I wish I knew what my grandparents looked like

Tomorrow I am likely to uncover another tier of my sort of secret father's life and something new about my family history.

At the age of 20, in 1939, he escaped from Nazis at the last moment, just few days before they came, via Hungary, Yugoslavia, Palestine, France and finally the UK. The rest of his family remained. He enlisted the Czech Army which was the part of the UK army and in the summer of 1945 he got back home. Within those six years he had no news about his family, of course, and after coming back he found out that his family was away, probably dead. Then his older sister appeared, returning from a concentration camp in Germany, confirming that their dad a mom died in Auswitz and one other sister in Bergen-Belsen.

My dad had never spoken about this, the only thing I knew about his parents and siblings was they they all died during the war except of one sister who moved to South America in fall 1945. There was the iron curtain between us and before I could talk to her she died.

When my dad passed away in 1988 I realized that my knowledge about him was very poor as he really hadn't spoken about himself, his youth and his family. Even my mother didn't want to speak a lot about him. All the written above and many other things I discovered after my mom also passed away. I started visiting archives, trying to find his former friends, co-workers, etc.

They say when people experience something really terrible and cruel they either want to talk about it over and over again or they just remain silence for the rest of ther lives. Apparently, my dad belonged to the second group.

Well, I've found something about my family, mostly sad things. One of his sister, my aunt, who died in Bergen-Belsen in Germany, got married a few weeks before she was sent to the concentration camp Terezin. This was a place where all Czech Jewish people were sent before getting transported to Auswitz or other camps. She must have been pregnant before going to Terezin because after a few months she gave birth to a girl. I found out that her name was Hana. She was my cousin actually. Then she and her mother was sent to Bergen-Belsen, their teminal station. My cousin, my only cousin, lived only six months.

So tomorrow I am meeting an old lady who may remember my grandfather and grandmather. I hope. Any information about them would be fantastic even though the chance is slim. But one thing is for sure – some people told me there is an old grave where my grandmather's parents were buried. It's going to be a strange and emotional experience as I even don't know what their name were like.

There are so many gaps, almost no paperwork, no photos. Once my dad told me 'You take after your aunt Truda' (this one with the baby). When I asked him to tell me something more about her he just shrugged and said something like She just passed away ages ago… I wish I could know what she looked like.

(The picture above is a copy of my dad's Soldier's Service Book in the early 1940's when he was in the UK, one of the rare memories of his young years.)

Life with no shades of grey?

I like when people stand for their opinons but I do not like when they are stubborn, not willing to change their mind when needed or it is obvious that something or some circumstances have changed. I just do not like when people face things and issues only black and white without nothing in between.
Sometimes I ask myself, would the people who call for the death penalty still insist that this kind of punishment is the best solution for all the dangerous murderers even if their own child kills someone deliberately? Or, would all those who claim to be strongly "pro-life" refuse an abortion for their daughter that got raped and pregnant? I don't know, only they do (perhaps) but I am afraid they usually forget to ponder all the consequences that could occure. Can you imagine pro-life parents trying to talk her raped under age daughter into an abortion and yet she doesn't want do obey them for fear of never getting pregnant again? I can, no matter of how unusual this seems.
Sure, there are principles we have to follow but (un)fortunately life is much more complicated then all the rules we have established in order to survive as human beings. There is always something in between, something invisible between the lines, that is hard to name and curb simply. Everything is just more complicated then it looks at the first sight.
Lance Baker from Ohio was trying to think of some aspects of pro-life attitude and execution. You don't have to agree with him but, but I like his way of thinking, his effort to ponder this issue not like a straightforward choice between good and evil with no shades of grey.
Incidentally, getting pregnant is one of the most serious things that people have to choose, pregnancy is one of the most wonderful and most enjoyable condition that both women and men can experience and giving birth is the most wonderful thing ever for people on this Earth.

