My future's so Fulbright, I gotta wear shades

It’s been a while since I’ve written because it seems that there isn’t a whole lot to say. But that’s because in this economic climate it becomes tiring writing about/discussing/reiterating the fact that it’s just tough. We are all walking uphill, through the snow, both ways and waiting for the big melt. Our industry says it’ll come this year. But still I hoped my moment would come and I could look back on the uncertainty of unemployment as a reality check, a moment (and just that, a short period of time) where I understood what it was like to be part of the poor, go on food stamps, live hand-to-mouth and then eventually, sooner rather than later, get a job. But after a while you start to reevaluate. Maybe this isn’t just a short slump in the market. If this continues, will my job skills atrophy? At first I said I’d weather it and continue to look for exactly what I wanted. I soon revised that to look for a wider spectrum of job types. I then realized how important my bartending gig was and it became an organizing element of my life. I worked nights, couldn’t go on my early morning runs because I was often too tired and if I went away I made sure there wasn’t a show (and thus a bartending shift I’d miss). I talked with a friend from graduate school who had moved to LA. If anyone was “hirable”, if anyone was smart and up for any challenge and willing to put in their fair share and then some, he was the guy to do it. And even he wasn’t getting any bites.

And then, one miraculous day, as a sat in front of my computer and applied for food assistance, checking the clock to make sure I wasn’t late for that night’s bar shift, I got a call. I almost didn’t answer it since I didn’t recognize the number.

“Rachel Hill? This is Rachel Holskin (my initials-sister) from the Fulbright. Are you still interested in taking a Fulbright fellowship to Croatia?”. I could hardly believe it. I asked her if I could have some time to think about it. Time to think what? - “maybe the 100 bucks a night I can make slinging beer is worth staying in Tucson. Living on my back porch has been kind of nice, like camping with plumbing. I do love my cat.”

I called her back the next day and took it. Since then I’ve been preparing and consciously putting it out of my mind at alternating moments. I applied for this thing a year and a half ago. The Croatian land planning agency that I had contacted to work with has since stopped working with the UN (the other organization I wanted to collaborate with). The most I’ve gotten from either are a handful of emails that say something along the spectrum of “just drop by when you come to town” to “ya, the project sounds neat. We’ll see”. That’s the extent of the commitment these guys have to my vision. But I guess that’s just it. It’s my vision and I have to craft it, work on it and make it happen. I jumped in with both feet at first. I found and read anything I could find on the area and the topic of rural tourism, agricultural systems, land planning around agriculture, cultural integration of agriculture into transitioning landscapes…. And then, when it seemed I could read forever and still not circumscribe my project in any more detail from the US, I focused on the nuts and bolts of living in Croatia. I got an apartment with a 27 year old woman on a square above a farmers’ market. Sounds fantastic. Anita, the roommate, is a language teacher (how perfect) and the room is furnished (except for blankets – I may be wearing my coat to bed for the first couple days).

I am sure the pace will pick up and the project will get defined. At the same time I feel like I need something inspiring and creative outside of my project to study. Any ideas? My old housemate Becky said I should photograph myself with every Croatian beer I can find. I’ll be like the troll in the photo except I’ll be me and instead of interesting locations around the globe, I’ll pose with interesting beers around Croatia. That’s one idea. Inspired by a Rome Prize winner I have vowed to draw at least once a week.

At the moment, I just want another London coffee (my 6th on this epic journey through airports). And a flat place to lie down and sleep. A down blanket would be nice. I can even put up with the bustle and noise in this terminal. It’d be great to take these boots off and wash the smudged mascara off of my face (who am I trying to impress anyways?). And I’d love to not have to tote my bags into the bathroom stall with me. And have a hug from someone familiar. That’d be nice. Day 1.5 down.