R&R 2.0

The other important thing about r&r-s, and I could have put it in the previous post, but it was already getting too long, and nobody reads long posts, is that you get used to people coming and going.

I know it sounds obvious, but in an environment this surreal it quickly becomes very important whom you share it with. I always had problems with accepting that the people around me will not always be around me. I know I know, if you want stability, why move to the Congo. But honestly, if you want stability, why move to Luxembourg, or basically anywhere where people go for a determined (or undetermined, but in any case limited) period.

So everybody goes off the map every six-eight weeks, for reasons described previously. And because we can. So basically the „are you going home for the weekend?” catchphrase, learnt in the dorm, and its variations are still in use, and any awkward silence can be broken are avoided altogether buy discussing holidays past and future.

On the other hand, this also means that for instance the loser crowd who got stuck here for Christmas and New Year's and with whom I got cosy, took there suitcases backpacks other stuff in the first week of January and took off in all possible directions. During this, I was standing in the kitchen wondering what to do with my life.

Then the weekend when I was suddenly left alone, I went to Gisenyi with one of the girls (it's impressive how much I miss female company, but that's a story for later), and then, from Saturday afternoon to Monday noon I didn't talk to a single soul (except for the cat), and it's quite unbelievable how much I enjoyed it.

Then, to celebrate The Return of the Flatmates, I made a dinner that left all vegans in awe, and the non-vegans were well fed too, and I was kinda glad that we are going back to normal, even if it meant work 5-6 days a week, and actually having to show up in the office at 08.30.

And then I was happy that my colleagues were back, so I didn't have to work for two and a half any more, but I was also mildly disturbed by no longer being alone in the office, but still appreciated having somebody to talk to (lack of female company, see above), and then. Then I reminded myself that it has always been clear, that people here come and go at an even higher pace, and that's quite something, since already Luxembourg was a quickly changing environment in this regard, and that those r&r-s, mine, or those of others, just prepare me to people leaving one day; that I have to take farewell parties as if they were Kristina's, meaning that she will have a welcome back party in six-eight weeks, and then another farewell soon again. And that there is a reason why everything feels so much more intense here: time is less, spaces are tighter, we are relying on each other a lot more, and nonetheless, we leave suddenly, with no prior warning, and often for good. And those who stay, for as long as they stay, have learnt already, partially thanks to the r&r experience, how to get over the sudden void they feel.