Leggi Goes Abroad Again

across the river to the jersey side

Back at home, mom is still in Switzerland, dad is at work, and Gus is acting way too cool for me.  Solitary life is the worst.  I’ve compensated by watching the entire series (7 episodes) of Jennifer Love Hewitt’s hit show, The Client List, about her casual dabbling with prostitution.  I’m really only watching because her absolutely SLAMMIN husband abandoned her in the first episode and I really want to know if he comes back.  He also left behind his even hotter brother, who has feelings for her, so I’m hoping a Maury situation happens.  

The whole family drove me to the Black Forest the morning after the Bruce show.  I was so nervous that I tried to do anything to delay them… distracting the driver, stretching out lunch… no avail.  I was eventually taken to the hotel.  Everyone came in to meet the family, we said hello, and for a while I think I blacked out because I was so nervous about the fact that my mom was about to leave me there.  She then said the trigger words, “well, we better get going,” and I fought back tears while trying to tell myself that I was a 21-year-old college graduate, not a 6-year-old being left at summer camp for the first time.  Felt remarkably similar though.  They finally left, and the dad (Joel) asked me if I’d be able to go to Dubai with the family starting December 27th for a vacation, because they needed to book the hotels and flights rather soon.  Naturally, I balked, cause ew, who would want to go on an all expenses paid trip to Dubai?  As everyone knows, I have yet to cut the proverbial cord, so the thought of leaving my family the day after Christmas to fly back across the globe did actually make me a little uneasy.  It’s the only guaranteed week my brother gets off every year, it’s New Years, and then quickly followed by my brother and my mom’s birthdays.  I thought maybe the family could go to Dubai and I could meet up with them back in Luxembourg after.  (To those reading who think I’m insane, wait for it.)  So this thought was sort of lingering in my mind the whole vacation and I figured I would get home and discuss it with the family before making a final decision.

Spent the next days and nights eating delicious breakfast buffet, hanging out in the pool with the boys, playing in the giant kids zone gymnasium, going mini golfing, and fighting the horrible internet in my room.  Also had one completely sleepless night that I think I am still recovering from.  Got back to my room around 10, fell asleep around 11:30 because I was sleep-deprived from the previous night after Bruce, and then woke up at 2:15 am.  To sane people, that seems like a perfectly normal time to wake up and then immediately be able to fall back asleep.  Not this jetlag.  I figured out that my body thought it was just taking a nice 2.5 hour nap, and then ready to be up again for the evening.  After reading for hours, watching shows, walking around on my little balcony, and letting every possible negative thought about this potential job enter my head, I was not able to fall back asleep.  Turned off my alarm and got up for the day around 7, only to have a full day ahead of me with three boys under the age of 5.  

The parents were so amazing to me.  They’re by nature just very generous people, and want to make sure that we (me and their family) are both happy, no matter what means necessary.  I told their friend Kristi, who is also Patsy’s friend (and the reason I know them) about my worries about being away from my family for so long, and she communicated it to them.  As a solution, Joel told me that he would fly me home ten days before Christmas, fly me back to come to Dubai with them, and then tack on an extra week or 10 days or so in February/March to fly home again to see my family.  That offer sealed the deal for me right away.  The whole time at the hotel all I really wanted was the option to be able to fly home again in the spring, because going home once in a year seemed so terrifying.  The problem was instantly solved, and now I get to go to Dubai!! And hopefully Spring Training in Sarasota.  The baseball players aren’t going to stalk themselves.

Finished the vacation with a few more insignificant sleepless nights, but decided to definitely take the job.  After being so comfortable with the family all weekend, and seeing their willingness to make me happy, I would be an idiot not to.  Plus the boys are unreal.  Listening to them repeat the English phrases their parents tell them to say to me is something I could do all day.  ”Um.. Leeeeigh…. please.. PLAY..with…me.”  I can already see them starting to understand me when I talk, so I think even a few weeks together will help them click with it really fast.  

