A few random thoughts.
1. I LOVE traveling by night train. I’m not really sure why – perhaps it’s the fact that I’m lulled to sleep so easily by the gentle rocking of the carriage as it speeds across the tracks; maybe it’s the idea that I feel like I have SO much room (at least compared to airline travel!); maybe it’s the fact that I’m a dork who loves to watch the scenery (for the few minutes I’m awake, at least) and imagine epic movies being made there. Whatever the case, I love it. There are downsides of course: the ticket-checker likes to come by at the most inopportune moments (when I’m itching my hiney, for example), unexpectedly flipping open the door and yelling what I presume to mean “tickets, please” in another language. Then there’s the whole “sharing a compartment with complete and utter strangers” thing, and the fact that I’m just a couple inches too long to lay out on the couchettes. But in spite of all this, I LOVE traveling by train. I love falling asleep in the middle of nowhere and waking up in a new country. I love opening my eyes and having no idea which part of Europe I’m in now. It’s a constant surprise – what will I see when I draw the curtains? (As I write this, I was just dive-bombed by a pillow thrown by a person sleeping on the upper bunk. That jolted me awake more than any can of Mountain Dew ever could.) Long story short: I love overnight trains. Now if only I can figure out how to barricade myself from the raining debris…
2. For a long while, I’ve believed that Eastern European men have the BEST moustaches. I’m a particularly astute moustache observer as I find hairy faces beyond captivating. I wouldn’t say I’m a fan, persay, but I DO enjoy peering closely and seeing what I can find hiding in the dense facial forest (is that Nutella?!). American moustaches are disappointingly well-groomed; true Colonel Sanders and Clark Gables are few and far between. Not so in Eastern Europe. Here, men have an astounding and seemingly limitless imagination when it comes to shaping facial hair. Just going to class each morning, I encounter two or three masterpieces – the dude in the butcher shop, did he model for a townsperson in “Beauty and the Beast”? The man on the metro, does his moustache do that curly French-chef-shape naturally? And my god, that man is a dead-ringer for Colonel Mustard! Life in Eastern Europe is always an adventure.
3. Bikes are dangerous. No, more than dangerous – DEADLY. You step in front of one and you’re a goner. Sometimes I wonder if bikers are secretly sadists, delighting in every second of the predator-prey game they play with the pedestrians. Honestly, do they stay hidden until the last second on PURPOSE?! Are they aiming for me?! I’m telling you, bikers (in the bicycle sense of the word) are menacing people. BEWARE.
4. My new favorite food is Belgian waffles. No, not the American, breakfast-y kind. I’m talking BELGIAN waffles, the kind they make in Belgium, the kind that induce foodgasm from the first bite. Imagine a donut – the best donut you’ve ever tasted, with just the right amount of sweetness, firm on the outside but warm and soft within. Now imagine taking the first bite of said donut – glorious, yes? Now multiply that happy feeling times 10million, and you will begin to experience the miracle known as the Belgian waffle.
5. I love my family more than anything in the entire world. (You were expecting something else, something more Stef-level flippant and silly, now weren’t you?) But seriously. I am so blessed to be a part of the “happy family” pentagon. Mom, Dad, Sam, and Kristi – I love you more than words can say.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
DAY TRIP TO LIDICE
On May 27, 1942, Reinhard Heydrich, Deputy Reich Protector of Bohemia and Moravia and one of Hitler’s closest friends, was assassinated in Prague. In retribution, Hitler ordered the small Czech mining village of Lidice to be liquidated on the false charge that it had aided the assassins. On June 10, 1942, the Nazis entered Lidice and rounded up the population. All 172 men and boys over age 16 in the village were immediately executed, while the women were deported to Ravensbrück concentration camp where most died before the end of the war. 8 children were selected for re-education in German families, and the rest (over 100) were gassed to death at Chelmno Concentration Camp.
Having rid the village of its inhabitants, the Nazis then destroyed the village itself, first setting all buildings on fire and then razing them to the ground with explosives. Finally, they exhumed the town cemetery and liquidated even THOSE inhabitants of Lidice. By the time they left, what had been a full-fledged village only days before was now no more than an empty field.
Today, the site houses a memorial, museum, monuments, the common grave of the Lidice men, and a "Park of Peace and Friendship" where thousands of rose-bushes from various parts of the world are planted. I visited the site alone, catching the public bus towards Kladno from the Dejvicka stop. Half an hour later, I was stepping out of the bus in the middle of nowhere. The bus stop sign read “Lidice” but it could just as easily have read “Uninhabited Czech Countryside.” I chose a direction to walk, and thank goodness the gods were on my side that day, because within minutes I could see what looked like a memorial off on the horizon. It was the Lidice memorial – much smaller than I had anticipated, but the memorial all the same.
The air was deathly still – as far as the eye could see, nothing moved. I saw no car, no other human, no signs of life besides an inappropriately bright and cheery “Coca-Cola” sign in front of the memorial, pointing toward some vending machines. I veered left and entered the museum, finding a long woman behind the counter reading a book. (I wonder how long it had been since she’d seen another human – perhaps she is like the Knight Templar in “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade,” doomed to a life of eternal solitude broken on the rare occasion that a random person enters her lair. But I digress.) She shook off her dust and welcomed me, ushering me into a room for a private screening of a documentary on Lidice that told the story of the town and showed footage of the town’s demolition (filmed in disgustingly precise detail by the Nazis).
From there, I went into the museum and saw a slew of artifacts – the door from the church (all that survived after it was burned to the ground), letters from the children written during the first days of their imprisonment begging distant families members for food and warm clothing, and perhaps most disturbingly, a picture of all the schoolchildren, taken just days before the Nazis entered the town to exact revenge. The museum had video after video of interviews – with the few Ravensbrück survivors, with the children chosen to be “re-educated” in Germany, and with the historians who brought the tragic history of Lidice to light. It was a chilling yet terrifically well-done museum.
I exited the building and entered the grounds of the memorial, following a winding footpath that led from the town’s lone remains (the foundation of the church and a wall of the school building) to the mass grave for the men murdered that fateful day in 1942, and then from a statue honoring the innocent Lidice children who fell victim to this terror to a memorial rose garden. All in all, it was a touching, heartbreaking, yet enthralling taste of history. I can’t do justice to the experience in words, but perhaps these pictures can help:
Memorial to the Lidice children.
The empty field where Lidice used to stand (the structure at the top of the hill is the memorial).
On May 27, 1942, Reinhard Heydrich, Deputy Reich Protector of Bohemia and Moravia and one of Hitler’s closest friends, was assassinated in Prague. In retribution, Hitler ordered the small Czech mining village of Lidice to be liquidated on the false charge that it had aided the assassins. On June 10, 1942, the Nazis entered Lidice and rounded up the population. All 172 men and boys over age 16 in the village were immediately executed, while the women were deported to Ravensbrück concentration camp where most died before the end of the war. 8 children were selected for re-education in German families, and the rest (over 100) were gassed to death at Chelmno Concentration Camp.
Having rid the village of its inhabitants, the Nazis then destroyed the village itself, first setting all buildings on fire and then razing them to the ground with explosives. Finally, they exhumed the town cemetery and liquidated even THOSE inhabitants of Lidice. By the time they left, what had been a full-fledged village only days before was now no more than an empty field.
Today, the site houses a memorial, museum, monuments, the common grave of the Lidice men, and a "Park of Peace and Friendship" where thousands of rose-bushes from various parts of the world are planted. I visited the site alone, catching the public bus towards Kladno from the Dejvicka stop. Half an hour later, I was stepping out of the bus in the middle of nowhere. The bus stop sign read “Lidice” but it could just as easily have read “Uninhabited Czech Countryside.” I chose a direction to walk, and thank goodness the gods were on my side that day, because within minutes I could see what looked like a memorial off on the horizon. It was the Lidice memorial – much smaller than I had anticipated, but the memorial all the same.
The air was deathly still – as far as the eye could see, nothing moved. I saw no car, no other human, no signs of life besides an inappropriately bright and cheery “Coca-Cola” sign in front of the memorial, pointing toward some vending machines. I veered left and entered the museum, finding a long woman behind the counter reading a book. (I wonder how long it had been since she’d seen another human – perhaps she is like the Knight Templar in “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade,” doomed to a life of eternal solitude broken on the rare occasion that a random person enters her lair. But I digress.) She shook off her dust and welcomed me, ushering me into a room for a private screening of a documentary on Lidice that told the story of the town and showed footage of the town’s demolition (filmed in disgustingly precise detail by the Nazis).
From there, I went into the museum and saw a slew of artifacts – the door from the church (all that survived after it was burned to the ground), letters from the children written during the first days of their imprisonment begging distant families members for food and warm clothing, and perhaps most disturbingly, a picture of all the schoolchildren, taken just days before the Nazis entered the town to exact revenge. The museum had video after video of interviews – with the few Ravensbrück survivors, with the children chosen to be “re-educated” in Germany, and with the historians who brought the tragic history of Lidice to light. It was a chilling yet terrifically well-done museum.
I exited the building and entered the grounds of the memorial, following a winding footpath that led from the town’s lone remains (the foundation of the church and a wall of the school building) to the mass grave for the men murdered that fateful day in 1942, and then from a statue honoring the innocent Lidice children who fell victim to this terror to a memorial rose garden. All in all, it was a touching, heartbreaking, yet enthralling taste of history. I can’t do justice to the experience in words, but perhaps these pictures can help:
Memorial to the Lidice children.
The empty field where Lidice used to stand (the structure at the top of the hill is the memorial).
DAY TRIP TO BRATISLAVA
Before Czechoslovakia split into two separate countries (the Czech Republic and the Slovak Republic) in 1993, Bratislava was just another big city. Today, it’s the capital of Slovakia, a bustling metropolis that serves as the center of the country’s political affairs. Bordered by Hungary to the south and Austria to the west, it is Slovakia’s largest city and one of the country’s main tourist destinations. I arrived with little to no clue as to what to expect, and I was pleasantly surprised. The city is small and easily walk-able, but still refreshingly modern and clean. There’s not much to see, but I spent the day wandering aimlessly and enjoyed every minute of it.
The most adorable statue in Eastern Europe.
I followed a crowd into this church hoping to look around, never expecting that they would shut the doors behind me and start mass in Slovak! Amazingly, I knew what was going on 99% of the time even though I didn't speak a word of the language. Thanks for preparing me for this day, Holy Cross!
Before Czechoslovakia split into two separate countries (the Czech Republic and the Slovak Republic) in 1993, Bratislava was just another big city. Today, it’s the capital of Slovakia, a bustling metropolis that serves as the center of the country’s political affairs. Bordered by Hungary to the south and Austria to the west, it is Slovakia’s largest city and one of the country’s main tourist destinations. I arrived with little to no clue as to what to expect, and I was pleasantly surprised. The city is small and easily walk-able, but still refreshingly modern and clean. There’s not much to see, but I spent the day wandering aimlessly and enjoyed every minute of it.
My favorite street.
The most adorable statue in Eastern Europe.
I followed a crowd into this church hoping to look around, never expecting that they would shut the doors behind me and start mass in Slovak! Amazingly, I knew what was going on 99% of the time even though I didn't speak a word of the language. Thanks for preparing me for this day, Holy Cross!
DAY TRIP TO ČESKÝ KRUMLOV
Considered one of the most beautiful medieval cities in all of Central Europe, Český Krumlov is a poet’s dream. Nestled in the middle of the Czech countryside, built into a bend of the Vltava River, and cradled under the shadow of a towering castle, the town seems to be straight out of a fairy tale; I half expected to see Belle and the townspeople pour out the front doors and start singing. The town is renowned for its beauty, and that’s a well-deserved accolade, especially in spring when the flowers are blooming and the land is green as far as the eye can see. I ventured there in winter, however – a less “picturesque” time to visit, perhaps, but I wanted to avoid the hordes of tourists and experience the beauty of the town on my own. Here are some of my favorite snapshots from that day:
Considered one of the most beautiful medieval cities in all of Central Europe, Český Krumlov is a poet’s dream. Nestled in the middle of the Czech countryside, built into a bend of the Vltava River, and cradled under the shadow of a towering castle, the town seems to be straight out of a fairy tale; I half expected to see Belle and the townspeople pour out the front doors and start singing. The town is renowned for its beauty, and that’s a well-deserved accolade, especially in spring when the flowers are blooming and the land is green as far as the eye can see. I ventured there in winter, however – a less “picturesque” time to visit, perhaps, but I wanted to avoid the hordes of tourists and experience the beauty of the town on my own. Here are some of my favorite snapshots from that day:
Sunday, March 7, 2010
BLOG POST 10
BUDAPEST, HUNGARY
I was warned not to expect too much from Budapest. Rebuilt from practically nothing after it was demolished in Allied bombing runs during WWII, it supposedly lacked the “old time charm” of Prague and the historical grandeur of more famous European capitals back west. I arrived with low expectations, anticipating a fun but otherwise unmemorable weekend. I was BLOWN AWAY by what I found.
The trip began on a semi-unpleasant note with a 3:30am blaring alarm, a 5am metro, and an early departure on the 6:30am Student Agency bus to Budapest via Brno, Bratislava, and Györ. My seatmate was a middle-aged Czech woman who smelled of burnt toast and kept her legs spread like a trucker the whole ride. We’d barely exchanged a “dobré rano” when I fell asleep, not to awaken til our first stop in good ol’ Brno. Here transpired the most awkward and (in retrospect) entertaining part of the entire bus ride. We shall call it “That Time Stef Really Had to Pee.” Intrigued? Read on.
This bus was equipped with a W.C. and as we were stopped, I figured I should take advantage of the lack of movement and use the facilities. I had the door half closed behind me when I heard a noise. “AHEM.” I peered out the door and found the bus attendant staring back at me, his hand holding the door, preventing it from closing. “AHEM,” he repeated. “Can I help you?”
An odd question. “No thanks, I think I’m all set!” I replied, puzzled, and went to close the door, but he didn’t let go.
“Can I HELP you?!” he repeated, more slowly and louder as though I was having trouble making out his words.
I feel so confused, but I smile – maybe he’s kidding with me? “I’m just – you know – going to the bathroom!” I’m speaking in my sing-songy, “the world is marshmallows and butterflies and rainbows,” voice, trying to turn it into a joke, but he’s not amused. As I try to keep my smile from morphing into a look of terror, he stares me down, not blinking. He says nothing – he just GLARES. Finger by finger he peels his hand from the bathroom door and gives me one last long look of suspicion before snapping around and walking away. I’m so weirded out that I can’t even GO anymore. I hurry back to my seat and spend the rest of the 6 hour bus ride sitting on my foot and avoiding his glances.