„Well, since I've been thinking about the issue of abortion lately I started thinking about another often neglected aspect of the Christian "pro-life" position. I am a Christian and I am pro-life, but I believe that a pro-life position extends beyond the issue of abortion. Hopefully the following with bring a better understanding to what exactly that means.
If Christians are going to claim to be "pro-life" then they must demonstrate their "pro-life" position in all aspects of life, not merely on the issue of abortion. Why is the death of an infant more important than the death of a soldier, not even an U.S. soldier, but of any soldier from any country fighting in any war? Why aren't Christians protesting against those deaths?
…
Or what about people on death row awaiting execution? Why aren't Christians extending Christ-like redemption and forgiveness to those who have been convicted of terrible crimes instead of unwaveringly supporting the execution of them? What happens if an inmate turns his life around and wants to tell others about Jesus Christ and what he has done in changing his life? Apparently it doesn't matter, he is still sentenced to death. Are we ok with that?
We have all heard the story of Paul in the Bible. I am pretty sure that before his conversion, Paul was very deserving of death and execution. He was known for killing and persecuting Christians. He was a modern day "terrorist" so to speak. But God didn't see them that way. In fact, God used him to change hearts and to spread the gospel; today his writings make up a valuable part of our New Testament that has been changing hearts ever since. Sadly, according to today's standards, Paul should have been put to death regardless of his potential for good in the kingdom of God.“

Everyone hated this test of loyalty

I remember visiting Vienna some thirty years ago, it was just electiton time and there were hundreds and hundrets big pictures of politicians all over the place. I could't understand it and found it funny a little. Well, I was one of the lucky people who had gotten the chance of crossing the „iron curtain“ from time to time. But my knowledge about how people in a democratic country vote was – almost zero.
Election in the former Czechoslovakia eyars ago. Everyone is supposed to go to vote. Everyone has to. If you want your kids to be allowed to attend a hight school or even the university, don't dare not to vote. He who doesn't is a black sheet of our society and doesn't deserve to enjoy all those advantages we offer. Those will be blacklisted which means loosing their jobs without any chance of getting another one that you are qualified for. (That is why the rate of stokers in my country were probably the highest in all Europe) Are you ill, unable to visit a pooling station? Never mind, we come to see you at your place. Being in a hospital almost dying? Never mind. We help you put the ballot into the ballot box.
The next day, the media proudly announced the turn-out was as high as usuall – some 99 per cent. Which meant nothing moré and nothing less that the regime could say all people voted for socialism and against capitalism.
Those were the days in my country. Canvassing was more like brainwashing, there were not any opposite candidates, everyone who stood for the election could be absolutely sure about their „winning“.
Almost everyone hated this test of loyalty although it was hard to reject it. Every second person in a pooling station was an undecover officer… I am glad my kids didn't had to go through someting like this, it was pretty degrading and living under this pressure must have left some significant marks on our minds.
Now everything is different, thanks goodness, even if the turn-out has had descending tendency as people are more and more annoyed watching the politicians always arguing, telling lies, trying to dump their problems on others just wanting to be in power for ever. You definitely know what I mean. But don't get me wrong. I really feel sorry for the people from countries like Cuba, North Korea or Belorussia. It is sad when people are forced to behave like sheep.
The man who moved from the UK to the USA - so he is supposed to be familiar with the situations in both those countries (I mentioned him a few day ago) published “An Open Letter“.

„Dear Politicians,
We, the public, understand that you’re desperate to get elected or re-elected. We understand the need for you to put your broadcasts on TV. However, we would appreciate it if you would use your screen time to actually tell us your viewpoint and policies…rather than just using it to slag off your opponents… Do us all a favor and tell us why we should vote for you, not why we shouldn’t vote for the other guy.“

Reading it makes me happy that we have become a part of the democratic world.
BTW, you probably know the joke about a politician who has to decide whether to go to heaven or to hell. People freely change his name – it is about George Bush, about Tony Blair etc. But who cares the name? It is just a politician.

Something seems to be rotten in the mission nearby

The rate of so called non-believers in my country is probably the highest in all Europe. This has some historical roots linked to the Middle Ages but has something to do with communist brainwashing as well. Nowadays, many foreign Christian groups are convinced that the situation is sort „out of joints“ and came to show us the only truth about God. One of this missions is situated as a crow flies from where I live and I visit this place from time to time. There is one American, one Canadian and some tens of Czech people. Once or twice a year a small group of Americans came to help with their job.
Their church is located at the edge of a really huge housing development with almost 100 000 people. About 90 per cent of them are not used to visiting a church and most people still remain intact wanting to have nothing to do with any church. Guess why.

I was there lust Sunday and the ambiance of this place made me sort of unhappy. All the people there are nice but seem sort of too worried about… if I only I knew what they are worried about.
Once I was in a church in Canaria Islands (Spain). The place was far away from any tourist destination, there were just ordinary people there and the church was full of them. It was so crowded that it was hard to get to the altar. Suddenly, someone began to play the guitar, two three chords, and - all the church was like a storm. The people were singing with such a joy, trully from the bottom of their hearts, loudly and lovely, as if they wanted to cry: Hey Lord, we are here and we love you. Come to us, be with us! I was just stunned hearing those thunderous choir of untrained voices, expressing their souls and believes and their common joy. They trully made my spine tingle. Unlike the people from the local church.