I’m flying out a few days after my birthday on September 3rd (another offer that the family suggested to me to help sweeten the deal), so I will be leaving around the 5th or 6th.  Hopefully I throw a big enough going-away party that I’m still drunk on my flight a few days later.  We’ll go right to their house on the Belgian shores until school starts for the boys in mid-September.  Since I know everyone’s thinking it, I’ll just say it: my life REALLY SUCKS.  FEEL BAD FOR ME.

Please visit though.  Anyone who reads this.  I welcome any visitor at all as long as English is their first language and they won’t mind my sarcasm and complaints about being lonely and not being able to watch O’s games.

there’s a hot sun beating on the blacktop

Yesterday we drove from Basel to Frankfurt, which was supposed to be about a three-hour drive.  It ended up taking us close to five because of traffic, which I did not know existed in Europe.  I assumed traffic was strictly a northern Virginia/southern California thing.  (Sometimes I even doubt that it exists in SoCal.  I’ve been there twice and have never experienced the horrors that those beachy people describe.)  Luckily, I was getting by on a solid hour and a half of sleep the night before.  After the Ambien debacle, my body was apparently too rested.  I watched TV alone downstairs, waiting to get tired, until about 6 am.  It was light when I got in bed.  Finally fell asleep for about an hour and then it was time to get up again.  At least I got to see how Revenge ended (omg).  

Arrived in Frankfurt, met up with my uncle Paul and my cousin Christian, checked into the hotel, then went over to the concert venue.  Apparently Europeans don’t really tailgate, another reason they are a little lame, but we sat in the car and drank and ate snacks that would be our only sustenance.  I usually hate warm wine because it makes me feel sick, and I had offhandedly mentioned it to anyone who was listening in the car.  I finally caved and asked my mom if she’d pour me a cup, and my 6-year-old cousin Kiri said “You’re going to get sick, Leigh.  You hate warm wine.”  We make our way over to the venue - no open container laws in Germany!  I could drink the whole five minute walk over!  Crucial.

Obviously Bruce is ludicrously famous, but it still blew my mind how many people were in the stadium.  It’s one thing if we’re on the east coast at home, where he started out, but Frankfurt!  While on this topic, I generally do not understand how or why American musicians are so popular overseas to people who have a native language other than English.  I know most Europeans speak at least some English, but to fill an entire stadium?  Know all the words?  I would rather die before I learned all the words to a French/German/etc song.  Not counting the popular “Hoorah pour vendredi” song we sang in French class in high school, one I still know all the words to and sing to myself loudly every Friday.

He opened with “Badlands” and then never stopped.  If I were 63, I would probably sway in place and sing an acoustic-only set.  He played for three hours nonstop with insanely high energy.  Going into the night I told Christian that if I heard “Thunder Road” my night/life would be made - followed closely by “Dancin in the Dark” or “Glory Days” (stereotypical Bruce fan.)  Heard the opening chords of Thunder Road that closed out the first part of the set and almost fell over onto my new German seat buddy/translator friend.  Favorite song of all time, ever.  The encore had both of the other songs I wanted, because Bruce loves me.  He took three song requests from people in the pit holding up signs, which made me want to plow through everyone and hold up my own sign, but I resisted.  Ended the set with “10th Avenue Freeze-Out” and had a picture tribute to Clarence, and I think everyone in the stadium was crying (just me?).  When it was over we all demanded our money back.  I just wish he would put a little effort in.  Jesus.  Took us over an hour to get home because of the parking lot mob, but at least I slept for six hours instead of one.  

