"PMS: This is You, Right?!!"

Man...

It started swell. Strictly Organic Coffee, imported from Bend Oregon by the author of this post herself. Comfy morning at home reading up on my favorite blog (vet on the edge), followed by a long loop with Buford. Which included a horse - Buford encounter. I utilized the friendly horse's curiosity to train my lil' one a bit... had him calm down, sit, and eventually lay down a meter or so away from the horse (he's been a bit too rascally around a couple other horses a couple days ago - not on my shift!). Standing between the two beautiful animals in silence, while touching both of them was my favorite moment of today. Then a shower, lunch. Finally I reluctantly got ready for yet another trip to Norrköping.

It's not like I don't like going to the city. Sometimes as I stroll about the old gatans and vägen I feel alive and excited to become part of a greater community. Those moments are rather fleeting though. Today I didn't quite get around to that feeling... Instead, I found myself fighting tears back, and most of the time unsuccessfully so. Yep, I walked around Norrköping crying, and at my strong moments, at the verge of tears. Where they came from, I am not sure. My hope: See title. The triggers: As follows...

It started back in Söderköping. Departing from Buford I wondered if it was a good idea to leave him with the second half of a chew-toy-treat. I am in this place where I assume that the-worst-possible-thing-is-going-to-happen-at-all-times and him choking to death while I was gone was my # 1 fear. He's all I got. I left him with the treat. His initial excitement melted into one of those looks that says something like "maa-am, you... you... you're not going to do thaaa-at to me, right?!" Yup, it killed me. I closed the door behind me, sighed, walked to the gate, only to turn around and see his longing eyes meeting mine out of the kitchen window. Didn't Rob teach me not to look back?

So far, so good. I actually had more money on my bus card than I thought. Yay. Once in the city, I headed straight to the Back Up office. They had called me to invite me in to pick up the money I had earned by helping out during the wilderness weekend. I was warned that it was "mostly change". On my way to the office I had these evil little voices in my head. They keep making me think about all the reasons why this whole idea of being here in Sweden is bull. Once more I jumped onto the internal roller coaster as I navigated from the bus station to the office. By the time I was near my destination, tears were STREAMING DOWN MY FACE! Great. Didn't I plan to have the difficult meeting with these people tomorrow?? I did my best to wipe away my salty tears and keep new ones from developing. Breathe, Marlies, breathe... I found the door open. Went inside. Found a couple of the youth. None of the folks who had told me explicitly to come at this hour to pick up my change. Breathe...! I asked one of the youth... "nej, M är inte här..." - OK, smile...! I guess. Hmpf. Maybe W is in the kitchen? Aahhhh, yes, on the phone. Alright, maybe this thing will work out. I wait. Finally he hangs up. Hugs me. Invites me into the office. Alongside with one of the youth. Then offers me a seat. I shrug and ask about the money... trying to fanagel a Swedish sentence that could mean that I gotta go to Swedish training at the library. He gets it. I feel odd. And am greeted by a HEAVY bag of coins. Really?! I can barely squeeze it into my little bag. Makes a lot of sound. Awkward..... "hej, -klimp/klamp- jag heter Marlies kllirrr/klabam- och du?" Maybe I better go to the bank with this treasure before I head to the library to meet my future friends... isn't there a Swedbank on my way on Drottningsgatan?

Once at the bank I pull a number (they do that everywhere here). A short while later I start yet another conversation with "do you speak English?" and a simultaneous hopefully forgiving smile. Yes, of course. "Can I deposit large amounts of change on my account here?", I ask hopefully. I am told that I could, just around the corner is a machine. Sweet, maybe it isn't so bad to be paid like a street singer. I find the machine and on it a sign saying that it was out of order. I barge back into the line to let the lady know (I am not going to pull a new number for such a joke, right?). She says I need to tell L, on the opposite side of the hall. I sigh, approach L, and wait. Nothing. I say "L? - I was told to check in with you about the cash machine..." - "Yeah...?" - "Well, it seems to be out of order... how can I get my money onto my account?" - "Hmmm, that won't be possible until the machine is fixed... however, you can go to ICA (a local supermarket), they have a machine there... but it costs commission." - Really? So you are saying that I am already spending the money I just made?? The money that is meant to pay my rent because my f-in boss in the US of A is incapable of sending me the money that I earned with my sweat and my blood 4 weeks ago like we agreed upon???? - I left the bank and felt another round of tears dwelling up. Hey, don't judge too harshly: See title.