By the time we arrive in Budapest at 1:15pm, I am beyond ready to get OFF the bus. The next half hour or so goes by in a blue – we exchange our Czech crowns for Hungarian forints, purchase 3-day transportation passes, and somehow navigate from the bus station through the metro and down Budapest’s windy and insufficiently labeled streets to the Aboriginal Hostel. From the outside, it looks as crumbly and run-down as I was afraid it would be. Inside, however, it’s warm and cozy: there’s a common room with couches and a TV and free tea, and our room is ridiculously large. The bathroom has a HEATED towel rack (genius!) and the water is 100% potable – what more could a girl ask for?
The receptionist is an American from D.C. named Candace and she is a total sweetheart, giving us free maps and drawing all over them to orient us to the city. She’s taking a couple years off from her studies at American University to travel the world – for the past 4 months she’s been living in Budapest and by summer, she’ll be living in a small village in Spain teaching English. Quite the life!
In no time we were back on the metro heading toward the city center looking a wee bit less touristy with our oversized backpacks safely stowed back in the hostel. Our plan was to hit the Museum of Ethnography to get a taste of traditional Hungarian life before a traditional Hungarian dinner, but from the moment we stepped out of the metro stop into the sunlight, our plans went out the window. Totally unexpectedly we’d arrived just across the street from one of Budapest’s most stunning architectural wonders: Parliament. A towering, somewhat foreboding but simultaneously striking building, Parliament lies directly alongside the River Danube. Moving out from Parliament’s shadow, we got our first glimpse of the river bank. I stopped dead in my tracks – it was BEAUTIFUL. I snapped picture after picture, each angle more stunning than the one before. We strolled along the bank and it was like I was in one of those pictures in a calendar. Everything was still and serene and just so – well – photo-worthy! Plenty of couples must have felt the same way because every way we turned we found another pair holding hands or smooching or – in the case of one older couple that must’ve thought they were safely hidden among the bank’s rocks – full on making out. That last couple was actually rather creepy, but the REST of the scene was breathtaking.
We continued to meander along the Danube, taking our time because the sun was starting to set and we wanted to watch. We passed a piece of art called “Shoes on the River Danube.” It’s as simple as it sounds: cast-iron shoes of all kinds – heels, boots, children’s sandals – lined up ownerless along the river. This is a tribute to the hundreds of Hungarians shot and killed by the Nazis as the liberating Soviets were invading the city. To think that they almost survived the war, that they even heard the sound of liberating gunfire, only to die at Nazi hands like thousands of their friends and family members in the preceding years of deportation and terrorism… it’s heartbreaking.
BUDAPEST, HUNGARY
I was warned not to expect too much from Budapest. Rebuilt from practically nothing after it was demolished in Allied bombing runs during WWII, it supposedly lacked the “old time charm” of Prague and the historical grandeur of more famous European capitals back west. I arrived with low expectations, anticipating a fun but otherwise unmemorable weekend. I was BLOWN AWAY by what I found.
The trip began on a semi-unpleasant note with a 3:30am blaring alarm, a 5am metro, and an early departure on the 6:30am Student Agency bus to Budapest via Brno, Bratislava, and Györ. My seatmate was a middle-aged Czech woman who smelled of burnt toast and kept her legs spread like a trucker the whole ride. We’d barely exchanged a “dobré rano” when I fell asleep, not to awaken til our first stop in good ol’ Brno. Here transpired the most awkward and (in retrospect) entertaining part of the entire bus ride. We shall call it “That Time Stef Really Had to Pee.” Intrigued? Read on.
This bus was equipped with a W.C. and as we were stopped, I figured I should take advantage of the lack of movement and use the facilities. I had the door half closed behind me when I heard a noise. “AHEM.” I peered out the door and found the bus attendant staring back at me, his hand holding the door, preventing it from closing. “AHEM,” he repeated. “Can I help you?”
An odd question. “No thanks, I think I’m all set!” I replied, puzzled, and went to close the door, but he didn’t let go.
“Can I HELP you?!” he repeated, more slowly and louder as though I was having trouble making out his words.
I feel so confused, but I smile – maybe he’s kidding with me? “I’m just – you know – going to the bathroom!” I’m speaking in my sing-songy, “the world is marshmallows and butterflies and rainbows,” voice, trying to turn it into a joke, but he’s not amused. As I try to keep my smile from morphing into a look of terror, he stares me down, not blinking. He says nothing – he just GLARES. Finger by finger he peels his hand from the bathroom door and gives me one last long look of suspicion before snapping around and walking away. I’m so weirded out that I can’t even GO anymore. I hurry back to my seat and spend the rest of the 6 hour bus ride sitting on my foot and avoiding his glances.
By the time we arrive in Budapest at 1:15pm, I am beyond ready to get OFF the bus. The next half hour or so goes by in a blue – we exchange our Czech crowns for Hungarian forints, purchase 3-day transportation passes, and somehow navigate from the bus station through the metro and down Budapest’s windy and insufficiently labeled streets to the Aboriginal Hostel. From the outside, it looks as crumbly and run-down as I was afraid it would be. Inside, however, it’s warm and cozy: there’s a common room with couches and a TV and free tea, and our room is ridiculously large. The bathroom has a HEATED towel rack (genius!) and the water is 100% potable – what more could a girl ask for?
The receptionist is an American from D.C. named Candace and she is a total sweetheart, giving us free maps and drawing all over them to orient us to the city. She’s taking a couple years off from her studies at American University to travel the world – for the past 4 months she’s been living in Budapest and by summer, she’ll be living in a small village in Spain teaching English. Quite the life!
In no time we were back on the metro heading toward the city center looking a wee bit less touristy with our oversized backpacks safely stowed back in the hostel. Our plan was to hit the Museum of Ethnography to get a taste of traditional Hungarian life before a traditional Hungarian dinner, but from the moment we stepped out of the metro stop into the sunlight, our plans went out the window. Totally unexpectedly we’d arrived just across the street from one of Budapest’s most stunning architectural wonders: Parliament. A towering, somewhat foreboding but simultaneously striking building, Parliament lies directly alongside the River Danube. Moving out from Parliament’s shadow, we got our first glimpse of the river bank. I stopped dead in my tracks – it was BEAUTIFUL. I snapped picture after picture, each angle more stunning than the one before. We strolled along the bank and it was like I was in one of those pictures in a calendar. Everything was still and serene and just so – well – photo-worthy! Plenty of couples must have felt the same way because every way we turned we found another pair holding hands or smooching or – in the case of one older couple that must’ve thought they were safely hidden among the bank’s rocks – full on making out. That last couple was actually rather creepy, but the REST of the scene was breathtaking.
We continued to meander along the Danube, taking our time because the sun was starting to set and we wanted to watch. We passed a piece of art called “Shoes on the River Danube.” It’s as simple as it sounds: cast-iron shoes of all kinds – heels, boots, children’s sandals – lined up ownerless along the river. This is a tribute to the hundreds of Hungarians shot and killed by the Nazis as the liberating Soviets were invading the city. To think that they almost survived the war, that they even heard the sound of liberating gunfire, only to die at Nazi hands like thousands of their friends and family members in the preceding years of deportation and terrorism… it’s heartbreaking.
Just beyond the "Shoes on the River Danube" lay the world’s first suspension bridge, named the “Chain Bridge.” The science geek within wanted desperately to appreciate this engineering wonder, but alas – I just don’t have a smidgeon of affinity for bridges. We crossed the bridge (and oh! what a bridge it was!... no, I can’t even fake it) and found ourselves at the bottom of the steep hill leading to Buda Castle. Rather than pay to ride the funicular to the top, we decided to brave the stairs, and up we went. And up. AND up. Before long we were huffing and puffing (and blowing houses down?), but it was all worth it because at the top we were rewarded with an incredible view. By now the sun had set and only the very last glimmers of sunlight fell upon the city. The lights were beginning to come on and the traffic was picking up over the Chain Bridge as Hungarians rushed home from another work day. Imagine passing these sights every day – how long until you stop noticing the beauty? I know I’m already falling into that trap in Prague, seeing the castle from my classroom window and failing to register the magic of the moment because now it feels everyday and ordinary. I need to make sure I appreciate the beauty of where I am EVERY DAY or soon it will ALL become “ordinary.”
From there the beauty continued. We walked all around the Castle, from the ruins in back to the library within. We ventured further into town eventually stumbling upon St. Matthias Church (supposedly beautiful, but it was under construction so there was very little to see), and Fisherman’s Bastion, a stunning almost mosque-like building that gave us another great vantage point over the city. By now all the lights were on and Parliament and the Chain Bridge were bathed in light. They looked even more magical now than during the day.
Finally the exhaustion caught up with us and we decided to head back to the hostel and call it a day. On the way we stopped at a little Hungarian restaurant called “Háry” (yes, pronounced “hairy”) for dinner. At first the place was a wee bit disconcerting – it was practically deserted and the walls were decorated with hunting tools – traps, weapons, mounted heads, etc. But the food was amazing, especially the meat. It was very… fresh (*shudder*).
The next morning we woke up to the smell of fresh waffles. Turns out they were lukewarm and kinda nasty, but I was able to feast on bread and Nutella, so I was a happy camper.
We had originally planned to tour the Soviet Statue Park that morning but upon learning that it was far on the outskirts of town and the entrance fee was ridiculously expensive, it was back to the drawing board. We’d never actually made it to a museum yesterday, so today we headed first thing for the Hungarian National Museum just down the street. We ended up spending almost 3 hours there, but I have to say that I wasn’t impressed. The museum focused mainly on ancient history – the development of the land, the early ruling dynasties, etc. – but as I’m more a fan of post-19th century history, it just really wasn’t my thing. I loved the few dresses they had displayed from way-back-when (why don’t we dress like that anymore, seriously?!) but sadly that was only a small part of the museum. The rooms progressed chronologically so I got more and more excited as we approached the 20th century, but when we finally arrived I was majorly disappointed. While the majority of a floor was dedicated to ancient history, the 20th century got only 2 rooms – and not even large rooms at that. To give you an example of how much they glossed over history, hear this: there was a total of ONE sentence in the entire museum about the Holocaust. ONE sentence about the event that practically wiped out Hungary’s entire Jewish population. Despicable.
Luckily the rest of the day was way better. We transferred to the new hostel (“HomePlus Hostel”) where 9 of us would bunk together in one dorm room. The owners – Andrew and Adrienna – were INCREDIBLE; they took care of us like we were their own kids. They sent us to a Hungarian fast food restaurant for lunch, and the food was oddly delectable. Lots of meat and soup as usual, and all of it yummy. We stayed there for a while just hanging out to avoid the rain. As it turns out, I was the only one to bring an umbrella, and man! do I wish I’d just used a raincoat. See, I didn’t realize this at the time, but umbrellas are DANGEROUS. Somehow or another I accidentally poked myself in the eye with an umbrella spoke. Actually, “poked” is an understatement; I STABBED myself in the eye. It hurt but I didn’t realize quite how bad it was til someone pointed out that my eye was bright red. I looked to the right and someone else discovered why: I had a puncture wound in my eye. It was like someone had shot me with a baby pistol. I’m fine now, but that was by far one of the most unusual injuries I’ve ever sustained.
One-eyed and now terrified of my umbrella, I ventured out with the gang across town to some more famous sights: Heroes’ Square, Vajdahunjad Castle (a reconstruction of a Transylvanian castle), and the Széchenyi Baths. Some people stayed to take a dip, but the rest of us returned to the hostel to meet late-comer Adrian (he took the train while the rest of us took the bus) and hit a pizza place for dinner. I was adventurous and ordered a traditional Hungarian pizza: garlic cream sauce, paprika chicken, cheese, and vegetables. It was so incredible that I devoured the entire thing. A few hours later, satiated and bored with the Olympic Games on TV, we passed out.
Saturday morning we woke up bright and early to head to Budapest’s famous flea market. I was expecting something similar to Deerfield’s Farmer’s Market. NOT AT ALL. We stepped through the doors and found ourselves in a cavernous hall filled to the brim with vendors selling everything from vegetables to WWI-era gas masks. There were 3 entire floors awaiting our perusal so we set off to meander the rows and oogle the oddities we found. The first floor was almost exclusively foodstuffs: fruits, vegetables, fresh-baked bread, paprika, paprika, and more paprika, and meat so fresh that the carcasses were hanging out awaiting customers to point at the desired body part. (Ew!) The second floor was more varied: rows upon rows of traditional Hungarian folk costumes, too many bad, punny t-shirts to count, and a huge selection of Soviet-style hats (I took pictures for you, Ian, rather than buy one and run the risk of you ACTUALLY wearing it in public... you know you would :P). The basement was fairly nondescript: less crowded and with far fewer vendors than the floors above, we spent only a couple minutes down here before reemerging into the sunlit hall. Pretty much everyone left the flea market with a souvenir; my favorite was Allie's traditional Hungarian cap which she proceeded to wear for the rest of the trip. Walt and Jake came in a close second for their matching Hungarian soccer jackets, but only because they looked so ridiculous strolling around town MATCHING.
From the flea market we ventured to what turned out to be by far the most thought-provoking and chilling visit of the entire trip. The place was "The Terror House," a museum chronicling the bloody and horrific detainment and punishment tactics used by the Nazi and Soviet regimes. The museum is housed in the actual building used by the Secret Police of both regimes to intern, interrogate, and execute "enemies of the state." The exhibits are downright disturbing, and appropriately so considering the horrors that took place in this very building. Upon entering the museum, the first sight to greet my eyes was a wall covered with pictures of faces -- the last recorded images of the hundreds of prisoners killed while imprisoned here.
Room by room, the horrors continued. I was particularly affected by the real video footage of the events described. There were also videos of the survivors - those who had experienced the brutality of imprisonment and lived to tell the tale. They spoke of fellow prisoners doomed to die; of the back-breaking labor and meager provisions; and of laying on the cold stone floors of their cells and hearing the screams and sobs of their neighbors.