Now sitting in the hotel getting ready and then driving to the Black Forest to meet up with the family I am probably working for.  Trying to delay it as long as possible because I’m nervous.  It feels like I’m going to be dropped off at summer camp, except no one is my age, no one really speaks English, and there is no chance of meeting my long-lost twin sister (Annie, we’re like sisters.  Hallie, we’re like twins!!).

as you sleep, and no one is listening

Mom and I are safely arrived in Switzerland.  While I could talk about my aunt’s beautiful new house that she and the family got after their apartment burned down last year (it’s all she EVER talks about.. she really milked the whole “fire” thing), this post will mostly be about the controlled substance Ambien CR, popular sleep aid.  I had taken half of one a few years ago hoping to get some sleep on a trans-Atlantic flight, and had really felt nothing.  I thought my body could handle the full pill.  Famous last words.  Sequence of events from yesterday to today:

• Mom and I are still at home packing and she gives me the full Ambien and tells me to put it in my pocket.  She says that she personally would never take one because they kind of scare her.  I insist I’ll be fine.
• We get to the airport and I’m yawning, excited that my natural exhaustion plus this amazing drug will surely knock me out for the whole eight hour flight!
• Plane is an hour late taking off due to “inclement weather” (I saw none of it) and I doze off after we have already boarded but yet to take off.  
• I google “How long does it take for Ambien to kick in” and see varying answers, but the consensus is pretty much within 20-30 minutes.  I start planning ahead.
• Mom and I catch the middle of “The Vow,” and I think I should wait to take the pill until after we find out if Rachel McAdams falls back in love with Channing Tatum.  
• Movie ends on the vague promise of them going on a date.  I’m thoroughly disappointed and the pill is burning a hole in my pocket, but dinner is here.  Choke it down.  I ask for a screwdriver - no good reason for drinking here, just wanted to. Plus, Ambien plus vodka, nothing could go wrong.  (Bridesmaids airplane scene?)
• Mom asks me to not to take the pill because she decided she wants us to hang out the whole time.  I decline.
• Take the pill after downing the screwdriver.
• Racing the clock, I sit there in my seat flipping through channels, wondering what I should do before the pill kicks in.  
• Decide I should probably stretch my legs and go to the bathroom before I fall asleep.  Mom and I both get up and I instantly feel dizzy and that I can’t see anything.  She walks in front of me and I hold onto her hips like a drunk two-year-old learning to walk.  Everyone in surrounding rows judges me.
• We get to the bathroom, I of course go in alone, and the ensuing five minutes were probably the hardest of my life.  Is this what it’s like to be a) a drug addict b) elderly c) mentally impaired? Two of the three of those can and will probably happen for me in my life, so I guess at least I got a snapshot.
• Slowly trudge back to my seat without my feet leaving the ground, like the way you’re taught to walk on ice.
• Fall asleep for 5 hours
• Wake up and want to kill everyone and everything, including all drug companies.  Who would inflict this kind of pain on one person?  Doubled over with nausea, can’t even eat my “wake-up” snack (I know), can’t bear to talk to my mom.  
• Drive the hour from Zurich to Basel, down some macaroni and cheese, fall asleep in my 6-year-old cousin’s bed for 4 more hours.

Too dramatic?  Never.  I will never take that evil pill again.  I will, however, continue to engage in all the great benefits white wine has to offer.

Frankfurt tomorrow to see Bruce Springsteen, the Black Forest Saturday.  So nervous I could die.

all of my change i spent on you

Ah, the long-awaited return of the blog only my family and Amy’s gran reads!!!

Short version of a long story: A friend of a friend of my aunt and uncle’s needs an au pair in Luxembourg for a year to help with their three little boys and to teach them English.  I’d live with the family starting September 1st, traveling on their vacations with them, taking a German class at the university three days a week, taking the boys to and from school and practice, babysitting a few nights a week, and teaching English to the boys who only speak German/Luxembourgish, and then (I assume) my choice activities: watching Orioles gameday (adorable how I think we’ll be in the postseason), video chatting with my family begging them to visit me, going out to bars alone risking assault just to try to fall in love with a foreigner who will whisper sweet foreign nothings into my ear, drinking alone in my room once the kids have gone to bed, awkwardly trying to make friends at the university by trying to get people to feel sorry for my lonely situation, and trying to find a drug dealer.  I’ll let everyone decide which parts of that I’m kidding about.

