We knew she was coming; her school ID was in her pigeon hole before she arrived. We knew her name and where she was coming from. She was Faroese. A few snide comments from the Brit highlighted a conversation I had never seen before at IPC; the students were taking an interest in a student yet to arrive and did some actual research on where the Faroe Islands were. The evening she came, I was the first person to talk with her. She was sitting outside the main entrance, because the door was locked. She was shy, like me in many ways. We spoke shortly and I helped her into the school.
In that period, I changed. I before was making a deliberate effort to become extroverted. I colored my hair blue and tried to be more forward, which was a hit and miss process, but mostly miss. By the 12th week, I gave in and decided to just go back to who I was before coming to the school. I wondered from room to room, place to place lost in my own thoughts. The Russian from Ukraine, or was it the other way around?, titled me the ghost of IPC. I wrote my poetry and I may have forgotten to close the file one or two times. A teacher had asked me about that and I put down any concerns. What I didn't notice myself was the Faroese girl following me room to room. She stopped me in a stair well one evening and asked me if I was avoiding her. That question surprised me, because I at that point came to accept the idea of any woman being interested in me was a fantasy. Yet, she still asked the question. I assured her I was just wired that way; I get lost in my own thoughts and do not take notice of what is around me or even remember where I just was. It still didn't come to me that she was interested in me and I was more worried about offending her.
The following weeks, we would go out to play pool and I took care not to make any mistakes, mindful of my hands and what I said. It still didn't cross my mind that we were becoming an item. On a trip to an art museum, I took some teasing from my fellow students that she had become my girl friend; I rejected the idea, thinking her and I were friends and not much else. That weekend, walking with her to a local bar to play pool, I asked her what we were, and we agreed we were a couple at that point. It didn't really sink in until later how much of a couple we were becoming. A night before the fireplace, after playing pool, struggling to keep the wet wood lit, was a turning point for our relationship. With the wood cracking and hissing, she embraced me in the common room, and there we sat for, maybe an hour, before returning to my room. I wasn't too sure of what we were doing, my inexperience talking for me. Funny enough, despite the implications, we did not consummate a carnal relationship that night.
As the weeks passed, the relationship changed to romantic in nature. I tried to romance her with picnics of fresh fruit, roses and more. I am that clumsy fool who never really gets it right. If it were not for my hair being blue, maybe the relationship would not have started. Yes, I was that kind of spaz with dyed hair, yellow glasses and jewelry in an attempt of coolness. Seems to have worked, at least once.
The relationship I started wasn't the only one at IPC. It was common for such romantic unions to form, and a couple of marriages each term. It isn't predictable which cultures will find each other in a romantic relationship, other than homogeneous cultures are the exception. To Asia alone, I can count three nationalities and two marriages from my term. Africa formed three relationships and at least one marriage that I know of. The Eastern Bloc has two marriages to its count and a few more relationships and Western Europe has one marriage, four relationship and at least six children. Please note though, I am counting some couples more than once in my tally.
So while IPC is meant to be a cultural exchange on the diplomatic and academic level, it also has become the melting pot for cultures as families find their inspiration at her parties, classes and before the fireplace. Romance is common at colleges and university, but most often, the culture is homogeneous; IPC creates an environment where cultural diversity is the rule and if you are looking for romance with a different shade of human culture, it is the best place to look.
In that period, I changed. I before was making a deliberate effort to become extroverted. I colored my hair blue and tried to be more forward, which was a hit and miss process, but mostly miss. By the 12th week, I gave in and decided to just go back to who I was before coming to the school. I wondered from room to room, place to place lost in my own thoughts. The Russian from Ukraine, or was it the other way around?, titled me the ghost of IPC. I wrote my poetry and I may have forgotten to close the file one or two times. A teacher had asked me about that and I put down any concerns. What I didn't notice myself was the Faroese girl following me room to room. She stopped me in a stair well one evening and asked me if I was avoiding her. That question surprised me, because I at that point came to accept the idea of any woman being interested in me was a fantasy. Yet, she still asked the question. I assured her I was just wired that way; I get lost in my own thoughts and do not take notice of what is around me or even remember where I just was. It still didn't come to me that she was interested in me and I was more worried about offending her.
The following weeks, we would go out to play pool and I took care not to make any mistakes, mindful of my hands and what I said. It still didn't cross my mind that we were becoming an item. On a trip to an art museum, I took some teasing from my fellow students that she had become my girl friend; I rejected the idea, thinking her and I were friends and not much else. That weekend, walking with her to a local bar to play pool, I asked her what we were, and we agreed we were a couple at that point. It didn't really sink in until later how much of a couple we were becoming. A night before the fireplace, after playing pool, struggling to keep the wet wood lit, was a turning point for our relationship. With the wood cracking and hissing, she embraced me in the common room, and there we sat for, maybe an hour, before returning to my room. I wasn't too sure of what we were doing, my inexperience talking for me. Funny enough, despite the implications, we did not consummate a carnal relationship that night.
As the weeks passed, the relationship changed to romantic in nature. I tried to romance her with picnics of fresh fruit, roses and more. I am that clumsy fool who never really gets it right. If it were not for my hair being blue, maybe the relationship would not have started. Yes, I was that kind of spaz with dyed hair, yellow glasses and jewelry in an attempt of coolness. Seems to have worked, at least once.
The relationship I started wasn't the only one at IPC. It was common for such romantic unions to form, and a couple of marriages each term. It isn't predictable which cultures will find each other in a romantic relationship, other than homogeneous cultures are the exception. To Asia alone, I can count three nationalities and two marriages from my term. Africa formed three relationships and at least one marriage that I know of. The Eastern Bloc has two marriages to its count and a few more relationships and Western Europe has one marriage, four relationship and at least six children. Please note though, I am counting some couples more than once in my tally.
So while IPC is meant to be a cultural exchange on the diplomatic and academic level, it also has become the melting pot for cultures as families find their inspiration at her parties, classes and before the fireplace. Romance is common at colleges and university, but most often, the culture is homogeneous; IPC creates an environment where cultural diversity is the rule and if you are looking for romance with a different shade of human culture, it is the best place to look.
