3 March 2012

Roaming Breda

Ever found yourself in the awkward situation where you’re telling a group of people about a funny story that happened to you, only to find that the humor of the event can only be enjoyed by people who actually experienced it? That describes most of the experiences that we’ve had throughout our lives; it’s very usual for us to tell people about one of other adventures together, laughing so hard that we run out of breath, only to find them utterly not amused by our experience (they usually end up laughing by the end of it, though that might be cause of Immah’s innate talent for taking long laughter breaks in the middle of her stories).


It also perfectly describes our first days in Breda together: whenever I think about them, I remember them as these epic series of events that kept me laughing and smiling incessantly for three days; however, when I try putting it all down on paper I find myself at a loss for words. 

The visuals that Immah provided for this post are pretty enlightening and self-explanatory: there was the overwhelming feeling of joy when we met at the train station (said train station not having any elevators or ramps and me having a bike with me. That’s also how I met Cristi, Immah’s roommate, who I exploited within the first 2 minutes of meeting him by coercing him into carrying Mitza – my bike – up and down the stairs, as needed); there was the ridiculously amusing bike ride back home, during which I ended up leading the column half of the time (did I mention this was my first time in Breda?); there was the Romanian-style shopping trip (buy ALL the stuff!) that ended with the realization that 6bottles of drinks, 3 bottles of wine and 3 bags of other groceries might be a bit tricky to carry on three bikes that had no carrying pouches; there was Immah’s first encounter with saté sauce, which she utterly disliked (although I still claim she’d appreciate a properly-made version); there was an extremely confusing door in Immah’s kitchen (despite the claim that it was obvious where it led, I still hold on to my belief that they should open that door someday); and I got to show off my superior biking skills, by having no issues on the narrowish streets of Breda or with the downtown traffic, yet falling off my stationary bike, and dragging Cristi down with me.
But wait! There’s more! There’s the St. Joost Academy – a Hogwarts-like building, in the middle of a friggin` forest and also the only place where they have basketball hoops on the grass. Then we had the fun, yet disorientating trip to Ikea, when I believe we managed to make a perfect spiral shape before actually finding the road we were supposed to take. Or the rain clouds that appeared out of nowhere, poured down on us for a bit, then vanished just as fast (then again, that’s pretty normal by Dutch standards).
Then again, all the events that took place seem to fade compared to the feeling of joint mischief. We didn’t do anything too stupid or destructive, but in our memories they’re all pretty damn epic, no matter what. Besides, it gave us some pretty good insight to how it would feel living together (a dream that we’ve shared for years and which we’re still hoping to bring to life someday). 
Months after the whole thing happened, I’m left with one distinct feeling: I want to do that again, without changing a single thing. And yes, we will keep telling those stories to everyone, even being fully aware of how dry it sounds for people that weren’t there and knowing how our narrative skills are slightly lacking. Simply because we had fun.
As a closing remark, I’d like to point out that Cristi, Immah’s roommate, gave me permission to mention him, while requesting that I mention that he’s an attractive, intelligent, single guy, that managed to put up with the chaos caused by us two airheads and succeeded in making a favorable impression on me within the first 2 minutes of meeting each other (the fact that he carried my bike might have a lot to do with that though). Also he has very nice hair. I’d know, I cut it myself.

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