I’m flying out with my mom next Wednesday to Zurich - timetable:

• fly to Zurich Wednesday night at 6 pm
• Arrive and get picked up by Patsy Thursday morning
• Spend Thursday in Basel
• Drive to Frankfurt on Friday and see Bruce Springsteen with the family (!!!)
• Drive to the Black Forest (didn’t know this was a place) with Patsy and my mom to meet up with the family I’ll be working for at their vacation spot in southeastern Germany.  Apparently this is a famous mountain range that has something to do with the Brothers Grimm.  I started researching it and got bored.
• The worst part: mom and Patsy LEAVE ME with the family until Monday.  I literally have no escape if we don’t click.  Let’s hope Europeans with a language barrier understand my sarcastic charm (not a thing.) 
• On Monday, Patsy’s American friends who are also vacationing with the Luxembourg family will drive me back to Basel where I run into the arms of my loving, waiting mother.  She will probably be in Heidi land with Patsy and forgetting I’m coming home, but I’ll at least have the puppy to play with.
• Fly home Tuesday alone

Every time I think about the real possibility of doing this I get equal parts excited and on the verge of tears.  As someone who cries a lot but also loves adventure, this is a tricky situation to be in.  The two things in the past week that actually almost got me to say no to the job were:

• The idea of leaving my dog for a year
• Missing Spring Training and thus the opportunity to further bond with more washed-up Oriole greats (I’m lookin at you, Mike Bordick.)

Advice welcome.  But don’t say anything too emotional or hard-hitting unless you have tissues ready.

my home is people, not places

Sitting at the library under the pretense of studying for my Management final, the only class I took here that actually counts for credit, so naturally I am in fact not studying and instead writing lots of blogs and using this opportunity to catch up on all correspondence I have neglected in the past week of wallowing in living alone self-pity.

Things I will not miss about Europe/Ireland:

• Video chatting with my family on a Sunday evening when they’ve all gathered for the day to play cards, have dinner together, and generally love each other as I stare longingly until they eventually forget I’m still there and go about their afternoon (as has happened OFTEN.)
• The time difference that prevented me from ever watching a full hockey or baseball game.  Also, the fact that I couldn’t go to any Caps or O’s games. 
• My apartment and its malfunctioning lights, water, showers, toilets, general temperature, and the fact that is cannot remain clean for longer than a few hours no matter what we do.  I realize that last part is not exactly the apartment’s fault but over the past few months I’ve come to believe that it might actually have a mind and personality of its own.
• The mile long walk to school and to our friend’s houses.  Too long.
• The euro to dollar conversion rate.  $500 in my bank account equates to roughly 40 euro. 
• Ryan Air and everything associated with their criminal, organized crime approach to air travel.
• People who yell at me when I complain about things that aren’t perfect here.  Just kidding.  I’m not.  Yes I am.  But really.

Things I will miss about Europe/Ireland:

• The way the well-dressed European men and women stare at me, confused and upset and judgmental, when they take in my sweatpants, messy bun, and glasses.  Sorry I’m not sorry that I have no one to impress here.
• Anonymity.  This also falls under things I won’t miss.  I’m a complicated mix between wanting no one to ever bother me and needing human interaction and to be the center of attention at all times.
• Centra sandwiches, Cadbury cookies, Tesco Pinot Grigio… the list of bad food goes on. 
• The complete and utter lack of care for my schoolwork.  I half-assed my way through all of my assignments, literally skipped nine days straight of class for a ski trip, went to my 9am twice in the last two months of it, and wrote a five-page Geography essay one morning sitting in my apartment while simultaneously watching Glee.  And my lowest grade on an assignment here was a B+.  This grading system can’t be real.
• Everything related to the perfect country of Greece.  Oh, except for the thirteen-year-olds who loved to leer at us.  Actually, don’t mind that one too much, because the preteen who smacked Sarah’s butt while he was scootering by was pretty damn hilarious.
• The exhaustion of traveling that combines with adrenaline and exhilaration to make our trips so ridiculously emotional and amazing.  Sleep, read, lug through airports, fight with Ryanair ladies about baggage size, get to hostel, sleep more, wake up, see the most incredible cities in Europe, eat amazing food and gain weight, drink a lot and bond like girls do, repeat.
• The ludicrous lack of responsibility I have here.  The fact that my parents paid for me to travel the word.  The sheer once-in-a-lifetime idea that surrounds this whole ordeal.  My mom saying things like, “Wish I had your money!” when I tell her about my upcoming trips to Barcelona, Holland, Belgium, and Greece.
• My friends.  When you hang out with the same five people for five months straight, you really get to know each other.  It was obviously very different from home where I go to a tiny school where everyone knows everyone and it is literally impossible to walk on campus without saying hi to someone.  But it was a unique experience in spending my time exclusively with these five people and as cliche as it sounds, they helped me learn a lot about myself.

