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I can’t believe I’m back home in North Carolina. I also can’t believe it took me about three weeks to update my blog — but Prague just kept me so busy, and in the greatest way possible. It’d be a lie to say Prague was about the buildings or the landscape or the history. It’d be even more of a lie to say it was about the classes. Prague was about the people, the greatest group of 50-some students who, now, I can’t imagine my life without.
But the experience didn’t lie wholly in ridiculous conversations at the zoo or those run-ins with crazy Czechs on the tram or laughing for hours about nothing or napping on a blanket in the park. So, in an effort to sum up the cultural and visual experience of the past three weeks, I’ll attempt to highlight a few things.
And I think I left off at…
Vienna.
We went to Vienna with no real agenda, so when we got there with, basically, only a map and Charlie’s memorized directions to the hostel, I didn’t know what to expect. But our weekend was amazing. We spent most of it just exploring — choosing a direction on the metro and going that way until we came to an area that might be near something we wanted to see. Although we got lost (including a two and a half hour effort to find a World War II monument that was under construction that day) a lot, we also had a glorious time just walking around and seeing the city. Our feet hurt, but we saw way more sights than we would have had we just taken the metro everywhere. Some of these included: the opera house, where we stood outside for a bit watching a live projection; a glorious park with a butterfly house; the national library; a fountain near some government buildings; some government buildings. Everything was so gorgeous, and had it not been for the awful conversion rate from dollar to Euro, we wouldn’t have minded studying here. On our way to Europe’s second largest ferris wheel we found an amusement park, the likes of which I’d only seen in movies. It was so old, with a few new rides strewn in, but the atmosphere was very Vienna — still, beautiful and slightly eerie. Like kids in a candy shop — or at an amusement park? — we ran from ride to ride, throwing coins at the ticket booth attendants and buckling ourselves into rollercoasters that may or may not have passed contemporary safety regulations. We were sad to leave the city, partly because it was a wonderful experience we didn’t want to end and partly because, in Vienna, people are actually nice to you. Let me just say that if I got even a twitch out of a Czech person, I felt accomplished.
The opera.
Cesky Krumlov.
The zoo.
Prague.
The good guest.
After staying in my bed for two whole days, I got tired of lying down and headed out with the roommates - Julia + Ashley Mills to escape the rain and cold in Bohemia Bagel. Deliciously American. Also did a bit of shopping (you can’t blame me! It was H&M and Topshop) and then went to eat dinner at this very hidden away, secret, castle dungeon-y type place. It was very Czech, and they spoke little English. We sat down in this round, wooden booth whose benches were covered in sheep fur (?), and when the waitress brought out the menus, items were written on parchment and bound in something I imaging was calfskin. There were lanterns with candles hanging over our heads, a candle at the table — no light bulbs. But it wasn’t touristy at all — it felt like this place had been operating the same way for hundreds of years. Maybe two hundred years ago, patrons needed a password to enter. Anyway, we didn’t need a password in 2009, but we did, apparently, need to know how to keep our cool when it came to one very old, very drunk man.
After a delicious all-vegetatian dinner, we were talking at the table when Kendra suddenly screams (very loudly) and jumps toward Ashley. I look up, and there is a bald man standing there, leaning against the pole and staring off drunkenly into the middle distance. The man doesn’t say anything, but after standing there for about a minute he sits down in Kendra’s recently vacated seat and began to lean back. Now, this would be perfectly acceptable, I think, in Czechland, had there been a wall behind him. But as it was, there wasn’t, and humpty dumpty fell about four feet from his perch onto his back. I screamed, everyone in there who was American screamed — so only the four of us — and the Czechs all looked at him. Is this normal here? It took a while and two begrudgingly helpful men to pick him up and put him back in our booth. He nursed his head, the waitress brought him some water, and we proceeded to have a nice Czechlish chat. Actually, it wasn’t that nice, since if he was speaking any language at all it was completely incomprehensible to us. But he was entertaining. He motioned for A. Mills to take a seat — she was still standing, as all of us had kind of scooted out of the booth — and, after realizing he wasn’t telling her to leave, she did. I think we realized he was completely harmless — he can’t even sit up straight — but just in case I moved a knife away from him, pretending to re-arrange the salt and pepper and utensils. Then he posed for the camera (maybe I will post a picture later) and offered me some of his water. I declined each time. After what might have been half an hour, the chef convinced his old man Czech friends, who were sitting in the table behind us, to come and collect their friend. They were slightly less drunk than he was, but not by much, and it took some effort to get him to go back.
