The Podgorica Penalty Box — But It's a Good Thing

Thank you, Chat GPT

Jerrold (Jerry). Mishka, my airbnb host's father. Pavle, my airbnb host's son. Andrija, the guy I've played tennis with. Cat and Mina, the two American women who invited me to speak at their school. Sonja, the young Russian barista at my favorite cafe. Valentina and Milica, the waitress and bartender at the bar I stop in and work at some afternoons. Rodsta, from the American Corner, who I had coffee with yesterday. 

Sonja, at the Corcovado Cafe, who tolerates my attempts to speak Russian with her

Not to mention the guy who owns the Blues Bar & Cafe who I had drinks with a couple weeks ago, the morning barista at the bar across the street from me, the lawyer I had drinks with three weeks ago, the acting coach at my class a few nights ago whom I sat next to and chatted with during a play last night, and another cool barista at my favorite cafe, all of whose names I can't at the moment recall.

Slowly but surely I'm starting to know people here. And, as part of that, I'm also no longer quite so blinded by the stereotypes and generalizations I had allowed myself to fall victim to my first few weeks, where it seemed everyone dressed the same (dark clothes on the men, always — usually sweatpants and track-suits —and dark beards), acted the same (intimidating, sullen, slightly rude), and overall made me feel fairly unwelcome. I've come to see that that was my problem, not theirs — my isolation and foreignness overwhelmed my patience and judgment, infected my understanding of this place.

But, especially as the weather has improved, so has my perspective. I'm seeing more men in shorts — reasonably enough — and thus am feeling more comfortable wearing them myself. I'm much more aware of the diversity, the good humor, and the friendliness that surrounds me. I'm starting to see the intellectuals and artistic types that I wasn't quite able to see before, and recognizing that not every bar and cafe plays loud thumping pop music — you just have to find the ones you like. 

I've also been thinking a bit about my mood. There's no doubt that this — the forced few months away from home — is a detour on the trip I wanted to be taking, but ... it's ok. For much of the past 5 years in Tucson I felt adrift, uncertain what my purpose in life was. I could entertain myself, certainly — a lot of tennis, seeing movies with friends, going for coffee or drinks — but overall I felt I was absolutely treading water, just ... doing nothing.

I became aware last week that that hasn't been true ever since I moved to Europe — and even during this unfortunate exile. I'm excited about being back in Europe, about the start-ups I'm hoping to move forward with, about being closer to Liesel and my European friends, about Catalina, and about my life in Prague. Certainly being forced to spend a couple months on ice is unfortunate, but at least I'm in the game. 

Catalina, today, missing me terribly

In other words .... I may in the penalty box for a little bit, but at least I'm still in the game. For five years I was watching from the sidelines, feeling a combination of self-pity, boredom, loneliness, and disappointment. Being in the penalty box is frustrating, certainly, unable to push things forward towards the goal, but ... at least I'm in the game, dammit.

The inside of the Brazilian-themed Corcovado Cafe,
where, for some reason, they use Costa Coffee mugs

Less than four weeks to go, and I sort of feel like we're starting to pick up speed — starting to roll downhill towards Prague. I think I'm gonna make it.