So it's July in Prague. And it's quite lovely. So a lot of things have happened in the few months since I've blogged in here . . . and I thought that the best way to tell you about them was via list. Cause there's nothing I love more in the world than a list (yeah so that's a total lie, but whatever).
So it was this lovely sunny day . . . and then it just got all overcast and such, I'm so disappointed. But that's okay.
1. I moved (twice, kind of): the lease on my apartment was up on June 15, so I've relocated to a new flat near Vyshehrad right along the river. And in there I moved rooms once. I'll tell you more about the apartment (with pictures!) once I have a chance to get myself unpacked, cause that's been a slow process.
2. I had a birthday: Friday July 3! twas my birthday . . . and it was a lovely one. Thursday evening I was out with friends who were gracious enough to sing me happy birthday and buy me drinks at midnight (and later). Then Friday evening my friends Kate, Sinead & Chris had a gig at The Royal Oak (one of my weekly stops). The show was great fun, and at the end they sang me an awesome birthday song complete with cake and candles.
3. I finished the semester: this was a teary event (not really) for me. But the school year in the Czech Republic finishes at the end of June. My lessons were stopping from mid-May until just last week (with some continuing over the summer). It was quite bittersweet (because there's the risk that I won't see some of these great people ever again). A few students gave me going away presents, which I vaguely remember doing in elementary school, but this is way more awesome. I received roses from my pair of twenty-something girls (who are way cool) and snazzy coffee/tee cups and saucers from two of my Nova TV students. They're quite pretty and say "moje nova. moje televize." Means "my nova. my television" . . . I think nova actually means "new" but in this context it's talking about the TV station (look at my badass translation skills)
4. I learned to count from jeden to sto: I learned to count from one to one hundred. My friend Veronika and I meet once a week or so to have a Czech-English exchange. We try really, really hard to actually work on language, and not just chit chat about life and everything else. It's really fun and interesting, and my Czech is improving (though at a rather glacial pace).
5. I gave tests!: One of the big parts of any teacher's life is testing, but I kind of hoped I could escapte that whole aspect by being a TEFL teacher. Not so much. Testing is just, not fun! My students didn't mind so much, because they actually know their progress . . . but I just hate being that teacher, you know? Oh well.
6. I had visitors: My High School pals Genna and Elissa (and her main squeeze Steve) came to visit for a long weekend. We had a great time exploring the city in the touristy fashion (it was kind of crazy, but also awesome).
7. I played tourist: We took the 22 tram (the tourist tram) up to the the castle and then walked down the hill and across the Charles Bridge, occasionally skipping into shops to avoid the rain. We finished up in Old Town Square and enjoyed some dinner at the classically touristy (and yet not) Cafe Louvre. We also visited the Jewish Quarter, and saw some the sights there.
8. I visited Terezin: Saturday was spent at Terezin (Theresienstadt) which was once a Ghetto and prison for Jews during WWII. It was technically not a concentration camp, but instead a brutal ghetto and prison that often served as a stopping point before being moved to Poland. It was originally built in the 19th century to stop the Prussians, though was never used as that. It consists of a small walled city and a fortress. This, according to the Nazis, was the ideal place to keep the Jews, pre-made walls and defenses holding people in. The original inhabitants were eventually removed and the village converted to a ghetto (which at one point was spruced up to impress the Red Cross, who only saw what they wanted to see). The fortress had been used as a prison for years (housing Greek freedom fighters and Gavrilo Princip the man who assassinated Franz Ferdinand). It was later used as a brutal prison for the Jews from various ghettos. We were given a personal tour by Pavel, a Czech Jew who survived Terezin and time in Auschwitz-Birkenau. This experience was in some senses surreal and others amazing, to meet this man who had lived these moments in full force, and who was now giving himself and his story, over and over again . . . lest we forget.
9. I haven't heard about my visa . . . that's it.
10. I watched the river almost flood: In my lovely new apartment I have a sunroom/breakfast nook/way awesome totally fantastic room. It has huge windows over looking the river, which is peaceful and quiet and lovely for me. The fun part was sitting in my chair, watching the rain fall and the river, rise and rise. The flow is so interesting too. In the early morning it's rather slow and glass-like. But later in the day, as the boats appear, it moves quicker and quicker, as if it's trying to keep up. There are jazz boats and tour boats that love to take pictures of my awesome cubist house (and me in the window) as the sail past.
11. I tried absinthe: This was part of my birthday celebration. After the show, we enjoyed the Royal Oak as it calmed down, and then my friends decided to buy me some absinthe, which I have never officially tried. It was an experience, and not necessarily a tasty one. The trick is to melt the sugar into the class without catching the glass, the table and other assorted areas around you on fire. And not burning your mouth. I tried, and it was fun, but I don't know how soon I'll try again.
12: I went to a 5-story dance club: it's a crazy place called Karlovy Lazne. The bartenders try to swindle you, and the drinks are a little pricier than our favorite clubs Futurum & Lucerna. Buut, it has multiple floors including Top 40, R&B, Techno and Disco. The Disco floor is awesome cause it contains brightly colored squares that light-up under you while you dance. We went a little crazy, but the night wasn't quite complete, cause I didn't hear any Abba . . . tears.
13: I like Indian food now . . . that's it . . . it's just so good!
More to come! cau!
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
When I was young I would go to the circus twice a day, everyday. It was very cheerful.
So today was an unbelievably random day.
I love sensible days, when it looks like rain and I grab my umbrella, and then use it. Days like that are fantastic. Especially with my umbrella, which is permanently borrowed from some unknown person. It's quite ridiculous, and that makes it awesome. It's black, and the inside is patterned with the ever-classy cartooned cosmetics (perfume, lipstick, mirrors, roses) the outside has a fluffy pink be-gloved hand spritzing some perfume into the air.
I love my students. You're probably saying, Janine, shut it, we know. I gush about them quite a bit. But today. Today, was special (and I'm not being sarcastic).
Let's start from the beginning. Because of my sunburn I've been sleeping funny, guh I'm an idiot. So when I woke up this morning, I was very confused. I did recognize the gray day, so I grabbed my umbrella and scooted out the door. My first lesson of the week is Monday mornings at 7:20 am, and it's always a bit hit or miss. They're great students, but sometimes I'm a questionable teacher.
But today we were on fire. We all had great weekends and lovely stories to tell. Then we began an in depth discussion of being economical with the truth. Which turned into the classic "lie of omission". The big one, was Jezisek. Jezisek (for you non-Czechs) is the Czech holiday gift-giver. Much like Santa Claus, he is believed in by children as the bestower of awesome Christmas goodness, until eventually you realize that it's acutally your parents and you realize that sometimes adults lie . . . the lie of omission or a white lie.
I got to thinking about when I realized about Santa Claus, and there was no big epiphany, or tragically scarring moment when I realized I couldn't trust my parents. I just began to understand, and I ask you, is this our fall from grace, our loss of innocence . . . ohhh I'm deep. Kidding.
But back to my awesome students. The title of today's blog comes from a gentleman who decided to play teacher today, and wrote an English word on the board that I did not know "weir"
1. a small dam in a river or stream.
2. a fence, as of brush or narrow boards, or a net set in a stream, channel, etc., for catching fish.
Later, we were playing the "liar" game, wherein each person writes an even number of sentences, half true and half false. The group then asks questions to convince the writer that all the sentences were true. I like to start out with "I'm fluent in Hawai'ian." This gentleman, however, chose "When I was young I would go to the circus twice a day everyday." And when we, was a class, erupted in laughter, he responded "It was very cheerful". His favorite act, the tightrope walkers.
Not sure why that was so funny, it just added to the strangeness of my day, which included reading a morbid Jack London short story (The Law of Life), being convinced to teach (after the lesson) one of my students words you wouldn't say in front of your grandmother, having cars drive through puddles and get me and my pants soaking wet, admiring my ridiculous sunburn, sitting under a bug-infested tree and remembering that today, is only monday.
Yeah, like I said, random.
Thus concludes the blog-stravaganza . . . I made up for lost time with these, now didn't I?
I love sensible days, when it looks like rain and I grab my umbrella, and then use it. Days like that are fantastic. Especially with my umbrella, which is permanently borrowed from some unknown person. It's quite ridiculous, and that makes it awesome. It's black, and the inside is patterned with the ever-classy cartooned cosmetics (perfume, lipstick, mirrors, roses) the outside has a fluffy pink be-gloved hand spritzing some perfume into the air.
I love my students. You're probably saying, Janine, shut it, we know. I gush about them quite a bit. But today. Today, was special (and I'm not being sarcastic).
Let's start from the beginning. Because of my sunburn I've been sleeping funny, guh I'm an idiot. So when I woke up this morning, I was very confused. I did recognize the gray day, so I grabbed my umbrella and scooted out the door. My first lesson of the week is Monday mornings at 7:20 am, and it's always a bit hit or miss. They're great students, but sometimes I'm a questionable teacher.
But today we were on fire. We all had great weekends and lovely stories to tell. Then we began an in depth discussion of being economical with the truth. Which turned into the classic "lie of omission". The big one, was Jezisek. Jezisek (for you non-Czechs) is the Czech holiday gift-giver. Much like Santa Claus, he is believed in by children as the bestower of awesome Christmas goodness, until eventually you realize that it's acutally your parents and you realize that sometimes adults lie . . . the lie of omission or a white lie.
I got to thinking about when I realized about Santa Claus, and there was no big epiphany, or tragically scarring moment when I realized I couldn't trust my parents. I just began to understand, and I ask you, is this our fall from grace, our loss of innocence . . . ohhh I'm deep. Kidding.
But back to my awesome students. The title of today's blog comes from a gentleman who decided to play teacher today, and wrote an English word on the board that I did not know "weir"
1. a small dam in a river or stream.
2. a fence, as of brush or narrow boards, or a net set in a stream, channel, etc., for catching fish.
Later, we were playing the "liar" game, wherein each person writes an even number of sentences, half true and half false. The group then asks questions to convince the writer that all the sentences were true. I like to start out with "I'm fluent in Hawai'ian." This gentleman, however, chose "When I was young I would go to the circus twice a day everyday." And when we, was a class, erupted in laughter, he responded "It was very cheerful". His favorite act, the tightrope walkers.
Not sure why that was so funny, it just added to the strangeness of my day, which included reading a morbid Jack London short story (The Law of Life), being convinced to teach (after the lesson) one of my students words you wouldn't say in front of your grandmother, having cars drive through puddles and get me and my pants soaking wet, admiring my ridiculous sunburn, sitting under a bug-infested tree and remembering that today, is only monday.
Yeah, like I said, random.
