Somehow I managed to carry on with my life. I even met my friend Cbeta for our 7:30pm dance class. As we left the gym I noticed that I had 12 missed calls, most of which were from Peter Young in Minsk. I immediately called him back... but soon wished that I hadn't.
The latest and greatest was that "we had to be out of the country by EOB on Monday, April 7." If we didn't comply, the U.S. government would consider us "persona non grata."
When I told Cbeta, she started to cry. We walked a few blocks together, but had to part as she lived on the opposite side of town. So far I had managed to maintain my composure; but that was all about to change.
A few minutes after I said good-bye to Cbeta, my new contact at the U.S. Embassy called. She basically told me the same thing that Peter had, but of course, there was more. When I asked her if someone from the U.S. Embassy could pick me up and drive me to Minsk, she told me "not to count on it because they already had too much on their plates!" I was the only American in Grodno, but no one seemed to realize this. Her advice was that I consider crossing the border and going to the U.S. Embassy in Warsaw, Poland!! Yeah right, with all of my luggage, boxes, and no car. Our conversation ended with this: "to plan as if I had to leave the country tomorrow"... even if it meant I had to leave everything behind.
Right when I thought things couldn't get worse... they did.
As I approached the foot bridge to cross the Neyman River (the main bridge was closed due to construction), I tripped and fell. Thank God the steps had recently been removed and I fell onto soft dirt... but my ankle... there was a sharp stabbing pain. That was it, the flood gates had opened and I sat there sobbing on the ground. A lady stopped to help me, but my Russian wasn't flowing too well at the moment. All I could understand was "taxi" because it sounds the same in both languages. I somehow explained that I didn't have any money... I didn't even have a bus ticket.
I eventually got up and started to limp toward my flat, which was a good 20 minutes away. When I was half-way across the bridge, one of my friends (Alexander) from the American Corner called... his cousin had just passed away... he had finally lost his battle with brain cancer.
In Russian folklore, they say that bad luck comes in threes... and I was beginning to believe them.
