All good things come to an end...

And so does this blog – at least for now. And so do many other things like a seemingly endless application procedure for an exchange year. But I am happy to announce that I AM DONE. Well, actually I have been for a little while now but there was just so much to share about the whole application procedure and forms, horrors, and I always like to keep people a little in suspense.

One important lesson that I’ve learned from this whole experience is that when you think it’s over … it ain’t yet. After I had handed in all my application documents (several times, might I add) I thought I could lean back and relax. Wrong. It became obvious pretty quickly that there were more forms to be filled out, confirmations to be obtained, and a certain blogger to be kept in suspense.

Then, about two months ago, I finally received the letter. It contained the official confirmation that I would be a visiting graduate student for the academic year 2010-11 at “The-one-that-will-hopefully-work-out” (unfortunately “The-one-that-shall-not-be-named” fell through). The letter also contained pre-arrival information for international students and a form that I needed for my visa. Just imagine myself jumping up and down, laughing like crazy after I had opened the letter. I still get a warm and fuzzy feeling when I think back to that moment when all the hardship came to an end. Now the real preparations could begin.

The associate Dean of Graduate Admission also sent me the names of professors for my two majors that I should contact for the selection of my courses. After checking out all the classes offered in the fall and making lists I came up with enough classes that really interested me. And I am happy to announce that I am already enrolled for four classes, i.e. two for each of my majors. And I already have my own university web mail account from “The-one-that-did-work-out”. Next order of business was finding myself a place to live. So I signed up for a room in a graduate residence hall and recently received my room placement (I am in room number 213!) and I chose a meal plan as well. Okay, so now I have a place to live and I will be fed properly, so what else is/was left to do?

One thing was to get a student visa. So after finals were finally done I headed to Vienna on my birthday to work my charms on everyone at the embassy. And don’t worry, I already booked my flight a while ago and got a brand-new passport with a brand-new picture (I was twelve when I got my last passport). I am proud to announce that my visa application was approved and after spending a couple of days with my family, my passport with my visa actually got home before I did. Jumping up and down again and that warm and fuzzy feeling keeps returning…

Now I am counting the days (12 today) until I am leaving in the middle of August. Even finals didn’t seem as frightening this year with the next couple of months in mind. The next two weeks will be filled with work, a lot of parties (most of them birthdays – among them my own and half my family’s), starting to pack (now that’s a scary thought), and enjoying my time and the summer if it should decide to return soon.

Yours truly,

Lemon

Cleopatra, or how I almost lost my mind

Roughly one year ago, my grandparents asked me to look after their cat Cleo. They were going to Italy for ten days and wanted to drop her off at my brother’s apartment. I was staying there for a month because he was on holiday as well.
I’m a cat person, so of course I said yes. Well, another reason why I agreed was because I’m a student and, as such, always broke. Knowing my grandmother, I could also expect a hefty tip for looking after her Cleo. However, it’s true that I really do love cats. I don’t know why but there is something about them that makes me smile and relax. We have a cat of our own – more like a fixed piece of living room furniture because she hardly ever moves – so I thought it wouldn’t be a problem. Looking back I can only laugh at how naïve I was. The signs of foreboding were all there.

My grandparents dropped Cleo off on a chilly September morning. They gave me a to-do list and a bag full of toys. I was well prepared and had already bought cat food from the supermarket. I still remember how excited I was when I showed Cleo her ‘new kingdom’. I was such a fool.

The trouble started the next morning when I saw that something must have upset Cleo’s stomach. My brother’s carpet has never been the same since, let me tell you. I took a quick look at the list and saw that I wasn’t supposed to feed her supermarket chow but Hill's Science Plan. Obviously, you only get that from special pet stores – I figured that out after having been to six supermarkets – and three hours later I was finally back home. It was definitely the most expensive food I had ever bought but since it wasn’t coming out of my pocket I didn’t really care. I guess Cleo’s delicate stomach just couldn’t handle regular cat food because the next day everything was fine again and her digestion had settled down. Since the only victim was my brother’s carpet - net worth: €2 from Ikea - it wasn’t too bad.

I didn’t want another incident like this on my hands so I studied the to-do list religiously - no less than 28 points - to make sure Cleo would still be alive and kicking when my grandparents came back.
1. “Don’t let her go outside”.
She was an indoor cat so I had to make sure the door to the patio – the apartment is on the ground floor – would be closed at all times.
2. “Do not pet her belly or she will be upset”.
Some of the things didn’t really make sense to me but most of them were easy enough to follow

On the third day Cleo must have finally settled down because that was when she started to show her true colors. She basically didn’t move the entire day but the minute I turned off the light she was up and ready to go …. or let’s say, ready to bug me. It’s like she sensed that I wanted to sleep and suddenly she was all over the apartment, inspecting everything. She usually started off with the desk. Every piece of paper had to be rumpled to her satisfaction. So I had to get up and put it away. Then she decided to throw down everything in reach. So I had to get up and clear the entire desk. After that she found the garbage can in the kitchen and had a look through it. I always thought only dogs do that.
Anyways, two hours later, after I had cleared everything away – at least now number 12 made sense “Keep things out of reach” which I thought only included ‘dangerous’ things – Cleo finally seemed to calm down. That’s when she decided to use the cat pan. My grandparents brought along some – what else!? – very expensive and special cat litter. It was supposed to be super hygienic and all that. The problem was that this cat litter sounded like hundreds of little glass marbles rubbing against each other. And that was what she decided to do now. I swear she took forever to dig around and trample all over the litter in order to get the best noise out of them. At this point I was so freakin’ tired that I wanted to scream ‘Take a dump already!’. I must have nevertheless dosed off because the next thing I remember was the feeling of being crushed by something. When I opened my eyes two large glowing eyeballs were hovering inches away from face, staring at me. This was ‘pet time’ as I found out because Cleo wouldn’t let me go to sleep again.