Thus concludes the blog-stravaganza . . . I made up for lost time with these, now didn't I?
Konopiste and Folkovy Kvitek
I think as humans, we strive to not be average. I think it's important to a lot of people to be good at one thing, even if it's something quite some and insignificant, or something one might not be too proud of having a talent in.
For example, there was a time when I was great at French (then I tried it again in College). A time when I was quite skilled at the piano (then I heard other people play). A time when I had fantastic ability to negotiate in Human Rights courses, write last minute Music History papers and sing the heck out of an aria . . . but alas, that was college. I can type fast, though I make lots of mistakes. I was great at customer service, and then I got Lyme disease and also realized customer service makes you hate yourself. I was never very good at working at the bank.
I've come to realize that my highest talents lie in the less traditional skill sets. For example, I can fall down and do "almost no" to "quite ouchy" damage to myself. I can drop things, I'm fantastic at sleeping in and being the opposit of a morning person, I'm great at running into the wall. Oh and for some uncanny reason, I can sunburn like it's nobody's business.
This past weekend was another lovely one, weather-wise, in Prague. It rained a bit on Friday, so I went to see Star Trek (umm, Czech movie theaters are complicated!). And Saturday Marcela, Kate and I headed to Konopiste (near Benesov) to see a folk music festival called "Folkovy Kvitek" which means "folk blossom" according to an online dictionary.
The festival was on the grounds of a castle called Konopiste. It has been around since the 13th century, and was converted to its' current style by Archduke Franz Ferdinand. That's right, Archduke "I'm going go get myself assassinated in Sarajevo by the Black Hand and start World War I" Franz Ferdinand. It's now a museum, and though we didn't go inside, the outside is beautiful, has a bear in the moat (actually so do lots of Czech castles and my googling wouldn't tell me why) and some killer peacocks.
After we explored the castle we grabbed some bench space and sat down to enjoy some great Czech Folk music. Now this wasn't traditional Bohemian or Slavic Folk music, but folk, country, bluegrass etc. It was lovely! Very few songs were sung in English, but that's alright because we were able sing along to the melodies of some familiar songs (like The Rose) and hear some others that were really familiar but we couldn't quite figure out. The musicians were amazing, and there was a contest for kids, the 12 finalists played.
The festival provided me with ample time to pick up on a few Czech words that I know; and another thing I'm excellent at, people-watching.
Later, when Kate and I decided to head home, (Marcela, the awesome lady, stayed until 2 am!) we took a 2-3 km jaunt through the countryside (complete with fields of yellow flowers, not dandelions) and enjoyed a nice train ride home with a lovely view of Bohemia.
The sunburn comes into play with the deceptively scorching May rays, and me not taking Marcela's advice and using some of her sunscreen. Now I have raccoon eyes and some extremely strange tan lines on my back . . . like I said, I've got skills!
Check out these pictures and tons more that I just posted on my picas page, linked over there ----->
Gosh I'm a dork.
For example, there was a time when I was great at French (then I tried it again in College). A time when I was quite skilled at the piano (then I heard other people play). A time when I had fantastic ability to negotiate in Human Rights courses, write last minute Music History papers and sing the heck out of an aria . . . but alas, that was college. I can type fast, though I make lots of mistakes. I was great at customer service, and then I got Lyme disease and also realized customer service makes you hate yourself. I was never very good at working at the bank.
I've come to realize that my highest talents lie in the less traditional skill sets. For example, I can fall down and do "almost no" to "quite ouchy" damage to myself. I can drop things, I'm fantastic at sleeping in and being the opposit of a morning person, I'm great at running into the wall. Oh and for some uncanny reason, I can sunburn like it's nobody's business.
This past weekend was another lovely one, weather-wise, in Prague. It rained a bit on Friday, so I went to see Star Trek (umm, Czech movie theaters are complicated!). And Saturday Marcela, Kate and I headed to Konopiste (near Benesov) to see a folk music festival called "Folkovy Kvitek" which means "folk blossom" according to an online dictionary.
The festival was on the grounds of a castle called Konopiste. It has been around since the 13th century, and was converted to its' current style by Archduke Franz Ferdinand. That's right, Archduke "I'm going go get myself assassinated in Sarajevo by the Black Hand and start World War I" Franz Ferdinand. It's now a museum, and though we didn't go inside, the outside is beautiful, has a bear in the moat (actually so do lots of Czech castles and my googling wouldn't tell me why) and some killer peacocks.
After we explored the castle we grabbed some bench space and sat down to enjoy some great Czech Folk music. Now this wasn't traditional Bohemian or Slavic Folk music, but folk, country, bluegrass etc. It was lovely! Very few songs were sung in English, but that's alright because we were able sing along to the melodies of some familiar songs (like The Rose) and hear some others that were really familiar but we couldn't quite figure out. The musicians were amazing, and there was a contest for kids, the 12 finalists played.
The festival provided me with ample time to pick up on a few Czech words that I know; and another thing I'm excellent at, people-watching.
Later, when Kate and I decided to head home, (Marcela, the awesome lady, stayed until 2 am!) we took a 2-3 km jaunt through the countryside (complete with fields of yellow flowers, not dandelions) and enjoyed a nice train ride home with a lovely view of Bohemia.
The sunburn comes into play with the deceptively scorching May rays, and me not taking Marcela's advice and using some of her sunscreen. Now I have raccoon eyes and some extremely strange tan lines on my back . . . like I said, I've got skills!
Check out these pictures and tons more that I just posted on my picas page, linked over there ----->
Gosh I'm a dork.
You're making a camel out of a mosquito
I absolutely love idioms. Because they're fun. Because they're amusing. Because they make no sense. Because they give me an excuse to show Monty Python's Dead Parrot sketch, a scene from Patch Adams and assorted scenes from my mother's and my guilty pleasure favorite NCIS (check out Ziva idioms, they're hilarious).
I have a few awesomely fantastic advanced student that are translators that do mostly scientific and legal translation work. So they want some general conversational English; cause, you know, legalese isn't really conducive to chit chat. Because conversational English all over the world consists of so much slang and idiomatic phrases, we thought this would be a fun, and entertaining place to start.
One of the students, in our first lesson, mentioned that she thought English was a logical language, to which I replied "wtf?". But she went on to conclude that the tenses, grammar and its usages made good solid sense. This hearkened me back to my French I and II classes, when conjugating verbs was like putting together a puzzle, before all that irregular mumbo-jumbo. She recently noted that idioms make things slightly less logical.
We recently covered proverbs, and I learned this gem "You're making a camel out of a mosquito" which is the Czech equivalent of "You're making a mountain out of a molehill". And in one of those awesome and insane moments, things from my work life, crossed over, directly, into my personal life.
You see, last Sunday evening I scheduled myself for some much needed "skype" dates with my parents and my good friend DRJ (whose blog is linked).
I had the window open to create a lovely breeze in the room. One of my "beefs" with Czech apartments is the lack of screens on the windows, meaning that a window left open lets in all sorts of things, beyond a breeze.
Not sure if many of you know this, but I have a thing . . . about bugs. Spiders, and the way they move, give me the creeps. Mosquitoes (aka Minnesota's second state bird) make me want to claw my eyes out. Ticks . . . well they give you Lyme Disease. Flys, well, they're just gross. I've blogged about them before (that's right, this girl's been out in the blogo-sphere hitting up the interwebs.)
Not sure when or how it started, maybe the neighbor boys threatening me with worms in the hair on rainy mornings at the bus stop. Maybe I had a tragic bug swallowing experience that I have since repressed due to trauma. Maybe watching Arachnaphobia with my Dad (bad move on his part . . . kidding!). Maybe it was going to camp for a week and my brothers hiding extremely detailed and life-like rubber bugs EVERYWHERE in my bedroom, like a terrifying welcome-home present. Regardless, whatever the reason, bugs and I, we do not get a long.
As past house-mates know, I generally shy away from shuffling rodents and insects off the mortal coil unless I actually have to, I leave that to the more manly or more logical and rational (ie Miss Madeline and not DRJ) people. Like recently the large spider that just "appeared" in the corner of my bedroom late one evening. I nearly died of fear, and allowed my lovely and awesome flatmate to bludgeon it to death with a nice black shoe.
On this specific Sunday I was not plagued by spiders, but rather insects of the mosquito-like flying variety. They came into my room, and stayed. Hanging out in high corners and flying around and around and around and around. At first, during my conversation with my parents, I thought they would leave. But they didn't. The bugs (we'll call them Pavel and Martin) decided they enjoyed the minimalist interior decorating that is Chez Janine, and wanted to stay.
Conversation with Mom and Dad ended, and I called DRJ on skype (which including an amusing moment where our internet freaked out and began skipping as he was mid-word, and didn't stop until I took the battery out). I tried to stay calm, but the bugs were still bothering me.
Nearly 3/4s of the way through our chat, I had had enough. I stood, placed my laptop on my dresser, turned up the volume and began to circle my room on the hunt. I was armed with only a flip-flop sandal, the dry sarcasm and schadenfreude of my skype-friend, and my wits. Needless to say it was an epic battle . . . but flip-flop willed out.
Eventually Martin (the little one) settled on a spot high above my desk. With some quick thinking I launched my flip-flop against the wall, effectively killing him dead as a doornail and adding some new shoe shaped art to my otherwise blank wall.
Later, Pavel, the pesky large one, proved to be more of a problem. After hours (probably twenty minutes) of circling, I felt I had exhausted my efforts. I tried waving him towards the window, turning off the lights, changing the lighting situation to see if he'd be attracted to something away from the ceiling. But nothing worked. I followed him around and around, as he flitted from corner to corner and wall to wall.
By this point, Pavel was exhausted and my neck was sore from constantly looking "up" at the ceiling. In a rare moment of luck for me Pavel took off from the wall, and headed right towards me. I'm guessing he was living on borrowed time and tired of keeping body and soul together, he knew the end was nigh. I like to thing he wanted to give me some satisfaction in his last moments (or he really was a vicious bug and wanted to kill me or something). Finally, with some dive-bombing (on Pavel's part) thwacking and flailing (on my part), Pavel dropped like the flying bug that he was, and died on my wall.
I like to think Pavel and Martin died good and heroic deaths fighting for dominance in a world ruled by humans terrified of something 1:1 trillionth (I made that up) of their size.
Now, though I sat under this tree today in the square and I feel like their are bugs crawling all over me . . . I think Pavel and Martin may be exacting their revenge.
I have a few awesomely fantastic advanced student that are translators that do mostly scientific and legal translation work. So they want some general conversational English; cause, you know, legalese isn't really conducive to chit chat. Because conversational English all over the world consists of so much slang and idiomatic phrases, we thought this would be a fun, and entertaining place to start.