observations about living alone

As we all know, Amy left on Wednesday and is now back at home which is incredibly weird.  I don’t have a final until Thursday, so I’ve been alone doing nothing since last Wednesday when she left.  Events and observations of the past five days:

• The stove and oven somehow make strange noises even when completely turned off.  They only do it when I’m not looking.  As soon as I whip my head around to localize the source of the strange and eerie clicks and whirs, nothing.  It feels like an eternal game of “Red Light, Green Light,” elementary school playground favorite.
• I need lights on at all hours of the day.  This presents a problem because we only have three total working lightbulbs in our entire apartment.  (I keep saying “we” instead of “I” … any psychologist wanna tackle that one?)
• I go to bed terrified.  Any noises I used to hear when Amy was here I would assume were just natural sounds of living, whether it be her moving around or just our apartment lightly humming and lovingly clicking at us.  Now I’m convinced it’s a murderer, the type who hides inside your house and calls you from your own number and then you make a scary movie about it.  Admittedly, there are not a lot of places to hide in the apartment, but my conscience overlooks that detail.
• One pro of living alone is that I am free to watch as many Penelope videos from SNL as humanly possible when trying to get her voice/my impression of her down pat, without anyone making fun of me.
• My eating and sleeping haven’t gotten any better or worse without Amy, just extremely strange.  I wake up around 7:30 when the light streams in my room and I’m unable to fall back asleep.  I get up and read in the living room for an hour, and promptly fall back asleep on my uncomfortable love seat.  I eat breakfast around noon no matter when I get up, and then I want lunch within the next half hour.  I force myself out of the apartment during the afternoon, and then come back and stay up until 2 or 3 am watching Chelsea Lately, Russell Brand interviews, or my favorite, Russell Brand on Chelsea Lately.
• My mom informed me that I now have a curfew.  In Ireland.  She is under the impression that without Amy here, death while walking home is inevitable.  I am not allowed to be out after dark, because if I never make it home, there will be no one to call her and tell her I’ve died, like she is sure Amy would have.  I came home at 9:15 pm two nights ago to a very worried email from her.  So the next day I wrote to her saying that I was going to be out most of the night, but not to worry, I use my key as a weapon.  She was not amused.
• I’ve worn the same outfit all week.  I justify it by showering and then putting it back on, thinking that my body’s cleanliness must make the outfit itself actually cleaner.  That’s how that works, I think.
• Drinking is not as much fun alone.  Tried it once after she left, turns out it just feels pretty sad.  Forced my friends to come here by playing a huge pity card.
• All of my nap dreams include dreaming about next summer and a romantic life of living in Greece after graduation for a month or so.  I dreamt an elaborate image of all the locals knowing me, people whipping up Greek salads for me when I walked by my favorite restaurant because they already know what I’m going to order, people giving me fun odd jobs to earn extra cash.  Wake up distraught daily.
• Country songs sound really good when you’re alone.  Emotional, loving, missing home.  They have it all.