The joy and sparkles have sort of disappeared
I have always thought being close to God is a joy. That people congregate in order to by close to God and feel God's presence as it is something cheerful, in my eyes. Unlike in the eyes of people at the local church. They sing, they pray, listen to the sermon, persuading themselves that their belive must be stronger, deeper and more sincere over and over again. OK, nothing against asceticism and living in a humble way but the joy has just disappeared, gotten lost for all those worries about the thousands and thousands inhabitants living around in their non-Jesus way. You can hardly observe any spark in their eyesight. No real enthusiasm, no brightly burning flame, just nothing being able to blow up the sparkles of those „infidels“ living nearby. If I were one of those thousands and experienced that wishy-washy meeting with God I would never come back.
I guess they are not aware of it, still convinced they are right but yet feel that something is wrong with their mission. It may be this imbalance that makes them sort of depressed, so worried that they have forgotten what it is like to feel the joy of God's spirit around them.
The preacher had his birthday on Sunday, 65, so many congratulated him speaking about all the highly spiritual stuff. Must they really be so serious? None of them mentioned something like good health or those tiny pieces of happiness that are able to make our day. So I did. And I am afraid this was my last perform at this place.

Save your soul, do not care about life
There was a girl two weeks ago, sitting in a wheelchair. She cried when she was talking about how some bad events were expecting her. I was moved, close to tears, she was so immediate, so true and clear, full of humility. I have had to think of her all the time. I wanted to tell her I have been thinking of her, just to say some words of relief and support, but she was missing this Sunday. Some people mentioned that she has been facing a really hard part of her life, probably being in a hospital, perhaps fighting to stay alive. They prayed for her to come to terms with God because she allegedly still has some tiny doubts. Dammit, none of them expressed their burning desire for her to get over her illness and live without pain and tears as happy as possible, either with her doubts or without them. Everyone was just trully concerned about her faith as if her mundane life was nothing for such a young girl. They just prayed for her eternal life but not for her life itself. Dammit! Something seems to be rotten. Maybe I am too hursh on them but have to admit, this was the last straw.

P.S. Carol, you were the one huge and nice exception.

Prove to me that you actually love each other

Some of my friends maried foreigners and moved to their countries years ago. This was one of rare possibilities of how to move to another country legally, how to cross the iron curtain with the chance of coming back whenever you wanted to. Tens and tens girls I used to know as a teenager took a chance and live more or less happily around the globe. As far as I know none of them had any trouble with their immigration in those days. They just got their second citizenship and enjoyed their new passports allowing them to travel without asking the Czech authority for any permission.
There also were and are foreigners who maried Czech girls as Czech girls (I don't mean those fashion stars like Kurkova or Nemcova but those girls next door) are one of the prettiest girls ever. These guys decided to stay with their pretty wives in my country and as far as can remember they also didn't have any difficulties in getting their immigration permissions, even in those days of deep communist totalitarianism. The regime was tough but tried to look friendly in some cases.
There was some US or perhaps French movie about a freshly married couple - one of them was a foreigner - facing many so called funny issues with US immigration authority. The movie wasn't too clever, trying to be bittersweet but was more bitter then sweet actually. But still it was just a movie. In other words, I was under the impression this was only a movie. Oh, I terribly misunderstood it. The body of that story was real.
Imagine a man from the UK who maried a women from the USA. Imagine they've had to wait for their “blessing” given by the US immigration authority for five years. To become a permanent resident of the United States they had to answer questions like: “Prove to me that you actually love each other and that this isn’t a marriage of convenience.”
The man who had to face this life trial by fire lay a question for all his blog readers: „Look at your husband, wife or your boyfriend or girlfriend. Imagine it being in someone else’s power whether you get to stay with them or not. Now you have a basic understanding of the pressure we’ve been under for the past 5 years.“
I wouldn't be surprised if this happened to a man from Irak or Afghanistan or from some poor African country, or perhaps from Mexico or Venezuela or so, but he came from the UK. From the country that is claimed to be to most faithful ally. Just go and read the last entry of a blog whose secondary title sounds „Because some things just don't make sense“.
Incidentally, it was almost impossible for us to cross the border to the West but it was also hard to get to the former Soviet Union even though we were a very faithful ally. We had to ask for visa to get to Moscow. However, there are not any similarities between then and now, are they?