Dana, who has been teaching us the social ways of the Czechs, said it is common for someone to come over to your table, if there aren’t other tables, and ask to sit there. They will say thank you, and when your food comes they will say bon appetit, but other than that they won’t talk. This proved true — humpty didn’t talk, he mumbled, and for all we know he did ask if he could sit down. Or maybe he just took Kendra’s reaction as one of enthusiasm and hurried to fill her vacant seat to be a good guest. At any rate, we laughed for the rest of the night. And I think we’ll go back. Maybe a bit earlier, this time, so if we meet our friend again he might not wander, like a moth, over to our table.
(via somethinhot)
I have an urge to hug something. He looks well-fed and well-pet!
Alison and I went to a magical place for Cafe Louvre for dinner, where we ordered hot chocolate because we had heard it was delicious. What we didn’t know was that its hot chocolate was more like a melted chocolate bar in a cup, and the most amazing chocolate bar you’ve ever eaten in your entire life. Then we died and went to heaven.
The Web site said Franz Kafka and Albert Einstein ate there. In my mind, they ate together and both ordered the hot chocolate while writing their respective masterpieces. When they left, toting their hot chocolate-inspired theorems and chapters home (Kafka lived just around the block), chocolate fingerprints dotted the pages of their, at last, completed works.
Here, he’s petting the bees. As far as bee friendships go, he’s about three hundred steps ahead of me.
I hate clusters. Hate hate hate. Some people hate heights, some hate depths, some hate spiders. I don’t hate spiders, I just hate a lot of them together at once. Ever since we picked out a kitten from the shelter who, for some reason, the fleas would flock to. She was too young for flea repellent, so my mom had to use a glass of water to empty all the fleas in. It was disgusting. As a consequence, I had dreams that I bargained with the fleas for things like custody of the apartment, say. They could have the apartment during the day, and but they had to go back down the drain at night.
Anyway. I avoid clusters when I can, which is most times. Sesame seeds on hamburger buns? Taken off. Ants congregating in the front yard? Scattered. But I had no control over these bees and their desire to completely cover their honeycombs. So I stood in the front row at the Bee Institute, located about 40 minutes (by train) outside of Prague. The man in the orange shirt, Dalibor, was so enthusiastic about his bees. I’d almost think they were best friends until we saw him prick two for their baby-bee-making cells and, once obtained, throw them, dead, into a plastic cup. He did love them, though.
I stood, looking, in front of those bees for about an hour, and I was so proud of myself. Occassionally I’d feel a bit like the bees were covering me, not the combs, but it was fine. I did eventually have to head to the back of the group, where I couldn’t really see the horde of bees, but it took a much longer time than usual. And I didn’t even have to make custody deals with them in my head.
Dalibor made a soup that looked really good — I couldn’t eat it because it had chicken and pork in it — from vegetables he grew on his own. He also made about seven pizzas in less than 20 minutes in a stone oven he built. The pizzas, which took two minutes to make each, were made from scratch using flour he made, cheese and herbs from a garden.
Now that’s sustainability.
I mean, I do love my roommates,
but they’ll never replace my 2701-A roommates!
My roommates are great.
We are all so completely different that I don’t even know how it works, but I’m not going to question it. It was inevitable that Julia, with the short hair, and I become friends because our beds are pushed so close together that I mistook them for one huge bed when I first entered the room. Also because I knew her before, through Maggie. Kendra (in the zebra dress, whose birthday we were celebrating when this picture was taken) is the one I’d call to stick up for me in a bar fight. She kind of reminds me of Sarah Jessica Parker (especially when her hair is curly) but I don’t know if I’ll tell her that. Ashley, with the dark hair, has the cutest style ever. She’s the one who will complete a joke that’s been going on for a bit by just creating a new word. Ex.:
Julia, in reference to a workout DVD that came with my yogurt cereal: These people are going insane.
Kendra: Are they on crack?
Me: Yeah, that’s actually what these white things in the cereal are. Cocaine.
Ashley: Crack nuggets.
Now we’re just chilling on our respective beds, each on the computer. Last night was tiring and I don’t think anyone has fully returned to 100% besides me. And that’s only because I “napped” (mini-slept) for three hours after I woke up in the morning. I think we might start a game where one of us reads a Czech sentence and the others try to come up with the best translation for it.
at the prague castle. this was a gothic building (i think) surrounded by types of renaissance and romantic architecture.
inside the basilica at the prague castle. if i knew how old it was, i’d write it just to impress you. but i don’t, so let’s go with thousands of millions of years. impressive enough?