One of the students, in our first lesson, mentioned that she thought English was a logical language, to which I replied "wtf?". But she went on to conclude that the tenses, grammar and its usages made good solid sense. This hearkened me back to my French I and II classes, when conjugating verbs was like putting together a puzzle, before all that irregular mumbo-jumbo. She recently noted that idioms make things slightly less logical.
We recently covered proverbs, and I learned this gem "You're making a camel out of a mosquito" which is the Czech equivalent of "You're making a mountain out of a molehill". And in one of those awesome and insane moments, things from my work life, crossed over, directly, into my personal life.
You see, last Sunday evening I scheduled myself for some much needed "skype" dates with my parents and my good friend DRJ (whose blog is linked).
I had the window open to create a lovely breeze in the room. One of my "beefs" with Czech apartments is the lack of screens on the windows, meaning that a window left open lets in all sorts of things, beyond a breeze.
Not sure if many of you know this, but I have a thing . . . about bugs. Spiders, and the way they move, give me the creeps. Mosquitoes (aka Minnesota's second state bird) make me want to claw my eyes out. Ticks . . . well they give you Lyme Disease. Flys, well, they're just gross. I've blogged about them before (that's right, this girl's been out in the blogo-sphere hitting up the interwebs.)
Not sure when or how it started, maybe the neighbor boys threatening me with worms in the hair on rainy mornings at the bus stop. Maybe I had a tragic bug swallowing experience that I have since repressed due to trauma. Maybe watching Arachnaphobia with my Dad (bad move on his part . . . kidding!). Maybe it was going to camp for a week and my brothers hiding extremely detailed and life-like rubber bugs EVERYWHERE in my bedroom, like a terrifying welcome-home present. Regardless, whatever the reason, bugs and I, we do not get a long.
As past house-mates know, I generally shy away from shuffling rodents and insects off the mortal coil unless I actually have to, I leave that to the more manly or more logical and rational (ie Miss Madeline and not DRJ) people. Like recently the large spider that just "appeared" in the corner of my bedroom late one evening. I nearly died of fear, and allowed my lovely and awesome flatmate to bludgeon it to death with a nice black shoe.
On this specific Sunday I was not plagued by spiders, but rather insects of the mosquito-like flying variety. They came into my room, and stayed. Hanging out in high corners and flying around and around and around and around. At first, during my conversation with my parents, I thought they would leave. But they didn't. The bugs (we'll call them Pavel and Martin) decided they enjoyed the minimalist interior decorating that is Chez Janine, and wanted to stay.
Conversation with Mom and Dad ended, and I called DRJ on skype (which including an amusing moment where our internet freaked out and began skipping as he was mid-word, and didn't stop until I took the battery out). I tried to stay calm, but the bugs were still bothering me.
Nearly 3/4s of the way through our chat, I had had enough. I stood, placed my laptop on my dresser, turned up the volume and began to circle my room on the hunt. I was armed with only a flip-flop sandal, the dry sarcasm and schadenfreude of my skype-friend, and my wits. Needless to say it was an epic battle . . . but flip-flop willed out.
Eventually Martin (the little one) settled on a spot high above my desk. With some quick thinking I launched my flip-flop against the wall, effectively killing him dead as a doornail and adding some new shoe shaped art to my otherwise blank wall.
Later, Pavel, the pesky large one, proved to be more of a problem. After hours (probably twenty minutes) of circling, I felt I had exhausted my efforts. I tried waving him towards the window, turning off the lights, changing the lighting situation to see if he'd be attracted to something away from the ceiling. But nothing worked. I followed him around and around, as he flitted from corner to corner and wall to wall.
By this point, Pavel was exhausted and my neck was sore from constantly looking "up" at the ceiling. In a rare moment of luck for me Pavel took off from the wall, and headed right towards me. I'm guessing he was living on borrowed time and tired of keeping body and soul together, he knew the end was nigh. I like to thing he wanted to give me some satisfaction in his last moments (or he really was a vicious bug and wanted to kill me or something). Finally, with some dive-bombing (on Pavel's part) thwacking and flailing (on my part), Pavel dropped like the flying bug that he was, and died on my wall.
I like to think Pavel and Martin died good and heroic deaths fighting for dominance in a world ruled by humans terrified of something 1:1 trillionth (I made that up) of their size.
Now, though I sat under this tree today in the square and I feel like their are bugs crawling all over me . . . I think Pavel and Martin may be exacting their revenge.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Some assorted miscellany
Prague Spring . . . is exquisite.
But first, there are some random and strange things I wanted to mention.
Like, you see the strangest things while waiting to catch a bus from a train station. There is this couple, and they look like a bunch of complete hicks, straight out of South Dakota, USA or something. The man wears a cowboy hat with a giant raccoon tail hanging off the back and is a huge fan of those leather-string ties that my Grandpa adored (so that always makes me smile). He and his wife also rock cowboy boots, plaid shirts and general hick-ness that you can see but can't quite describe.
Also in view of these Czech hicks was a fuchsia Ford Fiesta (the European fraternal twin of the Escort) with a giant United States Marine Corps sitcker stuck to the driver's side door . . . I'm like bwuh?
Oh and around the corner from that was a small shop with a large American Confederate flag flying above the entrance.
I have more of these little gems for your reading pleasure.
But first, there are some random and strange things I wanted to mention.
Like, you see the strangest things while waiting to catch a bus from a train station. There is this couple, and they look like a bunch of complete hicks, straight out of South Dakota, USA or something. The man wears a cowboy hat with a giant raccoon tail hanging off the back and is a huge fan of those leather-string ties that my Grandpa adored (so that always makes me smile). He and his wife also rock cowboy boots, plaid shirts and general hick-ness that you can see but can't quite describe.
Also in view of these Czech hicks was a fuchsia Ford Fiesta (the European fraternal twin of the Escort) with a giant United States Marine Corps sitcker stuck to the driver's side door . . . I'm like bwuh?
Oh and around the corner from that was a small shop with a large American Confederate flag flying above the entrance.
I have more of these little gems for your reading pleasure.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Do you have any mustard?
I stink, I'm horrible, you should hate me . . . for reals. It's been weeks. If any of you are still out there, and have given up hope, I apologize. Go read Jenny's blog about her fascinating experiences in China (she's much better than me!) or try to navigate you way through the awesomeness that is George's blog (though it is in Czech so a few of you may have a problem with that). Or for something completely different, read Durge's blog about his insane experiences in Seminary or JD's blog, which I have recently linked-to, about his life and awesomeness in Australia.
But I got to thinking about my blog and how stinky I am and how long it's been. And feeling guilty or something. So I've decided to do a literal posting extravaganza. If only because I want to try (in some way) to keep a record of these experiences . . . maybe even just for me. Anywho . . . this could be long.
Kate and I were discussing, over a fantastic pitcher of sangria, blogging last night. And we both agreed that it's hard to write about work and life, because things are starting to be day to day. The experiences are nothing new or special . . . But to counteract that, we both have moments where we stop and think "what the hell, I'm in Prague" and that's pretty awesome. Not that I'm more awesome than you, person not in Prague reading my blog, but just a little. It's like, I was in Dresden doing Visa related things (more about that later) and I turned to my travel and getting a Visa buddy Jessica and said: "How weird is it that we're sitting in a courtyard outside the Czech embassy in Dresden?" And she said "It's crazy, let's take a picture of you sitting in Dresden, worrying about your visa". It's not something I ever really saw myself doing, but here I am.
So first thing's first. The jobby-job. At the beginning of February, just after I finished at OxfordTEFL I interviewed at a few language schools and was lucky enough to quickly find a job at Channel Crossings though it's all in Czech so, whatever. I'm probably biased, but I think it's a pretty great school. I teach mainly General and a little smattering of Business English. I have individual, pairs and larger groups of students.
I love teaching and I love the variety and I adore my students. They're a diverse group.
The 8 year-old girl who loves the movie Mamma Mia! and got really excited when I was humming the melody to "Take a Chance on Me". She can't really sit still, is a little spoiled, has a picture of Hannah Montana as her screensaver on her cell phone, loves it when she wins Memory (in Czech: Pexeso) and gets annoyed when I don't let her do the awesome word-search aspect of the worksheet first.
The early 60s gentleman who works as a Judge of some kind who, when asked at 7:20 on Monday morning, is always either satisfied or unsatisfied with the events of his weekend, usually because of football.
His co-hort is one of my favorite students, a Librarian (with something complicated between a Master's and PhD) who is shy until she starts laughing and then it's my favorite thing ever.
I have two girls who take lessons together, who have none each other forever, and who are generally awesome. They think I'm funny (looking, haha) and love it when we do episodes bast on TV shows.
I have a few conversation lessons which have been all about idioms recently, and one of my students loved the phrase "He fell out of the ugly tree as a child and hit all the branches on the way down" or some variation thereof.
They're fascinating people, and I think I learn so much in my lessons, from my students (gosh, does that make me sound cheesy? Yes, Janine, it does) and about myself. There's a natural language barrier, which can be frustrating and intimidating at times, but also just fun to listen to (I like the sound of Czech, there's something very beautiful about it). Off topic.
But I work all over the city. One student is taught at their flat in a part of town filled with beautiful old houses, most likely occupied by the upper-middle class 100 years ago. Now they're a bit like the homes near and around Summit Avenue in St. Paul, mainly converted to apartments. Another pair works in an area of the city called Vinohrady. Home to quite a few Expats (not me). It's a beautiful and seemingly quieter are of town (also, apparently considered rather bourgeois) that was once covered with vineyards. Elsewhere, I teach in a building called Nile House, which is so modern and snazzy I'm not sure that it fits in anywhere. It's right next to a building called The Danube (or Danube House, not sure) . . . hmm.
I also teach at TV Nova a semi-popular Czech TV station. It's in an area called Barrandov, which is essentially like the Czech Hollywood, or the really the anti-Hollywood. If you search it on IMDb.com you'll find a whole plethora of movies that were filmed there. I don't teach Czech TV stars, but they're great people. And I did get to go into a building where they used to animation in the 70s, and there were tons of original drawings all over the walls, like a Kindergarten. It's days like this I wish I had a camera phone.
But my students area all fascinating. They've got "spunk" if you will. They poke fun at me and my own self-deprecation. Specifically my inability to draw, which would be a useful skill, my recent and painful spelling issues, my clumsiness (I like to toss white board markers up in the air but then they fall down). They answer questions sarcastically and hate when I sit and wait for them to answer a question (relish the silence). They love and hate talking about themselves and become embarassed-ly amused when I force them to "really enunciate" and exaggerate intonation like "Really! No! Are you serious?" (just think obnoxiously and fake-ly enthusiastic).
