In Slovakia at last! I just emerged from a high-powered steamy shower refreshed and squeaky clean after a sappingly exhillarating day in Trnava.
The Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt, Germany took off from the Atlanta airport at 4:30 PM Sunday. Seven hours later, I arrived in Frankfurt at 7:00 AM, German time. There, my beleagured group of scruffy Americans rested briefly on leather seats before embarking on a 40 minute flight to Munich. The sight of snow from the air bolstered our hopes for winter--but they were dashed upon our arrival in Bratislava, where the temperature registered at 40-some degrees.
The local missionaries with whom we will work during our stay greeted us as we emerged, exhausted and cranky, from garnering our luggage. They took us to the bus station, and we entered downtown Bratislava with such bleary-eyed torpor that we barely absorbed the sight of graffitti-clad buildings and people racing back and forth under the cloudy sky.
The train departed from Bratislava to Trnava carrying seventeen dirty, cantankerous Americans and their cumbersome luggage. In Trnava, our guide and interpreter led us on the last leg of the journey: a twenty minute walk in a light drizzle and bitter cold windchill to the Hotel Prestige.
We waited in the lobby for quite some time while the receptionist and Petra (our interpreter) scrambled around to locate the keys that would open our apartments. At last, Felty and I laid claim to our spacious apartment on the ground floor, flinging our luggage willy-nilly on the floor and regaining what shreds of energy lingered in our bones and muscles.
Before we had the oportunity to shower, the intention to eat dinner at the local McDonalds (what else?) turned us back out into the streets in a dingy parade of fatigued humanity. I indulged in a massive salad and a cup of non-sparkling water, and then sat staring dully ahead until someone began the motion to depart.
After a shower and indulging in some sleep-urged antics that I will never, ever record, I at last slept.
The following morning, we awoke early enough to prepare for our first cognizant outing into the city. Bo, the Covenant graduate-turned-missionary, led us on our fifteen-minute journey to downtown Trnva and the University cafeteria. There, we ordered turkey and potatoes and feasted.
Then we marched to The Building: the center of American missions in Trnava. It has a cozy, colorful Starbucks atmosphere: pillows, darkly grained woods, bright windows overlooking a rust red track, and artistically shaped lights that proffer intimate lighting. There, Petra prepared us for negative cultural experience we might encounter during our stay: pickpocketing gypsies being the largest among them.
Foreman turned us loose to wander the cobblestoned streets of our new town, and Felty and I embarked on a photography expedition. We drank in the sight of the ancient, ornate buildings and the profusion of graffitti splayed over them in the failing sunlight. When the moon emerged over the bulbous tip of a particularly decorative old cathedral, we determined to head home in the twilight--making a pitstop at the Billa, a supermarket where we purchased some groceries.
At last, we arrived back in our apartment, unloaded our groceries, and brewed some tea. I made coffee in the French Press I recieved courtesy of Jenn Whitbeck (bless her soul!). Swanson poked into our room, and we chatted and "cut up" under the pretense of diligent study for several hours. Then I showered, and plopped down to at last put the overwhelming experiences of the past few days into all-too-feeble words. But sufficient enough for my purposes: to evoke the memories that I will carry with me the rest of my life with some degree of clarity (and as a basis for my newsletters home).
I feel numb and joyful, grateful and overwhelmed all at the same time. It's a beautiful thing. And I cannot, cannot wait for classes to begin tomorrow morning!
"I am a prisoner of perception, a compulsory witness. They are too exciting." -Herzog
The Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt, Germany took off from the Atlanta airport at 4:30 PM Sunday. Seven hours later, I arrived in Frankfurt at 7:00 AM, German time. There, my beleagured group of scruffy Americans rested briefly on leather seats before embarking on a 40 minute flight to Munich. The sight of snow from the air bolstered our hopes for winter--but they were dashed upon our arrival in Bratislava, where the temperature registered at 40-some degrees.
The local missionaries with whom we will work during our stay greeted us as we emerged, exhausted and cranky, from garnering our luggage. They took us to the bus station, and we entered downtown Bratislava with such bleary-eyed torpor that we barely absorbed the sight of graffitti-clad buildings and people racing back and forth under the cloudy sky.
The train departed from Bratislava to Trnava carrying seventeen dirty, cantankerous Americans and their cumbersome luggage. In Trnava, our guide and interpreter led us on the last leg of the journey: a twenty minute walk in a light drizzle and bitter cold windchill to the Hotel Prestige.
We waited in the lobby for quite some time while the receptionist and Petra (our interpreter) scrambled around to locate the keys that would open our apartments. At last, Felty and I laid claim to our spacious apartment on the ground floor, flinging our luggage willy-nilly on the floor and regaining what shreds of energy lingered in our bones and muscles.
Before we had the oportunity to shower, the intention to eat dinner at the local McDonalds (what else?) turned us back out into the streets in a dingy parade of fatigued humanity. I indulged in a massive salad and a cup of non-sparkling water, and then sat staring dully ahead until someone began the motion to depart.
After a shower and indulging in some sleep-urged antics that I will never, ever record, I at last slept.
The following morning, we awoke early enough to prepare for our first cognizant outing into the city. Bo, the Covenant graduate-turned-missionary, led us on our fifteen-minute journey to downtown Trnva and the University cafeteria. There, we ordered turkey and potatoes and feasted.
Then we marched to The Building: the center of American missions in Trnava. It has a cozy, colorful Starbucks atmosphere: pillows, darkly grained woods, bright windows overlooking a rust red track, and artistically shaped lights that proffer intimate lighting. There, Petra prepared us for negative cultural experience we might encounter during our stay: pickpocketing gypsies being the largest among them.
Foreman turned us loose to wander the cobblestoned streets of our new town, and Felty and I embarked on a photography expedition. We drank in the sight of the ancient, ornate buildings and the profusion of graffitti splayed over them in the failing sunlight. When the moon emerged over the bulbous tip of a particularly decorative old cathedral, we determined to head home in the twilight--making a pitstop at the Billa, a supermarket where we purchased some groceries.
At last, we arrived back in our apartment, unloaded our groceries, and brewed some tea. I made coffee in the French Press I recieved courtesy of Jenn Whitbeck (bless her soul!). Swanson poked into our room, and we chatted and "cut up" under the pretense of diligent study for several hours. Then I showered, and plopped down to at last put the overwhelming experiences of the past few days into all-too-feeble words. But sufficient enough for my purposes: to evoke the memories that I will carry with me the rest of my life with some degree of clarity (and as a basis for my newsletters home).
I feel numb and joyful, grateful and overwhelmed all at the same time. It's a beautiful thing. And I cannot, cannot wait for classes to begin tomorrow morning!
"I am a prisoner of perception, a compulsory witness. They are too exciting." -Herzog
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