I am not sure if this is really a question or more of a statement. It seems that my body refuses to let me get the rest I need in order to accomplish all of the things I need to accomplish this last week of classes! Normally I wouldn't care (maybe), but I really would like to do well in most of my classes anyway! I have been doing well thus far, why mess it up now (though I must say I have a tendency to do just that!).
Last night I was kept up by a rather profound and confusing memory. About 3 years ago, I went on a trip around Eastern Europe beginning and ending in Krakow, Poland. It was a trip that changed my outlook on what I was doing at the time and actually caused me to "give up" and leave Krakow (a very beautiful city that I miss to this day). One event in particular came to my mind last night: a meeting with a special girl in a sandwich shop at the train station in Lviv, Ukraine.
I was waiting for a bus to take me from the train station to where I was going to be staying. I was told they ran every half hour or so, and as I was hungry I decided to stop at the sandwich shop that was located not more than 100 feet from where the bus supposedly left. I bought a sub and an orange soda and sat down to enjoy my meal in the empty deli. As I was eating, in walked a Roma girl of about 14 years old.
Her face was caked with dirt, her hair scraggly and tangled, but if one could look past that they would see a bright, beautiful young girl. She was shy, yet insistent as she attempted to introduce herself in a language I did not understand. It could have been Russian, Ukrainian, or even a dialect of Romanian; all I could understand was her name which I have now, sadly, forgotten. I told her my name and she proceeded to ask for part of my sandwich. I could tell by the hungry eyes that looked longingly at the bread and fillings that lay on the table as we attempted to communicate in conjunction with the pointing finger she brandished with a bravado that was briefly shattered by the small, almost imperceptible, trembling.
The clerk/manager of the shop stood behind the counter glaring at us. I could tell he wanted the girl to leave immediately. With a little hesitation, I gave her part of my sandwich. I didn't have much money, and I hadn't eaten in a while, but I was sure she hadn't eaten in much longer. The warnings people had given me about the dangers of giving things to beggars weighed on my mind, but my sadness won over. But what they had said was true! After I had given her the food, she asked for more; she wanted my drink to go with it.
I sat there wondering if that was so bad, all the time pretending I didn't know what she wanted. It was easy to do as she already knew I didn't know her language. But then, I decided to purposefully not understand for a different reason: I wanted to see what she would do. Perhaps this was my way of distancing myself from a situation I was uncomfortable with and from someone I had found myself connecting with a little too much. Whatever the reason, I sat and looked at her as if I were an idiot who couldn't understand basic gestures.
As I didn't make a move to stop her, she grabbed my bottle of pop (soda) and ran out the door. To my surprise, the deli woman raced out after her, came back with my bottle, washed it off and returned it to me. I took a small drink from it to show the woman I was not afraid to do so, gathered my stuff, and left. The girl was still outside. I looked at her and gave her the bottle. I would not die of thirst, and I could get some more later if I so chose. I couldn't help but wonder what I would have done if I were in her shoes.
This particular event kept going through my mind last night for reasons that are unclear to me. The tears I wept for her last night brought no relief to me, only confusion and bewilderment. Perhaps it will become clear to me soon; I can only hope.
Last night I was kept up by a rather profound and confusing memory. About 3 years ago, I went on a trip around Eastern Europe beginning and ending in Krakow, Poland. It was a trip that changed my outlook on what I was doing at the time and actually caused me to "give up" and leave Krakow (a very beautiful city that I miss to this day). One event in particular came to my mind last night: a meeting with a special girl in a sandwich shop at the train station in Lviv, Ukraine.
I was waiting for a bus to take me from the train station to where I was going to be staying. I was told they ran every half hour or so, and as I was hungry I decided to stop at the sandwich shop that was located not more than 100 feet from where the bus supposedly left. I bought a sub and an orange soda and sat down to enjoy my meal in the empty deli. As I was eating, in walked a Roma girl of about 14 years old.
Her face was caked with dirt, her hair scraggly and tangled, but if one could look past that they would see a bright, beautiful young girl. She was shy, yet insistent as she attempted to introduce herself in a language I did not understand. It could have been Russian, Ukrainian, or even a dialect of Romanian; all I could understand was her name which I have now, sadly, forgotten. I told her my name and she proceeded to ask for part of my sandwich. I could tell by the hungry eyes that looked longingly at the bread and fillings that lay on the table as we attempted to communicate in conjunction with the pointing finger she brandished with a bravado that was briefly shattered by the small, almost imperceptible, trembling.
The clerk/manager of the shop stood behind the counter glaring at us. I could tell he wanted the girl to leave immediately. With a little hesitation, I gave her part of my sandwich. I didn't have much money, and I hadn't eaten in a while, but I was sure she hadn't eaten in much longer. The warnings people had given me about the dangers of giving things to beggars weighed on my mind, but my sadness won over. But what they had said was true! After I had given her the food, she asked for more; she wanted my drink to go with it.
I sat there wondering if that was so bad, all the time pretending I didn't know what she wanted. It was easy to do as she already knew I didn't know her language. But then, I decided to purposefully not understand for a different reason: I wanted to see what she would do. Perhaps this was my way of distancing myself from a situation I was uncomfortable with and from someone I had found myself connecting with a little too much. Whatever the reason, I sat and looked at her as if I were an idiot who couldn't understand basic gestures.
As I didn't make a move to stop her, she grabbed my bottle of pop (soda) and ran out the door. To my surprise, the deli woman raced out after her, came back with my bottle, washed it off and returned it to me. I took a small drink from it to show the woman I was not afraid to do so, gathered my stuff, and left. The girl was still outside. I looked at her and gave her the bottle. I would not die of thirst, and I could get some more later if I so chose. I couldn't help but wonder what I would have done if I were in her shoes.
This particular event kept going through my mind last night for reasons that are unclear to me. The tears I wept for her last night brought no relief to me, only confusion and bewilderment. Perhaps it will become clear to me soon; I can only hope.