One of my favorite moments has been leaving things written on the easel pad (some don't have white boards, but rather large pads of paper). For example, at TV Nova, we were practicing intonation in one of the intimidatingly awesome glass-walled conference rooms. To demonstrate this we often draw lines above the sentence to dictate the rise and fall of the pitch. One question my students and I left up was "Do you have any mustard?" A week or so later we go the response "Yes we do."
Gosh, how boring and picture-less. This post has been a long time coming . . . but there you go. More to follow.
But I got to thinking about my blog and how stinky I am and how long it's been. And feeling guilty or something. So I've decided to do a literal posting extravaganza. If only because I want to try (in some way) to keep a record of these experiences . . . maybe even just for me. Anywho . . . this could be long.
Kate and I were discussing, over a fantastic pitcher of sangria, blogging last night. And we both agreed that it's hard to write about work and life, because things are starting to be day to day. The experiences are nothing new or special . . . But to counteract that, we both have moments where we stop and think "what the hell, I'm in Prague" and that's pretty awesome. Not that I'm more awesome than you, person not in Prague reading my blog, but just a little. It's like, I was in Dresden doing Visa related things (more about that later) and I turned to my travel and getting a Visa buddy Jessica and said: "How weird is it that we're sitting in a courtyard outside the Czech embassy in Dresden?" And she said "It's crazy, let's take a picture of you sitting in Dresden, worrying about your visa". It's not something I ever really saw myself doing, but here I am.
So first thing's first. The jobby-job. At the beginning of February, just after I finished at OxfordTEFL I interviewed at a few language schools and was lucky enough to quickly find a job at Channel Crossings though it's all in Czech so, whatever. I'm probably biased, but I think it's a pretty great school. I teach mainly General and a little smattering of Business English. I have individual, pairs and larger groups of students.
I love teaching and I love the variety and I adore my students. They're a diverse group.
The 8 year-old girl who loves the movie Mamma Mia! and got really excited when I was humming the melody to "Take a Chance on Me". She can't really sit still, is a little spoiled, has a picture of Hannah Montana as her screensaver on her cell phone, loves it when she wins Memory (in Czech: Pexeso) and gets annoyed when I don't let her do the awesome word-search aspect of the worksheet first.
The early 60s gentleman who works as a Judge of some kind who, when asked at 7:20 on Monday morning, is always either satisfied or unsatisfied with the events of his weekend, usually because of football.
His co-hort is one of my favorite students, a Librarian (with something complicated between a Master's and PhD) who is shy until she starts laughing and then it's my favorite thing ever.
I have two girls who take lessons together, who have none each other forever, and who are generally awesome. They think I'm funny (looking, haha) and love it when we do episodes bast on TV shows.
I have a few conversation lessons which have been all about idioms recently, and one of my students loved the phrase "He fell out of the ugly tree as a child and hit all the branches on the way down" or some variation thereof.
They're fascinating people, and I think I learn so much in my lessons, from my students (gosh, does that make me sound cheesy? Yes, Janine, it does) and about myself. There's a natural language barrier, which can be frustrating and intimidating at times, but also just fun to listen to (I like the sound of Czech, there's something very beautiful about it). Off topic.
But I work all over the city. One student is taught at their flat in a part of town filled with beautiful old houses, most likely occupied by the upper-middle class 100 years ago. Now they're a bit like the homes near and around Summit Avenue in St. Paul, mainly converted to apartments. Another pair works in an area of the city called Vinohrady. Home to quite a few Expats (not me). It's a beautiful and seemingly quieter are of town (also, apparently considered rather bourgeois) that was once covered with vineyards. Elsewhere, I teach in a building called Nile House, which is so modern and snazzy I'm not sure that it fits in anywhere. It's right next to a building called The Danube (or Danube House, not sure) . . . hmm.
I also teach at TV Nova a semi-popular Czech TV station. It's in an area called Barrandov, which is essentially like the Czech Hollywood, or the really the anti-Hollywood. If you search it on IMDb.com you'll find a whole plethora of movies that were filmed there. I don't teach Czech TV stars, but they're great people. And I did get to go into a building where they used to animation in the 70s, and there were tons of original drawings all over the walls, like a Kindergarten. It's days like this I wish I had a camera phone.
But my students area all fascinating. They've got "spunk" if you will. They poke fun at me and my own self-deprecation. Specifically my inability to draw, which would be a useful skill, my recent and painful spelling issues, my clumsiness (I like to toss white board markers up in the air but then they fall down). They answer questions sarcastically and hate when I sit and wait for them to answer a question (relish the silence). They love and hate talking about themselves and become embarassed-ly amused when I force them to "really enunciate" and exaggerate intonation like "Really! No! Are you serious?" (just think obnoxiously and fake-ly enthusiastic).
One of my favorite moments has been leaving things written on the easel pad (some don't have white boards, but rather large pads of paper). For example, at TV Nova, we were practicing intonation in one of the intimidatingly awesome glass-walled conference rooms. To demonstrate this we often draw lines above the sentence to dictate the rise and fall of the pitch. One question my students and I left up was "Do you have any mustard?" A week or so later we go the response "Yes we do."
Gosh, how boring and picture-less. This post has been a long time coming . . . but there you go. More to follow.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Your name is Rio but I don't care for sand
So remember that time I promised to blog a whole bunch? And remember that time that I didn't?
Yeah, I stink.
So I promised last time to write about some more of the course an my days as "tourist" girl. So here goes.
The thing about Prague, is that it has quite the reputation for its' nightlife. Seriously, it's where all the cool (and not so cool) kids come to party. And despite the social butterfly status I like to think I maintained whilst at college, I'm currently moonlighting as a 65 year-old woman, have been for the past year or so. But there was something about the blend of people on my course that inspired us all to, literally, stay out till the sun came up. And despite being on the young end of our small-group spectrum, I tended to be one of the first in bed, at home a-snoring. So my nights ending in sunrise were quite rare, but I was still a night owl (just a responsible one, I promise).
See bar close in Prague is . . . well, that's kind of a hazy detail. Some kick you out at midnight, some at 4:00 am, some . . . we're not sure if they kick you out or close around you, and some just stay open forever . . . literally.
We had a handful of places we chose to imbibe in. There was the Konvikt (which is home to George and the whole fantastic group of people and just lovely), The Bulldog (they kick you out somewhere around 12:00), The Sherlock (again, hazy on the closing time), The Vagon (which means wagon en Espagnol), and of course, Futurum.
The last two weekends of the course we all decided we had night fever courtesy of the BeeGees and spent our time literally, dancing like fiends. Futurum is the Czech sister of Lucerna, a very large club near Wenceslas Square. The difference between the two being Futurum was roughly 3 blocks from our flat and also no skeezy English boys, unless we invited them, of course.
It's dominated mainly by Czechs, but the music is fantastic. I mean they played ABBA at least once a night (and that makes things good). They have 70s-80s-90s night with classics like MIB, Barbie Girl, anything by The Venga Boys, a 70s German disco sensation called Ra-Ra Rasputin (by a band called Boney-M, and they were on drugs, fo shiz).
And then of course . . . who can spend time in a European disco (or any disco for that matter) without hearing the fantastically well-composed and written Dragostea Din Tei. For those of you that don't speak Romanian, it means love under the linden tree. And for those of you that don't have a clue what I'm talking about, it's numa numa. I actually got to watch the video, which was 3 guys standing on a plane wing wearing large silky shirts and dancing in a slightly strange manner. Oh and if you don't know what numa numa is . . . just go on youtube.
Very few songs can bring me back to my misspent youth like "Barbie Girl", except maybe some Shakira or "Call on me". But the dancing and ridiculousness was fantastic . . . and made for some exciting weekends.
We also spent some time at the Vagon, which was literally around the corner from Oxford. It's more of a rock-pop club, and they have life music till midnight. We saw a killer Janis Joplin cover band (the lead singer was attempting to recreate full Janis affect with her alcohol intake). Another time we saw a group of 15+ Czech gentlemen, in full rockin' beards, reading something (not a one of us spoke Czech so we're a little unsure of the point) in unison. I also once left my TP Log (basically everything important for the course) hanging out on a table next to empty beer glasses and a full ashtray . . . talk about Professional Awareness and Development.
Lately I've been enjoying the Gambrinus and rugby matches at Fat Boys a pub near Old Town Square. It's full of lots of yelling rugby fans and my very quiet and very serious rugby fan flatmate. Near that is The Chapeau Rouge . . . yeah.
But the thing about Prague nightlife, is it's hidden in in its own way. In such a contrast to Minneapolis (where when you walk down first ave, you are spat upon by "ladies" heading to the club) in some parts of Prague, you have to search it out. For example, I walked past Futurum multiple times on my way to Tesco, but it's in the basement of an old theater, so I had no clue it would be there. That's not to say the clubs are all underground or you have to be apart of some special group (seriously, this is me) to participate. It's just, (as Kate & I were discussing) often quite literally below street level. The Vagon is under the local KFC. And that's kind of fantastic, and interesting.
There was a day, after a long evening out, that we decided to play tourist. We wandered down through an area called Kampa, which is an island that was submerged in a flood in the last decade. (My new photo up above is from this day and this area). Then to the base of the bridge, up the stairs and across the Vltava to Old Town Square to check the clock and other shopping moments. The amusing part of the day was the "hungover" part. Amusing because I busted out my good camera to take some scenery photos (for Chanida & others) but I kept my sunglasses on because the clouds were toooo bright. Needless to say, almost all of the pictures I took that day were just a twee bit over exposed.
There was this man in a square just off of Old Town, playing what I later deduced to be a hurdygurdy. And if you've never heard one, it's hauntingly beautiful. But he was aged and bearded and smiling and singing old Czech folk songs in an eerie voice for all to enjoy. I stood as long as I could and took as many pictures as I felt comfortable with. But I was on YouTube and I found this.
That's him. I didn't take the video.
One of my favorite parts of Prague is the Charles Bridge (and yes it's tourism central) but I like it for the people watching, and for the memories. Images of myself, T & K walking across and taking photo after photo of the Organ/Monkey Grinder man who's still there. Or walking arm and arm through the bitter and painful cold with choir boys and best friends and some of my favorite moments imprinted in permanence.
But there is a venerability to that piece of architecture, and yes I do mean venerability. It has known, and knows and will forever know the stories told upon its stones. The changing of seasons weathering its cobbles and statues. The rhythm of cartwheels and horse hooves and footstep after thousand of footsteps.
I think, there is something whimsical and yet weighty to think of the yarns those weathered pieces of rock could spin, and the secrets it will eternally keep.
