There is just no way for
me not to pee myself when I am asked to give a sample. None. No matter how I
stand, where I aim, how big the cup, how big the bathroom, I will somehow inevitably
end up walking out with wet pants. At least a little. It is one of those facts
of life, stable and predictable. Practically a family trait.
This is the third bump on the road towards the ship called
Braemar. I received the certificate on the dull lack of criminal history in the
mail. I went to get another Yellow Fever vaccine, but they informed me not only
is mine still good for another year, but also the WHO is about to announce that
if you got it once, you're good for, well, good. So that was the second
bump.
The third - medical exam - is what I am in the middle of at this
moment. I'm awaiting results. As far as the doctor mentioned, I couldn’t be
healthier. I'm in Zagreb, which is only a little further away from my home town
as our own capital if you're taking the train, but it feels like another
planet. We don't have trams in my country, not a single one, and I think trams
are cool. It takes a little bit of getting used to, crossing the road, so as
not to get hit by a small train every time, but I really like them. Swooshy,
silent little things. The infrastructure of this country is a little bit behind
- buildings are large, old and poorly maintained. They seemed to be going for
grandness a lot. Very keen on their monarchs. Proud lot. Doggie poop doesn't
always get picked up, though. Smoking is allowed in cafes. Pretty much everyone
is really nice. Although I speak Croatian just fine, I feel like I am a 1000
miles away from home. It's also a lot bigger than I expected. I have no
memories tied to Zagreb, because I've only been here once and that was still in
elementary school. Kinda wish I didn't pack bananas for lunch, as I now don't
feel like eating them and the whole purse smells like them. Yes, you read that
right. Purse. I didn't bring my photo Crumpler backpack. I miss it awfully, but
am being protective of the camera. Dragging around a purse feels really
pretentious... Or pretending. I packed too many things. If you carry them in a purse,
poorly packed things can be heavy.
At least the weather is perfect and the radio stations are
all playing last year's summer hits, which feels homey.
I haven't seen the General - nor does the cell phone work
through this network - in six hours, but because I can't call him or text or
communicate in any way unless I find a strong enough wifi to text him through
FB, it feels a lot longer. There is a limb off me missing if I can't text him
every time I walk through a door. ('Now I did the eye exam.' 'I nailed it.'
'Now I'm waiting for the nurse to fill out my forms.' 'Now I had to take off my
clothes and I got touched all over. Am still very ticklish. But it was weird.'
'Now I am looking for the X-ray clinic. Got lost in the same building twice.'
'Now I am walking back alongside a tram, carrying a vial of blood and a big
photo of the inside of my chest.'....)
Time is running very slowly.
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