These videos were merely a taste of the horrors awaiting us further on in the exhibit. In the basement we saw the prison as it was in its heyday, with operational cells, torture rooms, and even gallows. We were allowed to enter the cells, some normal but most created with the intention of inflicting psychological torture every minute of every day. One room was only 3 feet high so the prisoner could never stand up straight; another was body-sized, like an upright coffin, that kept the prisoner in one, claustrophobia-inducing position for days on end; finally, one was perpetually filled ankle-deep with water, so any time the prisoner sat or lay down he was soaked. Prisoners stayed in these cells for extended periods, isolated from the world and human contact. Over time the confinement and the torture worked their magic and the prisoners - whether guilty or innocent - were driven to confession. Few lived to see the light of day; those not killed by the torture were more often than not sent to the gallows. The museum's final room does something I've never seen before: it lists the victimizers, those responsible for the evils seen here. Along with names, there are pictures and years of birth/death. Many have only one date listed; never convicted for their participation in the Nazi and/or Soviet crimes, they live among the innocent Hungarian populace, guilty but free, to this very day. Unbelievable.
After a quick pit stop at a Turkish restaurant to refuel, we continued the day by climbing to the top of the Citadel for another gorgeous view of the city. We returned to the hostel for a quick rest and before long found ourselves out yet again. This time it was just Allie, Chris, Diego, Adrian, and I, and we were on our way to the famous Széchenyi Baths.
The people who had gone to the Baths yesterday had absolutely loved the experience, so I was excited. It got off to a rather rough start: almost immediately after the boys and girls separated to get changed, Allie slipped on the wet stairs and sprained her left ankle. At this point I was practically blind (I was wearing glasses instead of contacts so as not to further irritate my poor eyeball, amd because the baths were so steamy, I had stored my glasses with my clothes in a locker) so we were not the best pair. I tried to help her walk but couldn't see where to go; sh tried to direct us but obviously couldn't do so physically. Somehow we made it outside to the steaming waters with no further injuries to ourselves or others, and it was GLORIOUS. Apparently it was crowded but everything was a hazy blur to me; it was as though I was in my own Olympic-sized hot tub with not a care in the world. I sat and soaked in the warmth; I played in the whirlpool created by the jet streams; I passed under waterfalls (sometimes unintentionally -- it's hard being blind!). We spent almost 3 hours in the water and by the time we left my skin was hilariously prune-y. I could've stayed all night but the club billed as the "largest in Europe" (I feel like they all say that!) awaited us, so after drying off we met up with the rest of the group and hit the town.
Tonight's destination was a club called "Studio" and I can say with absolutely certainty that it was the CRAZIEST club that I've ever been to. Even the line to get in was crazy. Let me clarify: by "line" I mean clumping mass of pushing and shoving, drunk loonies all clamoring to get through the door, and by "crazy," I mean out-of-control, sometimes painful and quite often scary. Thank goodness Diego was there -- I swear he was the only thing keeping me from getting squashed to smithereens. At one point I was trying to hold on to Kate when the crowd surged forward; I lost her hand and felt my arm twist so hard that I was afriad it would break. We all got through okay but I'm not joking when I say it felt like we were in line for lifeboats on the Titanic, there was so much desperation and urgency. It was truly scary.
Inside, the mood changed from scary-crazy to a more "I love life; let's DANCE!" kind of crazy -- MUCH more my style. The music was pounding and the dance floor full; suspended from the ceiling were girls dressed as angels on swings and boys dressed as sexy devils dancing on high platforms. The DJ was complimented by an entire wall of dancing girls set up Hollywood-Squares style, and throughout the night even more entertainment came out: bodybuilders, strippers (or as close as you can get without being officially naked), even acrobats and men twirling on fabric strips hanging from the ceiling. We danced and danced all night long - it was crazy fun. :)
The next day - our last in Budapest - we slept til almost noon, absolutely worn out from the night before. We ate at McDonald's (why are European fast food places so much classier than American ones?!), said goodbye to our wonderful hostel "parents," and - giant backpacks in tow - ventured to the largest synagogue in Europe (2nd in the world to one in New York). The Dohany Synagogue surprised me in that it looked so much like a church -- it even had an organ! It was beautiful and outside was another touching memorial to the Jewish Holocaust victims.
Suddenly, our adventure was at its end. We boarded the 4:15pm bus to Prague and almost 7.5 hours later arrived back at the Masarykova Kolej. I'd call this - our first independent trip in Europe - a wonderful success.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
BLOG POST 9
“A Taste of Daily Life”
It’s odd how quickly I’ve fallen into a routine here. I go to class, I run errands, I do my homework; it’s like any usual college existence except for – you know – the whole being in a foreign country thing. One thing that’s different is that for the first time I have to buy and cook my own meals and lemme tell you, that’s quite the adventure in and of itself. It astonishes me how spoiled I was at home by the tastiness of Mom’s cooking and the variety of food at the ND dining hall. I arrived in Prague fully aware that I had zero cooking skills and a full semester of cooking awaiting me, but I was blissfully optimistic. I mean, I’m a stud at a couple tried and true gourmet recipes – toaster waffles and peanut butter sandwiches are my real specialties – so how hard could other recipes really be?
I start this tale at the grocery store, where the meal preparation truly begins. Luckily I’m a stud in the produce department (thank you for honing my fruit fondling skills, Mom!) but when I arrive in the normal aisles, I’m ridiculously befuddled. Why is there an entire aisle of cheese and not a smidgeon of it familiar? What kind of meat is the kind labeled “meat”? What do you mean I have to weigh my own fruit or risk angering an entire checkout line of impatient Czechs? Why is there so much Nutella out to tempt us recovering addicts? And perhaps most importantly – where the hell is the toilet paper?! I get to the checkout line only to discover yet another confusion. No bags?! But no, that can’t be right; I know my rights, I deserve my paper or plastic! But alas, grocery stores here charge per bag, so the majority of people simply stuff their groceries into giant backpacks or duffel bags.
As long as I’ve weighed my fruit properly, the remainder of the grocery experience is rather calm. My items are rung up, I pay, I pack my groceries in the plastic bags I’ve learned to always carry with me, and as I turn to go, the checkout lady looks me straight in the eyes and barks “Nashledanou!” I freeze in place and run through the transaction in my head – I don’t think I forgot anything, so why is she yelling at me? I smile timidly back, my hands spread in a helpless “what did I do?!” gesture. She glares even more intently at me and repeats: “Nashledanou!” Why do I not speak Czech, what is she saying, am I in trouble, will she call the police, will I grow old and decrepit in a crumbling Czech prison til I waste away and DIE?! I end up lowering my head and stepping away, and when she suddenly redirects her attention to the next person in line, I bolt. I’m all the way back at my dorm, my heart beating at 300mph from the sprint, when it dawns on me. “Nashledanou” is the formal Czech word for “goodbye.” Whoops!
The cooking that ensues is a bore so I won’t go into it, but let me take this moment to proclaim to one and all that yours truly is defying all odds and slowly but surely learning to COOK! So far all I can make is eggs, chicken, and pasta, but I’ve also got a handle on Ramen noodles and a mean peanut-butter-and-banana sandwich. I don’t usually like to brag but, well… I’m kind of a cooking stud.
When I’m not suffering the trials and tribulations of cooking, I’m usually exercising my young mind at class. As I already earned 3 credits from the two week intensive Czech language course, I’m only taking four classes right now: Contemporary Czech Literature, Forensic Psychology, Reading Prague (a class that’s part history, part literature), and by far the most snore-inducing of them all: Romanticism and National Identity in Central Europe. My favorite is probably “Reading Prague” because a) even though it’s a 3 hour class, we only spend the first 90 minutes in lecture; the second half we venture out into the city to look at important architectural and historical sites, and b) because the teacher is full of the random facts that I love. For example, did you know that the King Charles for whom practically everything in this city is named was an avid collector of religious relics INCLUDING – I kid you not – Mary Magdalene’s left boob?!
Next on my list is probably “Contemporary Czech Literature,” but that’s only because the teacher is absolutely precious. She’s an older British woman with a blatant dorky side that she totally embraces, and she’s even got the adorable name to match: Bernie Higgins. Now doesn’t that just sound like a huggable, loveable character? I wish I could get away with calling her “Aunt Bernie,” but unfortunately she might find that just a bit too fast, too soon.
“Forensic Psychology” is an intriguing subject, but three hours of straight lecture with a teacher with a soft, lulling voice who says “umm” more often than real words would strain even the most dedicated student’s interest. At least it’s better than “Romanticism,” a course so abysmal it almost defies description. The class is a mix of philosophy and directionless ponderings interspersed with one student’s insistent and long-winded contributions. Sounds like a real winner, huh? All in all, this semester looks like it’ll be far easier than most – not because there’s a significant change in amount of coursework, but rather because I have so much more free time here! At school I’m always go-go-going rehearsing for one show or another, busy beyond imagination but loving every second of it. Here, every evening is completely, 100% free, and oddly enough, it just makes me miss being busy; I really miss doing shows! I don’t know if anyone from PEMCo or FTT is reading this (I don’t actually know if anyone PERIOD is reading this) but I miss you guys. :)
Luckily, excessive free time is a problem easily remedied. I absolutely love living in a huge city like Prague because there’s just always something to DO. The clubbing scene is incredible, and I’ve still only tested a handful of Prague’s dance clubs. What I love most, though, are the world-class (but still cheap!) cultural offerings. I told you about my experience at the Philharmonic Orchestra and in a couple weeks I’ll be seeing an opera, too, but what has absolutely blown me away beyond reckoning is the ballet scene. Last week I went with AIFS to see “Romeo and Juliet” and WOW. I knew Eastern Europe was famous for its ballet – Russia is, at least—but I still wasn’t prepared for just how incredible the performance would be. This show had entirely original choreography, more West Side Story than traditional, classical ballet. It took the story and transported it to the 1940s complete with guns and cars, altering the story here and there but still creating a work as much a masterpieces as the original Shakespeare play. From the moment the curtain opened to the moment Juliet died in her beloved Romeo’s embrace, finally in death able to make the connection forbidden in life, I was riveted. I wish I could capture the absolute beauty of the work in words, but I know nothing I say can do it justice. All I’ll say is that the talent and passion I witnessed here passed magnificence and approached magic – it ranked up there with “Othello” (by the Joffrey Ballet of Chicago) and “Dracula” (by the Milwaukee Ballet) as one of the best balletic performances I’ve ever witnessed.
While “Romeo and Juliet” was incredibly modernized, the next ballet I saw – “Swan Lake” - was classical through and through. It wasn’t nearly so emotionally compelling but it was still technically impeccable. One dancer in particular stuck out above the rest – he played the court jester and he reminded me so much of Calvin Kitten from the Joffrey Ballet. His jumps reached mind-blowing heights but looked utterly effortless, plus his fouette solo was one of the longest and most impressive I’ve seen. The ballerina dancing Odette/Odile also blew me away not only because she was able to embody swan-like characteristics without compromising her perfect form, but also because her anguish in the closing act was so sincere and touching. I think that finally enough time has passed since my days of ballet that I can truly appreciate the art without being jealous it’s not me up there on stage, and that makes the shows all the more incredible. I’m so blessed to be here!
“A Taste of Daily Life”
It’s odd how quickly I’ve fallen into a routine here. I go to class, I run errands, I do my homework; it’s like any usual college existence except for – you know – the whole being in a foreign country thing. One thing that’s different is that for the first time I have to buy and cook my own meals and lemme tell you, that’s quite the adventure in and of itself. It astonishes me how spoiled I was at home by the tastiness of Mom’s cooking and the variety of food at the ND dining hall. I arrived in Prague fully aware that I had zero cooking skills and a full semester of cooking awaiting me, but I was blissfully optimistic. I mean, I’m a stud at a couple tried and true gourmet recipes – toaster waffles and peanut butter sandwiches are my real specialties – so how hard could other recipes really be?
I start this tale at the grocery store, where the meal preparation truly begins. Luckily I’m a stud in the produce department (thank you for honing my fruit fondling skills, Mom!) but when I arrive in the normal aisles, I’m ridiculously befuddled. Why is there an entire aisle of cheese and not a smidgeon of it familiar? What kind of meat is the kind labeled “meat”? What do you mean I have to weigh my own fruit or risk angering an entire checkout line of impatient Czechs? Why is there so much Nutella out to tempt us recovering addicts? And perhaps most importantly – where the hell is the toilet paper?! I get to the checkout line only to discover yet another confusion. No bags?! But no, that can’t be right; I know my rights, I deserve my paper or plastic! But alas, grocery stores here charge per bag, so the majority of people simply stuff their groceries into giant backpacks or duffel bags.
As long as I’ve weighed my fruit properly, the remainder of the grocery experience is rather calm. My items are rung up, I pay, I pack my groceries in the plastic bags I’ve learned to always carry with me, and as I turn to go, the checkout lady looks me straight in the eyes and barks “Nashledanou!” I freeze in place and run through the transaction in my head – I don’t think I forgot anything, so why is she yelling at me? I smile timidly back, my hands spread in a helpless “what did I do?!” gesture. She glares even more intently at me and repeats: “Nashledanou!” Why do I not speak Czech, what is she saying, am I in trouble, will she call the police, will I grow old and decrepit in a crumbling Czech prison til I waste away and DIE?! I end up lowering my head and stepping away, and when she suddenly redirects her attention to the next person in line, I bolt. I’m all the way back at my dorm, my heart beating at 300mph from the sprint, when it dawns on me. “Nashledanou” is the formal Czech word for “goodbye.” Whoops!
The cooking that ensues is a bore so I won’t go into it, but let me take this moment to proclaim to one and all that yours truly is defying all odds and slowly but surely learning to COOK! So far all I can make is eggs, chicken, and pasta, but I’ve also got a handle on Ramen noodles and a mean peanut-butter-and-banana sandwich. I don’t usually like to brag but, well… I’m kind of a cooking stud.
When I’m not suffering the trials and tribulations of cooking, I’m usually exercising my young mind at class. As I already earned 3 credits from the two week intensive Czech language course, I’m only taking four classes right now: Contemporary Czech Literature, Forensic Psychology, Reading Prague (a class that’s part history, part literature), and by far the most snore-inducing of them all: Romanticism and National Identity in Central Europe. My favorite is probably “Reading Prague” because a) even though it’s a 3 hour class, we only spend the first 90 minutes in lecture; the second half we venture out into the city to look at important architectural and historical sites, and b) because the teacher is full of the random facts that I love. For example, did you know that the King Charles for whom practically everything in this city is named was an avid collector of religious relics INCLUDING – I kid you not – Mary Magdalene’s left boob?!
