Frustration.

One of the hardest aspects of living in another country is never being able to fully express ourselves. What happens often, is that people will not take the time to listen and really engage with us, because we do struggle to speak and when we speak, it is so mind-numbingly slow. I see this sometimes when I am teaching class; I can be very impatient with my students. Consequently, people begin to just throw their opinions on us. Sometimes, it is just sheer ignorance that leads to it, but in other instances, it is for expedience: the conversation will be quicker and easier if Jamie and I aren’t REALLY consulted.

Returning back from Krumlov, Jamie and I were struck when we found that we were the scheduled apartment for cleaning the stairs and the walk-way; we had thought that the following week was our time. Sadly for us, Policka got pounded with a lot of snow, so the main pathway to the entrance of the apartment building was never shoveled. Many of the people who were living above us where getting angry at the negligence of the “Americans” living down on the first floor: Why were “they” not upholding their share of the deal? Honestly, I felt bad. My first order of business when I got to the apartment was to shovel the entrance. I didn’t even take my bag upstairs.

The next morning, I received a phone call from the family that owns our apartment asking Jamie and I to make sure we clean our share of the building, because some of the other residents were picking up the slack and were not very happy about it. I was a little bit frustrated with the whole situation.

In an attempt to show our sincerest apology to our building manager, I went over and gave him a gift of chocolate and told him that we were sorry for our mistake and negligence. Ivan completely understood and was more interested in asking me about our trip, not about our lack of responsibility. However, when we were parting, Ivan said that the people upstairs are frustrated. They were making comments like, “Don’t Americans clean!?” What do they all day!?” and a few other phrases that had the word “Americans” in it.

Jamie and I are very thankful for the Czech friends that we have, because we are beginning to find out just what great people they are. We know that it takes a lot of work and preparation to have us over for lunch and it can be intimidating inviting over two “foreigners” who might not speak the language that well. Yet, for a vast majority of the days here, it can be very lonely, because so few people make an attempt. The statements from upstairs really shouldn’t mean anything to us, because they were said by people who don’t care about us and who don’t know us. But, it still hurts.

Jamie and I have lived in this apartment building for seven months and the only person who has introduced himself to us has been Ivan. Every day I see the families from upstairs walking up and down, past our door, and they never say hi. I know that it is probably a “cultural difference,” but at some point, I have to begin to wonder. They know that we aren’t Czech and that we will be here for only two years, so they might not think it is “worth” their time. I don’t know, but part of me is sick of it. When Ivan informed me that our neighbors were making these statements, I felt attacked. Yes, I know that it is probably my own mind taking it this way, but that doesn’t make the feeling any less real.

I wanted to tell the people that we were sorry, but we have only missed cleaning once, and it was because we really couldn’t read the schedule, as it was our first week in the building; that the second time we cleaned and people complained, was because we didn’t mark our date off on the schedule (because we still couldn’t read it); and this last time was a mistake on our part, but we have been shoveling and sweeping since we have returned. I would like to tell them that they CAN talk to us.

In reality, one of them could have come to our door and introduced themselves and showed us what our responsibilities are; one could have asked us if we needed help reading the schedule; one could have complained to us about our mistake, not talk to all the other residents making ignorant and hurtful remarks about our “Americanism.” The fact that I can’t answer them is the worst feeling. They refer to us as the “Americans” and that is as far as we will go.

I hope that in this next year and half our neighbors will talk to us; however, the first seven months are a sobering reality check.

I don’t want to make this post sound like a bunch of complaining, but I am writing because the blog is here for the good and the bad. Also, these types of situations reiterate just how important our new Czech friends are. Without them, I do think that living here would be a very lonely existence.