It is the second full moon that I recall specifically reflecting upon in a blog post. The moon doesn't seem any different, and I am wondering if the same can be said about me. Some things seem to not be any different. Like the way I still feel like a foreigner here. Maybe I've plateaued, maybe this is as "local" as I will get (i.e. NOT local), a permanent foreigner, skimming along the surface of life here, mostly ignored by the other fish. There are tiny moments. The staff at the bakery I frequent (by the way, the most delicious bakery I think known to mankind) seem to at least recognize my consistent presence. Last week when trying to order something different (I mistakenly read the tag underneath the item - which oddly referred to something in a different case rather than the item directly above it) I was corrected and told I wanted to order "helda" (if I remember it correctly). She half smiled at me as I tried to pronounce it. The half smile was likely due to her fatigue more than my pronunciation. There is always a line at the bakery. They work from 7 a.m. to 9 at night. A long day. Not a doubt.
Then there is also the staff at my little grocery store. They also know me, but seem to care even less. Always a clipboard in hand, I see them always busy (they work 7 a.m. to 10 p.m ) - counting produce (which must also be moved indoors whenever the temperature drops), restocking shelves, unloading a truck, and helping the long line of customers at the cashier. A good number of items are kept on a shelf that might as well be the ceiling. The other day I wanted to buy a jar of instant coffee which meant I had to ask one of the staff to get it down for me with the help of a ladder. The three or four women who work and manage the shop are remarkably patient, calm, and generally reserved. Not once have I seen them lose their temper or be unpleasant. I would hesitate to describe them as "warm" but like the staff at the bakery, these are busy women, who work long, hard, and likely exhausting hours. No one should expect them to be "warm."
Maybe it's because I recently re-watched it, but sometimes I feel like McCauley Culkin in Home Alone when he goes shopping. Just trying to get the chore done successfully, and without too many looks. Actually, after re-watching the clip above, I think McCauley Culkin is in fact, more confident, and at ease than I often am. For instance, finally, after almost four months, when I think I've got life down here, the smallest of things can unnerve me. People here I've noticed do not go out of their way to be polite. They will cut you in line faster than a blink of an eye. The other day the line at the store was backed up because one of two cash registers was not working. Several people behind me, without any hesitation, pushed me aside to get ahead to the one that was functioning (there was only one line). I moved towards the other cash register as well, but within a moment the register I was in front of became open. I turned to look at the woman now behind me, who within seconds of me removing my basket, placed hers on the counter. I thought, since it had barely been a second, she would let me go ahead, but she said something to the extent of "you chose the other line... you chose." And then there is the 'if you have only one or two items to purchase, you are entitled to cut everyone else in line and go right to the front' custom... These kind of moments, when I feel particularly shoved around, can really rub me raw.
I struggle to rationalize, and defuse, my judgement. How are these actions not considered rude? Am I rude? Why do I always feel shoved around and ignored? Sometimes it feels like I am the only one cognizant, or considerate might be the better word, of people around me in public spaces. Everyone here seems only out for themselves. I try to understand the post-communist-Slavic context but still feel at a loss. I think about how Americans are often stereotyped as the epitome of rude, thoughtless, and clueless creatures but here this categorization feels all wrong. In contrast Americans (or maybe it is just Midwesterners) are very considerate, and demonstratively so. We respect the rights of individuals, of individual space (such as a space in line at the grocery store?) and generally we listen when others are talking (see previous post regarding this cultural difference).
I'm still an outsider here. A permanent tourist feels like a somewhat depressing,, but fitting title. And with the passing of another full moon I'm aware of how much this feels so, contrary to what my expectations were of how I would feel come January. I expected that by this time, I would have found, and at least felt the beginnings of inclusion in a local community here. But most of the locals I interact with see me as an outsider, and understandably so. Many of the people I interact with here are busy. Working. Surviving. Trying to get by. Just the nature of me being a foreigner, the nature of my privilege which has enabled me to travel, visit, and live here, is a major luxury far from relatable. How naive and presumptuous to assume I would feel at home, important, and included after a short amount of time. Even the ability to "welcome" someone, to be in a welcoming state, I think now, is a privilege.
In summary, the distance between myself and a sense of fitting in or belonging here, remains a wide, understandable, gap.