Next on my list is probably “Contemporary Czech Literature,” but that’s only because the teacher is absolutely precious. She’s an older British woman with a blatant dorky side that she totally embraces, and she’s even got the adorable name to match: Bernie Higgins. Now doesn’t that just sound like a huggable, loveable character? I wish I could get away with calling her “Aunt Bernie,” but unfortunately she might find that just a bit too fast, too soon.
“Forensic Psychology” is an intriguing subject, but three hours of straight lecture with a teacher with a soft, lulling voice who says “umm” more often than real words would strain even the most dedicated student’s interest. At least it’s better than “Romanticism,” a course so abysmal it almost defies description. The class is a mix of philosophy and directionless ponderings interspersed with one student’s insistent and long-winded contributions. Sounds like a real winner, huh? All in all, this semester looks like it’ll be far easier than most – not because there’s a significant change in amount of coursework, but rather because I have so much more free time here! At school I’m always go-go-going rehearsing for one show or another, busy beyond imagination but loving every second of it. Here, every evening is completely, 100% free, and oddly enough, it just makes me miss being busy; I really miss doing shows! I don’t know if anyone from PEMCo or FTT is reading this (I don’t actually know if anyone PERIOD is reading this) but I miss you guys. :)
Luckily, excessive free time is a problem easily remedied. I absolutely love living in a huge city like Prague because there’s just always something to DO. The clubbing scene is incredible, and I’ve still only tested a handful of Prague’s dance clubs. What I love most, though, are the world-class (but still cheap!) cultural offerings. I told you about my experience at the Philharmonic Orchestra and in a couple weeks I’ll be seeing an opera, too, but what has absolutely blown me away beyond reckoning is the ballet scene. Last week I went with AIFS to see “Romeo and Juliet” and WOW. I knew Eastern Europe was famous for its ballet – Russia is, at least—but I still wasn’t prepared for just how incredible the performance would be. This show had entirely original choreography, more West Side Story than traditional, classical ballet. It took the story and transported it to the 1940s complete with guns and cars, altering the story here and there but still creating a work as much a masterpieces as the original Shakespeare play. From the moment the curtain opened to the moment Juliet died in her beloved Romeo’s embrace, finally in death able to make the connection forbidden in life, I was riveted. I wish I could capture the absolute beauty of the work in words, but I know nothing I say can do it justice. All I’ll say is that the talent and passion I witnessed here passed magnificence and approached magic – it ranked up there with “Othello” (by the Joffrey Ballet of Chicago) and “Dracula” (by the Milwaukee Ballet) as one of the best balletic performances I’ve ever witnessed.
While “Romeo and Juliet” was incredibly modernized, the next ballet I saw – “Swan Lake” - was classical through and through. It wasn’t nearly so emotionally compelling but it was still technically impeccable. One dancer in particular stuck out above the rest – he played the court jester and he reminded me so much of Calvin Kitten from the Joffrey Ballet. His jumps reached mind-blowing heights but looked utterly effortless, plus his fouette solo was one of the longest and most impressive I’ve seen. The ballerina dancing Odette/Odile also blew me away not only because she was able to embody swan-like characteristics without compromising her perfect form, but also because her anguish in the closing act was so sincere and touching. I think that finally enough time has passed since my days of ballet that I can truly appreciate the art without being jealous it’s not me up there on stage, and that makes the shows all the more incredible. I’m so blessed to be here!
BLOG POST 8
Sunday, February 21
It’s a bitterly cold day in the Czech Republic, but weather.com promises it’ll start to warm up within the week. For some this is glorious news; I’ve practically forgotten what the ground looks like without snow. Others are less enthusiastic, namely the sledding crew (Allie, Jake, Ian, and Chris) who just recently acquired sleds and have been zooming down Petrín Hill almost daily. The way I see it, why slide down a snowy hill when you can ZIP down an ICY metal tube, only one bad turn away from imminent death?! And that, my dear friends, is why I organized a trip to Prague’s bobsledding course.
We headed out about 2pm on Sunday taking a slew of metro lines and buses to get to our destination in the outermost parts of the city. When we finally arrived, we could see the course stretched out down the hill before us and, being the excitable kook I am, I headed straight for the ticket office. Soon I found myself on a “bobsled” (more like a single-rider, open-top version of a REAL bobsled, but still) and speeding off down the course. It started off quite slow, to the point that I was able to pull out my camera and start recording my ride. But by the time I hit “record” the speed had picked up. Suddenly I was whizzing along the course, my hair flying behind me. I was going crazy fast, so fast that on most turns I was convinced I’d explode off the track. Somehow I held on to the camera and thank goodness I did because the resulting recording ROCKS! Take a look:
Within minutes the ride was over. My hair was windswept and my eyes tearing from the wind, but I was downright giddy from the adrenaline rush, giggling and cheering for my friends as they took their turns on the course. Later I learned that there’d been a hand-brake on the bobsled and signs in Czech warning to use it before certain turns. Guess that explains why I felt so out of control at points! At least I stayed on my bobsled – apparently Walt tipped out of his on a turn. He was a bit bruised but otherwise fine… I have a feeling he wishes he knew about the brake, too.
There was a tiny pub beside the course and that’s where we went to warm up after riding. I felt so happy and so brave (a little less so when minutes later I saw 8-year-olds zipping down the course, but still!). It was an incredible afternoon.
The adventure continued that night when Diego and I ventured off to the infamously ugly TV Tower and rode to the top. Even though the dark made it more difficult to take pictures, the view was absolutely beautiful. The viewing platform was practically empty and looking out over the sparkling lights of the city, I felt like I was floating on a cloud. So beautiful!
We returned to the dorm just in time for the Czech Republic vs. Russia Olympic hockey game. It seemed that the entire population of the dorm was crammed into the student pub in the basement to watch the game, and it was a rowdy bunch. Everyone got so into the game, especially the Czech students, that I couldn’t help but get into it, too. (And that’s saying a LOT, as anyone in my Notre Dame football seating group will tell you.)
The game ended late and with a loss, much to the joy of one random Russian exchange student and the drunken depression of a whole roomful of real and adopted Czechs. Tomorrow classes would start, and as much as we’d like to hang out all night, it was time to rest up before the mental ardor of tomorrow.
Sunday, February 21
It’s a bitterly cold day in the Czech Republic, but weather.com promises it’ll start to warm up within the week. For some this is glorious news; I’ve practically forgotten what the ground looks like without snow. Others are less enthusiastic, namely the sledding crew (Allie, Jake, Ian, and Chris) who just recently acquired sleds and have been zooming down Petrín Hill almost daily. The way I see it, why slide down a snowy hill when you can ZIP down an ICY metal tube, only one bad turn away from imminent death?! And that, my dear friends, is why I organized a trip to Prague’s bobsledding course.
We headed out about 2pm on Sunday taking a slew of metro lines and buses to get to our destination in the outermost parts of the city. When we finally arrived, we could see the course stretched out down the hill before us and, being the excitable kook I am, I headed straight for the ticket office. Soon I found myself on a “bobsled” (more like a single-rider, open-top version of a REAL bobsled, but still) and speeding off down the course. It started off quite slow, to the point that I was able to pull out my camera and start recording my ride. But by the time I hit “record” the speed had picked up. Suddenly I was whizzing along the course, my hair flying behind me. I was going crazy fast, so fast that on most turns I was convinced I’d explode off the track. Somehow I held on to the camera and thank goodness I did because the resulting recording ROCKS! Take a look:
Within minutes the ride was over. My hair was windswept and my eyes tearing from the wind, but I was downright giddy from the adrenaline rush, giggling and cheering for my friends as they took their turns on the course. Later I learned that there’d been a hand-brake on the bobsled and signs in Czech warning to use it before certain turns. Guess that explains why I felt so out of control at points! At least I stayed on my bobsled – apparently Walt tipped out of his on a turn. He was a bit bruised but otherwise fine… I have a feeling he wishes he knew about the brake, too.
There was a tiny pub beside the course and that’s where we went to warm up after riding. I felt so happy and so brave (a little less so when minutes later I saw 8-year-olds zipping down the course, but still!). It was an incredible afternoon.
The adventure continued that night when Diego and I ventured off to the infamously ugly TV Tower and rode to the top. Even though the dark made it more difficult to take pictures, the view was absolutely beautiful. The viewing platform was practically empty and looking out over the sparkling lights of the city, I felt like I was floating on a cloud. So beautiful!
We returned to the dorm just in time for the Czech Republic vs. Russia Olympic hockey game. It seemed that the entire population of the dorm was crammed into the student pub in the basement to watch the game, and it was a rowdy bunch. Everyone got so into the game, especially the Czech students, that I couldn’t help but get into it, too. (And that’s saying a LOT, as anyone in my Notre Dame football seating group will tell you.)
The game ended late and with a loss, much to the joy of one random Russian exchange student and the drunken depression of a whole roomful of real and adopted Czechs. Tomorrow classes would start, and as much as we’d like to hang out all night, it was time to rest up before the mental ardor of tomorrow.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
BLOG POST 7
Considering I haven’t been to class since before Christmas, it’s amazing how quickly I’ve gotten back into the swing of academia. On Monday we started the 2-week intensive Czech course that all exchange students are required to take before the semester officially starts up on February 22, and so far I am LOVING it. I’m in a small, 12-person class taught by Lenka, this absurdly AMAZING Czech woman who’s all smiles and laughs, and probably one of the best teachers I’ve ever had, period. Class is held from 9am-1:45pm (or in Czech time, “9-13:45”) in a 5th floor classroom in an obscure building on Jindřišska Street, just off Wenceslas Square. This building is kinda sketch: the lights have a tendency to turn themselves on and off (not good when you’re halfway up the giant circular staircase and suddenly in pitch blackness) and the elevator can’t decide just how much weight it can carry – sometimes its “overload” button beeps when there are only 3 people aboard, and sometimes it carries 7 people without a sound. I’ve decided it’s not really about the weight of the load; the elevator’s just a bitch. (Too bad Jake’s not there to tell it off.)
The class absolutely rocks my socks. You’d think that spending 5 hours a day cooped up in a tiny classroom learning a difficult language with practically zero overlap with English would be frustrating and possibly even insanity-inducing, but somehow I love it. I blame 3 main factors. First, Sam (yes, you, big sister!). She’s always loved foreign languages, trying to learn everything from Swahili to ancient Egyptian at one point or another, and somehow, over time, her passion has rubbed off (if even just a little) on me. Second, my fellow Czech cronies, Kacy and Walt. These kids are absolute kooks – they keep me entertained and awake despite the early hours and long days. Finally, Lenka, our teacher. This lady is incredible, more like a friend than a professor. I could see her being an amazing Kindergarten teacher because of her personality – so sweet and patient – but she’s also hilarious. She likes to tell us stories about Czech traditions (for example, every Easter boys go to girls’ houses, sing a song, and then hit the girl with a switch, and in exchange she gives him a decorated egg… definitely one of their odder traditions) but she also likes to hear all about what things are like in America, so it’s like we’re sharing information rather than being lectured. It’s funny because I usually dislike hard classes based purely on the fact that they’re so hard, but I LOVE this Czech class. I’m gonna miss it when it ends.
The first day of class we learned very basic Czech phrases (including my perpetual favorite “ahoj” -- pronounced “ahoy” and meaning “hello”) and how to pronounce the words. I won’t go into detail here lest I bore you to tears with grammar rules and vocabulary drills, but I will say that Czech words have a tendency to have way too many letters and way too many syllables, and memorizing them is a real pill. At the end of class every day, my head feels vaguely like it’s ready to explode from such an overdose of information, but I’m surprised and pleased to report that I seem to be retaining quite a bit of what I’m learning.
Tuesday night marked a nice diversion from the daily grind. Kate, Adrian, Jessica, Walt, Kacy, and I saw a traditional black light theatre show at one of Rick Steves’ favorite theatres: Ta Fantastika. As Prague is practically the only place in the world where you can find this nonverbal, absurdist theatre style, Kate and I (theatre majors unite!) knew we’d have to see at least one black light show while we were here, and the others got dragged along for what would prove to be a downright WACKO evening. We knew going into it that it was supposed to be “weird” and “different” – what we didn’t realize was just HOW crazy it would be! The show tonight was called “Aspects of Alice,” a reinterpretation of the “Alice in Wonderland.” Now, “Alice” is wacky on its own – add the absurdist black light theatre elements and it’s downright ridiculous. I really can’t explain its lunacy in words; the whole show felt like one long acid trip. Take a look at this link to get a better idea, but keep in mind that the live show is WAY trippier than the video makes it out to be:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ElMrqam-WyY
CRAZY, right?! Anyway, that was quite the adventure. Also, we didn’t realize at the time, but there were 2 shows every night – the earlier “PG-13” show, and the later, let’s say… naughtier show. We went to the “calmer” of the two and even that was fairly raunchy… I can’t even imagine what the later show would be like.
On Wednesday we took our first class field trip, to the World Press Photo exhibit in the Old Town Hall. It was an absolutely breathtaking collection, a compilation of the best news photos from all of 2009. I loved the “photo of the year.” It was taken during President Obama’s most recent visit to Prague and places him and the Czech Republic’s first democratic leader, President Masaryk, side by side, with all of Prague traversing the space between them. It’s practically an inspirational poster, a reminder of the democracy that triumphed over communism in the Velvet Revolution of 1989 and a sign of its continued strength today.
Other photographs were a lot harder on the heart. Probably the set that affected me the most was pictures of women raped in the Hutu-Tutsi conflict. So many faces; so many innocent victims. One girl was only 11 when she was raped and disowned by her family, forced to fend for herself in the world. She barely escaped being sold into the sex trade, and today is still struggling to survive from day to day. I looked into her eyes and I saw such sadness, such pain – I’m at an absolute loss for words. I will never understand the evil in this world.
But I’ll try not to dwell. On Thursday my Czech class took yet another field trip, this one to the streets of Prague to practice our Czech. It was the first time we’d practiced speaking Czech to actual Czech people, and it was semi-terrifying. Lenka sent us off to ask for directions (“Kde je tramvaj?”), to check the prices of English newspapers (“Kolik stojí anglicky noviny?”), etc. It was so empowering! It was a major confidence-builder when the Czech people responded to me in Czech – it meant they actually understood what I asked! Of course, the majority of the time I had ZERO clue what they responded, but I smiled, said thank you (“Dĕkuji!”), and wandered off all proud of myself.