Till death do them apart

I made a trip to a hamlet about twenty kilometres from Prague just to enjoy the tranquility of a place where the road literally ends. I used to spend my holiday there as a little boy and I just get an urge to see this spot from time to time. As I got to the river I found out that it was possible to walk on a weir and sit down on a concrete block in the middle. So I rolled up my jeans, took my shoes off and waded through the water. The river was droning which was fine because this soothing sound was louder then all the noise coming from a nearby motorway.
Then, out of the sudden, two snow-white swans came to see me. They couple was graciously coming closer and closer, I could almost touch them. They examined me closely but seemed to be proud enough not to beg. This lovely scenery took only a few minutes then they both continued to enjoy each other and earn their daily bread.
I have never seen them at this place before, they must be new there. Swans are new species in my country, being unknown fifty years ago. For some reason they started migrating from Scandinavia to the south and some of them decided no to migrate back. So we have them now.
Watching them reminded me of what the true unconditional love is. They used to being mutually devoted to each other and stay together „till death do them apart“. I guess the two on the river were ugly ducklings a few months ago but now they begin to learn what does it mean to fall in love. It is going to be something different compared to human beings love but the principles are the same. Maybe without all those wonderful feelings when the nature is calling, but who knows, but the final goal is common – just giving birth and bring up offspring.
Brittany has been listening to the voice of nature and she has made her first really important step. One of those a woman can never forget. She has got closer to her final goal, to becoming a mother.

"I can't say that I've ever had someone in my life that I've felt incredibly comfortable with before I met Danny. Sure, Lara was always there to listen to me bicker and tell her things that I could never even tell my twin sister, but Danny is another story. I can tell Danny anything and not feel like a fool or embarrassed (granted some of the things that I haven't told him would turn my face beet red). I can't believe, that after 19 years of celibacy, I finally lost it. I'm no longer in the virgin club. And I finally found someone that actually likes me, no, loves me. Maybe it was all the years of doubting I would, or could, ever find someone. It's amazing what the brain starts to do, how it starts to justify being single, when you've gone forever without a boyfriend or a significant other and you start thinkingthat the single life was meant for you, that you would never find someone who you could confide everything in.
Okay, I know he will read this, because he reads everything I write, but I need to get something across that I have no problem talking about, but I'm sure he would kill me if he knew I was talking about it. I'm not a very selfish person. I look out for others more than I look out for myself. So, lover boy, when a so called 'problem' happens, I don't care. I'm more worried about whether or not I'm pleasing you rather than you pleasing me. It gives me tons of pleasure to know that I'm able to do particular things to you, and that's what I get high off of. I love watching your face, hearing you make noises, feel your body react to the way I'm touching you. That's what gets me off. So know although something might not be happening your way, it's definitely happening my way.
I had to get that off my chest. I love talking to you. I love listening to you talk about nonsense and everyday shit. I love hearing your voice, seeing you smile. I love knowing that you're listening to me. I love knowing that you care about me, want to help me. I love you! I want to spend every day with you. I want to spend every night with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And I've never felt this way about anyone else in my life."

The saddest and most emotional job I have ever done

Through the glass wall I noticed some fellows staring at the tv-screen, there were glued to it actually. When I raised my eyes a few minutes later they were still watching it even with their boss. So I went to see what the the subject of their interest was, thinking of some match as they all were sport journalists, or some erotic movie or so. The first tower was in flames. That day I sow everything to its bitter end.
When this horrible event was over my boss asked me to prepare some special supplement about it which was supposed to be issued next week. The next six days were the most hectic, the saddest and the most emotional job I have ever done working as a journalist. The amount of information was just huge, many of them were often changing as many new findings were discovered, some of the photos were really moving as well as many of the first stories about the victims and their relatives. Reading them I felt my throat tighten and tears were trying to roll my face almost constantly. I felt so affected by those days. I still am affected and ever will. I can't read about September 11 without emotion.
I used to say that my generation in my country is probably the happiest in the whole history. We had to experience the communist dictatorship, even the terrible Soviet invasion in 1968 but we never experienced the war. I only realized the posibble terror of war while being in the army when our officers forced us to play some stupid war games. I've always hoped my kids, all kids, would be able to say the same to their kids. Now, after September 11, I am not sure. All is possible, the worst scripts could come true. There was Madrid. There was London. Bali, Istanbul... As if it wasn't enough we have tsunamis and hurricanes.
I borrowed the folloving paragraph from Karen. She, as many others, just had to remind herself the day five years ago.

