Notes from the edge of a minor meltdown

disclaimer: This post is way longer than planned.  It is a little bit of an emotional release.  Feel free to skim.

In fact, I was having a pretty baller day today.  I spent a lazy but pleasurable afternoon in my apartment, reading and studying Serbian, and then embarked on a very fruitful outing: finding the American Corner in Kragujevac and attending the Wednesday-evening English language conversation hour.  I finally found the place, arriving only 5 minutes late (that's 10 minutes early for me!) and enjoying an hour of discussion about the topic of the day: Neighbors.  The discussion group was composed of five women, including two high-schoolers, a couple of girls more or less my age, and a woman in her sixties.  Their jolly leader is Jessie.  I was somewhat pleasantly surprised by the willingness and ease with which they conversed, and the hour passed with funny stories about the best and worst types of neighbors and plenty of laughter. 

Then Marija, one of the participants, and Jessie and I went out for coffee at the ever-popular Costa Coffee (the Starbucks-like chain across the street from my dorm).  It was very, very nice to spend some informal chat time with two very proficient English speakers.  It felt... normal.  It felt like having friends feels, and it felt really good.  Suddenly, the prospect of making friends in Kragujevac (which I had been diligently assuring myself would happen any day now) shifted from an abstract theory to a very real and immediate prospect.  Jessie regaled me of stories of the Americans she has befriended here in Kragujevac (some basketball players and soccer players here on one-year contracts, apparently).  She promised to introduce me to a Chinese teacher who is living in my dorm, and mentioned that apparently there is a student from England here.  Marija suggested that I might enjoy an outing with her mountaineering club some weekend.  In short, a very fun and relaxing evening. 

And then it was time for me to go back to my dorm.  I had big plans to check my e-mail, facebook, write a blog post, do some Serbian, maybe watch a tv show or read before bed. 

And then... everything went wrong.  Don't worry, not in a bleeding-out-the-eyeballs way, or a guess-what-mom-I-only-have-one-foot-now way.  Just in a... electronics apocalypse way.  

The internet, heretofore prompt and reliable, had been touch-and-go all day.  But now... it just straight-up stopped working.  The internet designated for my floor of the dorm didn't seem to be working at all. The 1st floor internet seemed to work sometimes, gradually decreasing down toward no times.  I had no clue as to how much of this could be attributed to problems with the router or whatever and how much could be contributed to Macbooks'  (apparently notorious!!!) wi-fi dropping problems.  

Now don't get me wrong.  I'm pretty plugged in, but under normal circumstances I would fiddle around for 20 or 30 minutes, then shrug, close the laptop and work on something else.  But these are not normal circumstances, and tonight I wanted nothing more than to connect, however briefly, with my friends and family back home via e-mail and facebook.  The prospect of not being able to do so was unappealing at best so I threw myself into the challenge of fixing my technology woes!  Armed at first with my iphone's still-working wi-fi connection, I soon lost even that!  Undeterred, I plunged elbow-deep into the wasteland of wireless connectivity, where I had never dared venture before.  Manually enter IP address?  Why, don't mind if I do!  DNS?  I DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS BUT I WILL GLADLY ENTER SOME NEW NUMBERS AND SEE IF THAT WORKS.  Maybe if I keep pressing "Renew DHCP Lease" over and over, my woes will end! 

Dramatic reenactment.

 As you can see, I became increasingly frenzied as I desperately tried everything and anything to get my wireless connection back.  At one point, I became terrified that I had somewhow irreparably screwed up my macbook's network properties and began searching desperately for a way to restore it to factory settings (what??? thank goodness this is not an option.  I was not in my right mind, folks).  I tried to use Skype on my phone to call Greg, although what exactly I thought he might be able to do to help was unclear to me (explain what an IP address is?).  Of course I couldn't because no internet, duh!

Why me, Ghost of Steve Jobs?  Why me???

And here's the breaking point.  Slumped on the floor next to my bed, I pulled myself back from the brink of tears.  I shut my computer, thought for a moment, and realized it was around 10 p.m. and I hadn't eaten since noon.  I gathered myself, grabbed a few dinars and went out in search of food. 

In a stand across the street, I inquired about the existence of sandwiches.  "Are there sandwiches?"  "Why yes.  [Incomprehensible]."  "[shrugs] I don't understand.... what kind are there?"  "[Incomprehensible]"  "Um... is there ham?"  "No. [Incomprehensible] ok?  "Yes."  And lo and behold, she handed me what appeared to be a plain hunk of bread that she had toasted for me.  Whatever, I thought.  Plain toasted bread is good enough. 

This is what I call my "charmingly and apologetically baffled" look

And lo!  What bread it was.  I bit into it to discover gooey melted cheese and savory slices of ham.  It was... cheesy ham bread?  I have no idea but it was so incredibly delicious and filling.  My only regret is that I don't know what it is called so I will have to reenact the same charade next time and hope for the same result. 

And so, ladies and gentlemen, my night took a turn for the better.  On my way up the stairs to my room, I pulled out my phone to halfheartedly check for internet access... and lo!  There was connection.  After I finished my heaven-bread in all of 2.5 seconds, I took my computer out to the stairway and connected successfully to the downstairs internet.  Oh, how I rejoiced!  And better yet, a couple of students walked past me and greeted me.  I asked if the internet was working for them, and the boy says it was working poorly.  And with that my new guardian angel leaned down and suggested I log onto another network entirely, sharing the password with me (oh how I love people who put 1234567890 as their password!).  He explained that he is my next-door neighbor and that this network worked better on our side of the building.  So in one fell swoop, I had my internet back and I had met my neighbor!  That bread really worked some wonders.  

And so here I am, writing an unintentionally long and probably completely insane-sounding blog post on a possibly-pirated internet connection.  I've been reading a lot of my fellow Fulbrighters' blogs since I've been here, and lately I've been hearing variations on the same thing from a lot of them.  Namely: this is hard.  It's fun and exciting and exhilarating  but at the end of the day, most of us are in the same boat: miles away from our families and friends, and spending 95% of our time alone in the first weeks of settling in.  I've felt alternating moments of joy and desperation.  Mornings where I sprung eagerly out of bed, ready to complete xy and z before noon, and mornings where I tossed and turned fitfully in bed all morning, accidentally sleeping past noon several times.  It's incredibly reassuring to know that this is normal.  It's not a feeling that I've really experienced before, at least not to this degree- Argentina had its highs and lows, but having built-in American friends and a pretty immediate Argentine social circle meant that the highs far outnumbered the lows.  This time around, they're pretty evenly matched... so far.  The resolution to my frenzied, almost-tear-filled night has left me convinced that things are looking up.  

And in case anyone was wondering, the song that I suddenly wanted to listen to in the midst of my madness: 

I've been listening to No Doubt all night.  I'm planning to kick culture shock's ass, Gwen Stefani-style.