Last year as a rookie I jumped in head first into a brand-new experience of playing basketball for money in a new country. I was the new kid around the block and had some really great teammates and veterans who helped me through the growing pains of my first season so far from the familiar.
In Israel, I was fortunate to have my own two-bedroom apartment, a car and some built-in friendships with the four other Americans on my team. I also found myself in a warm and sunny climate with a group of people who speak my language as well as love Americans 'cause we apparently saved them from some crazy German guy with a terrible excuse for a pornstache. I really enjoyed my first life experience outside of the college system and was hoping I would have a similar experience my second time around, this time in Ljubljana, Slovenia. This would not be the case.
I was confined to the hostel for about two weeks before the team found me a one-room efficiency that I would call home for the next few months. It was clean and had all the essentials: bathroom, place to cook, decent bed, and solid Wi-Fi for me to get along just fine. It was a welcome site from my previous lodgings. Also I lived about 100 feet away from my teammate and second-favorite Croatian in the world, Ivan Papac aka Popi. Ivan was a great guy to have around not only because he gave me a rides but also he spoke something that resembled English and was really the only guy I would consider a friend on my team.
Every morning I would wake up and make myself some breakfast before hopping into the car with Ivan to go to our morning practice. We would drive about 20 minutes into the capital. Our practice was held an armory with a very nice gym and weight room. We would start warming up at 10 a.m. and then head up to spend an hour lifting weights. I would hop on a bike for about 20 minutes and then do about another 20 minutes of work while most of the rest of my teammates would get about 15 minutes of actual lifting in. After the hour of sitting -- I mean lifting -- we would then take the court and shoot about 200 shots.
After a protein shake and shower I would hop back into Ivan's car and get dropped off at a restaurant at which I could eat at for free twice a day. The menu would change day to day but I could always count on never getting my first choice of dish because "we don't have." I would always bring a book or my iPad and would stay and read because I had nothing else to do and disliked spending all day in my apartment. After coffee and about 100 pages I would make the stroll back to my apartment for an afternoon nap.
I would wake up in the evening and reheat the meal (oily chicken and vegetables) I got to go from the restaurant and then take the 10-minute walk up to the high school where our gym was located. I would get ready and do my normal stretching routine as I watched the exhilarating sport of second-division handball and we would start our evening practice around 8:30.
After a practice of understanding very little and getting abbreviated translations from my assistant coach, Flex (a nickname I gave him for his less-than regular bathing habits, aka funk master flex), I would walk home and enjoy a movie, a book or if I was fortunate a Skype conversation. Eventually I would fall asleep and rise again at 8 a.m. sharp to start the process all over again and again and again for two straight months.
My lack of mobility and very few if any signs of relatable life forms with walking distance made life a little boring. It was quite a struggle for me so I did the best job I could with the circumstances I was given.
I tried to appeal to some of my younger teammates to see if they wanted to go out but with little success. Seriously, 18-year-old kids were more interested in staying in then going out to eat with me, which was clearly doing wonders for my confidence and psychological well-being. Thankfully, my good friend Monte, who you will find out about in my next blog, helped me out. Until next time, Punxsutawney.
(Note:You can find the archive of Mike Bruesewitz's Imported Bru stories and photo galleries here.)