I leave Thursday night for Dublin and fly out Friday morning.  I remember lugging my suitcases up all these flights of stairs on the first day like it was yesterday.  I wish I could tell January-Leigh all the things that May-Leigh now knows: buy paper plates because you will despise doing dishes, and don’t eat everything you see in Paris.  Would have saved me a lot of trouble.

i hear that paradise is nice this time of year

I tried to write a blog this morning in the Dublin airport (which by the way, I feel like I spend more time at than at my own home, similar to how I felt about Costco before I left.)  Unfortunately, pulling all-nighters in airports isn’t quite as fun as it seems.  I DID enjoy laying on a restaurant bench with the news blaring above me as I heard repetitive details about Osama’s death for two straight hours, and sitting on the floor near an outlet watching West Wing on my computer, and walking around mindlessly hoping that my freezing cold body might warm up.  Fruitless.  Now we’re on the bus back to Cork, it’s still insanely early in the morning, and the only thing I am thankful for is the fact that this bus has internet.

SO.  Catching up on last few days in Greece.  Sarah and I rented ATVs again the day before her birthday, and everyone else was going to take the bus and meet us at the beach, Perissa.  They accidentally took the wrong bus, so it was just Sarah and me on this amazing beach for many hours.  We were trying to relax, but this American guy sat next to us and kept talking and talking about his life and travels and asking about us and balhbalbhalhblah.  At one point I said “it’s been great chatting but I really want to read now.”  Sorry I’m not sorry.  He was a little useful though, because he was a physical trainer and helped diagnose Sarah’s funny bone injury that had happened the day before when she slammed it so hard she thought she was going to pass out.  He ruled out bone and muscle damage.  WHEW. 

This beach was seriously incredible.  Every restaurant has beach beds and umbrellas on the beach that you’re allowed to use as long as you order anything from them.  So we each got something small, they bring it to you on the beach, and you get to lay on their extremely comfortable beds all day long for almost no money with food and service included.  I felt like a pampered tool.  Pictures of the beach:

First day there, lots of wine.

Sarah on her 21st! 

After sufficiently laying out in the sun (don’t worry mom, I had a band-aid over my scar) we took our ATVs back up the long road to the biggest town, Fira, and walked through its seaside/cliff-side village and shopped and ate Greek salad and watched the sunset.  Speaking of which, I became slightly addicted to Greek salad while there.  Who knew such a simple combination of ingredients would taste so good?  And why is feta cheese SO good? Things I have yet to answer.

The next day was Sarah’s 21^st, so we kept the ATVs and went back to the beach.  I had an omelette, toast, and bottled water brought to me on the beach for only 3 euro.  Ludicrously cheap.  Our friends got there, and we all laid out, drinking and relaxing.  Except me, because I was Sarah’s ATV DD.  Our goal was for her to stay consistently drunk all day, and with the help of Coronas and limes and a free drink given to her by the bar owners, it was a great success.  By the way, how many people can say they spent their 21^st on a beach in Santorini, laying on a beach bed, getting free drinks and relaxing all day?  Jesus.  I’m pretty stoked to spend mine in good old Fredvegas, Virginia. 

We all went up to Fira for the night and had dinner there, and then spent the rest of the night drinking in our little villa and playing games and of course getting emotional about leaving.  Girls are so annoying and predictable, right?  Woke up the next morning and I was in a terrible mood all day because we had to leave.  And here I am.  Still in an atrocious mood because I remembered that I have a real life and it is impatiently tapping its foot waiting for me.

this plane is all i got so keep it steady now

In the Athens airport waiting to board our flight to Dublin.  Leaving Santorini was probably the worst decision I’ve ever made.  But everyone else was, and I am SUCH a follower.  

We were supposed to be at the villa at 4:30 for Stavros to drive us to the airport, but we lost track of time at lunch and weren’t back until almost 4:45.  He was waiting for us and a little agitated because he had people to pick up at the port at 5.  He touched his watch showing us that he knew we were late and was annoyed.  The entire ride to the airport was super quiet, like when your dad is mad at you and you don’t know what to say.  But fear not - as soon as he dropped us off, we all got hugs and he said it was great to meet us.  Thank god.  I wonder if he has a Facebook.