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.