Life in Ink and Footsteps

Except I did not say “freaking.” I should be sad to admit that I curse like a sailor, but I truly do not care. Interestingly, I do not curse as much in my native language. Is it just me? Or do all the bad words sound so much harsher in the language you grew up with?

Oh well, back to the story. I read through the first few pages of my diary so that I could remember properly and be sentimental. Epic failure. I was not sentimental. I was in utter disbelief at my 21-year-old self. Do you like HIMYM? Do you remember the scene where Robin describes one of Ted’s girlfriends as a girl, to which you just want to say “Oh, Honey…” after she speaks? If not, look it up. Now. Open YouTube and watch it. This will make so much sense to you after that. Done? Good. So, yeah. That’s exactly what I was feeling. The pure naiveté of this young airhead is staggering. To think that this cutie pie was ME is kind of surreal. Millennials, do not start reading your old journals. That is a hard pill to swallow. And no, you were not self-aware and above stupid shit, even if you think you were. I guarantee you were not.

Also, my grammar was shit. No other way to put it. It might not be perfect now—blame ChatGPT for proofreading. What? This is my fun little project. It’s not like I’m going to write a book out of this. But trust me when I say, it was a hell of a lot worse. But still, I am impressed that I was able to do it. And stick with it. It probably helped get me to where I am today. Did I just compliment my old self? Did not see that coming. Anyway, time to get into the story itself.

So, hello there, you naïve little Airhead.

The first week was spent on Long Island at a training school. Dozens of young people from all over the place were put into a school campus and given classes on first aid, child development, communication, safety around strangers, driving, etc. It was hot, the AC was blasting, people were everywhere. Hugging. Being loud and kind of obnoxious. Playing group games. Cheering and clapping about everything. Everyone had a huge smile plastered on their faces. I am obviously talking about the American staff working there and teaching. Oh, and let’s not forget fast food for lunch.

Most of the future nannies were so out of their element, it would have been hilarious if I had been able to catch on at that moment. But I wasn’t, so it was just weird. It was the first taste of American culture. Ice in every glass of water. Freezing rooms with the AC set so low that all the nipples were perked up. Everyone was so excited and full of smiles, always ready to hug you. The “Oh my God, Hiiiiies” were everywhere. The constant need to clap and show support over any and every completely normal thing. It was surreal. Coming from a country like the Czech Republic, where people smile only when there is a dark joke being said, nobody ever touches you—unless they are drunk—AC is nonexistent, and praise is hard-earned? Yeah, this shit was crazy.

But do you know what was on my mind the most? HIM. Yes, that’s how I actually called that dude I was seeing back home. HIM because he was THAT special. Alas, the Airhead. Instead of living in the moment, fully trying to enjoy and comprehend the whole situation I was in, I was being a lovesick puppy. All the cultural differences that I just described are summarized in a tiny little paragraph, and the rest of the entries are dedicated to HIM. It’s so sad and hilarious at the same time because I can clearly remember the shock from all the things I talked about. But I completely forgot how much “in love” I was with this person. So yes, naïve and young. And dumb. But who wasn’t? Please tell me you were a dummy too. It would definitely make me feel a bit better about myself.

I met some interesting girls there whose names are not important since—spoiler alert— I have not seen them again after this. Even though we promised each other to stay in touch. But at least I wasn’t a complete loner. The training school ended with a guided trip to NYC. You would think I would remember the first time I saw Manhattan better. But in truth, I forgot almost everything. If I hadn’t read that we did a guided tour, I would not believe it. But I don’t lie, and it is written down, so it must be the truth. We supposedly saw the Statue of Liberty, the World Trade Center, Times Square, and Central Park. Do I remember it? Nope. I also ate mushroom soup and a sandwich at some deli and got nauseous afterward. No recollection of that either. What I do remember, though, is the sun setting over New York and New Jersey that we saw from “The Top of the Rock.” The colors changing from melted gold to cold bluish-gray. That was a memorable moment. I also have pictures, so it must have happened. This was also when panic tried to arrive. When in all of the natural beauty the fear became more acute and potent. I moved to the USA, all alone. At the age of 21. With poor English and a broken heart. Well, not all that broken, but you know how dramatic young people can be. You don’t believe me? Let me quote the last sentence from this entry, exactly the way it is written in my diary: “I am empty and uncomplete without him I am afraid that one day I will forgot this feeling.” Surprise, surprise, not only did I forget the “feeling,” I almost forgot he was a part of my life at that time. Talk about a drama queen.

With this, the training school was completed, and the families received their new nannies the next morning. What? That it was a three-day course full of weird group games and a half-day trip to the dirtiest city I have ever seen? That no sane person would let a twenty-something-year-old care for their children with no proper education and background in child care besides babysitting their siblings? Oh shut up, nobody asked your opinion. It was a different time back then. I guess.

Chosen song: The Chain – Fleetwood Mac