I Drove in BA and Lived to Tell the Tale

This is a long story and reads like a novel, but it's one of those where I think, "Did this really happen?" And of course it happened to me. I mean what with my track record with the foreign police and visa issues, it's not a wonder. After all, my life's been somewhat quiet on that front lately, so naturally it needed some shaking up a bit, right?!

Monday I drove to the capital, Bratislava, in a car I borrowed, to go the American Embassy to renew my passport and have some notarial issues taken care of, and it ended up being one of those trips from hell (at the time) and extremely comical (looking back on it). I have never driven in BA before, and since this is a country that doesn't exactly label traffic lights with a street names, it's easy to get lost if you don't know where you're going, which I didn't. So the week of not sleeping before hand, from the stress of the job that sucks out my soul, and then the stress of not sleeping knowing I was going to a completely unfamiliar city during rush hour traffic to make an 8:45 a.m. appointment, left me rather out of sorts. (To put it this way, I woke up in the middle of the night over last weekend with my second panic attack in the last four months.)

I basically didn't leave in enough time to avoid traffic (you know it's a bad omen when you leave BB at 5:30 a.m. and still can't avoid traffic), and then I couldn't find Aupark shopping center to park for free and take a bus across the Danube to Stare Mesto (old town) where the Embassy is located... and by this time it was something like 8:25 a.m. And then, by the grace of God and apparently pretty handy backtracking skills, I managed to find and cross the Apollo bridge that took me to the outskirts of Stare Mesto, and make the appropriate left turns towards the center and end up on a street I recognized from the map I'd stared at for days trying to figure out where I was going. I managed to find parking in the Opera House parking garage, which is extremely close to the Embassy, and run to said building by the time 8:40 or so rolled around.

Anyway, the Embassy resembles Fort Knox from the outside. There's a gate surrounding the property, and a steeled security check point entrance for both people and drivers. Security guards (Slovak policemen essentially, not U.S. Marines depicted in films) standing around outside, somewhat on edge, eyes scanning for the slightest irregularity or unusual activity,  ever at the ready to draw their guns and avoid (or start?) an international incident. There's a security officer sitting inside the steeled and glassed entrance checkpoint who checks passport and papers, makes a phone call to see if you actually have the appointment you claim to have, and then pushes the button to enter the checkpoint only to confiscate everything on you - camera, mobiles, liquids, chapstick, keys - and sends you through the full body scanner while your handbags go through an x-ray scanner. Then you're greeted by the officer's colleague with the security wand that she deftly moves across your body to make sure you're not carrying anything dangerous/illegal on your person as you stand spread eagle feeling somewhat violated. Before I could stop myself, in the stress of getting lost and then finding my way and barely making the appointment on time, I made the comment that I felt like I was at the airport. The two officers just laughed unapologetically. I was finally handed a badge to wear and a badge to retrieve my personal effects after the appointment, told to go to the "yellow building, second door, window 5." I dashed off, repeating the mantra to myself, and found said place only to have to wait because there was someone at window 5 already.

I was able to get to window 5 and started getting the ball rolling on one of the two appointments I had (that's right, you must make separate appointments for each service you need at the Embassy); I had to pay for my notary services before they would proceed with them, and when I went to window 1, I learned the system had temporarily crashed and I'd have to wait... again. So I did. Then I was called back into the room when the system was running again and was able to pay and then went back to window 5. Graciously, I was allowed to take care of both appointments at the same time, so I was sent back to window 1 to pay the passport renewal fee and then sent back to window 5 again to wait again. Finally, an American employee (Slovaks are also employed at the Embassy) came to approve my passport renewal and notarize the paperwork I needed. Once that was done, which took hardly any time at all, I was able to leave. So I trucked back to the security checkpoint and retrieved my things and leave.

I go back to the car, pay nearly $10 for an hour and a half of parking (!) and drove towards the exit gate... only to not be able to find my ticket to stick in the booth to open the gate. I'm frantically looking, praying, ready to curse when the car behind me starts honking, the driver scowling at me. I start yelling at him, only realize he can't hear me, and then the car behind reverses, he reverses, and I have to reverse, tail between my legs and totally ready to start crying. I drive back into the garage, park and dash back towards the pay meter; the ticket's no where. I go back to the car, looking at the ground to see if it fell, checking the first place I parked, only to see it sitting in the seat I had just vacated to look for it. I leave the parking garage and get a call from the owners of the car I was driving to inform me that there is no highway sticker on the car. (In this country, there are inter-city highways you must have a special sticker to drive on; otherwise, if you get pulled over by the cops, you get a big fine. They're called toll roads, but there's no toll booths on them.) So I'd been driving illegally all morning long and still had to get back on the highway to head home. I decided I'd just buy the darn sticker and be done with it... after all the money I'd forked over already, what was another $13 or so?

