This morning, as usual, I popped out of bed long before I planned to and headed downstairs with every intention of posting a blog. Downstairs, eating my stereotypical white toast and jam (a wonderful break from rice) and talking to whoever popped their tousled head into the room, I chatted with Aimee about the fact that all we do here is eat carbs, and after laughing about it, we decided to sit down and do some crunches.
In the front hallway of the hostel.
Of course. 😉
After a solid month of no physical activity in Nepal, it was hardly a workout, but it was still wonderful, and doing it with Aimee just made it fun. As we were finishing our short sweat session, two more girls came downstairs on their way out to go run, so, intoxicated with my (lack of) success with the abs, I decided to join.
Hello, most embarrassing run of my life.
We ran for a grand total of twenty minutes and I was completely done. True, it had been at least three months since I’d run, but it was still a horrific run. Luckily, Charlotte and Tabby went slow enough for me, and as we ran through the town square, dodging ice on the cobble stoned streets, I appreciated them more than I can say, both for allowing me to come and then even more for allowing me to keep up.
At this point, I should mention where we ran: straight to the pastry shop with cinnamon buns the size of small baby whales.
Coming back, exhausted but strangely exhilarated, thrilled to have been out even if it was short and less than sweet, we sat around with the squad, eating our giant slices of heaven, and I was able to see one of my favorite parts of living in community: just being. Sitting in the kitchen with pastries and tea, knowing our day’s number one priority was to just hang out, I was reminded of something obvious, but frequently forgotten: I’m an extrovert. I thrive on people being near me, talking to me, laughing with me, loving on me.
A lot of the girls have gone out shopping, buying cute, trendy European pieces to add to their wardrobes and update their style. Others have brought home electronics, movies, books, whatever. My money has been spent mostly on food: a coffee to sip while speaking with a friend, a dinner at a fancier place than I need which offers access to tables and privacy to spill life stories, a pastry on a run that took my breath away but allowed me to once again bond over shared experiences.
I’ve done the cheap route, buying groceries and sitting in the kitchen eating a one dollar meal on my own, but I also realize now that I’d rather spend a little more and have that community over breaking bread than save a few lei (Romanian currency) and lose those opportunities.
Before I left, my favorite part of the day was morning, but in India and Nepal, I hated it. Here in Romania, mornings mean long, lazy breakfasts, with the squad loitering over toast and tea and laptops, talking and laughing, chewing thoughtfully in silence as others speak or spewing food everywhere over a video that will probably never make it to the blog sites.
It took that morning run to remind me of who I am, and sitting here alone in a coffee shop with my caffeine and my laptop, processing truths long suppressed, I’m starting to remember:
Natalie Daché loves people.
Natalie Daché loves coffee.
Natalie Daché loves talking to people over coffee.
Natalie Daché loves running.
Natalie Daché loves mornings.
Natalie Daché loves running in the morning.
One of the charges my squad leader gave me this week was to go back to being me (for various reasons, I had become this weird shell of a person who didn’t hardly talk or laugh or share too many stories or stay up late with secrets or tell people for the hundredth time what God was teaching her). Part of being me is being that girl people like, and to do that, I need to like myself again.
Morning run? Check.
Too much coffee in the blood? Check.
Plans to connect over dinner tonight? Check.
Hi- my- name- is- Natalie- Daché? Check.