Check out my Picasa page (linked to the right) for some of my photos. More on the job status later . . .
Peace out . . . no seriously.
Yeah, I stink.
So I promised last time to write about some more of the course an my days as "tourist" girl. So here goes.
The thing about Prague, is that it has quite the reputation for its' nightlife. Seriously, it's where all the cool (and not so cool) kids come to party. And despite the social butterfly status I like to think I maintained whilst at college, I'm currently moonlighting as a 65 year-old woman, have been for the past year or so. But there was something about the blend of people on my course that inspired us all to, literally, stay out till the sun came up. And despite being on the young end of our small-group spectrum, I tended to be one of the first in bed, at home a-snoring. So my nights ending in sunrise were quite rare, but I was still a night owl (just a responsible one, I promise).
See bar close in Prague is . . . well, that's kind of a hazy detail. Some kick you out at midnight, some at 4:00 am, some . . . we're not sure if they kick you out or close around you, and some just stay open forever . . . literally.
We had a handful of places we chose to imbibe in. There was the Konvikt (which is home to George and the whole fantastic group of people and just lovely), The Bulldog (they kick you out somewhere around 12:00), The Sherlock (again, hazy on the closing time), The Vagon (which means wagon en Espagnol), and of course, Futurum.
The last two weekends of the course we all decided we had night fever courtesy of the BeeGees and spent our time literally, dancing like fiends. Futurum is the Czech sister of Lucerna, a very large club near Wenceslas Square. The difference between the two being Futurum was roughly 3 blocks from our flat and also no skeezy English boys, unless we invited them, of course.
It's dominated mainly by Czechs, but the music is fantastic. I mean they played ABBA at least once a night (and that makes things good). They have 70s-80s-90s night with classics like MIB, Barbie Girl, anything by The Venga Boys, a 70s German disco sensation called Ra-Ra Rasputin (by a band called Boney-M, and they were on drugs, fo shiz).
And then of course . . . who can spend time in a European disco (or any disco for that matter) without hearing the fantastically well-composed and written Dragostea Din Tei. For those of you that don't speak Romanian, it means love under the linden tree. And for those of you that don't have a clue what I'm talking about, it's numa numa. I actually got to watch the video, which was 3 guys standing on a plane wing wearing large silky shirts and dancing in a slightly strange manner. Oh and if you don't know what numa numa is . . . just go on youtube.
Very few songs can bring me back to my misspent youth like "Barbie Girl", except maybe some Shakira or "Call on me". But the dancing and ridiculousness was fantastic . . . and made for some exciting weekends.
We also spent some time at the Vagon, which was literally around the corner from Oxford. It's more of a rock-pop club, and they have life music till midnight. We saw a killer Janis Joplin cover band (the lead singer was attempting to recreate full Janis affect with her alcohol intake). Another time we saw a group of 15+ Czech gentlemen, in full rockin' beards, reading something (not a one of us spoke Czech so we're a little unsure of the point) in unison. I also once left my TP Log (basically everything important for the course) hanging out on a table next to empty beer glasses and a full ashtray . . . talk about Professional Awareness and Development.
Lately I've been enjoying the Gambrinus and rugby matches at Fat Boys a pub near Old Town Square. It's full of lots of yelling rugby fans and my very quiet and very serious rugby fan flatmate. Near that is The Chapeau Rouge . . . yeah.
But the thing about Prague nightlife, is it's hidden in in its own way. In such a contrast to Minneapolis (where when you walk down first ave, you are spat upon by "ladies" heading to the club) in some parts of Prague, you have to search it out. For example, I walked past Futurum multiple times on my way to Tesco, but it's in the basement of an old theater, so I had no clue it would be there. That's not to say the clubs are all underground or you have to be apart of some special group (seriously, this is me) to participate. It's just, (as Kate & I were discussing) often quite literally below street level. The Vagon is under the local KFC. And that's kind of fantastic, and interesting.
There was a day, after a long evening out, that we decided to play tourist. We wandered down through an area called Kampa, which is an island that was submerged in a flood in the last decade. (My new photo up above is from this day and this area). Then to the base of the bridge, up the stairs and across the Vltava to Old Town Square to check the clock and other shopping moments. The amusing part of the day was the "hungover" part. Amusing because I busted out my good camera to take some scenery photos (for Chanida & others) but I kept my sunglasses on because the clouds were toooo bright. Needless to say, almost all of the pictures I took that day were just a twee bit over exposed.
There was this man in a square just off of Old Town, playing what I later deduced to be a hurdygurdy. And if you've never heard one, it's hauntingly beautiful. But he was aged and bearded and smiling and singing old Czech folk songs in an eerie voice for all to enjoy. I stood as long as I could and took as many pictures as I felt comfortable with. But I was on YouTube and I found this.
That's him. I didn't take the video.
One of my favorite parts of Prague is the Charles Bridge (and yes it's tourism central) but I like it for the people watching, and for the memories. Images of myself, T & K walking across and taking photo after photo of the Organ/Monkey Grinder man who's still there. Or walking arm and arm through the bitter and painful cold with choir boys and best friends and some of my favorite moments imprinted in permanence.
But there is a venerability to that piece of architecture, and yes I do mean venerability. It has known, and knows and will forever know the stories told upon its stones. The changing of seasons weathering its cobbles and statues. The rhythm of cartwheels and horse hooves and footstep after thousand of footsteps.
I think, there is something whimsical and yet weighty to think of the yarns those weathered pieces of rock could spin, and the secrets it will eternally keep.
Check out my Picasa page (linked to the right) for some of my photos. More on the job status later . . .
Peace out . . . no seriously.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Now young lady, what did you learn in school today?
So, I've been a little lax on the whole "blogging" thing, and for that, I sincerely apologize. I'm taking a page from Jenny's book, and updating you on the goings-on. (BTW for a witty and amusing look at train-travel across Siberia and all that entails, check out Slow Train to China which is, Jenny's blog.)
Lots and lots and looots has happened since I last posted about my changing taste buds (or tast, come on people, correct me when I can't spell the most basic words). So we'll start from the beginning. Actually no, I'll try to give dates and such, or not.
So firstly, I want to mention, that with great sadness, I mourn the loss of my jaunty cap. I am quite sad to say that it became lost in the ether on my way to work one day (more on that later.) I do recall removing the hat from my over-stuffed coat pocket, but I have no recollection of placing said hat upon my head to keep my earsies warm. And this hat was quite lovely indeed. It was black, almost like a beret, but not quite. It was cozy and covered my ears nicely and made me look quite Parisian. Though that Parisian-ness was lost if your eyes were to gaze upon my "Swedish Cheeks" (because I'm Swedish) and because my cheeks turn bright pink in the cold Prague day. Needless to say, I am quite upset, and had to resort to "the babushka" a few times recently, because my floppy earlobes couldn't handle the cold. There is only one teensy, weensy bit of photographic evidence of said hat.
And to express how genuinely upset I was at the loss of the hat, I will tell you that I downloaded above photo off of a friends facebook and edited it for size and clarity. Cause seriously folks, I'm upset.
Yet, beyond the loss of my silly hat, I'm actually quite happy. And you'll be shocked to find, that I am quite surprised at my current level of contented-ness. Well, surprised isn't the right word, more, startled. I didn't think things would workout for me quite this quickly, and that's something really fantastic. I was very sad that many of my new friends from the course would be leaving. But then again, they were off to have their own adventures, and we all need that from time to time.
So I have a calendar in my hands, and I know how to use it. Well, kind of. I already told you about Bratislava and its wonders. So I'd like to talk a bit about the course, and next time (soon, I promise) I'll talk a bit about my current life in Prague.
And now, for your reading pleasure . . . a list! (because I do love them so).
1. Children are really easily amused, and yet . . . not so much. A puppet can captivate, a song enthrall, and markers wreak havoc.
2. In my metaphor for life I stomp on my small problems to hear them crack (the sound of a twig breaking). I fully examine and climb over my big problems, usually resulting in some damage (like climbing over a fallen tree). I am apparently conservative (to which I replied "NO!" because I chose the right hand direction in the woods). I hide from encounters with the opposite sex, explaining my shyness with men (like an encounter with a bear). And lastly, my death will be un-pretty and involve taunting. Seriously.
3. Phonology is actually really fun (no, seriously, I wish I had worked harder on my IPA in college).
4. Conditionals are a fantastic way of talking about desperation in a relationship: "If you leave me I don't know how I will survive."
5. If you allow your students to write your horoscope, they will predict some quite amusing things: You will meet an old friend (In Prague, where my definition of old friend would be . . . huh?). You will meet a man, you will fall in love, you will get married. Sweet!
6. Nesmysl means nonsense in Czech.
7. Irish (Irish Gaelic) is way cool.
8. We all have Multiple Intelligences, In a score out of 20 I ranked
Musical: 20 (uh, duh)
Linguistic: 17 (but shouldn't I be a better writer?)
Interpersonal: 17 (which means I know how to deal well with others)
Visual-Spatial: 14 (which maybe means I can draw, but I can't, so maybe take pictures, or organize a room?)
Kinaesthetic: 10 (are we suprised?
Intrapersonal: 9 (I deal fine with others, just not with myself)
Logical-Mathematical: 7 (I think Mr. Butler, my Senior Year Math Teacher said it best, "Janine, how come you're not as good at math as your younger brother?)
9. And to finish . . . an amusing stole quote from part of a practice test, that is apparently stolen from an e-mail forward.
"His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a tumble dryer."
(the test was about verb forms).
And in addressing my apparent lack of self-awareness, I would like to quote Michael Scott (the Office): "I can't really explain it. He's always up in my business. Which is ebonics for being in my face and annoying the bejesus out of me. I don't understand how someone could have so little self awareness."
And yet, after the silly self-awareness tests, and counting the number of smiley faces I received in my feedback sheet, and trying to figure out if the look on my tutors' faces as I taught was out of disgust, confusion or just indigestion . . . I'm done. And I'm not just done. I'm done and I'm teaching, I have a job, I am teacher. And while forever and ever, I thought teaching was "not the thing for me". I distinctly recall Dr. B laughing at the very notion of my teaching. Here I am.
And this course, while full of the necessary teacher jargon, and silly feedback, and what will I work on next time; and the days when I felt so discouraged I was beyond recognition, and allowed my horrid mood to show through to the students, and nearly cried in front of the class . . . I made it. And I like to think, that in some way, I'm at least a decent enough teacher to have a job. And that maybe the students walk away with more understanding. (and granted, my teaching English across the world says a lot about globalisation but that's for another time). And sometimes they laugh at me, and sometimes I laugh at them, and it's good. Really good.
