SEVEN YEARS IN AMERICA

Seven years in America can't really compare to seven years in Tibet. This is for how long I've been living in America. So far, I can't complain. 

Growing up, I used to think about living abroad. I did get some ideas of a spacious apartment in some narrow street of Florence or a mansion with a vineyard in the middle of Tuscany. The life has got some other plann for me which has been taken a place on the other side of The Atlantic Ocean. I was at the age of 27 when I came to New York, "the capital of the world", so called. Ever since, my future has been unforeseen.

After I graduated I didn't care too much about finding a job. Instead of chasing unpaid internships, I gave myself a freedom to spend all my money made from the student work on a two unforgettable weeks in Prague. The very last day of my departure from Check Republic, I had already booked the bus ticket to Croatia when I got two messages from two different people about an available position of a social worker at the psychiatric department of The General Hospital in my hometown. Only two days after I came back from Prague I got a white coat, length of service necessary for the retirement, six hours of work daily, more than a month of payed vacation and very decent salary going. The job has found me which is a very rare opportunity in Serbia. I moved away from my parents and I was totally on my own. I spent two and a half years of working there when my at that time boyfriend and now my husband Nemanja told me he was going to America. 

That's how I found myself in the "capital of the world" or so called "big apple" but only as a tourist that time. I was fascinated by New York. It looked like a boiling pot of different ingredients tasting like something I had never tried before. A cultural diversity can be seen almost everywhere today, still New York is very special. I haven't still met such an energy that keeps everything and everybody going. "Where does all this energy come from?", I asked myself then, but now I know it comes from the people and invents that never slow down. This city really never sleeps. It didn't take me a long time to make up my mind about moving to New York.

Telling to my parents about my intention to move was one of the hardest things I've done so far. I didn't rethink my decision much because the more time I spent thinking the harder it would be. They were not very happy about my idea but they were very supportive to me, as they always are. They told me what all other parents should tell to their children that I am the only one deciding about my life and they will always do everything to help me. My parents didn't give me a hard time but my surrounding did. Only two of my closest friends supported my idea of trying something new, but the rest of them, family friends and colleges couldn't understand why I would leave such a "comfortable" life. Most of them get used to do the things by the book: 1. be born, 2. finish the school, 3. find a job and keep it till the rest of the life, 4. get married, 5. have kids. The life in five easy steps. In order to keep everybody calm I told them I would apply for the master degree what I wanted at the beginning even if I knew I was going to work as a waitress or a nanny to support myself. 

Perusing my love, I moved to New York. Nemanja and I were finally together but I didn't have a lot of time to enjoy. Finances are always a problem when starting the new life so I had to start working. I enrolled the school of English language in order to keep a legal status but not the work permit or possibility to travel out of America as long as I was a student. I found a part time job as a hostess at the restaurant just to get some work experience. Working as a hostess only four days a week was flexible so I could attend the school but it was not enough to make a living. Nemanja and I lived with roommates at the beginning so we could save some money because living in New York is not cheap. At the end of the month, after I payed the rent, the school and the food there was nothing left. I realized I needed to find a full time job and I stayed focused mostly on the restaurant business. Somebody suggested me to start working as a waitress but I kept that awful Serbian attitude  -" I can't be a waitress"! I am not for that job"!. One day I just woke up determined to became a waiters and to live without roommates. The words CAN NOT didn't exist in my dictionary any more. Looking for a job became a full time job for me. I would go to the agency, fill the application and go to the interviews. Going from one place to another sometimes took me all day long. I would even start working somewhere but I was either not qualified for the job or I was overqualified. I did waitressing, cleaning the apartments (sometimes in the same day both jobs), selling pastry at the fairs for living. I had never refused a job because I've realized something is always better than nothing. Also, I never wanted to admit that I didn't know to do something. In case I didn't know how to work, I would ask discretely somebody to explain me. People of New York are very busy and they don't want to spend the time explaining and showing everything so I got myself into a trouble few times, staying without a tip or being humiliated in front of other people. 

Spinning into a working machine of at the speed of 78 hours weekly I completely forgot about the school. I still had some attendance, less than ten percent of total which was not enough and I was waiting to get deported any minute. Every time I showed up at school, I needed to spent half an hour of listening about deportation. Classes at school were so boring and annoying especially when the teacher said "Open your books!" I hate this sentence so much that I'm not going back to school. 

It was a time when I couldn't see the purpose of coming to America, when I was so depressed that I would go to work crying and come back from work crying. I felt like somebody put me in some movie where I didn't want to be. Running like a crazy to work and to school I lost my identity, I just couldn't find myself any more. I never had a suicidal ideas but I was wondering what the jumping under the train looks like. It happens very often in this city making the traffic stop and making me think about the person who did so. I wanted desperate to go back to Serbia but Nemanja was supporting me to stay, saying that we can go everywhere else but not back to Serbia. I knew that If I had left America once with this status I couldn't have come back any more. 

Seven years in America have really changed me in so many ways, moving my limits and finding a new myself. If I could turn back time, I would do the same thing again. Only I knew what I went through and how hard it was but I will never forget it. I am so proud of that experience. I wouldn't change it for anything in the world. I know that people from Balcan (specially treated and supported kind by their parents) can't accept such a lifestyle of uncertainty,  sometimes staying unhappily all their lives just criticizing others and considering only an office job 9-5 worth. Back home, I'm still answering the question for how long I am going to be a waitress. Some of my friends whom I met in America are back to Serbia, some of them suffer a depression because their goals and reality don't match. Oh, I almost forget to mention those who think that being a waitress in America is fine but being a waitress in Serbia is a shame. They are scratched from my list of friends for good. Can somebody really explain me the difference because for these seven years I still can't see it. I get it this way: it is a shame to be a doctor in Serbia but it is a privilege to be a doctor in America. Now I don't care what kind of job I need to do to survive. I know now that I will survive everywhere. 

It is a whole Universe between America and Serbia. I still can't fallow some American patterns such as going out without socks or with a wet hear during the winter, carring puppies in the stroller or loving them more than children. American smile "ear to ear" and such a perfectly white teeth is also something I still can't totally get along with even if I miss it when I'm out of New York. I will never be an American but I will always be a New Yorker. Unlike Serbia where I am supposed to stop living at the age of 35 because "it is the last moment to have a kids and build the house for them", the good thing about America is I'm never too late for anything. And I still feel very young and able to achieve whatever I want. 

After seven years, I still have no intention of changing a profession because if there was no such a jobs I wouldn't have what to write about in my traveling blog. And this is a kind of "life" adventure. There's no such a a thing like a perfect place to live but America is a country full of opportunities. It gave me a chance to explore the rest of the world and I'm so grateful for that.