The Morning Realizations of a Reluctant Yuppie

In the morning I open the windows that face the square. The windows are tall and have no screens, so that I can bend out, like someone in a poem, and test the air with my arm. If I smoked, I would definitely lean out the window and exhale in slow, contemplative sighs, but as I don't, I'll content myself with simply breathing in and out while listening to the rumbling buses and shuffling feet on the cobblestone streets below.

I read and pray, practice Yoga poses to wake up, and then eat my Meusli with yogurt and drink my strange-tasting orange juice which I hope is actually orange juice. Then I boil water and make my coffee with the French press we found for 10 litas at the big grocery on the other side of town. I am in love with our French press.

Mornings here are as picturesque as a story book, but even while leaning out a window and imagining myself as a quaint character in some Eastern European folk tale, I am aware of a few less picturesque differences between here and home.

At home, I was able to both recycle and compost. Here there is no place to compost, which is not surprising, but I can't recycle either. My neighbor told me yesterday that walking your recycling to the containers located around town does no good because the country no longer has the money to collect and process it and, as a result, it all gets dumped in the trash. I cringed. Egads. So much for that. Scott and I will have to change our tactics and instead buy things that have as little packaging as possible.

It's more difficult to do one's part to take care of the Earth, but it's also more difficult to take care of one's body in the way I have gotten used to as an American. At home I am a bit of a health nut. I read packages obsessively and usually only buy things that are low in sugar, low in saturated fat, and have no hydrogenated oils, high fructose corn syrup, MSG, nitrates, or bleached flour. At home I know how to differentiate between the claims that different products make on their labels, and I know how to discern what is healthy and what is pretend. Here, I see a pretty picture of a tomato or a happy cow and I think, "Do I eat this or rub it on my face?" As far as I can tell, though, it's not only my lack of language that's the problem. The things I used to scour the stores for at home don't seem to exist here. In other words, I am starting to understand how much I have as an American and to wonder how much of what I usually consume is actually necessary for good health.

Now, just because those things aren't available here doesn't mean that there aren't a lot of good things going on that generally don't happen in the states. The obesity rate seems pretty low, and I think that's because most people walk or ride bikes instead of drive. Also, the markets are open every day until winter, when the market reduces its hours to twice weekly. The things people buy require less transportation, as they are more local, and they also require fewer preservatives, I think, since people go shopping every couple days and don't seem to cherish the longer shelf life that we do.

That's all for now. My coffee is finished, the sun is climbing, and I'd like to make the 30-minute walk to the university before it gets too high and hot for a comfortable jaunt. As to non-poetic technicalities, our faculty/staff orientation begins this Wednesday, and classes start September 1st. We are both excited for the working part of this adventure to begin.

Love to all our family and friends, and thank you for all of your comments! We cherish them.