So I'm happy. And done with course.
Next time on Janine's blogging extravaganza . . . Magel dances multiple nights away, plays hungover tourist and gets herself a jobby-job.
Lots and lots and looots has happened since I last posted about my changing taste buds (or tast, come on people, correct me when I can't spell the most basic words). So we'll start from the beginning. Actually no, I'll try to give dates and such, or not.
So firstly, I want to mention, that with great sadness, I mourn the loss of my jaunty cap. I am quite sad to say that it became lost in the ether on my way to work one day (more on that later.) I do recall removing the hat from my over-stuffed coat pocket, but I have no recollection of placing said hat upon my head to keep my earsies warm. And this hat was quite lovely indeed. It was black, almost like a beret, but not quite. It was cozy and covered my ears nicely and made me look quite Parisian. Though that Parisian-ness was lost if your eyes were to gaze upon my "Swedish Cheeks" (because I'm Swedish) and because my cheeks turn bright pink in the cold Prague day. Needless to say, I am quite upset, and had to resort to "the babushka" a few times recently, because my floppy earlobes couldn't handle the cold. There is only one teensy, weensy bit of photographic evidence of said hat.
And to express how genuinely upset I was at the loss of the hat, I will tell you that I downloaded above photo off of a friends facebook and edited it for size and clarity. Cause seriously folks, I'm upset.Yet, beyond the loss of my silly hat, I'm actually quite happy. And you'll be shocked to find, that I am quite surprised at my current level of contented-ness. Well, surprised isn't the right word, more, startled. I didn't think things would workout for me quite this quickly, and that's something really fantastic. I was very sad that many of my new friends from the course would be leaving. But then again, they were off to have their own adventures, and we all need that from time to time.
So I have a calendar in my hands, and I know how to use it. Well, kind of. I already told you about Bratislava and its wonders. So I'd like to talk a bit about the course, and next time (soon, I promise) I'll talk a bit about my current life in Prague.
And now, for your reading pleasure . . . a list! (because I do love them so).
1. Children are really easily amused, and yet . . . not so much. A puppet can captivate, a song enthrall, and markers wreak havoc.
2. In my metaphor for life I stomp on my small problems to hear them crack (the sound of a twig breaking). I fully examine and climb over my big problems, usually resulting in some damage (like climbing over a fallen tree). I am apparently conservative (to which I replied "NO!" because I chose the right hand direction in the woods). I hide from encounters with the opposite sex, explaining my shyness with men (like an encounter with a bear). And lastly, my death will be un-pretty and involve taunting. Seriously.
3. Phonology is actually really fun (no, seriously, I wish I had worked harder on my IPA in college).
4. Conditionals are a fantastic way of talking about desperation in a relationship: "If you leave me I don't know how I will survive."
5. If you allow your students to write your horoscope, they will predict some quite amusing things: You will meet an old friend (In Prague, where my definition of old friend would be . . . huh?). You will meet a man, you will fall in love, you will get married. Sweet!
6. Nesmysl means nonsense in Czech.
7. Irish (Irish Gaelic) is way cool.
8. We all have Multiple Intelligences, In a score out of 20 I ranked
Musical: 20 (uh, duh)
Linguistic: 17 (but shouldn't I be a better writer?)
Interpersonal: 17 (which means I know how to deal well with others)
Visual-Spatial: 14 (which maybe means I can draw, but I can't, so maybe take pictures, or organize a room?)
Kinaesthetic: 10 (are we suprised?
Intrapersonal: 9 (I deal fine with others, just not with myself)
Logical-Mathematical: 7 (I think Mr. Butler, my Senior Year Math Teacher said it best, "Janine, how come you're not as good at math as your younger brother?)
9. And to finish . . . an amusing stole quote from part of a practice test, that is apparently stolen from an e-mail forward.
"His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a tumble dryer."
(the test was about verb forms).
And in addressing my apparent lack of self-awareness, I would like to quote Michael Scott (the Office): "I can't really explain it. He's always up in my business. Which is ebonics for being in my face and annoying the bejesus out of me. I don't understand how someone could have so little self awareness."
And yet, after the silly self-awareness tests, and counting the number of smiley faces I received in my feedback sheet, and trying to figure out if the look on my tutors' faces as I taught was out of disgust, confusion or just indigestion . . . I'm done. And I'm not just done. I'm done and I'm teaching, I have a job, I am teacher. And while forever and ever, I thought teaching was "not the thing for me". I distinctly recall Dr. B laughing at the very notion of my teaching. Here I am.
And this course, while full of the necessary teacher jargon, and silly feedback, and what will I work on next time; and the days when I felt so discouraged I was beyond recognition, and allowed my horrid mood to show through to the students, and nearly cried in front of the class . . . I made it. And I like to think, that in some way, I'm at least a decent enough teacher to have a job. And that maybe the students walk away with more understanding. (and granted, my teaching English across the world says a lot about globalisation but that's for another time). And sometimes they laugh at me, and sometimes I laugh at them, and it's good. Really good.
So I'm happy. And done with course.
Next time on Janine's blogging extravaganza . . . Magel dances multiple nights away, plays hungover tourist and gets herself a jobby-job.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
So my tast buds have changed
No, that's a literal statement. I genuinely think my taste buds have changed since moving to Prague. There is a good chance that I'm just maturing and being less picky about my food and beverage choices, but things have changed.
Here's the big one though: I'm drinking beer. I know right! It's craziness. I have never been a beer drinker. I like to think it stems from an unfortunate dinner experience many years ago, when I mistakenly took an overlarge swig of my mother's beer rather than the "weekend" soda-pop I was enjoying. Needless to say, the moment was tragic. From then on, I always thought beer tasted a bit like wet bread, which sounds really disgusting but is true. In college I began to enjoy socially imbibing vodka and the occasional class of wonderful white wine (gewurztraminer especially).
But some thing's different. The school I'm training at encourages a weekly pub night on Thursdays at a local pub. It's a great opportunity for the tutors to mix with the trainees, former trainees and of course the wonderful Czech students who are receiving the "benefits" of our English skills. The first night at the pub I thought I'd try a beer, I had one earlier in the week (a Budvar, for your curiosity, the original and true Budweiser recipe) and enjoyed it pretty well. So the first pub night I took a chance and let a friend of mine order me a few beers. I was testing the waters, trying to decide what was going to become my standard drink. I switched to some white table wine later in the night, which tasted like rusty tap water, so I decided to stay away.
But the following pub night, something changed. As if a switch was flicked in my brain, I became a beer drinker.
I lived in the capitol state of Beer and Cheese for nearly five years and drank less beer than I can count on one hand. I have grown up in a family of beer drinkers, it's been passed down from generation to generation. We, family of mine, and our ancestors are perpetual beer drinkers. They discuss it, attempt to find new and fascinating varieties. I have perpetually been one of the few and proud non-beer drinkers at family gatherings.
I can say, from my limited beer experiences, that Czech beer is decidedly quite different than American beer, even the "primo-Wisconsin" beers taste disgusting in comparison. It may easily have something to do with this different recipe. There's something about the taste, just . . . better.
It could also involve the fact that the average pint of beer at a pub costs 30-35 Czech koruna (crowns) which is roughly $1.75 give or take. And it's just a bit stronger than the 3.2 found in MN grocery stores.
I sincerely doubt that I will continue to be a beer drinker when I return to the States and the pitiful malted beverages it offers. But for here, now, I will always remember my first few weeks in Prague as the time I when I came to enjoy beer.
Na zdravi!
Here's the big one though: I'm drinking beer. I know right! It's craziness. I have never been a beer drinker. I like to think it stems from an unfortunate dinner experience many years ago, when I mistakenly took an overlarge swig of my mother's beer rather than the "weekend" soda-pop I was enjoying. Needless to say, the moment was tragic. From then on, I always thought beer tasted a bit like wet bread, which sounds really disgusting but is true. In college I began to enjoy socially imbibing vodka and the occasional class of wonderful white wine (gewurztraminer especially).
But some thing's different. The school I'm training at encourages a weekly pub night on Thursdays at a local pub. It's a great opportunity for the tutors to mix with the trainees, former trainees and of course the wonderful Czech students who are receiving the "benefits" of our English skills. The first night at the pub I thought I'd try a beer, I had one earlier in the week (a Budvar, for your curiosity, the original and true Budweiser recipe) and enjoyed it pretty well. So the first pub night I took a chance and let a friend of mine order me a few beers. I was testing the waters, trying to decide what was going to become my standard drink. I switched to some white table wine later in the night, which tasted like rusty tap water, so I decided to stay away.
But the following pub night, something changed. As if a switch was flicked in my brain, I became a beer drinker.
I lived in the capitol state of Beer and Cheese for nearly five years and drank less beer than I can count on one hand. I have grown up in a family of beer drinkers, it's been passed down from generation to generation. We, family of mine, and our ancestors are perpetual beer drinkers. They discuss it, attempt to find new and fascinating varieties. I have perpetually been one of the few and proud non-beer drinkers at family gatherings.
I can say, from my limited beer experiences, that Czech beer is decidedly quite different than American beer, even the "primo-Wisconsin" beers taste disgusting in comparison. It may easily have something to do with this different recipe. There's something about the taste, just . . . better.
It could also involve the fact that the average pint of beer at a pub costs 30-35 Czech koruna (crowns) which is roughly $1.75 give or take. And it's just a bit stronger than the 3.2 found in MN grocery stores.
I sincerely doubt that I will continue to be a beer drinker when I return to the States and the pitiful malted beverages it offers. But for here, now, I will always remember my first few weeks in Prague as the time I when I came to enjoy beer.
Na zdravi!
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Praha Procrastination.
Tour of Casa de Janine, written and photographed Praha January 21, 2009.
I’m working hard today, seriously. I don’t think I ever really worked this hard in college (or university I’ve found I need to clarify). But it’s a different kind of hard. And I’m actually doing my work.
But I have a few things I’d like to say, completely unrelated to work.
1. Front loading washing machines give me the heebie-jeebies.
No seriously. I’m sitting in my flat’s kitchen, which is more like a galley. And we’re lucky in the scheme of things, because we have a washing machine in our flat. But it’s a European one so it does smaller more economical loads, which is nice. The heebie-jeebies part comes in because of the super-speed at which the spin cycle occurs. It literally shakes the building. If you sit with your back against the wall and one of our neighbors runs their washer . . . it’s ridiculous! But when you’re in the kitchen, in the thick of the washing, it’s literally terrifying. It makes things fall off tables. Though that may because I have what I think is the spin cycle set to 1000. But I don’t understand how these silly European machines with their Celsius and whatnot work!
