Exactly one week of life in Minnesota, and I'm feeling a bit frustrated, feeling sorry for myself. My work schedule is still up in the air/getting the kinks worked out, I'm still in the awkward "meet and greet" phase of establishing personal and professional relationships, and the simple act of navigating myself around the cities is mildly traumatizing. I HATE I94. At Rush hour. With an enormous passion.
Example- I needed to return some DVDs to the St Paul Central Library (a gorgeous, historical building btw) by tonight at 5:30 to avoid....latefeesonmymom'scardsorrymom....ahem..haha...I left the apartment with 45+ minutes till close expecting to: a) catch the next bus in b) time to arrive at c) the library before 5:30. No sir-ee. As I rounded the corner of Raymond and University on foot, bumper to bumper greeted me as far as the eye could see.
Needless to say, my one plan for the evening was a total flop. I was feeling sorry for myself with yet another night alone with books, emails, and good ol' NPR to keep me company. We're not in Jackson anymore, Toto, where you could walk across the block and have casual dinners with your ski bum neighbors. So I decided to call family and vent, hear about life in Lander and Connecticut. Make social contact in the only way currently accessible.
While talking with family one story surfaced again and again. The story of the woman I did not help. On Monday morning of this week, I worked a shift at Casa de Esperanza's centro in Mercado Central, an information and resource center. A woman arrived at the Centro, looking for help with translation and a search for housing. She and her three year old daughter needed a house to live in, by this Saturday. They patiently sat for almost an hour while we poured over Cragslist, looking for available sublets in Minneapolis, any post under $300/mo and with an associated phone number. After many unsuccessful calls, wrong numbers, "sorry I already filled the room"s, I had not found a rental situation for the woman and her daughter. She left the Centro discouraged and frustrated. And now it's Wednesday, which means she has less than two days left to find a house, if she hasn't had any luck yet...
Sharing this experience with family made me realize the reality of my own situation, how I have absolutely NO right for self pity. I have a reliable roof over my head and a full fridge. No one depends on me for his or her daily meals or care, and I have a firm grasp on the English language. Wow. Imagining the frustration and discomfort of navigating the system here in Minnesota (or anywhere in the US) without English language skills, without a solid job or access to government programs like social security, is petrifying. This comparison leaves my frustrations inconsequentially small in the grand scheme of things, the molehill to that woman's mountain. As a new immigrant to city life I'm having some troubles adjusting- but at least Landiego and Minnesota share a common language. I've got it really easy.
PS to lighten the mood:
A woodchuck lives in my backyard and I've officially named him Johnson (a nod to the "Boogis" clan of Lander Wyoming). He kinda keeps to himself and eats the runners that sprout from the roots of a birch tree, which I appreciate...this neighborly act in particular will help me with future yard work and landscaping projects. I'll introduce you if you get the chance to visit
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