"The day of September 11, 2001 will always stand out in my memory, like most of the world, I remember where I was when I heard the news that a plane hit the World Trade Center. Just seconds after entering into a conference room where the TV was turned on and tuned into the news when I saw the second plane hit. I was mortified and I looked around the room and there was not one dry eye. Then the news of an “earthquake” came from someone at the Pentagon and within minutes, it was confirmed that it was no earthquake but another plane. What seemed like an eternity later, the news of the fourth plane in PA. That day seemed to last forever, no one was able to work, we were horrified as the news kept revealing more of what was happening, watching people jumping to their deaths from the towers. Working on a military base, I knew that the casual entrance and exits were going to change forever, and our lives would never be the same."

You have some serious problem, haven't you?

When I have a problem without a solution and don't need it to solve it immediately I just push it into back of my mind. Then I pretend like that issue doesn't exist. I know my subconscious can figure it out sooner or later, considering all pros and cons, like a computer but also working with all the emotional levels that are important for me. One day I would wake up (this process ends usually in the morning just after opening my eyes) and I know exactly what to do. The funny thing is that I have the strong urge to follow through with it straightaway and so I just do. After days, weeks and sometimes months of inactivity I suddenly start acting like crazy in some hectic but not chaotic way.
Unfortunately, my subconscious has also qualities that I am not so happy with. Some of my issues have been stuck in the back of my mind probably for ever. I would like to forget them but it looks like I will be reminded of them not only after opening my eyes and moreover be forced to act like a fool sometimes. What to do when out of the blue I get the urge to do something that I know is stupid (stupid for myself)? I just have to. Maybe because I wish I could get this (well, get her) out of my mind but in fact I don't want to. My subconscious is just listening to my true self.
The funny (well, not so funny) thing is that these hidden and unsolved issues are able to bubble up unexpectedly where you wouldn't expect them to. Once I had some problem with my butt, just couldn't sit properly and no doctor could find the reason. Everything looked OK, all those x-rays and blood tests ans scans, no one knew what the real cause of the pain in my ass was. Till one experienced physiotherapist looked at me and – she didn't ask me, she just said “You have some serious problem, haven't you?” I really had something that made me feel unhappy for many many months even thought I tried to ignore it. But I coudn't fool my subconscious into thinking that I am pretty happy. My butt was just a warning, a signal that something was wrong. I totally changed my way of living in those days, started working as hard as never before. This helped so I was able to sit myself down again without any physio. But thinking of it now I am not sure if I only didn't push that trouble deeper into the back of my mind. One would be surprised what “gems” are lurking in their subconscious.
Maybe I should have been more impulsive in those days and listen more to my urge to do some particular thing. Like a young woman from New Zealand who was pondering about her urges (and became an inspiration for this entry). I guess her urges are just the mirror of her subconscious. She is trying to persuade herself that she is not “a particularly impulsive person”, but I guess she is. In a lovely way.

Urges
I'm not a particularly impulsive person, but sometimes I get urges to do something silly, out of the ordinary, spontaneous.
The other day I really wanted to go and get my hair cut off into a spikey crop, dye it platinum blonde and be a rock chick. I haven't had short hair in years, probably 6 or 7, and I remember how much a pain in the arse it was to upkeep. But I reckon a platinum spikey crop would rock. I was almost at the hairdressers LOL. But I know my hairdresser would've talked me out out of it.
I bumped into an old boyfriend I haven't seen since university and Politics 101, way back in 1992. He was with his wife and he introduced me to her. As I was smiling and saying hello, I had this urge to blurt out to her "your husband and I had sex in the university library, twice!". I clamped my mouth shut, just in case the words decided to come out. In the past, these urges have resulted in me and my best friend flashing our boobs in a photo. Going topless at a beach in France (hey, everyone else was), getting a tattoo, moving to Portugal, booking a last minute holiday to Fiji and dragging my sister along with me, eating horse steak, eating sparrow, holding a cobra, dancing in the rain, flying from London to New York for a dirty weekend and not to mention the myriad of impulse buy items of clothing, shoes, bags etc LOL.
Sometimes I wish I could be more spontaneous. I do try, it's just not that easy trying to organise it into my schedule LOL.