2. All this talk of laundry and kitchens made me realize that I haven’t put pictures of my amusing little flat up for public consumption. So here goes the world tour of Janine’s first Prague flat.
We’ll start with the kitchen. It’s plenty wide and has lovely orange—ish tiles that contrast well with the shade of cabinets, complete with etched “glass” (plastic) in the cabinets above the sink. Beyond those casement windows is the magical courtyard, which is actually quite pretty.
It’s a magical courtyard because cars can be parked within it, but there is no actual garage door, instead, it is disguised as a snazzy double door with etched glass windows. I’m not being sarcastic here, I was seriously troubled for awhile about how the cars got in and out, until I noticed the mechanism at the top of the doors.
Note also, the sewing machine table used to store miscellaneous items. It has a sewing machine in it. Fantastic, seriously.
Next up is the living room. Note the color scheme, I like to call this peach and chartreuse, really gets the appetite going. And who doesn’t love Ikea chic!
And then there’s my flat mate’s door, which is really pretty, actually. Here:
Now to my atrium:
It’s nice, because all of us have our own rooms, an Hannah and I (the only girls in the flat) have an entrance way into our bedrooms. Which is pretty neat.
Finally my bedroom:
I’d like to point out, Mom, that I straightened before I snapped these photos. That the bed covered with stuff is like that because I am awesome and have no hooks for my jacket. Oh and the dresser that has open drawers, is like that because the floor.
The floor slopes down at an angle so the drawer’s stay that way, it’s fun to push them closed and watch as they slowly re-open of their own volition.
And to finish off, the sticker on the door to the kitchen. It’s glittery.
Dobry vecer!
I’m working hard today, seriously. I don’t think I ever really worked this hard in college (or university I’ve found I need to clarify). But it’s a different kind of hard. And I’m actually doing my work.
But I have a few things I’d like to say, completely unrelated to work.
1. Front loading washing machines give me the heebie-jeebies.
No seriously. I’m sitting in my flat’s kitchen, which is more like a galley. And we’re lucky in the scheme of things, because we have a washing machine in our flat. But it’s a European one so it does smaller more economical loads, which is nice. The heebie-jeebies part comes in because of the super-speed at which the spin cycle occurs. It literally shakes the building. If you sit with your back against the wall and one of our neighbors runs their washer . . . it’s ridiculous! But when you’re in the kitchen, in the thick of the washing, it’s literally terrifying. It makes things fall off tables. Though that may because I have what I think is the spin cycle set to 1000. But I don’t understand how these silly European machines with their Celsius and whatnot work!
2. All this talk of laundry and kitchens made me realize that I haven’t put pictures of my amusing little flat up for public consumption. So here goes the world tour of Janine’s first Prague flat.
We’ll start with the kitchen. It’s plenty wide and has lovely orange—ish tiles that contrast well with the shade of cabinets, complete with etched “glass” (plastic) in the cabinets above the sink. Beyond those casement windows is the magical courtyard, which is actually quite pretty.
It’s a magical courtyard because cars can be parked within it, but there is no actual garage door, instead, it is disguised as a snazzy double door with etched glass windows. I’m not being sarcastic here, I was seriously troubled for awhile about how the cars got in and out, until I noticed the mechanism at the top of the doors. 
Note also, the sewing machine table used to store miscellaneous items. It has a sewing machine in it. Fantastic, seriously.
Next up is the living room. Note the color scheme, I like to call this peach and chartreuse, really gets the appetite going. And who doesn’t love Ikea chic!
And then there’s my flat mate’s door, which is really pretty, actually. Here:
Now to my atrium:
It’s nice, because all of us have our own rooms, an Hannah and I (the only girls in the flat) have an entrance way into our bedrooms. Which is pretty neat. Finally my bedroom:
I’d like to point out, Mom, that I straightened before I snapped these photos. That the bed covered with stuff is like that because I am awesome and have no hooks for my jacket. Oh and the dresser that has open drawers, is like that because the floor. 
The floor slopes down at an angle so the drawer’s stay that way, it’s fun to push them closed and watch as they slowly re-open of their own volition.And to finish off, the sticker on the door to the kitchen. It’s glittery.
Dobry vecer!
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Praha day . . . later.
So I went to Bratislava; which, if you don't know, is the capitol of The Slovak Republic (Slovakia, but if we're being proper).
Time for your cultural and historical lesson: The people are Slovaks, but used to be Czechoslovakian. They've got two different languages with minor differences (dekuji in Czech and dakujem though they're pronounced very similarly) and they're separated
by the Carpathian Mountains and Moravia (which is a beautiful place, lots of wine).
After the fall of the Austrian Empire in 1906 Czechoslovakia was created, and Prague made the capitol. During the cold war, Prague was invaded and became isolated, but instead of demolishing one of the major Slavic capitols (outside of Kiev and Moscow) they added the concrete style construction to the suburbs. Bratislava wasn't necessarily maintained in the same way. While the city is just as old and nearly as significant on a historical stage, Bratislava lives on in what I like to call concrete bloc chic. The Old Town Center is well restored and beautiful, but outside what is considered "tourist" central, the city is much like what you would expect. Sad buildings with little character.
But there is something fascinating about the city. One of my travel mates, Andy, liked to talk about how exciting it could potentially be to be Slovak in this day and age. Bratislava's a city and Slovakia is a country that has been dominated by other stronger cultures and powers in recent history. And now, it is just a baby country in some senses (15 years old) yet such an ancient culture in others.
But I'm done pontificating.
Here's the thing about Bratislava, it's cold. Really, really cold. Like a damp cold that I wasn't expecting (nor was I really used to, MN doesn't have that kind of cold, really). But the change in country was noticeable from the moment we stepped off the train. I've never been that "far east" if you will. There was what felt like, less access to English, and less comfort with tourism, which made being there feel like stepping into uncharted territory.
But me without my long-johns or thermals or whatever wandering around the city made for some amusement. I'd make such a Someone lost their hat at one point, so it was up to me to channel my Polish/(and minute)Russian roots.fantastic Russian grandmother . . . right?
But beyond that, the city was filled with gorgeous architecture and crumbling corners
and these fantastic squares that would be teeming with people and festivals had the weather permitted.
We found a nice touristy pub with inexpensive beer (that I've been drinking, but more on that later). And I got to see the infamous Danube River, which isn't so much blue, but gray-ish and crazy foggy.
And our hotel, I forgot to mention! Called the Hotel Kyjev, built in the 70s, rocks communist era construction like it's nobody's business. It's the kind of place that you knew was just exquisite in it's heyday. But now, per my fascinating conversation with the semi-English speaking bellhop, the elevator hasn't been updated since 1982, the hotel has absolutely no money, and trashy English boys like to vandalize the place. Oh and each room comes equipped with a 70s era radio, that I'm sure we could jerry-rig to cb-radio Siberia, and make contact with some KGB agents that don't know the cold war is over.
And of course, don't forget my favorite way to travel in Europe . . . train rides. No seriously, I love to ride trains. And on the ride home, we spent 4 hours playing whist, which made me feel very English.
Time for your cultural and historical lesson: The people are Slovaks, but used to be Czechoslovakian. They've got two different languages with minor differences (dekuji in Czech and dakujem though they're pronounced very similarly) and they're separated
by the Carpathian Mountains and Moravia (which is a beautiful place, lots of wine).
After the fall of the Austrian Empire in 1906 Czechoslovakia was created, and Prague made the capitol. During the cold war, Prague was invaded and became isolated, but instead of demolishing one of the major Slavic capitols (outside of Kiev and Moscow) they added the concrete style construction to the suburbs. Bratislava wasn't necessarily maintained in the same way. While the city is just as old and nearly as significant on a historical stage, Bratislava lives on in what I like to call concrete bloc chic. The Old Town Center is well restored and beautiful, but outside what is considered "tourist" central, the city is much like what you would expect. Sad buildings with little character.
But there is something fascinating about the city. One of my travel mates, Andy, liked to talk about how exciting it could potentially be to be Slovak in this day and age. Bratislava's a city and Slovakia is a country that has been dominated by other stronger cultures and powers in recent history. And now, it is just a baby country in some senses (15 years old) yet such an ancient culture in others.
But I'm done pontificating.
Here's the thing about Bratislava, it's cold. Really, really cold. Like a damp cold that I wasn't expecting (nor was I really used to, MN doesn't have that kind of cold, really). But the change in country was noticeable from the moment we stepped off the train. I've never been that "far east" if you will. There was what felt like, less access to English, and less comfort with tourism, which made being there feel like stepping into uncharted territory.
But me without my long-johns or thermals or whatever wandering around the city made for some amusement. I'd make such a Someone lost their hat at one point, so it was up to me to channel my Polish/(and minute)Russian roots.fantastic Russian grandmother . . . right? But beyond that, the city was filled with gorgeous architecture and crumbling corners
and these fantastic squares that would be teeming with people and festivals had the weather permitted.
We found a nice touristy pub with inexpensive beer (that I've been drinking, but more on that later). And I got to see the infamous Danube River, which isn't so much blue, but gray-ish and crazy foggy.
And our hotel, I forgot to mention! Called the Hotel Kyjev, built in the 70s, rocks communist era construction like it's nobody's business. It's the kind of place that you knew was just exquisite in it's heyday. But now, per my fascinating conversation with the semi-English speaking bellhop, the elevator hasn't been updated since 1982, the hotel has absolutely no money, and trashy English boys like to vandalize the place. Oh and each room comes equipped with a 70s era radio, that I'm sure we could jerry-rig to cb-radio Siberia, and make contact with some KGB agents that don't know the cold war is over.
And of course, don't forget my favorite way to travel in Europe . . . train rides. No seriously, I love to ride trains. And on the ride home, we spent 4 hours playing whist, which made me feel very English.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Praha Day 13-ish
Hurricane Janine has officially re-invaded Eastern Europe, or at least a small portion of Prague.
No seriously.
For those of you confused by that silly statement above, the last time I was in Eastern Europe (January 2006, Carthage Choir tour) I had what can be described as a teensy weensy bit of a cough.
And by teensy weensy I mean enormous. So enormous that it disrupted conversations, made random passersby turn and stare, could infect the church members that even dared to stand within a rather large radius of its ridiculousness. So enormous that one of the random choir members bequeathed to me the sweet nickname “Hurricane Janine”. And if any of you called me during the month or so after we returned home, you’d hear my outgoing message for the Hurricane Janine Relief Fund
Well she’s back, with a vengeance. And it’s colds like these that make you want your mommy and a hot bath and lots of Vicks Vaporub (which most children detest). I have none of those things, just kind roommates, near death in my sleep and the surprisingly useful recommendation from an Irish girl to drink some Jameson and knock myself out. Though the Jameson did help.