Later that night we had our second “family” dinner, and this time the family was even bigger. We barely fit at the table, but somehow there was enough pasta (and salad and bread and dessert and wine … okay, so it was more a feast than a dinner) for everyone. It was a loud, giggly, rowdy bunch and I loved absolutely every moment – except maybe when Diego did a shot through his nose. That was CRAZY, one of those “did he really just do that?! How is he not dead now?!” moments, but simultaneously crazy impressive because c’mon, who DOES that?! I didn’t want to leave, but alas, I had to study for my Czech midterm the next morning.
Friday was wonderful because not only did I kick the midterm’s ass but I also FINISHED class for the week! Our “field trip” that day was oddly entertaining. Lenka split us into groups and gave each group a shopping list. The catch was, the list was in all Czech, and we weren’t allowed to use English to decode it. At this point I had the Czech vocabulary of a toddler and the confused doe-eyes to match, and somehow I suspected that the few Czech phrases I DID know (“What’s your name? My name is Stephanie. I’m a student.”) weren’t going to be of much help. Soon my group found itself at a grocery store searching for what turned out to be a donut, an obscure ingredient used to make cheesecake, and onions. Our tactic was fairly simple – meander the aisles, find an approachable-looking clerk or customer, and ask for the location of an item. Kinda impressive, I know. :P
The mission was a success and just like that, it was the “vikend” (<-- yes, that’s Czech). Suddenly we had time to explore the city and explore we did. Following our resident hiking-expert Kacy, we crossed Charles Bridge and hit a famous American-themed restaurant called Bohemia Bagel. The food was only so-so but man-oh-man was the eye candy delectable. Our waiter was all muscle-y and gorgeous, a real Czech hunk, a fact that Kacy and I seemed to appreciate much more than our male dining mates.
I almost forgot! Just before eating, we detoured to see what may very well be the world’s ODDEST statue: two men peeing into a tiny pond, their mmhmmhmms swiveling to draw shapes (perhaps even write their names?) in the water. Of course I took a picture (how could I NOT?!). Why this statues isn’t more famous I have no idea.
Anyway, after a lunch of eye candy and bagel sandwiches, we continued our walking tour at Lennon Wall, a formerly ordinary wall that during the communist regime transformed into monument to free speech. Every night, students would flock to the wall and under the cover of night graffiti the wall with messages of peace (often in the form of John Lennon’s song lyrics, which praised freedom – a concept foreign to the Czech people under communist rule) and calls for change, and every morning, the Communist police would whitewash the wall. But to no avail – by the next day, the wall would be covered yet again. The Lennon Wall was one of the first acts of the peaceful Czech rebellion again communism that would culminate in the Velvet Revolution of 1989.
Just a couple feet farther down the road we came to a bridge absolutely covered in padlocks. In Prague, lovers traditionally affix a padlock to this bridge as a concrete symbol of their love, and today the bridge is COVERED with locks. Some are huge, some are dingy, and one is a random bike lock – but they’re all beautiful because of what they symbolize.
Our last stop on this whirlwind tour was at Prague’s “Dancing House,” an odd piece of architecture along the Vltava River. Its other nickname is “Fred and Ginger”… perhaps in this picture you can see why.
After dinner at a pizzeria, it was time to get ready for our first Friday night out in Prague. Lucky for us, it was 80s/90s night at Lucerna, a crazy fun dance club/pub, so the decision as to where to go was easy. We caught literally the last metro of the night at midnight and arrived at the already bursting-at-the-seams club within minutes. Then came the most overwhelming part of the night: dealing with coat check! There were about 50 people pushing and shoving to get to the front of the line; all you could do was throw politeness to the wind and join in the madness. Luckily I had two great “blockers” (thanks, Adrian and Diego!) so I managed to escape the area bruise-free, but other kids weren’t so lucky.
The hard part done, it was time to have some fun. Some people got drinks but others – myself included – headed straight to the dance floor to get the party started. It was a ridiculously fun night, full of all those songs you know by heart but probably shouldn’t admit knowing if you want to maintain any semblance of being cool. We danced and sang along for hours and hours til long after we were sweaty and stinky and gross – it was glorious.
Towards the wee hours of the morning, things began to go a bit crazy. And while I admit that the drunk European boys whipping their pants off and jiggling onstage contributed to the “craziness” of which I speak, I’m referring more so to the part where Adrian was roofied. Somehow, Adrian ended up with a drink of unknown origin and downed the whole thing. Turns out that drink was drugged, and before long, so was Adrian. Kate was the first to notice that something was amuck, and she grabbed me to make sure her mind wasn’t making things up. Sure enough, she was right – the boy was acting downright GOOFY. And not normal, drunk goofy, but “eyes rolling into the back of his head, petting the wall, and abnormally engrossed in the poofiness of Jake’s luscious locks” goofy. GOOFY.
Kate and I tried to get him off the stage, but he kept insisting he was fine and as he’s rather larger than us ladies, we called over Walt and Jake to help us get him out of there. Adrian got angry that we were so worried about him and stomped off, at which point I got fed up and left with Chris, Ryan, and an extremely friendly (read: shwastey-faced) Jordan. After we left, Kate went to check on Adrian again and found that he’d completely forgotten the “I’m FINE” rant from just a few minutes earlier – probably not a good sign. She somehow wrangled him into his coat and out of the club all by herself. By this point he was acting even GOOFIER, fluctuating between multiple extreme personalities (starving, excitable, depressed, paranoid, etc.). Apparently the highlight of his insanity was his belief that everyone was trying to steal his sausage (purchased for him by the patient and wonderful – daresay angelic! – Kate). After fully consuming said sausage, he then became terrified someone would attempt to steal it from his stomach, a fear so overwhelming that he was reduced to full-fledged whimpering on the public tram. Jake’s attempts to make light of the situation (“what color do you feel like?”) convinced Adrian that the real Jake had been EATEN, and that this new Jake was a much meaner version of the original. Adrian then worried that upon entering the dorm, he too would be at risk of being eaten, and almost refused to go inside. Luckily he got back safe and sound, a little sick the next morning but otherwise just fine. It’s funny in retrospect but that boy was seriously drugged – it’s terrifying to think what might’ve happened had the drug reached its intended victim.
Saturday was incredibly chill, everyone exhausted from the night before. Originally, the plan was to do something calm and laid-back that night (perhaps hit a karaoke bar) but by 9:30pm I was in the mood for something a little more exciting. Even though it was early, Rebecca, Kristina, and I decided to head to the most famous nightclub in Prague: Karlovy Lazne. Apparently the largest club in Eastern Europe, Karlovy Lazne rocks my socks. It’s a 5-story club with uniquely themed music and bars on each floor. There’s the hip-hop floor (AKA the sweaty grinding floor), the European techno floor (oonsa-oonsa), the “chill” floor (so smoky it’s like someone turned on a fog machine!), the popular-music floor (oh Lady Gaga), and my absolute favorite: the oldies floor, which we ladies promptly dubbed the “show choir floor.” On this level, they played everything from “The Twist” to “Grease Lightning,” and to put it quite simply, we OWNED the dance floor. Earlier in the evening, we were literally the only ones out there, rocking out to “Thriller” and disco and “Footloose,” but too soon we were joined by swarms of dancers (obviously inspired by our immaculate footwork). It was an amazing night. :)
On Sunday, I dragged myself out of bed bright and early to be a good Notre Dame girl and venture over to church. Walt, Kacy, and I arrived at The Church of St. Mary the Victorious much too early, but that gave us time to act like tourists before Mass began. See, this Church is home to the famous Infant Jesus of Prague, the most religiously significant statue in the city. Since its arrival in Prague from Spain in 1556, the statue has been credited with granting thousands of miracles to the people who pray at its feet. Apparently people trek from all over Europe to pray beneath this statue, and sure enough throughout mass, tourists were filing through the church, stopping to take pictures of the famous Baby with hardly a second glance at the service going on behind them. The mass itself was a little different. It was in English, but hardly anyone in attendance spoke English as a first language, so the usual responses were practically silent. The priest sang almost everything besides the homily, and the acoustics were so terrible that half the time it was impossible to make out any of his words. I was surprised to find the church completely full – the Czech Republic is considered the least religious country in all of Europe, after all!
After mass, I decided to continue my religion-themed day by visiting Prague’s Jewish Quarter. For 200czk (~$10), we got admission to four synagogues, the Old Jewish Cemetery, and the Ceremonial Hall. Altogether, these buildings make up The Jewish Museum in Prague. Originally, the Museum was founded by the Jewish community in 1906 to house important religious artifacts, but with the arrival of the Nazis in Prague in 1939, it was closed and replaced with the Nazi-approved “Central Jewish Museum.” This museum’s intention was startlingly different than the original. In light of the impending “extinction” of the Jewish religion, this new museum’s sole aim was to keep a record of Judaism for the history books. When the war ended, the museum became part-memorial and part-museum under the direction of the Council of Jewish Communities in Czechoslovakia.
Our first stop was the Pinkas Synagogue, a touching memorial to the Czech Jews killed in the Holocaust. The walls of this synagogue-turned-memorial are covered floor to ceiling with the names of the victims – thousands of names, filling rooms and rooms with not an inch of blank wall space to be found. The list is horrifying – each name represents a person; a human being with a soul, a family, a purpose. Each name marks a life snuffed out by evil, a victim to the senseless annihilation of entire families and communities. The memorial continues upstairs where there is an exhibit dedicated to the children of Terezín Concentration Camp, the youngest victims in this horrific era. It’s appropriate that directly outside the Pinkas Synagogue is the Old Jewish Cemetery. Here there are over 12,000 tombstones crammed into a small, park-size area, the oldest dating all the way back to 1439. A narrow path winds through the cemetery and it is a somber, heart-heavying walk.
Leaving the cemetery we continued our tour of the Jewish Quarter next door at the Ceremonial Hall and the Klausen Synagogue (both filled with educational exhibits about the Jewish religion, beliefs, and practices) and a little farther away, at the beautiful Spanish Synagogue and Maisel Synagogue (both containing exhibits about the history of Judaism and Jews in Eastern Europe). All were impressive, but none could compare on the entertainment scale to my accidental suction-cuppage of Alex’s rear end. The boy was FALLING, ok? I saved his LIFE.
On Monday morning we returned to the ol’ grind, class and then a groceries run. Next on my list: LAUNDRY. It had been 3 full weeks since I first stepped foot onto European soil, and I was officially OUT of underwear. I crammed all my clothes into one ginormous backpack and set off to find the Laundromat. I had a hand-drawn map courtesy of Mr. Walt, but unfortunately my cursed inability to navigate reared its ugly head and I ended up about a mile PAST the Laundromat. Not to worry – before long, I was loading my clothes into the washer and learning that laundry is ridiculously expensive here. Before long, I was back at the dorm, clean clothes in hand, getting ready for a night of self-discovery. Okay, fine, so that was a BIT of an exaggeration -- it was more a night of PUB-discovery than SELF-discovery. But it was still a kick-ass night replete with a creepy dark bar with painfully loud karaoke, a tiny 5-table bar with heavenly hot chocolate, and a gypsy man and his toddler son calling for us to come inside and smoke with them. Yes, “them.” We also stumbled upon Prague’s Television Tower, voted the 2nd ugliest building in the world. Here’s a picture so you can judge for yourself:
On Tuesday, we spent the morning in class and the afternoon on a field trip to Saints Cyril and Methodius Cathedral. This church is famous because its crypt served as a hideout for Reinhard Heydrich’s assassins – the heroic Czech paratroopers Jan Kubiš and Jozef Gabčík – in 1942. Heydrich, you might know, was a high-ranking Nazi official, chief of the Reich Main Security Office and the appointed governor of Moravia and Bohemia. He was single-handedly responsible for launching the Nazi’s terror tactics in the Czech lands, including the widespread torture and execution of dissidents. In retaliation for this assassination, Hitler ordered the annihilation of Lidice, a small town just northwest of Prague with apparent “ties” to the group responsible for the killing. All men over the age of 16 were murdered on the spot, the women and children shipped off to death camps, and the town itself leveled. Meanwhile, the paratroopers were hiding out in the Cathedral’s crypt with 5 other resistance fighters until someone turned them in. 800 Nazi troops attacked the cathedral but failed to catch anyone alive – those who weren’t killed in the crossfire took their own lives with their last bullets rather than be captured.
From there we ventured off to a much happier venue: the festival at Old Town Square. Despite the cold and the snow there were dozens of booths set up, some selling crafts, others selling some of the most delectable food known to mankind. The sausages were as amazing as always, but what really blew everyone away were the crepes! Whoever thought of combining banana and Nutella and putting it in a pancake should be praised as a genius. Our stomachs full, we set out to explore some more of Prague. We breezed through a tiny theatre bookstore and soon found ourselves in the most amazing vintage clothing store. Now remember, I’m the girl who hates to shop – so if I say a shop is “amazing” it must be REALLY amazing! It was a one-room store but oh my goodness! The clothes were old and used, but so authentic, so genuinely old-timey, that I just fell in love. I saw 60s hippy sundresses; 40s news-reporter-esque pencil skirts; even an aviator jacket straight out of “Forever Young.” I didn’t buy anything but I could see myself going back there, if only just to explore.
Just a bit farther down the road was a marionette shop, so of course we had to stop. Let me say right now that marionettes are CREEPY. Some are supposed to be cute – little peasant girls with big eyes and long blonde braids and the like – but even the “cute” ones make me a little antsy. Dolls should NOT move that fluidly and look that lifelike, it’s downright disturbing. There were some funny marionettes – Harry Potter, Charlie Chaplin, even Gandalf – but the majority just plain ol’ creeped me out. I suppose I can cross “marionette show” off my to-do list!
That night and the next were a wee bit boring due in large part to the fact that the Czech final – worth 50% of the final grade – was on Thursday, and there was quite a bit to learn. I hunkered down to learn my nouns and verbs and conjugations, but by Wednesday night I was in desperate need of a study break. I met up with the gang in the basement pub and somehow decided it was a good idea to play darts for the first time ever. First of all, let me remind you that I am NOT a sports stud. I can’t aim for the life of me, and “the dud” (my useless left hand) certainly doesn’t help matters much. There was no way me-and-darts was going to end up well. Regardless, I gave it a shot… and as anticipated, I failed miserably. I assumed the stance, I aimed, I threw… and time after time I kept missing the dartboard altogether. Finally, I decided I’d just CLOSE MY EYES and chuck it. After all, I couldn’t get worse, right?