So I headed back towards the highway... or rather I pretended I knew where I was going since I have no idea how I got to where I did in the first place. I found the bridge, made the wrong turn and ended up at Aupark, exactly where I'd been trying to find all along in the earlier hours of the morning. I was so frustrated and humored, I pulled over into the gas station next to Aupark to buy the highway sticker, and then drove to Aupark and went inside to buy some fruit at the grocery store inside, which of course was closed because they were doing inventory. So I left and decided to drive to Ikea, which was on the way home... except I missed the turn around and ended up on a highway taking me to Brno, Czech Republic. All I could think was, "Unbelievable." So I drove for a while before I finally found a place to exit, except I couldn't just turn around and I was taken onto another highway going back into the depths of BA, but not in the direction I needed to go. I found a place to turn around, only I couldn't make a u-turn, so I ended up going up a hill further away from where I needed to be. I finally was able to turn around at the top of the hill where there were several apartment building complexes and go back down the winding hill, take a right at the highway from where I'd just come and then follow signs to the highway I needed (going back towards Bystrica). After all that I found Ikea just fine and spent a good bit of time wandering around to calm my poor nerves and just walk.

I left Ikea and though I followed the directions on the map, I somehow ended up on the wrong side of the highway again!, but it was quickly remedied by a hasty exit and seeing the signs for getting back onto the highway going the correct way. Once there, it was a breeze getting back to BB. No problems, no getting lost. It was just the middle part of the journey that sort of did me in. I have come to the conclusion that the next time I must go to BA, I will be taking someone with me who can a) navigate while I drive, or b) take a GPS device with me, or c) take someone who knows their way around BA. Or I'll just take a train or bus. I felt a little better, as I recounted this story to some of my Slovak colleagues, that they were staring at me with incredulity asking me if I'm crazy. One colleague told me she hates driving in BA too, and another told me I was her hero for having done it. I have decided I need a shirt that says, "I drove in Bratislava and survived!"

The Gift of Seasons

I was running some errands by the center today and when I walked out of one of the shops, I was pretty much stopped dead in my tracks by this...

 ... and this ...

 

... and this ...

Yeah, no complaints from me! I can't help but love all these deep-hued colours we're granted during the Autumn season. It makes me want to just wander around snapping pictures, rustling leaves underfoot, while deeply breathing in the smells and sounds of Fall.

Learning to See

"Why do I spend so much of my living hours struggling to see it? Do we truly stumble so blind that we must be affronted with blinding magnificence for our blurry soul-sight to recognize grandeur?"

Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are

This is something that has bothered me lately - the fact that I am surrounded by "magnificence" and yet don't see it, don't take the time to see it.

I walk to school most days, and instead of strolling along, I march. I march as quickly and efficiently as I can (oh, that German blood that flows through my veins) to get from point A to point B on the double, absorbed in thoughts of to-do lists, thoughts of deadlines, thoughts of avoiding being mauled by bus and car alike as I cross streets. I march, arms swinging, blood pumping, pores opening and pouring forth the bodies natural cooling system so that by the time I arrive at school I'm a hot mess. And what has it actually accomplished? Nothing but being sweaty, irritated at being sweaty and thoughts of If only I had a car!

In the mornings as I sit in the living room facing the window, reading my bible, praying, looking out at the beautiful fall weather, I always think, I should walk slowly to school today and enjoy the beauty outside. And promptly forget as soon as key locks the door and feet descend steps and reach the pavement. 

There is so much beauty to behold along the path to school - leaves crunching underfoot; surrounding hills vibrant colors of red, gold and yellow; the wind crisply rustling trees encouraging them to become barren with the approaching winter months - and I take neither the time nor care to enjoy it, to observe it, to see it. To let it seep to my bones and implant itself into the marrow. Is my life really that busy and consumed that I cannot notice it?

"Why do I spend so much of my living hours struggling to see it?"

Part of learning to Take Time is learning to enjoy moments in the present. The now. And it's also learning To See. Instead of adding this to an endless to-do list, I want to naturally be more aware of the magnificence God's put before me. And in being more aware, to pause - Take Time - to behold it, to enjoy it for what it is. To stop - in the middle of the road if I must - and take it in with my blinded human eyes and let it penetrate my soul to it's core. To smile at it. To whisper Thank You for it. 

I am learning to Take Time. Time to see. Time to just be. Time to be in the majesty and glory of God's splendor without agenda. Without making it more than what it is.