The Rain in Ljubljana

I saw a storm coming in as I brushed my teeth in the bathroom and saw a flash of lightning from the corner of my eye. Been listening to music drifting out of our speakers for the last few hours and reading and smelling food being cooked in the kitchen. I think I’ve finally settled into this summer apartment of ours. It’s happened in little steps – knowing to turn the shower knob towards the wall, learning to sort trash the Slovene way (in 4 types of bins – paper, mixed containers, compostable, and other), feeling a noticeable sense of comfortable familiarity after returning from a tiring day out.

The rain is drowning out the sound of the music, and one of my housemates is hysterically silent-laughing at Youtube videos.

I’ve met a good number of people in various parts of their twenties over the last few weeks, all in different places and hoping for different things – or maybe not knowing what they’re hoping for yet. Twenty-six can mean traveling the world until something sticks, or it can mean lullaby toys and baby radios. It all makes me wonder where I’ll be in a few year’s time, makes me think now while on the cusp of hitting two-zero.

Work has been enjoyable so far. I’ve been interning at a startup here doing Android and web development. It’s a tiny bunch of us (only 5 in the office, with others working abroad) but everyone’s easy to get along with, and discussion of what direction to take can always be a group conversation. Faraway as it is from home, it’s not too different coding here than for projects at school – except now the project will actually be used, not delegated to the dark parts of my computer’s memory. Or at least we hope; that's the thing about startups when they're still in this stage. We'll see where it goes, and give it our best shot until then.

This is me everyday, except without the sword fighting. Because Android compilers.

A rule that I heard once that I recall in new situations is that it takes 21 days to create a new habit or routine. I’m about halfway now, and it definitely feels at least halfway there.

I've got some posting to catch up on because I'm a slacker and take way too much time revising these posts because I'm a self-conscious writer. Thoughts on Iceland and the Netherlands are coming as soon as I find the time and energy to sit down and make them coherent enough to share!

First and second homes

Oh Providence, you're lovely in all seasons, even in the winter and certainly now in the summer. Rhode Island has finally stopped being "the place I go to school for most of the months of the year" and become a real home for me now. A real second home, at least.

As we walked through downtown Providence this last weekend on a lazy errand-running day, my friend Grace mentioned that she did now consider Rhode Island her home. I thought about it more afterwards, and mentally pitted myself against the question I'm sure I'll face often in the coming months: "Where are you from?" which will be answered with "the United States" and almost certainly followed up with "Where in the states?" and the response of "California" by gut reaction. Substituting "Rhode Island" still feels strange to me - though I'm here now, I've spent too much time being Californian and explaining what my hometown is like and thinking about the Pacific Ocean to make that swap.

In fact, I think I've grown more Californian now that I've been transplanted to this coast and actually faced with the state question on a regular basis, which makes me consider the things I love about my state and realize how lucky I was to grow up in Santa Cruz more and more, the hippie surfer beachy foresty place that it is. Things like going to high school just two blocks from the beach, running on Redwood trails on any given afternoon, watching shooting stars at midnight in fields with friends. So parents: thanks for making the infinite number of microdecisions throughout your lifetimes that led to our being there.

But, back to now and Rhodie.

I will buy this shirt before I graduate.

I present to you the Cinderella-Zheng plant family, from left to right: Mark, Ingrid, Hans, Olga, Nelly, Mark Jr.

The transience of college living is a strange thing, with the whole packing up your worldly belongings and moving out of a home once a year. Goodbye, second floor corner room of Finlandia - perhaps I'll see you again next spring? Or perhaps not. Regardless, you've been the best dingle anyone could ever wish for.

(Almost two weeks later...)

Well, I guess I shouldn't try to finish this post now that I'm not even in Providence anymore. Not so conclusive, but so it goes. I'll spare you a simile comparing the conclusiveness of this post to that of periods of time in our lives. Oh, oops.

More to come soon when I find the motivation to write.

An Introduction

As this is my first post, I guess I should say welcome! Thanks for giving this a read, whoever you are. Most likely, hello friend/family member, and I miss you dearly. 

So, why this blog? 

Who: Me, Michelle 
What: About six months of working, studying, and living internationally 
When: June to December 2014 Where: Rhode Island, Iceland, The Netherlands, Slovenia (and surrounding countries), California, Vietnam, Morocco, Bolivia 
Why: Because the chance to do all this was there and the time is now. 

Carpe-ing these diems so hard. 

The name was inspired by 1) the fact that I like birds 2) more specifically, the feeling you get when you see something delightfully unexpected, like an uncommon bird. Sparrows and blackbirds become common sights, but once in a while, a stellar jay or yellow warbler might show up. At least for me, childlike joy is a good phrase to describe the reaction to these appearances - but I'm probably just easily excited. I can still remember the first times I’ve seen cardinals in both the springs I’ve spent here in New England (2012 – from the basement of the library over spring break, 2013 – walking home from the mail room). 

Back home in California, there would always be the following routine: sight a colorful bird in our backyard from our kitchen, freeze, loud-whisper into the other room, “MOOOOOM LOOK LOOK LOOK”, wait for the mad dash for the camera, spend a good ten minutes staring out the window on my end; find new angles to shoot from on hers. Probably a quarter of the photos on our computer are of family vacations, and another quarter of birds.

Not to get too flowery on you now, but it's appealing, the thought of living bundles of feathers flying around, blissfully unaware of the thoughts and emotions that they stir behind the human gaze. Unaware that many buy guidebooks and gear and travel the world to get a look at them, devoting their free time to the discovery of different varieties of these feather-bundles. 

But I’m no birder. I don’t know what to expect from this year. I know there are more birds than I can possibly name out there, but I figure I’ll identify them after I see them rather than before. I’ll let the experiences sing for themselves before I give them names. And when I do name them, I'll write about them on here and tell their stories to family and friends so I can remember their sounds, smells, tastes, sights. 

Here’s to an unprecedentedly adventurous year.