RIGHT! In fact, I got better! MUCH better! I took one shot with my eyes closed and I scored a DEAD-CENTER BULLSEYE. Yes, me, Stephanie Rice, sports-failure-extraordinaire. I scored a BULLSEYE. I started screaming and jumping, running in circles and giggling like a madman. It was by far the proudest sports-related moment of my life.
My luck continued. The next morning, I aced my Czech final and then ventured off on the coolest field trip of all time – to the pub to “practice our Czech.” That evening I saw a performance by the Prague Philharmonic Orchestra (supposedly the best orchestra in all of Europe) AND was able to sneak out at intermission after almost falling asleep through the first hour and a half of classical music. I made it back to the dorm just in time for “family dinner” and then STILL had time to Skype the amazing Miss Maria Kim before I fell asleep. Like I said, it was a lucky day.
Friday was the last day of our Czech class, and as the final was out of the way, it was time to have some fun. We played Czech hangman for a while and then ventured off to a small cinema to see a Czech movie called “Želarý” about 1940s Czech country life from the middle of the Nazi occupation to the time of the Soviet liberation. It was an INCREDIBLE movie. If you can find a copy of it with English subtitles, I’d highly recommend it!
The fun continued that evening as “the family” gathered in Walt and Alex’s room for some pre-clubbing merriment replete with terrible dancing, even worse singing, and a few more retellings of the now infamous Alex-ass-grabbing tale. Just before midnight we took the metro to Lucerna, the same club we’d hit last week, and hit the dance floor. Tonight’s music was even more incredible than last week’s if you can believe it, encompassing everything from “Grease Lightning” to the Dirty Dancing song to the Macarena and beyond. Just my kind of music! :)
Saturday morning came much too soon. I’d barely been asleep when my alarm went off, waking me up for the AIFS-sponsored Dobŕíš Castle tour. Turns out the “castle” was actually just a chateau, no turrets or princesses or knights in sight. It was a fairly disappointing tour because of that, but also an unusually entertaining one because of the chateaux’s odd collection of paintings. I doubt I was supposed to find the works funny, but how could I not? Two separate paintings featured baby cherubs in full-on fist fights, and another captured Lord Voldemort’s look-alike in a half smirk-half grimace. Also entertaining were the booties we were required to wear so as not to scratch the old floors. All were Bozo-sized with soles so soft that walking on carpet felt remarkably similar to ice-skating.
I continued my day of culture by visiting the Museum of Communism in the afternoon. As the Czech Republic was under communist rule from 1948 through 1989, this is a particularly relevant topic here, more so because of the impending elections. Right now, 12% of the Czech population identifies with the communist party. The two largest political parties each hold 20% of the population’s support, but with votes divided among multiple candidates in these parties, the communist candidate poses a real threat. The election will be just after I depart Prague for the States (May 28-29, 2010), so it’ll be intriguing to see how everything plays out.
The museum itself was small but informative, a good overview of the history of the Czech Republic. My favorite part of the day, though, was FINALLY catching Ian on Skype. Ian AND Maria within just a few days of each other – it doesn’t get much better than that. :) (You know what WOULD make it better though? YOU skyping me. Yes, YOU. I miss YOU… whoever “you” are. So get Skyping. :P)
Congratulations on making through this incredibly long post, and til next time – Miluju ty! :)
Considering I haven’t been to class since before Christmas, it’s amazing how quickly I’ve gotten back into the swing of academia. On Monday we started the 2-week intensive Czech course that all exchange students are required to take before the semester officially starts up on February 22, and so far I am LOVING it. I’m in a small, 12-person class taught by Lenka, this absurdly AMAZING Czech woman who’s all smiles and laughs, and probably one of the best teachers I’ve ever had, period. Class is held from 9am-1:45pm (or in Czech time, “9-13:45”) in a 5th floor classroom in an obscure building on Jindřišska Street, just off Wenceslas Square. This building is kinda sketch: the lights have a tendency to turn themselves on and off (not good when you’re halfway up the giant circular staircase and suddenly in pitch blackness) and the elevator can’t decide just how much weight it can carry – sometimes its “overload” button beeps when there are only 3 people aboard, and sometimes it carries 7 people without a sound. I’ve decided it’s not really about the weight of the load; the elevator’s just a bitch. (Too bad Jake’s not there to tell it off.)
The class absolutely rocks my socks. You’d think that spending 5 hours a day cooped up in a tiny classroom learning a difficult language with practically zero overlap with English would be frustrating and possibly even insanity-inducing, but somehow I love it. I blame 3 main factors. First, Sam (yes, you, big sister!). She’s always loved foreign languages, trying to learn everything from Swahili to ancient Egyptian at one point or another, and somehow, over time, her passion has rubbed off (if even just a little) on me. Second, my fellow Czech cronies, Kacy and Walt. These kids are absolute kooks – they keep me entertained and awake despite the early hours and long days. Finally, Lenka, our teacher. This lady is incredible, more like a friend than a professor. I could see her being an amazing Kindergarten teacher because of her personality – so sweet and patient – but she’s also hilarious. She likes to tell us stories about Czech traditions (for example, every Easter boys go to girls’ houses, sing a song, and then hit the girl with a switch, and in exchange she gives him a decorated egg… definitely one of their odder traditions) but she also likes to hear all about what things are like in America, so it’s like we’re sharing information rather than being lectured. It’s funny because I usually dislike hard classes based purely on the fact that they’re so hard, but I LOVE this Czech class. I’m gonna miss it when it ends.
The first day of class we learned very basic Czech phrases (including my perpetual favorite “ahoj” -- pronounced “ahoy” and meaning “hello”) and how to pronounce the words. I won’t go into detail here lest I bore you to tears with grammar rules and vocabulary drills, but I will say that Czech words have a tendency to have way too many letters and way too many syllables, and memorizing them is a real pill. At the end of class every day, my head feels vaguely like it’s ready to explode from such an overdose of information, but I’m surprised and pleased to report that I seem to be retaining quite a bit of what I’m learning.
Tuesday night marked a nice diversion from the daily grind. Kate, Adrian, Jessica, Walt, Kacy, and I saw a traditional black light theatre show at one of Rick Steves’ favorite theatres: Ta Fantastika. As Prague is practically the only place in the world where you can find this nonverbal, absurdist theatre style, Kate and I (theatre majors unite!) knew we’d have to see at least one black light show while we were here, and the others got dragged along for what would prove to be a downright WACKO evening. We knew going into it that it was supposed to be “weird” and “different” – what we didn’t realize was just HOW crazy it would be! The show tonight was called “Aspects of Alice,” a reinterpretation of the “Alice in Wonderland.” Now, “Alice” is wacky on its own – add the absurdist black light theatre elements and it’s downright ridiculous. I really can’t explain its lunacy in words; the whole show felt like one long acid trip. Take a look at this link to get a better idea, but keep in mind that the live show is WAY trippier than the video makes it out to be:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ElMrqam-WyY
CRAZY, right?! Anyway, that was quite the adventure. Also, we didn’t realize at the time, but there were 2 shows every night – the earlier “PG-13” show, and the later, let’s say… naughtier show. We went to the “calmer” of the two and even that was fairly raunchy… I can’t even imagine what the later show would be like.
On Wednesday we took our first class field trip, to the World Press Photo exhibit in the Old Town Hall. It was an absolutely breathtaking collection, a compilation of the best news photos from all of 2009. I loved the “photo of the year.” It was taken during President Obama’s most recent visit to Prague and places him and the Czech Republic’s first democratic leader, President Masaryk, side by side, with all of Prague traversing the space between them. It’s practically an inspirational poster, a reminder of the democracy that triumphed over communism in the Velvet Revolution of 1989 and a sign of its continued strength today.
Other photographs were a lot harder on the heart. Probably the set that affected me the most was pictures of women raped in the Hutu-Tutsi conflict. So many faces; so many innocent victims. One girl was only 11 when she was raped and disowned by her family, forced to fend for herself in the world. She barely escaped being sold into the sex trade, and today is still struggling to survive from day to day. I looked into her eyes and I saw such sadness, such pain – I’m at an absolute loss for words. I will never understand the evil in this world.
But I’ll try not to dwell. On Thursday my Czech class took yet another field trip, this one to the streets of Prague to practice our Czech. It was the first time we’d practiced speaking Czech to actual Czech people, and it was semi-terrifying. Lenka sent us off to ask for directions (“Kde je tramvaj?”), to check the prices of English newspapers (“Kolik stojí anglicky noviny?”), etc. It was so empowering! It was a major confidence-builder when the Czech people responded to me in Czech – it meant they actually understood what I asked! Of course, the majority of the time I had ZERO clue what they responded, but I smiled, said thank you (“Dĕkuji!”), and wandered off all proud of myself.
Later that night we had our second “family” dinner, and this time the family was even bigger. We barely fit at the table, but somehow there was enough pasta (and salad and bread and dessert and wine … okay, so it was more a feast than a dinner) for everyone. It was a loud, giggly, rowdy bunch and I loved absolutely every moment – except maybe when Diego did a shot through his nose. That was CRAZY, one of those “did he really just do that?! How is he not dead now?!” moments, but simultaneously crazy impressive because c’mon, who DOES that?! I didn’t want to leave, but alas, I had to study for my Czech midterm the next morning.
Friday was wonderful because not only did I kick the midterm’s ass but I also FINISHED class for the week! Our “field trip” that day was oddly entertaining. Lenka split us into groups and gave each group a shopping list. The catch was, the list was in all Czech, and we weren’t allowed to use English to decode it. At this point I had the Czech vocabulary of a toddler and the confused doe-eyes to match, and somehow I suspected that the few Czech phrases I DID know (“What’s your name? My name is Stephanie. I’m a student.”) weren’t going to be of much help. Soon my group found itself at a grocery store searching for what turned out to be a donut, an obscure ingredient used to make cheesecake, and onions. Our tactic was fairly simple – meander the aisles, find an approachable-looking clerk or customer, and ask for the location of an item. Kinda impressive, I know. :P
The mission was a success and just like that, it was the “vikend” (<-- yes, that’s Czech). Suddenly we had time to explore the city and explore we did. Following our resident hiking-expert Kacy, we crossed Charles Bridge and hit a famous American-themed restaurant called Bohemia Bagel. The food was only so-so but man-oh-man was the eye candy delectable. Our waiter was all muscle-y and gorgeous, a real Czech hunk, a fact that Kacy and I seemed to appreciate much more than our male dining mates.
I almost forgot! Just before eating, we detoured to see what may very well be the world’s ODDEST statue: two men peeing into a tiny pond, their mmhmmhmms swiveling to draw shapes (perhaps even write their names?) in the water. Of course I took a picture (how could I NOT?!). Why this statues isn’t more famous I have no idea.
Anyway, after a lunch of eye candy and bagel sandwiches, we continued our walking tour at Lennon Wall, a formerly ordinary wall that during the communist regime transformed into monument to free speech. Every night, students would flock to the wall and under the cover of night graffiti the wall with messages of peace (often in the form of John Lennon’s song lyrics, which praised freedom – a concept foreign to the Czech people under communist rule) and calls for change, and every morning, the Communist police would whitewash the wall. But to no avail – by the next day, the wall would be covered yet again. The Lennon Wall was one of the first acts of the peaceful Czech rebellion again communism that would culminate in the Velvet Revolution of 1989.
Just a couple feet farther down the road we came to a bridge absolutely covered in padlocks. In Prague, lovers traditionally affix a padlock to this bridge as a concrete symbol of their love, and today the bridge is COVERED with locks. Some are huge, some are dingy, and one is a random bike lock – but they’re all beautiful because of what they symbolize.
Our last stop on this whirlwind tour was at Prague’s “Dancing House,” an odd piece of architecture along the Vltava River. Its other nickname is “Fred and Ginger”… perhaps in this picture you can see why.
After dinner at a pizzeria, it was time to get ready for our first Friday night out in Prague. Lucky for us, it was 80s/90s night at Lucerna, a crazy fun dance club/pub, so the decision as to where to go was easy. We caught literally the last metro of the night at midnight and arrived at the already bursting-at-the-seams club within minutes. Then came the most overwhelming part of the night: dealing with coat check! There were about 50 people pushing and shoving to get to the front of the line; all you could do was throw politeness to the wind and join in the madness. Luckily I had two great “blockers” (thanks, Adrian and Diego!) so I managed to escape the area bruise-free, but other kids weren’t so lucky.
The hard part done, it was time to have some fun. Some people got drinks but others – myself included – headed straight to the dance floor to get the party started. It was a ridiculously fun night, full of all those songs you know by heart but probably shouldn’t admit knowing if you want to maintain any semblance of being cool. We danced and sang along for hours and hours til long after we were sweaty and stinky and gross – it was glorious.
Towards the wee hours of the morning, things began to go a bit crazy. And while I admit that the drunk European boys whipping their pants off and jiggling onstage contributed to the “craziness” of which I speak, I’m referring more so to the part where Adrian was roofied. Somehow, Adrian ended up with a drink of unknown origin and downed the whole thing. Turns out that drink was drugged, and before long, so was Adrian. Kate was the first to notice that something was amuck, and she grabbed me to make sure her mind wasn’t making things up. Sure enough, she was right – the boy was acting downright GOOFY. And not normal, drunk goofy, but “eyes rolling into the back of his head, petting the wall, and abnormally engrossed in the poofiness of Jake’s luscious locks” goofy. GOOFY.
Kate and I tried to get him off the stage, but he kept insisting he was fine and as he’s rather larger than us ladies, we called over Walt and Jake to help us get him out of there. Adrian got angry that we were so worried about him and stomped off, at which point I got fed up and left with Chris, Ryan, and an extremely friendly (read: shwastey-faced) Jordan. After we left, Kate went to check on Adrian again and found that he’d completely forgotten the “I’m FINE” rant from just a few minutes earlier – probably not a good sign. She somehow wrangled him into his coat and out of the club all by herself. By this point he was acting even GOOFIER, fluctuating between multiple extreme personalities (starving, excitable, depressed, paranoid, etc.). Apparently the highlight of his insanity was his belief that everyone was trying to steal his sausage (purchased for him by the patient and wonderful – daresay angelic! – Kate). After fully consuming said sausage, he then became terrified someone would attempt to steal it from his stomach, a fear so overwhelming that he was reduced to full-fledged whimpering on the public tram. Jake’s attempts to make light of the situation (“what color do you feel like?”) convinced Adrian that the real Jake had been EATEN, and that this new Jake was a much meaner version of the original. Adrian then worried that upon entering the dorm, he too would be at risk of being eaten, and almost refused to go inside. Luckily he got back safe and sound, a little sick the next morning but otherwise just fine. It’s funny in retrospect but that boy was seriously drugged – it’s terrifying to think what might’ve happened had the drug reached its intended victim.
