Life in Ink and Footsteps

November arrived, and with it, another monthly au pair meeting. I was never much of an extrovert, and these group sessions were slightly nerve-wracking for me. But I understood the reason why they were put in place and not only fully agreed with it but was grateful for it as well. After all, it was where I met C., a young girl from France who just started her second year in America, moving to Long Island from Ohio. She was full of life and sunshine, laughing all around and connecting with people everywhere. Her English was hilarious; French people have the best accent ever. And that is a fact.

I hit it off with C. She lived close to me, and I knew the girl who was an au pair in her family before her. We fast became friends. And when I was not spending my weekends with Mr. FoodAdventure A., I was with the Dutch girl F. and the French girl C. The first trip we did together, the three of us, was to the Deer Park outlet. We walked around this fake Italian village full of stores and people, just breathing in the atmosphere. Christmas decorations were everywhere, even though Thanksgiving hadn’t passed. And yet, the beautiful plaza was dominated by a massive Christmas tree. We were still wearing dresses and light fall jackets. It felt surreal. Christmas is supposed to be connected to the cold, rainy, or in a better case, snowy weather, darkness, and coziness. Not this hot-ass afternoon among all of these sweating humans. I wondered if this is what it feels like to celebrate Christmas in places that do not have the traditional weather at that time of year. Traditional, of course, from the limited point of view of a young European woman who left her home country for the first time. I did live in central Africa a few years after this and hence experienced several Christmases in a tropical country. While it felt satisfying to send provocative selfies to friends and family, of me sipping a drink at the pool and catching a quick tan before making the Christmas dinner, it never felt as good as it did when I had a chance to experience it the way I was raised. Anyway, back to the outlet. Not only did they already have a Christmas tree at the beginning of November, but the Christmas store was open as well. And that was just a place of pure childish happiness. Did I think that the Halloween pop-up stores were cool and large? That was just child’s play compared to this monstrosity. Aisles upon aisles of anything and everything connected to Christmas were there. Every size, every material, every color scheme. From the nutcrackers to all the lights and mistletoe, to a black Santa. Excuse me if I am being politically incorrect. But it was honestly a surprising thing to see; none of us had ever come across a black Santa before. And we all loved it. Please, bear in mind that in my country, there are barely any expats that are not from central/eastern Europe. We don’t get much diversity there. So to see an inclusive Christmas decoration was cool. I can still remember being kind of stunned by it at first. We all just stood there and stared. Then we chuckled and laughed in a kind of “I can’t believe I am in this country, and this is a thing and it’s so freaking awesome” way, and we continued our exploration.

There were many other little trips during the weekends. One of our favorite spots was Jones Beach, which I talked about in one of the previous entries. We spent so much time there. Chilling, walking in the water, laughing, and making videos. We were no longer swimming; it was too cold for it already. But the days were sunny and warm. And there was nothing better than just sitting on a blanket drinking our Starbucks drinks and just chatting. The girls introduced me to the world of Snapchat, and I was mesmerized by it. At least for a little bit; I did not appreciate the disappearing conversations. I am old-school like that.

We met during the weeks as well, especially in the mornings when the kids were at school and we had time to chill. We would meet for coffee at Starbucks or Dunkin’ Donuts. We would get bagels. Because there is no better place for bagels than New York. Mine is egg everything with cream cheese and lox. We would get smoothies, go to the mall or Barnes & Noble. We would just hang out at one of our houses and vent about the frustrating job of caring for children. We would support each other and have each other’s backs. And we would talk about boys, of course. What else?

One Sunday night, we planned to go to the movies, just me and C., at a Broadway mall; they were playing Doctor Strange. At the last minute, she sent me a message saying that one other girl was coming as well. I am not going to lie, I was annoyed. I liked C., I was used to her, and I was not interested in being a babysitter to the new girl. She had just started her time in America as an au pair, living close to both me and C. And C. was being nice, while I felt like my night would be ruined. Did I mention I was a drama queen and highly self-centered? No? Oh, well. Here you go. Not much has changed, though me rewriting and reliving my old diary and sharing it with strangers on the internet, naively thinking somebody gives a shit. Oh well, one more time. Back to my ruined evening. This other girl dared to be really hot. Like the Nordic model kind of hot; might be because she actually was Danish. Tall, blond, with cheekbones that could cut you. I mean, how rude? I was barely starting to tolerate my body and face, and she looks like that? Let alone being super smart, charismatic, with a really fucked-up sense of humor? I did not care for her in the slightest. I was being such a douche that evening. I pretended to be too cool for school, with all the experience in the world. I mean, I was there for almost two months already! Of course, I was much cooler than her. Jeez.

So why am I writing it all here now if I didn’t care for her? Because that bitch snuck up on me during the next few weeks and has been my best friend ever since. I bet you did not see that coming, did you? Trust me, me neither. But it somehow happened, and in the past 8 years, we’ve spent a shit ton of time together. I fly to Copenhagen at least once a year, she came to the Czech Republic several times as well, and we did a road trip through Romania together, which was one hell of an adventure. My mum and grandma both love her, despite the fact that neither one of them speaks English, and I am deeply fond of her parents and brothers. She became my rock and support, and I let her be herself with me without judgment. She is coming this Christmas, and I cannot wait to see her.

This is how our trio was created: M., C., and S.

And so in honor of our long-lasting friendship, here is a song from the band they introduced me to. And which became part of our pregame playlist.
Baby’s On Fire – Die Antwoord