English drives me up the wall sometimes

I had a chat with some Americans last night and realized again how tricky English is. They were very nice to me, adapting their way of speaking to my level. But as soon as they started speaking with each other I was just „lost in translation“ a little. So many phrazal verbs, idioms that I didn't know, some slang… this all made me a bit unhappy as I realized again that it is impossible to learn at least the majority of them. English is just idiomatic language and phrazal verbs are as common as“ corn in August“.
I came across a blog called nicely „It's always something!“ this morning. Not only is the last entry interesting for what I am mostly interested in – inner conflicts in somobody's mind – but it also proves how you, native speakers, are doing your best to „mess up“ English with as many those strange expressions as possible so that we, non-native speakers, suffer from inferiority complex.
But frankly, I like English idioms for the peoples' experience and fantasy hidden in them. And luckily my level of English usually allows me to recognize that the strange-looking bunch of words is likely to be an unknown idiom.

"I'm thinking about pulling up stakes. Moving out of this house. We have had plans to move before, and building a new house. But I wasn't ready. I was one stubborn mule. I dug in my heels, and wouldn't even listen to reason. But as I started to think about it...it's time to let this one go after 20 years. Let's just move on. There are no more memories to make here that are of importance to me anymore. I'ts all been done. Mom and Dad are gone..nieces and nephews are getting on with their lives... it's time for me to give it up. Gord is the the type of guy who always wants to start over in a new place, and I am the nagging bitch.... whining..."this is my home" blah blah.... I'm telling myself to get over it already you crybaby!!

It would be clean slate. Not that I can erase the all the hardships that happened here, and also I will never forget the good times, but at least not everything will be a reminder of what was. Andie Pandie mentioned something similar in her blog, and it struck a nerve in me. Let the old shit go already, and get on with it. Because you can't bring them back, no matter how much you pay homage to thier lives. And I think I have been stuck there for a long time, and I have to get out of my rut and pay more attention ..of what is now. For us...

We will still host Christmas, for the family no matter where we live, but I would appreciate it if my nephew Damon, kept his pecker in his pants, three girls is enough for gawd's sake. Two children per couple is acceptable, but if you go for three, you are pushing it for the "grands." just saying..."

When you are not allowed to listen to your instinct

The most horrific thing I encountered when being in Englad for the first time was definitely the left hand side traffic. I just found it way too hard to get used to it. Probably because you can't teach an old dog new tricks even thoug I evaluate myself quite flexible. More then thirty years behind the wheel in the right hand side traffic has gotten pretty deep under my skin. Even crossing the road was always something beyond me. When only milliseconds saved me from getting smashed by a car (I've been still feeling that blast of the wind in my face as the car passed by) I realized I really had to stop before crossing the road and order myself – look right first and then left and then right again. And I trully did because I just couldn't trust my instincts.
I am pleased not being the only one having this trauma. I Canadian girl called herself Rebellious flew to Belfast, Northern Ireland, with her family yesterday. They hired a car to drive from the airport to their hotel. Her description of their first drive made me laugh reminding me of all the horror when my right hand fumbled in order to find the shift and how I had to chat myself up not to listen to my wish driving on the opposite site of the road. She got the same sensation, commenting this with words “Not good, not good at all.” I don't know how the drivers in Northern Ireland react when seing someone like me behind the wheel but suppose most of them get irritated the same way like many drivers in England – honking is the smallest thing. So I do know what she was talking about. (Anyway, I've never had an car accident.)

"So we get the car... which is when the panic sets in for all of us. I flat-out refused to drive since everything is on the left hand side of the road and I really don't want to get a) all of us killed, b) in an accident and c) a speeding ticket, traffic ticket, etc. So my dad's pretty much the only person left to drive (my grandmother has never driven, and my mother... well... it'd be a disaster. She can't even listen to music while driving without becoming too distracted.) So we get on the road... and it's an instantaneous mindfuck. We're driving down the lefthand side, all three of us (my grandmother is excluded from this) screaming out obscenities and cringing as people pass us, coming towards us, on the right handside of the road. I wish I'd video-ed the event because it was absolutely wild. When every instinct in your body is screaming at you to change lanes into the righthandside of the street, and yet there's traffic coming towards you on that side... it's pretty crazy. So my dad's cursing, and my mom's giving bad directions, and we've got cars honking behind us because my dad keeps stalling out (why, I don't know, we had standard cars for YEARS before we switched to automatics two years ago or so) and he won't drive over 30 miles an hour while he's adjusting to the car. Tensions... start to run wild. Not good, not good at all."