My Exodus

Hello again friends,

Transitioning into a world that is entirely unprepared for you certainly has its risks and difficulties. To my own surprise, I would say that my personal relationship and dependency on God has already been weathered more here than it ever was in Rwanda. Whereas my accommodations and meals were planned out before I left for Rwanda, life is unpredictable here, and it is your strength and integrity that gets you through the day, not preparation. As I write this in bed, three nights after I felt completely relieved having finally settled into a room, I find myself completely relieved having finally gotten out of it. In less alluding words, I am no longer staying at the apartment in the previous video. I am “homeless” again.

Unfortunately, I did not sleep as easy as I would have liked Sunday night, going to bed far too late. Even after carrying all of luggage across time and unpacking and sorting all of it into my room, I was still unable to crash, no longer accustomed to sleeping in a room alone. I woke up awfully tired and shook my head multiple times before confirming that I was indeed hearing Buddhist chanting from the living room. I left quietly and took the Metro to Piazza del Popolo, getting into work just on time.

As a result of restlessness, my first day of work was a mentally groggy one, though I was energetic and excited that work had begun. I learned that I had chosen the best time for this internship. During my stay, I will be able to attend many important events, including a World Food Programme (WFP) Executive Board meeting and a Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) bi-annual budget meeting. The USUN mission itself is also keeping busy itself in a variety of both routine and original activities. So even more so than simply having this internship, I also have to be grateful for the time when I have it. However, in the midst of the struggles that appeared at my newly found room, it was hard to appreciate.

It began when I went home Monday night, preparing to pay my first monthly payment, which I assumed would cover from Sunday to one month later. I would have just gone to withdraw the money, but the advertisement had said 550 Euros + utilities though my landlady’s Italian friend and English translator said 550 Euros for everything. I thought to check, knowing that either one was acceptable for where I was staying. My landlady wanted neither though. After tersely explaining herself multiple time, she finally realized that I really did not know Italian and that she was wasting her time. She called an American friend so I could figure it out. She wanted to charge me per day for September at a higher rate, pay for the month of October and a two month’s security deposit. I protested; that was not what we discussed. I went out and gave her money for three nights, telling her I had to think about it.

It’s odd what the human mind can do if it thinks about something for too long. It begins to warp and question until you doubt everything. By Tuesday night, I found myself sitting on the steps of St. Peter’s Square, wishing I knew what to do. At this time, she had agreed to bring down the security deposit to a normal level, but insisted on charging a higher rate for September and any days I spent in December. Additionally, I was not that happy with the lady’s attitude, the internet, a new guy who showed up that afternoon or the constant Buddhist chanting. And there I sat, battling with my discontent. Was it legitimate, or was I simply being unappreciative?

As I stared at the St. Peter’s Basilica, I was reminded of the Israelites, wandering in the desert before Sinai. They had just been freed from the tyranny of Egypt and ran at the opportunity of freedom in a foreign land. But not long after the Red Sea closed, God had them travel through a desert, which was both geographically and spiritually necessary for their journey. They were grumbling about everything. Despite the fact that the Lord had found favor with them and clearly been the source of the newly-found freedom, they failed to trust Him to keep them alive. It only took a few days of a necessary hard time before they began demanding things from Moses and God without upholding His divine rules. I found myself even worse. I have been given the opportunity of my life, and here I am, complaining about the small things, when I had been granted shelter. Yes, the finances were complicated, but not out of my budget; I could afford it. I became content and celebrated with a gelato on the way back to my apartment.

Walking into the apartment with an Italian contract I had made at work, I was confident that the deal would be set, but she refused to sign, and in fact, insisted that I pay for all of December now! What was more, the next morning she said that her friend wanted to stay in my room and that I had to pay today! Keep in mind though that I never fully understood her. Miscommunication was at the root of this entire problem. We could never express ourselves and had to relay on the shaky translation skills of others. But I was sure of she had told me, and I fell into torment again. My third day of work, and I could not focus at all. When no one was looking, I made a few phone calls for others, and to no avail.

But after the USUN mission’s receptionist offered me her and her husband’s guestroom for a week, I knew what I had to do. I left at 2pm, while my supervisor was out running errands anyways. I took the Metro to Cipro and walked to my apartment building. I had already paid for my three nights, so I felt like it time to check out. But just as I entered the complex, my landlady walked out. She greeted me friendly and asked what I was doing back from work. I told her I was going to leave, and she did not look happy. Before I knew what was happening, she had taken me to her Italian friend’s place, where I was scolded for trying to leave after I had a committment. But I thought I was doing a favor, wasn’t her friend moving in? But the translator said there was no friend and that I could leave whenever in December. I went back to work empty-handed and more confused than ever.

Thankfully, another USUN employee noticed my despair. She called my landlady to discuss the terms by which I wanted the room. Maura got a different story as well, this one far more shocking. My landlady was going to hear back from the doctor concerning a surgery, and based on that, had yet to decide whether she would let me stay in November! Now maybe she had been trying to tell me this all along, but this was the first I had heard of it. Moreover, she demanded that I paid for September, October and the security deposit since that was the agreement. Maura also told me that the whole thing sounded sketch, noting that lady refused to give her a last name and was probably renting the apartment without paying the taxes. Upon hearing this, a few people in the office agreed, it was time for me to go.

Admittedly nervous and intimidated, I hastened back to the apartment. If my landlady was still at her friend’s house, I could get in, pack up, leave the keys on the counter and be done with it. I had already paid, there was no understanding or contract, and there was nothing she could do.

I had almost fully entered the lift at the apartment, along with a lady and her dog, when my landlady appeared and squished in as well. She gave me a smile that seemed surprisingly genuine. She did not think I was leaving. I smiled back. As soon as we got in the apartment, I gave her the USUN employee’s cell number and told her to call. Meanwhile, I undid everything I accomplished Sunday, and in record time. I came to the door with my two suitcases, heavy backpack and Alma sidebag and saw her meditating in the living room looking destitute. She quietly got up and came over, dialing someone on her phone, asking me to wait. After a moment’s discussion in Italian, she handed my the mobile; it was the American friend.

“Hello James? Jenny just wanted to tell you that she is really sorry. She is not sure what happened and thinks you’re a great guy. She wishes it would have worked out and hopes you are not angry.”

I looked over at her, into her eyes, before responding. “I am not upset,” I said, “and am sorry it did not work out either. Tell her that I wish the best for her surgery.” I gave her the phone back and set my keys on the counter. Shoving my overly-large bag out the door, we exchange “Ciao”s and I left the courtyard for the last time, so completely relieved.

I am not sure what all of this means for my faith, being that I saw my convictions flip on themselves in less than a day, but at least I have nothing to grumble about where I am now. Tory’s house comes equipped with great wireless internet, free long-distance phone back home, great DVDs, a shower, kitchen and bed. Unfortunately, though, I still am missing a permanent place to stay. That is what this weekend is for. If I could get out of this desert of uncertainty, that would be magnificent.

Thank you for reading. God bless.