Saturday was incredibly chill, everyone exhausted from the night before. Originally, the plan was to do something calm and laid-back that night (perhaps hit a karaoke bar) but by 9:30pm I was in the mood for something a little more exciting. Even though it was early, Rebecca, Kristina, and I decided to head to the most famous nightclub in Prague: Karlovy Lazne. Apparently the largest club in Eastern Europe, Karlovy Lazne rocks my socks. It’s a 5-story club with uniquely themed music and bars on each floor. There’s the hip-hop floor (AKA the sweaty grinding floor), the European techno floor (oonsa-oonsa), the “chill” floor (so smoky it’s like someone turned on a fog machine!), the popular-music floor (oh Lady Gaga), and my absolute favorite: the oldies floor, which we ladies promptly dubbed the “show choir floor.” On this level, they played everything from “The Twist” to “Grease Lightning,” and to put it quite simply, we OWNED the dance floor. Earlier in the evening, we were literally the only ones out there, rocking out to “Thriller” and disco and “Footloose,” but too soon we were joined by swarms of dancers (obviously inspired by our immaculate footwork). It was an amazing night. :)
On Sunday, I dragged myself out of bed bright and early to be a good Notre Dame girl and venture over to church. Walt, Kacy, and I arrived at The Church of St. Mary the Victorious much too early, but that gave us time to act like tourists before Mass began. See, this Church is home to the famous Infant Jesus of Prague, the most religiously significant statue in the city. Since its arrival in Prague from Spain in 1556, the statue has been credited with granting thousands of miracles to the people who pray at its feet. Apparently people trek from all over Europe to pray beneath this statue, and sure enough throughout mass, tourists were filing through the church, stopping to take pictures of the famous Baby with hardly a second glance at the service going on behind them. The mass itself was a little different. It was in English, but hardly anyone in attendance spoke English as a first language, so the usual responses were practically silent. The priest sang almost everything besides the homily, and the acoustics were so terrible that half the time it was impossible to make out any of his words. I was surprised to find the church completely full – the Czech Republic is considered the least religious country in all of Europe, after all!
After mass, I decided to continue my religion-themed day by visiting Prague’s Jewish Quarter. For 200czk (~$10), we got admission to four synagogues, the Old Jewish Cemetery, and the Ceremonial Hall. Altogether, these buildings make up The Jewish Museum in Prague. Originally, the Museum was founded by the Jewish community in 1906 to house important religious artifacts, but with the arrival of the Nazis in Prague in 1939, it was closed and replaced with the Nazi-approved “Central Jewish Museum.” This museum’s intention was startlingly different than the original. In light of the impending “extinction” of the Jewish religion, this new museum’s sole aim was to keep a record of Judaism for the history books. When the war ended, the museum became part-memorial and part-museum under the direction of the Council of Jewish Communities in Czechoslovakia.
Our first stop was the Pinkas Synagogue, a touching memorial to the Czech Jews killed in the Holocaust. The walls of this synagogue-turned-memorial are covered floor to ceiling with the names of the victims – thousands of names, filling rooms and rooms with not an inch of blank wall space to be found. The list is horrifying – each name represents a person; a human being with a soul, a family, a purpose. Each name marks a life snuffed out by evil, a victim to the senseless annihilation of entire families and communities. The memorial continues upstairs where there is an exhibit dedicated to the children of Terezín Concentration Camp, the youngest victims in this horrific era. It’s appropriate that directly outside the Pinkas Synagogue is the Old Jewish Cemetery. Here there are over 12,000 tombstones crammed into a small, park-size area, the oldest dating all the way back to 1439. A narrow path winds through the cemetery and it is a somber, heart-heavying walk.
Leaving the cemetery we continued our tour of the Jewish Quarter next door at the Ceremonial Hall and the Klausen Synagogue (both filled with educational exhibits about the Jewish religion, beliefs, and practices) and a little farther away, at the beautiful Spanish Synagogue and Maisel Synagogue (both containing exhibits about the history of Judaism and Jews in Eastern Europe). All were impressive, but none could compare on the entertainment scale to my accidental suction-cuppage of Alex’s rear end. The boy was FALLING, ok? I saved his LIFE.
On Monday morning we returned to the ol’ grind, class and then a groceries run. Next on my list: LAUNDRY. It had been 3 full weeks since I first stepped foot onto European soil, and I was officially OUT of underwear. I crammed all my clothes into one ginormous backpack and set off to find the Laundromat. I had a hand-drawn map courtesy of Mr. Walt, but unfortunately my cursed inability to navigate reared its ugly head and I ended up about a mile PAST the Laundromat. Not to worry – before long, I was loading my clothes into the washer and learning that laundry is ridiculously expensive here. Before long, I was back at the dorm, clean clothes in hand, getting ready for a night of self-discovery. Okay, fine, so that was a BIT of an exaggeration -- it was more a night of PUB-discovery than SELF-discovery. But it was still a kick-ass night replete with a creepy dark bar with painfully loud karaoke, a tiny 5-table bar with heavenly hot chocolate, and a gypsy man and his toddler son calling for us to come inside and smoke with them. Yes, “them.” We also stumbled upon Prague’s Television Tower, voted the 2nd ugliest building in the world. Here’s a picture so you can judge for yourself:
On Tuesday, we spent the morning in class and the afternoon on a field trip to Saints Cyril and Methodius Cathedral. This church is famous because its crypt served as a hideout for Reinhard Heydrich’s assassins – the heroic Czech paratroopers Jan Kubiš and Jozef Gabčík – in 1942. Heydrich, you might know, was a high-ranking Nazi official, chief of the Reich Main Security Office and the appointed governor of Moravia and Bohemia. He was single-handedly responsible for launching the Nazi’s terror tactics in the Czech lands, including the widespread torture and execution of dissidents. In retaliation for this assassination, Hitler ordered the annihilation of Lidice, a small town just northwest of Prague with apparent “ties” to the group responsible for the killing. All men over the age of 16 were murdered on the spot, the women and children shipped off to death camps, and the town itself leveled. Meanwhile, the paratroopers were hiding out in the Cathedral’s crypt with 5 other resistance fighters until someone turned them in. 800 Nazi troops attacked the cathedral but failed to catch anyone alive – those who weren’t killed in the crossfire took their own lives with their last bullets rather than be captured.
From there we ventured off to a much happier venue: the festival at Old Town Square. Despite the cold and the snow there were dozens of booths set up, some selling crafts, others selling some of the most delectable food known to mankind. The sausages were as amazing as always, but what really blew everyone away were the crepes! Whoever thought of combining banana and Nutella and putting it in a pancake should be praised as a genius. Our stomachs full, we set out to explore some more of Prague. We breezed through a tiny theatre bookstore and soon found ourselves in the most amazing vintage clothing store. Now remember, I’m the girl who hates to shop – so if I say a shop is “amazing” it must be REALLY amazing! It was a one-room store but oh my goodness! The clothes were old and used, but so authentic, so genuinely old-timey, that I just fell in love. I saw 60s hippy sundresses; 40s news-reporter-esque pencil skirts; even an aviator jacket straight out of “Forever Young.” I didn’t buy anything but I could see myself going back there, if only just to explore.
Just a bit farther down the road was a marionette shop, so of course we had to stop. Let me say right now that marionettes are CREEPY. Some are supposed to be cute – little peasant girls with big eyes and long blonde braids and the like – but even the “cute” ones make me a little antsy. Dolls should NOT move that fluidly and look that lifelike, it’s downright disturbing. There were some funny marionettes – Harry Potter, Charlie Chaplin, even Gandalf – but the majority just plain ol’ creeped me out. I suppose I can cross “marionette show” off my to-do list!
That night and the next were a wee bit boring due in large part to the fact that the Czech final – worth 50% of the final grade – was on Thursday, and there was quite a bit to learn. I hunkered down to learn my nouns and verbs and conjugations, but by Wednesday night I was in desperate need of a study break. I met up with the gang in the basement pub and somehow decided it was a good idea to play darts for the first time ever. First of all, let me remind you that I am NOT a sports stud. I can’t aim for the life of me, and “the dud” (my useless left hand) certainly doesn’t help matters much. There was no way me-and-darts was going to end up well. Regardless, I gave it a shot… and as anticipated, I failed miserably. I assumed the stance, I aimed, I threw… and time after time I kept missing the dartboard altogether. Finally, I decided I’d just CLOSE MY EYES and chuck it. After all, I couldn’t get worse, right?
RIGHT! In fact, I got better! MUCH better! I took one shot with my eyes closed and I scored a DEAD-CENTER BULLSEYE. Yes, me, Stephanie Rice, sports-failure-extraordinaire. I scored a BULLSEYE. I started screaming and jumping, running in circles and giggling like a madman. It was by far the proudest sports-related moment of my life.
My luck continued. The next morning, I aced my Czech final and then ventured off on the coolest field trip of all time – to the pub to “practice our Czech.” That evening I saw a performance by the Prague Philharmonic Orchestra (supposedly the best orchestra in all of Europe) AND was able to sneak out at intermission after almost falling asleep through the first hour and a half of classical music. I made it back to the dorm just in time for “family dinner” and then STILL had time to Skype the amazing Miss Maria Kim before I fell asleep. Like I said, it was a lucky day.
Friday was the last day of our Czech class, and as the final was out of the way, it was time to have some fun. We played Czech hangman for a while and then ventured off to a small cinema to see a Czech movie called “Želarý” about 1940s Czech country life from the middle of the Nazi occupation to the time of the Soviet liberation. It was an INCREDIBLE movie. If you can find a copy of it with English subtitles, I’d highly recommend it!
The fun continued that evening as “the family” gathered in Walt and Alex’s room for some pre-clubbing merriment replete with terrible dancing, even worse singing, and a few more retellings of the now infamous Alex-ass-grabbing tale. Just before midnight we took the metro to Lucerna, the same club we’d hit last week, and hit the dance floor. Tonight’s music was even more incredible than last week’s if you can believe it, encompassing everything from “Grease Lightning” to the Dirty Dancing song to the Macarena and beyond. Just my kind of music! :)
Saturday morning came much too soon. I’d barely been asleep when my alarm went off, waking me up for the AIFS-sponsored Dobŕíš Castle tour. Turns out the “castle” was actually just a chateau, no turrets or princesses or knights in sight. It was a fairly disappointing tour because of that, but also an unusually entertaining one because of the chateaux’s odd collection of paintings. I doubt I was supposed to find the works funny, but how could I not? Two separate paintings featured baby cherubs in full-on fist fights, and another captured Lord Voldemort’s look-alike in a half smirk-half grimace. Also entertaining were the booties we were required to wear so as not to scratch the old floors. All were Bozo-sized with soles so soft that walking on carpet felt remarkably similar to ice-skating.
I continued my day of culture by visiting the Museum of Communism in the afternoon. As the Czech Republic was under communist rule from 1948 through 1989, this is a particularly relevant topic here, more so because of the impending elections. Right now, 12% of the Czech population identifies with the communist party. The two largest political parties each hold 20% of the population’s support, but with votes divided among multiple candidates in these parties, the communist candidate poses a real threat. The election will be just after I depart Prague for the States (May 28-29, 2010), so it’ll be intriguing to see how everything plays out.
The museum itself was small but informative, a good overview of the history of the Czech Republic. My favorite part of the day, though, was FINALLY catching Ian on Skype. Ian AND Maria within just a few days of each other – it doesn’t get much better than that. :) (You know what WOULD make it better though? YOU skyping me. Yes, YOU. I miss YOU… whoever “you” are. So get Skyping. :P)
Congratulations on making through this incredibly long post, and til next time – Miluju ty! :)
Monday, February 8, 2010
BLOG POST 6
Before I continue this adventure, it’s necessary I introduce you to even more characters. You already know Kate, Adrian, Kacy, Jake, Ryan, and Walt, but there are a couple more key players in this Prague adventure.
First – my roommates! Our room is set up as 2 bedrooms linked by a little hallway that holds the shower/sink room, the toilet/sink room, and a tiny kitchenette with two hot plates, yet another sink (I'm starting to sense a theme), a mini fridge, and a small kitchen table. I live with Rebecca, also known as the girl in the dark black glasses. This lady is a KOOK rivaling even me on the hyper scale and I love her. When she’s not busy being a ridiculously entertaining and kick-ass journalist/spam writer, she’s either skyping with her dancing boyfriend or hitting the town. Our suitemates are Becca (the “juvie” from Texas I mentioned before who’s surprisingly less like a convict than I expected) and Michelle (chef extraordinaire and future food critic). Together, we’re the ladies of S326 and S328, bound together by an overflowing shower, a critical shortage of toilet paper, and the woes of fitting four girls’ food in one small fridge.
As for the loonies outside my room, I start first and foremost with Alex (and not just because he promises to write my first comment… *wink wink*). This dude was either a comedian or a court jester in his last life because he’s literally ALWAYS making us crack up. He has a flair for the dramatic and a slyly goofy nature that comes out at the most random moments. He’s also quite the stud in his Waldo hat. Then there’s Ian, who I like to think of as the mysterious one. He’s all calm and cool, the traditional Marlboro Texas cowboy, but then he’s always surprising me – turns out he’s a killer dancer, a fishing expert, and a Sherlock-Holmes-with-a-pipe lookalike all in one. Who’da thunk?
Jordan is my polar opposite (at least on the music front). She’s a chain-smoking hotsy totsy little lady, and we all love her to death. Chris is more commonly known as the dude in the cowboy hat. An awesome writer and a ready laugher, he’s all-around pretty darn cool. Jessica and I are the resident non-beer-lovers of the group, but that lady’s even more awesome than me (a hard feat, I know) because she can pop-drop-and-lock like it’s her business. Sign me up to go dancing with this chick ANY day. Stephanie with the forever-forgotten last name is the traditional best friend type: sweet, kind, wholesome, and caring, I know that lady’s got my back no matter what. And finally, the infamous Diego (Adrian’s long-lost roomie from Venezuela): a sarcastic little smartass who somehow keeps me giggling 24/7. He sounds like Puss in Boots and acts like a 7-year-old looking for naughty fun. Dude ROCKS.
This is a lot of the “family” but I’m sure I’ll be introducing more and more characters in the future blogs. For now, though, we’re all set to continue the adventure.
