My Brush with Death / Stretnuti se smrti

Once upon a time, back when I was a highschooler, I really wanted to learn Italian. Unfortunately, after researching the whole situation I found out the only country that would “take me” was England, and I had to become a nanny to go. But I didn’t want to go to gloomy England! I wanted to go to beautiful and sunny Italy!!! Oh well, I thought to myself, I guess I will at least be ready for my final exam in English when I come back….So I left for the summer and worked for a lovely English family, but little did I know what awaited…
On one of my days off and I decided to go on a bike ride in the countryside. As I was biking up one of the hills I begun to hear a weird hum which was gradually increasing in sound. The more I was listening the more confused I was about its origin.
WHAT THE HECK WAS IT??? Suddenly my survival instincts kicked in: “Oh Lord…It’s a tornado! That is exactly what it sounds like!! And it’s GETTING CLOSER!!!!!”

In a matter of few seconds I jumped off the bike, threw myself into the ditch next to the road and covered myself with it – for extra protection. And there in my bunker I waited. And waited. And waited….
After about 15 minutes of deadly stress in the ditch I began to realize that the tornado sound was not changing. “Is it spinning in the same spot??” I kept imagining the horrible images of mooing cows, rooftops and dead people in the air, cold sweat running on my forehead. After another half-an hour in my bunker I started to get a little ancy. “Maybe I should change a location, go somewhere safer!” I found enough courage to climb out of my hole and very cautiously started creeping up the hill again. And then I saw it. I looked over the top of the hill into the valley and I saw the “tornado” – there in the valley…

…a freeway!?!

The logical part of my brain was completely fogged out by my chain of my fearful thoughts so no, I did not think of the fact that the sound cannot come from a tornado because, simply, there are NO tornadoes in England (or the whole of Europe for that matter).
You can imagine how stupid I felt….It took a while for me to be brave enough and start to share the story with the world. After all confession is a form of therapy, right?

So I guess I did in fact brush up against death… the death of my ego.

CZ: Jako stredoskolacka jsem si hrozne prala naucit se Italsky. Uz jsem mela par jakz-takz kurzu Jazykove skoly hotovych, ale vedela jsem moc dobre, ze aby se clovek naucil opravdu mluvit, tak do te zeme proste musi jet a take tam na delsi dobu zustat. Na to jsem samozrejme penize nemela, tak jsem si lamala hlavu, co delat. Jedina dostupna cesta, jak meho golu docilit bylo, abych se pres leto stala Au-pairkou. Nejen ze se tak naucim Italstinu, ale taky za to dostanu zaplaceno ( a taky asi utru par detskych zadku…)! Jelikoz mi ale v teto dobe jeste nebylo 18 let, jedina zeme ktera by me “zamestnala” jako chuvu byla zamlzena, zamracena Anglie. Ja jsem ale chtela do nadherne, slunecne Italie! “No, alespon budu pripravena na maturity”, rekla jsem si.
Tak jsem na cele leto odjela na Britske Ostrovy. Behem tech trech mesicu jsem take vystridala tri rodiny. Prvni rodina pouze potrebovala zastup, zatimco jejich oblibena Aupair byla na dovolene. Ma druha rodina nepotrebovala Aupair, ale psiho hlidace – jenom mi o tom nic nerekli. Po par tydnech ztravenych exkluzivne v psi spolecnosti jsem si zacinala uvedomovat, ze nejen ze se neucim ani slovo anglicky, ale ze take zapominam cestinu!! Tak jsem se jim jednoho slunneho dne “odvazala od boudy” a nasal jsem si jineho “panicka”. Tato treti rodina byla absolutne super. I kdyz jsem se jim starala vylozene o celou tlupu deti, vubec mi to nevadilo.
Nicmene, prihoda, kterou se chystam povedet, se stala za mych “psich casu”. Jeden den, kdyz jsem mela volno, jsem se rozhodla, ze si vyjedu na kolo. A jak si tak vyslapuji do jednoho z kopcu, najednou slysim podivny hukot. A co vic, cim dale slapu, tim vic se ten hluk zvysuje. Cim dele jsem nastrazovala me usi, tim vic jsem byla zmatena, odkud ten hluk prichazi: “Co to jenom muze byt???” Najednou mi to doslo: “ Je to tornado!!! Tornado presne takhle zni !! A ono se priblizuje!!!!” Logicka cast meho mozku byla zastrena jakousi londynskou mlhou, takze jestlize se podivujete, jestli mi doslo, ze v Anglii – nebo vubec v cele Evrope – tornada neexistuji, tak NE. Proste mi to v tu chvili nedoslo. Tak jsem v desetine sekundy seskocila z kola a v druhe desetine te same sekundy jsem jiz sedela v mistni skarpe, timto bicyklem take zakryta (pro extra ochranu). A tam, v mem proti-tornadovem bunkru jsem cekala, az se to monstrum prezene…..
Asi po ctvrt hodine umrtneho stresu jsem si zacala uvedomovat, ze se intenzita hluku toho hroziveho tornada vubec nemeni; “Ze by se tocilo na miste?” A v hlave se mi vybavil hruzny obraz bucicich krav, utrzenych strech a mrtvych lidi – vsichni chyceni v tomoto smrticim vyru….a po cele se mi rinul pot…Po dalsi pul hodine nicnedelani jsem se zacala citit dosti neposedne. “Mozna, ze bych se mela premistit nekam, kde je to vice bezpecne!” Nasla jsem jen tak tak dostatek odvahy, abych z meho proti-valecneho ukrytu vylezla a zacala se pomalu ale jiste odebirat na vrcholek kopce. A pak jsem to “tornado” uvidela. Tam v udoli se hadila 4-smerova DALNICE!!! Tak si snad dovede predstavit jak trapne jsem se citila…Travalo mi dost dlouho, abych se s touto jaksi zvlastni prihodou vyrovnala a zacala se s ni otevrene sverovat okoli. Ale jak se rika, mluveni je terapie….