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!
Showing posts with label Praha. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Praha. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
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.
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.
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!
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).
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