Walking up the remaining few blocks of Drottninggatan I felt like I deserved an immediate escape of town. It had been enough. I needed to go check on my choked-to-death dog after all, didn't I? Who needs to learn Swedish anyways? Couldn't I just go home, wipe up the blood and learn Swedish via podcast? Tempting.

But I pushed through. Secured my coins in my bag, took a deep breath and prepared myself mentally for the likely upcoming introductory sentences... jag heter Marlies... jag är från Schweiz.... As I walked up to the library I could already see an internationally-looking group of folks sitting at one of the tables with the couches. They smiled encouragingly when I approached. I sat down, carefully stashing my bag with my coin treasure near my feet. The man from Iraq to my left asked me repeatedly if I was catholic... ahem... really? He didn't stop. The lady from Asia wanted my chat address... chat? How about Google? For some reason or another, don't ask me, I actually gave her my Gmail address... then the interaction subsided and for the coming 115 minutes the lady who was supposed to facilitate the gathering spoke. Nonstop. And handed out reflex-thingies (safety device to be seen in the dark... thanks for reminding me that winter is going to kick my butt). Talked about her mother having had an accident. Which is why she decided to change the world by handing out reflex-es. And talking people into the ground. And having heaping piles of reflex-es in front of her. Yes, I got really tired of listening to this lady talk. The best thing I learned in those long minutes was that she is not always the facilitator of språkcafe. Thank goodness.... I may scrape my remaining courage off the ground, nurture it a bit and come back to try again.

I almost missed my bus. Thanks to running full-speed that didn't happen... On the way home I decided to try and see if Söderköpings Swedbank was going to accept my coins. I may not have mentioned this but... I have to pay rent tomorrow. When is this going to get easier?

On my way to the bank I decided to call my landlord. After all she had wanted to call me today to let me know if I could get the key to my new home early... While I am rather content staying at the house till the end of the month I wanted to make sure that I could move in on Sunday (the first) as I had already found people who were willing to let me use their car on Sunday. Monday or Tuesday were not an option. The following conversation went all over the place... it included stuff from her like "if the current renter gets done by Sunday... you can move in on Monday"... and from my end "I need to move in on Sunday as that's the only day I have a car and that's when I start paying rent anyways".... argh! What happened to things just working out? She said she will call me tomorrow morning. That better be good news.

In the bank I found a functioning coin machine. While I was fiddling with my stuff, my phone rang... it was my friend N. I said, "hello, N", with a somewhat muffled voice (being at the bank). "Hey Marlies, how are you?"... "ahem... actually, not so hot" (tears shooting up again). "Wanna watch a movie tonight?" - "I don't know... let me get outside this place... sobb". - "Marlies, I am coming over to your place, now..." - "I need fifteen minutes to get there. Thanks." - "OK. See you there". Aahhh.

N waited for me in front of the house when I made it there. I gave her a hug, unlocked the door and greeted (an-alive-and-well) B. We talked in the entry way... sitting on the cold floor caressing B... didn't even bother to turn on the light. I felt cared for, and understood. And warm.

An hour later we transitioned over to her house, had dinner with her hubby and later watched a movie, each of us snuggeld into a sleeping bag on comfy couches in front of their home movie theater. Beef at first settled in on my lap, and half-way through the movie moved over to the hubby. He curled himself up in a ball and snoozed happily through even the most intense parts of Redemption Road.

Now I am home. It's almost 1am, I am typing away, feeling resolved. Encouraged. Hopeful. Wanting for tomorrow to be more adventurous again. We'll see. It's time for bed. Good night!