Dances with Bankers

Well, we’ve been here for just over a month now, and we feel that we’re getting more accustomed to how life operates here in Croatia. Taking daily rides on the tram has made us more comfortable with the different routes (though, not completely by any means), the grocery store is looking less like a maze and more like… a grocery store (especially the dairy section; refer to my previous entry, titled “’Jogurt’ is Croatian for ‘Yogurt’”), and we’re more prepared to answer “yes” or “no” after ordering a glass of water (they’ll ask you if you want bubbles or not). Today we were reminded of our status as foreigners while doing something that was once simple back home.

I’m not sure if an everyday visit to the bank is supposed to be enjoyable; in fact, I’d put money-on it generally being a much-loathed experience. So, speaking of our banking experiences as somewhat stressful might not be a surprise to anyone; but, throw-in a language barrier and unfamiliar procedures, and you’ve got yourself a whole-nother level of enjoyment (yeah, I said “whole-nother.” I’m from Georgia. I’m allowed to). We went to the bank today to get our bank cards, which act as debit cards like in the States, making possible ATM transactions, everyday purchases, etc. In general, learning to live within a new system of life has been incredibly stretching and exhausting. Today, we were introduced to an aspect of life in Croatia, receiving a Croatian debit card, which once again left us exhausted and mentally stretched.

So, we’re here in the bank, which is overall, a somewhat stressful place. The lights are turned off in a room filled with bankers, staring at computer screens, and answering calls concerning the payment of debts and people’s life-savings. We enter the room and speak to one of the secretaries, telling her the reason for our visit. She leads us to the back room where a banker is enclosed in a glass cubicle behind a locked door (man, I’m making this sound way too dramatic, but just go with it).  This is the man that receives our pin numbers, confirms our identity and account information so as to give us our bankcards. We come to this room already somewhat exhausted from the experience, but upon our arrival, he seems to get somewhat overwhelmed with the prospect of assisting five foreigners who barely speak his language: totally understandable.

Hope and I were the last to go through the process, and I sense this guy’s need for a lunch break once we leave his office. We talk for a little while, he asks us some questions, it gets quiet… and then it happened! In the background I hear a most pleasant rhythm, and sense this inescapable urge within me to keep the beat with my shoulders. Of course, my head and arms follow suit, and soon enough, I’m dancing without shame in the chair before him. My movements caught his peripheral, and upon making eye contact with me, he began to laugh. Then, he began to join me! Sitting in his chair behind the glass cubicle of his office, located in the backroom of a bank, this man began to bob his head to the music, and we all laughed together.

michael