Needless to say I’ve been struggling. For example, Sunday we went to a fantastic restaurant on Narodni called Café Louvre.
It’s classic and has been around for years. I had the best chocolate coffee (I know, coffee right?) and Czech Honey Cake, which was delicious.
The interior was fantastically awesome. And that was all great, but I was the disgusting person in the café coughing and sneezing their way through life. I need a quarantine.
And let’s not discuss my inability to teach a lesson this morning. I got tripped on some syllable issues and some coughing (which my students found unsurprisingly amusing).
I suppose it could be worse . . . I could be in an even colder place . . . like Minnesota.
No seriously.
For those of you confused by that silly statement above, the last time I was in Eastern Europe (January 2006, Carthage Choir tour) I had what can be described as a teensy weensy bit of a cough.
And by teensy weensy I mean enormous. So enormous that it disrupted conversations, made random passersby turn and stare, could infect the church members that even dared to stand within a rather large radius of its ridiculousness. So enormous that one of the random choir members bequeathed to me the sweet nickname “Hurricane Janine”. And if any of you called me during the month or so after we returned home, you’d hear my outgoing message for the Hurricane Janine Relief Fund
Well she’s back, with a vengeance. And it’s colds like these that make you want your mommy and a hot bath and lots of Vicks Vaporub (which most children detest). I have none of those things, just kind roommates, near death in my sleep and the surprisingly useful recommendation from an Irish girl to drink some Jameson and knock myself out. Though the Jameson did help.
Needless to say I’ve been struggling. For example, Sunday we went to a fantastic restaurant on Narodni called Café Louvre.
It’s classic and has been around for years. I had the best chocolate coffee (I know, coffee right?) and Czech Honey Cake, which was delicious. 
The interior was fantastically awesome. And that was all great, but I was the disgusting person in the café coughing and sneezing their way through life. I need a quarantine.And let’s not discuss my inability to teach a lesson this morning. I got tripped on some syllable issues and some coughing (which my students found unsurprisingly amusing).
I suppose it could be worse . . . I could be in an even colder place . . . like Minnesota.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Pictures, as promised Praha Day 7
So here are the pictures I promised previously. Happy weekend!
Prazky Hrad, the Prague castle lit up at night.
The bridge we cross daily, most Legli, in order to get to school. Our flat is on the opposite side of the river from where the picture was taken.
The National Theater.
The bubble-wrap building, which is an addition to the National Theater.
The Charles Bridge, or Karluv Most
Prazky Hrad, the Prague castle lit up at night.
The bridge we cross daily, most Legli, in order to get to school. Our flat is on the opposite side of the river from where the picture was taken.
The National Theater.
The bubble-wrap building, which is an addition to the National Theater.
The Charles Bridge, or Karluv Most
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Day 4: technically
Tuesday, January 6, 2009 (eep, it's 2009!)
So this is my first post on this blog, but not my first day in Prague. I've been meaning to start this (I actually thought about beginning it before I left, but I didn't). I decided it was high time to start it because I had my first tumble today. That’s right, Winter in Prague 1, Janine 0. So depressing. And worse because it was so centrally located and there people heading home from work wandering about. The other day I mused that even though it was slick, it was nice to have pants without salt stains on the hems. I lied. I’ll blame it on the cobblestones or black ice, or something other than myself (and no Mom, I wasn’t wearing horrible shoes).
Life here has been fascinating so far. I arrived in Prague on Saturday, January 3 (my half b-day) in the late afternoon. First glitch, I lost a suitcase in my many connections and layovers. (Though I did get to stop in Dublin & have an Irish stamp in my passport) But more on my plane experience later. The first thing that struck me was A: how empty the airport was. And B: how strange it was that the songs on the radio in the car I took to my flat was Alanis Morriesette and then an acoustic version of "Ayo" a really bad Timbaland song.
We drove through suburban like areas, and it seemed very "Eastern Europe" and then not. It seems as if there is a contrast between old & new buildings, but a complete lack of what I like to call the "Soviet Bloc" look (a place my old 1984 Volvo Station Wagon would fit in quite nicely). Instead the architecture is a mix between rococo and something else that I'm not quite sure the name of.
My flat is typical of the era (at least in design and structure, though not really in style; the school is big on what I like to call Bargain Ikea chic, fantastic. But there are double doors leading in and out (and between) every room and the lobby is gorgeous.
The school is across the river from my flat which prove for an awesome walk everyday (expect the slippage, cause my knee is sore). I love that everything (literally from the local mini-mart to the school to the café across the street) is in an older building, very little is new, or modern or grotesque. Well there is one building, a part of the National Theater, that looks like bubble wrap. I’ll bring my camera out and take some photos.
But the best part of my walk is the exquisite view of the Prague Castle (Prazky Hrad) and the Charles Bridge (Karluv most) all lit up at night. Again, must bring camera.
So my trip over was long, quite long. But and I was a cross between terrified, as every little girl is when she leaves home, and exhilarated.
I had this amusing image of myself, on my flight to Dublin, running up to a flight attendant and demanding that they let me off the airplane because I did not want to leave these United States.
Instead, my flight was a little less than comfortable. I did enjoy not having a person next to me, so extra room for my sprawling legs and myself. Of course, I couldn’t sleep, so I watched movies. Three to be exact, if you’re curious: Pineapple Express (mediocre, not as funny as I’d hoped). The City of Ember (not so great a movie, but I must read the book) and The Duchess (Keira Knightley in a period drama . . . Dominic Cooper looking handsome and Ralph Fiennes the baddy with heart made of some gold and other metal amalgamation? . . . surprisingly decent.
I also had the awesome opportunity to be sick on the plane, and I do not recommend it; so take your airsickness patch and keep that tiny paper bag with you at all times (like your seatbelt). Seriously, I felt like I was at a hockey game or in church, it was all stand-up, sit-down, fight! Fight! Fight!
I had some fun observations as well:
-It’s fun to try and determine based on hair style, dress, skin tone (ie pale, not pale etc) if a person is of American, Irish or some other descent. Less for judgmental purposes and more for pure entertainment, because you’ll never really know.
-Vomiting on a plane is messy (raise your hand if you now know way too much?!
-Aer Lingus flight attendants sometimes wear a lot of cologne.
-Smiling helps
-It’s my half birthday
-Some Irish pronounce the ‘ch’ in Chicago just like that, ‘ch’ rather than ‘sh’.
The Dublin airport is whiter and more meandering that I expected it would be, whiter in the sense that the floors and chairs and walls are a clean combination of silver and white. It makes for a quite pretty and clean looking space, in contrast with the perpetual gray and bleakness that often pervades American airports.
Well, to bed. Take Care and
Dia ‘smuire dhoaibh (that’s good-bye in Gaelic).
So this is my first post on this blog, but not my first day in Prague. I've been meaning to start this (I actually thought about beginning it before I left, but I didn't). I decided it was high time to start it because I had my first tumble today. That’s right, Winter in Prague 1, Janine 0. So depressing. And worse because it was so centrally located and there people heading home from work wandering about. The other day I mused that even though it was slick, it was nice to have pants without salt stains on the hems. I lied. I’ll blame it on the cobblestones or black ice, or something other than myself (and no Mom, I wasn’t wearing horrible shoes).
Life here has been fascinating so far. I arrived in Prague on Saturday, January 3 (my half b-day) in the late afternoon. First glitch, I lost a suitcase in my many connections and layovers. (Though I did get to stop in Dublin & have an Irish stamp in my passport) But more on my plane experience later. The first thing that struck me was A: how empty the airport was. And B: how strange it was that the songs on the radio in the car I took to my flat was Alanis Morriesette and then an acoustic version of "Ayo" a really bad Timbaland song.
We drove through suburban like areas, and it seemed very "Eastern Europe" and then not. It seems as if there is a contrast between old & new buildings, but a complete lack of what I like to call the "Soviet Bloc" look (a place my old 1984 Volvo Station Wagon would fit in quite nicely). Instead the architecture is a mix between rococo and something else that I'm not quite sure the name of.
My flat is typical of the era (at least in design and structure, though not really in style; the school is big on what I like to call Bargain Ikea chic, fantastic. But there are double doors leading in and out (and between) every room and the lobby is gorgeous.
The school is across the river from my flat which prove for an awesome walk everyday (expect the slippage, cause my knee is sore). I love that everything (literally from the local mini-mart to the school to the café across the street) is in an older building, very little is new, or modern or grotesque. Well there is one building, a part of the National Theater, that looks like bubble wrap. I’ll bring my camera out and take some photos.
But the best part of my walk is the exquisite view of the Prague Castle (Prazky Hrad) and the Charles Bridge (Karluv most) all lit up at night. Again, must bring camera.
So my trip over was long, quite long. But and I was a cross between terrified, as every little girl is when she leaves home, and exhilarated.
I had this amusing image of myself, on my flight to Dublin, running up to a flight attendant and demanding that they let me off the airplane because I did not want to leave these United States.
Instead, my flight was a little less than comfortable. I did enjoy not having a person next to me, so extra room for my sprawling legs and myself. Of course, I couldn’t sleep, so I watched movies. Three to be exact, if you’re curious: Pineapple Express (mediocre, not as funny as I’d hoped). The City of Ember (not so great a movie, but I must read the book) and The Duchess (Keira Knightley in a period drama . . . Dominic Cooper looking handsome and Ralph Fiennes the baddy with heart made of some gold and other metal amalgamation? . . . surprisingly decent.
I also had the awesome opportunity to be sick on the plane, and I do not recommend it; so take your airsickness patch and keep that tiny paper bag with you at all times (like your seatbelt). Seriously, I felt like I was at a hockey game or in church, it was all stand-up, sit-down, fight! Fight! Fight!
I had some fun observations as well:
-It’s fun to try and determine based on hair style, dress, skin tone (ie pale, not pale etc) if a person is of American, Irish or some other descent. Less for judgmental purposes and more for pure entertainment, because you’ll never really know.
-Vomiting on a plane is messy (raise your hand if you now know way too much?!
-Aer Lingus flight attendants sometimes wear a lot of cologne.
-Smiling helps
-It’s my half birthday
-Some Irish pronounce the ‘ch’ in Chicago just like that, ‘ch’ rather than ‘sh’.
The Dublin airport is whiter and more meandering that I expected it would be, whiter in the sense that the floors and chairs and walls are a clean combination of silver and white. It makes for a quite pretty and clean looking space, in contrast with the perpetual gray and bleakness that often pervades American airports.
Well, to bed. Take Care and
Dia ‘smuire dhoaibh (that’s good-bye in Gaelic).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
