Host family meeting day today coincided with the conclusion of orientation, which was good news--despite the fantastic job done by the SIT staff, orientation is nevertheless orientation and by nature takes its sweet time wrapping up.
We sat around the table at SIT headquarters, anxiously awaiting our placements and trying (with mixed results) to commit a few pleasant phrases to memory. I managed "drago mi je" which translates to "nice to meet you". Incidentally, the fact that it is culturally acceptable--nay, expected--to say the word "drago" within seconds of meeting somebody reaffirms my conviction that this language is awesome.
Jelena (Yeh-LAY-nah), the home-stay coordinator/professional ray of sunshine/generally wonderful human being, called me into her office and informed me that I would be staying with the Stepanoviches, a mother and father of a daughter my age and a son slightly older, and a dog. They are, to quote her, "not the average Serbian family. Very artistic". With that information in mind, I sat back down, practiced my Serbian, and waited.
We moved down to the lobby before too long, standing outside the cafe within which our families waited. In a spectacle worthy of the Academy Awards, Jelena brought us in one-by-one. In retrospect, considering the chaos of 13 families assembling at once, this makes sense. I was led in about halfway through, and sat down with my host mother and father. She is a doctor; he is a painter; they are, for lack of a more adept description, simply wonderful. And to my immense satisfaction, Grandmother is staying in the apartment until March. I met her. She allegedly says I am a very polite young man after I told her her stuffed peppers were very delicious in Russian. I tried not to grin too widely.
I'm sitting in my bedroom now after their two-ish hour walking tour of Beograd Central. My host father told me...well, just about everything, as far as landmarks and historical information is concerned. I'll fill in details once I set a routine, but for now, my observations:
Curling up in my heater-side bed now. A little pissed at Gmail for dropping the ball, and picking it up with terrible timing. If you're reading this, Google Robot, you did a bad thing. Go and think about what you did, and no bandwidth for you tonight.
We sat around the table at SIT headquarters, anxiously awaiting our placements and trying (with mixed results) to commit a few pleasant phrases to memory. I managed "drago mi je" which translates to "nice to meet you". Incidentally, the fact that it is culturally acceptable--nay, expected--to say the word "drago" within seconds of meeting somebody reaffirms my conviction that this language is awesome.
Jelena (Yeh-LAY-nah), the home-stay coordinator/professional ray of sunshine/generally wonderful human being, called me into her office and informed me that I would be staying with the Stepanoviches, a mother and father of a daughter my age and a son slightly older, and a dog. They are, to quote her, "not the average Serbian family. Very artistic". With that information in mind, I sat back down, practiced my Serbian, and waited.
We moved down to the lobby before too long, standing outside the cafe within which our families waited. In a spectacle worthy of the Academy Awards, Jelena brought us in one-by-one. In retrospect, considering the chaos of 13 families assembling at once, this makes sense. I was led in about halfway through, and sat down with my host mother and father. She is a doctor; he is a painter; they are, for lack of a more adept description, simply wonderful. And to my immense satisfaction, Grandmother is staying in the apartment until March. I met her. She allegedly says I am a very polite young man after I told her her stuffed peppers were very delicious in Russian. I tried not to grin too widely.
I'm sitting in my bedroom now after their two-ish hour walking tour of Beograd Central. My host father told me...well, just about everything, as far as landmarks and historical information is concerned. I'll fill in details once I set a routine, but for now, my observations:
- There was a chicken foot sitting on the sidewalk this morning. No chicken in sight. I know not what to do with this information.
- There is every kind of stray animal in Beograd. Dogs, cats, rabbits. The peace between them is tentative, although the birds are open season (see item 1).
- In addition, it appears to be required by law that any kind of cafe, bar, or diner has to have a cat or dog meandering, lounging, or otherwise interacting with the patrons. These animals give zero fucks. In Serbian.
- Orangina. Remember Orangina? The delicious, faintly sparkling orange juice with the pure taste that comes in the classy glass bottle? It's EVERYWHERE. And cheap. And I am going to stock that shit like Djokovic hordes donkey milk.
Curling up in my heater-side bed now. A little pissed at Gmail for dropping the ball, and picking it up with terrible timing. If you're reading this, Google Robot, you did a bad thing. Go and think about what you did, and no bandwidth for you tonight.
Email me your address. Also, that all sounds wonderful! I hope things keep improving.
ReplyDeleteSounds like an interesting family you are staying with. Glad you met the Grandmother so she can give you some cultural history. I enjoy reading your blog.
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