Why?

For over a month I've bought, borrowed and attempted to read a half-dozen books about Kosovo, the Balkan region and it's history. There is a reason I got atrocious grades in every history class I took. . . people now like to call it Adult ADD. . . my mind is capable of consentrating on every third line I read in history-type books. Without a solid context that I can relate to, I might as well be reading about how to build a car engine or perform brain surgery.

The Hemingway Book Club of Kosovo by Paula Huntley. This is a journal written by a woman who in the year2000, was in the place and doing the job I will be doing in 2006. She describes the city of my future residents by its gunshots, power outages, land mines and limited resources, adding that she never, "felt so alive!" Her experience working with students and understanding a situation and way of life that she would never come close to experiencing if she had stayed in San Francisco. She was afraid to go, but realized that it's the unknown, scary situations that teach us more than anything we find in a comfort zone.

That is exactly my addiction. I literally get a rush from talking, listening and understanding things that are hard to understand and often scare me. It can be physically and mentally exhausing, frustrating, embarrassing and in rare cases, physically dangerous to travel to different places, meet new people, buy groceries or order off a menu in a different language, get from one place to another. Often, it's enough to make me want to curl up in my comfy apartment and close out all that's unusual and unknown. The rush comes, however, when I step beyond what's safe and familiar, observe and experience the unusual and make the connection. The adrenalin I feel after that leaves me looking for the next hit.

Just reading this book set that adrenalin going for me. I read her words and I got it. That is exactly why I've done this before and I'm going to do it again. When I lived in Japan, it literally took me a year of taking the risks and experiencing to let go of my familiar comfort zone and become comfortable in a different zone. If it takes that long in Kosovo . . . gosh, I might not have another choice but to stay for a second year.