The next day I realized that I had only noticed half of Cleo’s rummaging last night. She must have been quite busy and even decided to give the door frame a good scratch. ‘’My brother is going to kill me’’ is all I thought while cleaning away all the wood shavings.
Anyway, I had learned my lesson – or better yet, Cleo had taught me - and I stuck by the to-do list from then on. A lot of things made better sense now, like number 14 “Go for a walk” and number 11 “Play before going to bed”.
I realized that if I exhaust her enough before I go to sleep she will leave me and most importantly my brother’s apartment in peace. The going-for-a-walk thing was something I really wasn’t looking forward to. I noticed that my grandparents also brought along some sort of cat-leash. I’m usually not someone who gets embarrassed quickly and I didn’t really know any of the neighbors all too well; still, going for a walk with a fat cat was not really something I wanted to do. However, I also couldn’t let Cleo take out her restlessness on my brother’s apartment so I did what I had to do … or I tried at least. The moment we were outside – I chose nighttime to avoid as many people as possible – she didn’t move an inch. I ended up carrying her around a little and then it was her turn to walk a bit. It wasn’t fun at all … at least not for me.

On the 4th day we finally agreed on a daily routine that suited Cleo best – meaning she was the boss – and things started to settle down. I knew just how long I had to play with Cleo to tire her out. I began to notice this mischievous sparkle in her eyes when she was about to torment one of the wooden door frames … or the couch – number 4 “Keep her off the couch” sounded optional until then. I found a nearby tree where Cleo could get rid of all her aggressions. The actual problem was that I just couldn’t leave her alone. Trips to the supermarket or the library had to be perfectly timed in order to coincide with Cleo’s naps.

On the 7th day all hell broke loose. It was 2 a.m. when I heard Cleo’s excited growling – never a good sound, trust me – and some sort of squeaking sound. Cleo was standing on my bed with a mouse in her mouth. I could only see the wiggling tail which made it look like she was eating spaghetti. Not funny at that time, though. I realized I left the door to the balcony open and she must have snuck out and caught probably the dumbest mouse on earth – Cleo is NOT a ferocious hunter. I praised her and petted her head and tried to get her off my bed. However, she decided to drop the mouse, which quickly ran to the next hiding place, with Cleo on her tail. Somehow I just couldn’t let her kill the poor creature so I ran after Cleo and tried to catch her. This was a feat on its own because she turned out to be quite fast. I had scratches up and down my arm until I finally managed to lock her out on the patio. Cleo was out of her mind. She screamed like crazy with foam dripping from her mouth and her eyes glistening with rage. Ok, I made that up … but not the screaming part. She was also scratching against the glass window, a sound which sent shivers down my spine.
Now I only had to catch the mouse, something I hadn’t exactly thought through at 2:30 in the morning. I kinda believed it would still be in shock but that little bugger was quick. Half an hour later – Cleo still hadn’t calmed down – I was on my knees chasing after the mouse like a lunatic. Not my finest hour, believe me. I had to move every piece of furniture away from the wall to limit the hiding spots. I was armed with a cooking pot in one hand and a short stick in the other one, but I just couldn’t trap the mouse. I must have been too noisy – Cleo certainly was – because one of my neighbors decided she has had enough and started to bang against the wall.
So here I was at three o clock in the morning, chasing after a little mouse over a battlefield that once was my brother’s apartment, caught in the middle of a furious cat who wanted to kill me because I stole her midnight snack and an angry neighbor who had gone from muttering to shouting indelicacies. At that time I already had gone over from simply catching the little creature to smacking the pest with volume 1 of The Norton Anthology of English Literature.
I took a deep breath, cleaned up the room enough for me to get to the bed, let Cleo in, who had finally stopped screaming, followed shortly afterwards by a more relaxed neighbor and went to sleep. “Let Cleo finish the mouse off, I don’t care”.

After I was done cleaning up the next day I was beat. I couldn’t wait to get rid of Cleo and I tried to keep my distance. It was hard to not let my guard down when she crouched down on my lap and started purring. It was even harder to pretend that I actually enjoyed petting her and that I didn’t know she was deliberately trying to drive me crazy. You see, I couldn’t let her suspect that I was literally dying to be rid off her. I’m going to stop now because I’m starting to sound like the lunatic from Edgar Allen Poe’s Tell-Tale Heart.

Finally my grandparents picked her up and a feeling of relief washed over me. Am I exaggerating? Maybe, but seeing them drive off with Cleo in the back of the car was too good to be true. I swear, just before they turned left at the corner of the street she winked at me and an evil grin was on her lips.
Some time later I moved back into my dorm and my brother called to tell me he had to buy a mouse trap because he was sure he had seen one running around in his apartment. I said nothing.

What did I learn from all that? Not much I guess . . . only to never ever trust the shiny fur and the big eyes, because some cats are straight out of hell. I’m still a cat person by the way.