Beauty can be found everywhere, you just have to be willing to see.
Today's letter is from Rosmarin cafe, which is next to the first farmers’ market that I have found. The music is American Jazz, and the smell is coffee and lemon water. It is crazy to be next to a war zone in a country that is balancing itself between a democracy and a mess, and yet life is normal. No violence, limited crime, no anger or hate. Each day, I feel the fear of the unknown lessen in me.
I still feel alone a lot. Lost in a sea of unfamiliarity. But it is a warm, gentle sea that is allowing me the opportunity to learn to swim. Riding the bus each day is a sample of that lesson. Oh lord how I want to take a cab and isolate away in an ivory tower of exclusivity, but when I make it to work after a 30-minute bus ride and 30-minute walk I feel accomplished. I see things each day I didn't see before.
Walking through the park on the first day of spring after a rainstorm was like walking through a Monet painting of Paris. The dark sky and the flower lamps in the trees were lit with the warm glow of the morning. The smell of coffee and the sound of people strolling through the park... It was my own Paris.
My first introduction to the embassy team leadership was a spectacular event. At the onset of my introduction, I explained that this was the first time ever on an international flight. The collective intake of breath was audible, followed by the OMG... That escaped the lips of everyone. It was comical and terrifying within the same few moments.
Each moment is an adventure in finding my grounding of where I am and what I am doing. I am part of something but separate from the world around me. An observer in the window of the world but without the pain of separation.
This city is full of a mix of destruction and artistic beauty in the architecture and its people. Flowers are everywhere, and plants are signs of life. Even on the bus, the driver has a small vase with fresh flowers, yet buildings are empty, crumbling, and broken. Poverty in the infrastructure but with new cars and clothes. It is as if the city wishes to show its strength through its softness and in those things that can be controlled. I am told that during the Soviet times, people would often lose their homes and be removed at a moment's notice, so status and pride were shown through ownership of cars, clothing, and other easily transported things.
And the flowers?.. What is the meaning behind the flowers?.. I don’t know. No one seems to know. They just are part of life. Every day bringing beauty. Maybe they want to serve as a reminder that even in destruction and loss, beauty can’t be removed.
