Thursday, May 10, 2007

A prelude to my adventures

I used to be a nasty kid (you would never guess, would you??!!) We lived right next to a river and my sister, our neighbors' daughter, and I were the only girls in the neighborhood. My sister liked New Kids on the Block, Jason Donovan, and pink dresses, so she was seldom my 'hang-out-and-play buddy'. Our neighbor Spela was her best friend, so, my only option for wild adventures was turning to the remaining kid population of our neighborhood - boys. Preferring playing with insects and animals to dull dolls, I already had a good predisposition to becoming something that is not what the society names 'a girl', I became a tom-boy of the neighborhood. I always had a boyish hairstyle, cut very short; I was wearing torn and dirty jeans, and I rode that cool BMX bike, and the good old Kekec, of course.
As you can imagine, in a neighborhood packed with boys, dolls, tea parties, playing teachers, and wearing mother's high heels were out of question. Especially for a tom-boy. Even if I had the desire to play with toys of the kind, I didn't because I needed to keep my reputation. So, most of the times we played 'Indians' in a ruined bunker from the WWII. We built tee-pees, slept in them if our parents allowed us (which happened close to a zero), we colored bird feathers and wore them in our caps or tied them to our heads; animals were our main attraction. My mother would find snakes and lizards in my pockets when doing laundry. Sometimes I came home having a strange and mysterious smell, walking through mud and this strange type of grass that has a terrible odor and she would take me out of the apartment and wash me with the garden hose. I escaped home several times, starting when I was 5. All of this not because my family would be unloving or uncaring (on the contrary!), but simply because in my imagination, I was Huckleberry Finn. Vinetou. I was Geronimo. I was Crazy Horse and Pocahontas.

I didn't care for anything but maps and stories when I was a child. My father sailed the world twice before I was born. He would read maps to me when he put me to sleep. My mother would tell stories. Lots and lots and lots of stories. She is an amazing story teller and I wouldn't let her away without at least one. Huckleberry Fin and Winetou were my favourites. They also offered a lot of wild ideas that I did not think crazy at the time. This is why my friends and I built our own raft and wanted to escape down the river. We got caught before we did it and there was some serious spanking going on. The neighborhood was not far from the power station where my father worked at the time, and he constantly warned us about the dangers of that part of the river.

Playing 'indians' was a lot of fun. ...Those men with bows and arrows, speaking with low and calm voices made such an impression on me that I decided, as a little girl that I wanted to be an 'Indian'....Little did I know about the real situation. Growing older, I was more and more interested in the spiritual brave 'Indians', and searched for information and ways to get to them somehow. Of course, what was in my imagination did not turn out to be the truth. Karl May never even saw an Indian when he wrote the book Vinetou. And even worse, 'Indians' practically didn't exist anymore....

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