the terrors of expat living

truly bad times are few and far between here, but stepping outside your comfort zone (and your lingusitic homeland) comes with its inevitable moments of anxiety. generally, the mundane tasks are the most difficult. especially if, like me, you are overly independent and insist on trying to do everything yourself. for example, haircut days are always incredibly tense.

this time, I decided to chop off most of my hair and get it dyed as well. I was bored and needed a bit of a change. It occured to me about twenty minutes in that attempting to negotiate this transaction in what is my thritd or fourth language, depending on how you count, might have been a touch optimistic. As sometimes happens, the conversation was going surprisingly well until I suddenly just ran out of vocabulary. I found myself unable to explain any further the details of what I wanted and could only half coprehend what she was telling me. So, I did what any self-respecting expat would have done. I feigned understanding and just agreed with her until she felt we had reached an appropriate conclusion.  Now, blindly agreeing with a central european barber is not something one should ever do, but if you've ever lived abroad I'm sure you've done the same. Anyway, I'm pretty happy with the result. Its rather shorter than I intended, but at least its different.

czech haircut: if its not a mullet, it counts as a win.

I also braved a bike trip with my ridiculously athletic co-teacher and her boyfriend. They're rather stereotypically czech in that the seem to spend every weekend in the mountains (climbing them, skiiing them, biking them, whatever) and  when they go riding they go dressed like pros. When I showed up in tennis shoes and a skirt, they should have realized what they were in for. I had to borrow a bike from their neighbor, which i suspect was a child's bike. With the exception of two rather disasterous attempts in Berlin and Vitenam, I haven't touched a bicycle since I was about 12. But, after a practice lap around the block, I was ready for what they promised would be a smooth, easy ride. It was great. We rode around the Olesna dam, which is lovely, and I managed to remain on the bike without maiming myself or any innocent bystanders. Nor did I fall into the lake.

Of course, by the time we got to the lake my hands ached terribly because I was clutching the handlebars for dear life. Really, I was so nervous that even though we were just gliding down a hill my heart was pounding like we were skydiving. Such was my confidence level when we set off at 10:30 this morning. I don't think I'll be heading into the mountains any time soon, but future bike rides are looking much more feasible. Well done czech republic, for making me do one thing every week that scares me. I think its good for me.