of those words to shape my ideas. To limit them.

In reality, life isn’t all that different living overseas. I teach. I run errands. I decorate a Christmas tree and I post a picture of my tree on Instagram just like everybody else.

Coming home to this makes my heart happy. #xmas

A photo posted by Megan Looney (@meganlooney05) on Dec 8, 2014 at 3:08am PST

When people in the U.S. talk about the police officer's dash cam karaoke of "Shake it Off" or the State of the Union address, I probably am talking about those same things too. Just like at home, some of those topics are more of the lunchroom banter than others. 

Sometimes it is different but for the most part, it’s the same. It’s about the people and experiences and ideas I have. That we all have wherever we are. The zip code or as they say in India pin code, shouldn’t dictate what I share.

Took me a while to sort that out. 

So cheers to a fresh blog. My blog. My words about what I want to say. One without a zip or pin (Hence the name of this post and also blog).

* For some reason this new blog makes me feel a little vulnerable. Understanding why that is has unintentionally delayed me to publicly share my first post. Not asking for anything, just putting those exposed feelings out there.

** All of my Brazil and Bombay posts will have this as their home. Eventually.