Beware of bathroom doors.
In the four short months I have lived here I have been locked in polish bathrooms more times than I can count. At least once a week I find myself frazzled behind a closed a door, pulling anxiously at my arch-enemy: the door handle.
The first incident occurred during a Rotary orientation in mid September.
I was enjoying a wonderful dinner of stale bread and fattening perogies when I felt the need to leave the table and find the "TOALETA." Not sensing any danger, I left the table, unaccompanied, and ventured to the bathroom. The bathroom was located in a separate dining room where the Rotarians sat devouring an appetizing feast.
When in Poland-
Never go to the bathroom unaccompanied. I learned this lesson the hard way.
I closed the bathroom door. I did my business. I washed my hands. I looked at myself in the mirror. I applied mascara. I hummed a tune. All was well.
Until I tried to open the damn door.
It was stuck. It would not let me out. I was a prisoner in a cramped, whitewashed bathroom. I punched, kicked, and wrestled with the bathroom lock until a waterfall of tears spilled from my eyes. I started screaming indecipherable polish ( My polish teacher had not taught us to say "HELP ME GET OUT OF HERE,"shocking, I know. ) After what seemed like an eternity, another exchange student heard my distressed screaming and fixed the door jam. I came out of that bathroom looking like I'd survived a tornadoe, or a shipwreck, or both.
I have been terrified of bathrooms ever since.
This bathroom door talk is no joke. I have since been locked in school bathrooms, McDonald's bathrooms, club bathrooms, public bathrooms, house bathrooms. You name the type, I've been locked in them all.
My fear of bathroom doors has heightened so much over the past few months that I absolutely REFUSE to enter a bathroom without a friend standing guard outside. I do not trust the poorly constructed things. I despise them.
Each time I emerge from a bathroom with a poorly constructed lock, the managers of the stores, or the homeowners of the homes ask me the same question. "Are you alright, kochanie?"
And I always respond the same way:
"Do I look like I'm alright."
Why am I wasting my time rambling on and on about polish bathrooms? For those of you who know me, I left the United States as a terribly anxious worrier. Honestly, I was the biggest worrywart on the planet. After living here for four months a lot has changed. I can ask for directions by myself. I make friends on trams and buses. If I am lost, I calmly figure it out. I no longer worry about the trivial things I used to worry about. I have never felt more peaceful, more relaxed, or more myself.
This toilet talk serves as a metaphor. I am afraid of the bathroom door. This is a logical fear- because the door locks actually do not work. Maybe I am just too stupid to figure them out, but I do not think that this is the case.
Anyway, the fact that a stupid bathroom door is my biggest fear presently allows me to recognize that I've come along way. Everyone told me that exchange would change my life but I did not really believe them. I knew that my year away from home would be an eye-opening experience, a challenging experience, and certainly a completely new experience, but I had no idea that living far away from every thing I had ever known would allow me to figure so many things out about myself.
Sometimes, I feel completely ecstatic about living here. I wake up and think about where I am and goosebumps rise on my arms and legs. Sometimes, I feel the complete opposite way. It is christmas time, and christmas cheer is everywhere but I am not feeling the christmas spirit. I see families together and it makes me miss my own, I see friends laughing with each other on the streets and I think about what my friends are doing at home. I love my life here. I try to enjoy every moment of it because before I know it the year will be over. It feels a little bit like I am living in a fantasy world: this one year is not reality. However, I feel that this year is the start of the rest of my life.
I have six months left.
By July, I am confident that I will be confident enough to brave the bathroom door.