Feb. 5, 2010
After a late night of dancing, I was so awake and full of energy that I stayed up til 6am, updating my blog and facebook photo albums. Perhaps not the wisest of decisions that I’ve made, but as Thursday’s first event was at 1:30pm, I was still able to get a full “night” of sleep.
First stop today was at the AIFS Office to pick up our official Charles University student ID cards. Turns out the ID cards weren’t actually at the office – they herded us there to stagger our arrivals at the actual ID office so as not to overwhelm the staff. I didn’t mind; I LOVE the AIFS Office. There’s free internet, free printing, free water, and free toilets, but even more wonderful is that to get to the 3rd floor office (4th floor for ye Americans who don’t call the ground floor “floor 0”) you can take the CONTINUOUS ELEVATORS! I’m totally taking a video of these contraptions the next time I’m there – they’re mad fun.
They took us on a long roundabout walk to get to the ID place and by the time we arrived we were all a little windswept and red-nosed, making for rather entertaining ID photos. From there we wandered to Wenceslas Square to find the classroom building on Jindrisska Street where the majority of us will have our Czech language courses. On the way we stopped for street sausages, the kind that brought me to foodgasm last time. I decided to be all adventurous and get a different type of sausage – the whiter #13 instead of my usual, redder #11. Worst decision of the day. It wasn’t disgusting but it just wasn’t #11. Boo.
By this time, we’d been walking outside for about an hour and holy crap, were we freezing! Next on the schedule was a walking tour of Prague with ECES but because of the cold about half the people opted out of it. The “ditchers” took off for a local pub and I have to admit, I was mighty tempted to join them. Instead I grabbed some tea and warmed up as best I could.
Before long the tour started and we found ourselves following the tour guide past the Jewish Quarter, over a bridge, and on the funicular for a ride up Petrín Hill. The whole time our tour guide spoke into a microphone about the sights we were passing while we listened via earpieces. I felt all secret agent walking around with an earpiece, like I was Sydney Bristow. Super cool.
We stopped at a bunch of landmarks, my favorite of which was a giant replica of the Eiffel Tower only 2 years younger than the original. The best part of the entire tour, though, was not even planned. There’s a long path down a steep hill that connects the Eiffel Tower to the Castle, and we planned to walk it. Little did we know that yesterday’s brief warm spell combined with today's plunging temperatures had created a new layer of thick, slick ice – so much ice in fact that the stairs on the path were no longer stairs, but just one long, sleek ice slide. We tried to walk down at first, but that just wasn’t gonna happen – one person and then another and another lost their footing and slid, unable to stop or even slow themselves the whole way down. Go and look at the video I posted just prior to this entry and watch closely. They’re sliding down a STAIRCASE! I kept trying to walk upright and each time, within seconds, found myself on my hiney sliding down the hill. Allie was in absolute heaven – somehow she made it back up the hill to slide down all over again! It was quite the adventure, and definitely the best laugh I’ve had in a while.
The remainder of the tour was anticlimactic. I kept bursting into giggles every time I remembered the accidental sledding experience. Everyone had wet bums – some from the snow, others from… well… you can figure it out.
After the tour ended we hit the grocery store to prepare for our first ever FAMILY DINNER! Tonight, Allie was the brave soul who volunteered to be head chef. She made chicken curry, Jake made wild rice, Kacy made fresh salad with cheese and apples, and I steered clear of the kitchen rather than risk setting something on fire. Everyone contributed: I brought dessert, Kate and Adrian brought wine, Diego brought champagne, Walt and Alex provided the kitchen and utensils, and we all took part in the glory known as family dinner. It reminded me of last August’s pre-going-abroad “family dinner” with Lucy, Sarah, TKaps, and Mikey. :)
The dinner was a brilliantly improvised success. We drank wine from beer mugs, mixed the salad in a shopping bag, and even shared plates (*cough cough Alex and Diego*). It was ridiculously delicious – Allie, you are a kick-ass cook! After dinner we cleaned up and randomly decided to watch the cave episode of “Planet Earth” on a laptop. All in all, it was a wonderful, happy, gloriously kooky night.
Friday, Feb. 6, 2010
Today I woke up bright and early to pack for the AIFS weekend trip to Moravia, a region in the southern part of the Czech Republic. By 10:30am, we were all loaded on the buses and on our way. It was a long drive with only one real stop, at the 13th century era church in the small town of Tišnov. The church itself was as grand and ornate as it seems all are in Europe, but what really made it stand out from the rest was its epically beautiful cloister. I can only imagine how beautiful it must be in the summer because even in the freezing cold with snow covering every surface it was still breathtaking. I could just imagine myself hundreds of years in the past, meandering serenely along it in a flowing gown. It was like I was on a movie set, but better because of course this was real life!
The only downside to Tišnov was the fact that we weren’t allowed to use the toilets there – apparently the pipes were frozen! Many of us ladies had to GO, so the final 30-minute ride to the hotel in Brno was a tense, sit-on-your-foot, don’t-you-dare-make-me-giggle adventure. We arrived, got our room keys, and dashed upstairs.
The meeting time for dinner was 6pm so we had about 2 hours to explore Brno on our own. A couple of us headed out for a walk only to discover that we were in the boondocks of the city. Our street had one grocery store and a bunch of shady-looking unmarked buildings. We walked for a while and found a whole slew of bars/casinos in a row, plus one random second-hand shop that seemed to specialize in 80s prom dresses. We eventually entered a bar and greeted the waitress in Czech. Ohh, was she pissed. Honestly, we said two words in Czech and her response was “****. English.” I actually don’t know WHAT word she said there, but it was short and harsh and could easily have been a Czech swear word.
We got a round of drinks and just hung out, biding our time til dinner, and at 6pm we were back on Bus #1 on the way to the restaurant. Turns out it was a full hour away, so to stay entertained we sang along to Kacy’s I-pod (“she’s cheer captain and I’m on the bleachers!” :P). Finally we arrived at the Templar Order Restaurant in the town of Ĉejkovice. This place was amazing. Back in the 12th century when the Templar Order was flourishing, it ordered the construction of hundreds of miles of underground, stone tunnels. Today, this branch of the tunnels is half restaurant-half wine cellar, where they store casks of aging wine alongside “archives” of the best wines from every year. First we ate, and man oh man was the food amazing. I had a pork/almond dish with the most hearty, delicious mashed potatoes I’ve ever tasted. Granted it was almost 8pm by the time the food arrived, so I was hungry enough to find even poop on a stick delicious, but it was nonetheless a great meal. We sat at 2 long tables arranged Hogwarts style and decked out with wine glasses and cloth napkins, the whole shebang.
We then went on a tour of the wine cellars, following a petite, grandmotherly Czech woman as she narrated in Czech and Jana translated in English. There is just so much wine down there! A couple of the casks are ridiculously large – one could hold an entire band with room to spare. The coolest thing of all, though, was how much the tour guide looked like Grandma Clem. The resemblance was just uncanny – it really made me wonder whether I have some Czech in my blood.
The tour ended and the wine tasting began. The waiters brought out bottles upon bottles of white and red wines, representing various vineyards and multiple years. I had a glass of white wine and stopped, but most people went to town. We were there for at least an hour and by the time we got back on the bus, people were DRUNK. I thought the bus ride here was crazy; the bus ride back was even CRAZIER.
We got to the hotel and while most people hurried off to the bar for more drinks, I called it a night and within minutes fell fast asleep.
Sat., Feb. 7, 2010
This morning started off on the right note with a killer breakfast buffet. The oranges were amazing and even Kristi (the official Rice carb-ivore) would have approved of the massive bread selection. I had some sort of shmere called “hazelnut cocoa cream” that just blew my mind. It looked like chocolate/vanilla pudding and tasted like heaven – I’ve got to see if I can get some in Prague!
At 10am we pulled out and drove about 40-min to the town of Slavkov where we toured the battlefield of Austerlitz. In 1805, French Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte fought his most famous battle here against the Austrian Emperor Francis and the Russian Tsar Alexander. Appropriately, it is known as “The Battle of Three Emperors.” Today, Austerlitz is just a long, rolling field with a large memorial (called the Memorial of Peace) on Prace Hill in the center of the battlefield. There’s a small but intriguing museum beside it that uses 80s-era audiovisuals to tell the story of the battle and Napoleon’s decisive victory. People seemed to especially love the gift shop here. Rebecca, for one, bought a dagger (a replica, not a sharp one), which I of course stole and ran off with to take silly pictures and terrify people.
The next stop was Gregor Mendel’s Garden and Museum, but after parking, unloading, and reaching the entrance, we discovered it was closed. Oops! We’d rushed to stay on schedule but now had way more time than anticipated, a full 2 hours to get lunch before meeting for a walking tour of Brno. My group grabbed 2 tables at a little café in the center of town and took our time eating.
One thing that I’ve noticed about the Czech Republic is that at pretty much every restaurant, you receive a bread basket and then get charged based on the number of pieces of bread you consume. A piece averages only about 25cents, but the “no free bread + no free refills” mentality made me an unhappy camper for a while. I’m getting used to it slowly but surely, but one thing I am NOT and will NEVER get used to is the dearth of toilets in Europe! It seems that “public restrooms” are a foreign concept, and even when you find toilets, you usually have to pay for them. It’s rarely more than 5kc (about 25cents) but it still feels unnatural to have to PAY to pee!
Another thing that’s different is that most buildings are barely (if at all) heated. I find that I’m chilly just about wherever I go, especially on tours where we spend most time either outside or in absolutely bone-chillingly cold churches, caves, passageways, etc. My dorm room tends to be chilly too, but thanks to a ridiculously warm comforter, that’s rarely a problem.
Anyway, back to Brno. At 3pm we met our tour guide in the main square and set off to see the town. Mom would’ve liked this lady – she was quick and to the point, and she didn’t wait around for stragglers (“slow people don’t get stuff”). At one point I stayed back with about 1/3 of the group to take pictures, and she and the rest of the group just disappeared. We searched for them for maybe 10 minutes before calling people still WITH her to get directions to rendezvous with them again. The lady also embraced another Rice family tradition: climbing. It seemed that any time we found stairs we went up them. We didn’t have time to go to the tip-top of Brno’s main cathedral, but I can bet that if we did, she would have led the charge up the stairs. All in all, it was a tiring but also great introduction to the town.
Brno is the second largest city in the Czech Republic (Prague is #1) but isn’t even close to being a bustling metropolis. It’s a quiet, kind of gloomy town with communist-era utilitarian buildings interspersed with beautiful, old-time buildings. There’s a constant layer of smog hovering over the city and a generally somber air about the people. While I was there, I found myself missing Prague.
The tour ended where it began, and at this point the group dispersed. A couple people headed off to find an ice-skating rink (an endeavor that ended with them far out of town and turned away from the rink because the ice was “bad”), but as today was my first day not wearing an ankle wrap since I sprained it, I decided it was better to be safe than sorry, and I didn’t go with them. Instead, Diego, Chris, and I returned to the Cathedral hoping to climb to the top of the spire but by the time we got there, it was already closed. We wandered around a bit before returning to the main square and beginning the long trek back to the hotel. In retrospect, trying to navigate an unfamiliar city in the dark was probably not a wise decision. What should have been a 15 minute walk turned into an hour-long adventure involving multiple pit stops to ask for directions, an illegal tram ride (we couldn’t find the ticket machine but we snuck on anyway), and aching feet all around. Thank god I had walked around the hotel area yesterday, because when we got to the right part of town I was able to lead us back. It felt so good to walk into the heat of the lobby!
We warmed up for a bit and then went to dinner at the hotel restaurant. I was absolutely exhausted from the day and I had a chill that I just couldn’t shake, so after dinner I went to my room to take a hot shower, write a bit, and then pass out.
Sunday, Feb. 8, 2010
I woke up this morning way too early, just not tired anymore. I wasted a bit of time but still got downstairs a full hour and a half before departure time. It actually worked out – there was no line for the internet AND I didn’t have to fight the AIFS hordes for breakfast. Morning success!
By 9:45 everyone was gathered in the lobby, packed and ready to go. Our first stop: Gregor Mendel’s garden and museum, which had been closed yesterday. The garden itself was unspectacular: just a snow-covered plot within the monastery’s walls. The museum, too, was a stretch, as it covered all of Mendel’s life rather than just his science-altering gardening hobby. I saw his original peas (they look oddly like kibble nowadays) and his spectacles, and I read a lot of signs about his contribution to genetics, but probably my favorite part of the museum was the gift shop where they had some hilarious shirts. I also loved the fact that I can now say with absolute sincerity that I’ve been to a “Pea Museum” (ha-ha!).
After another hour on the bus we arrived at the coolest part of Moravia so far: the Moravian Karst system, a series of underground caves replete with rivers, soaring holes that allow smidgeons of light to peek through from the far-distant surface, stalactites and stalagmites (some joining to form columns), and a multitude of other beautiful sights. It was about a 15-minute walk on a VERY ice path to get to the cave entrance, but at least THIS path was level!
Soon we were descending through narrow cave tunnels approaching the vaulted ceiling of the cave’s first chamber. From there we continued to walk, passing a vast underground lake and many rock formations that seemed to defy gravity before we finally emerged from the depths of the earth only to find ourselves at the bottom of a massive crater ringed by snowy trees far above. It was absolutely breathtaking.
We returned underground and within minutes found ourselves at a dock, a boat waiting to transport us along a narrow, winding, underground river. I boarded the first boat and off we went, so close to the rocks that from time to time I found myself leaning to get out of the way of rocks in our path. It felt like a ride at Disney World (Pirates of the Caribbean, perhaps) but 100x cooler because it was REAL. Eventually we emerged from the cave and docked in the sunlight, but the ride had been so amazing that I didn’t want it to be over.
The walk back to the main area was an adventure in and of itself. The icy path had somehow gotten icier, and a couple of us had fairly spectacular wipeouts. I pulled a “Cool Running” and took Adrian down with me when I toppled, but Alex’s fall was by far the most entertaining. I have no idea how this happened but he did a sort of sideways flip before landing, sending his inhaler skittering out of his pocket and away on its own. He looked up, his Waldo hat askew and his face is a state of absolute befuddlement about how he’d reached the ground, and it was possibly one of the most hilarious, “America’s Funniest Home Videos” moments I’ve ever witnessed.
Luckily we got back to the buses unscathed, and after a quick lunch we were off to our final stop in Moravia, the small town of Adamov. Here we visited a church to see a beautiful carved altar from the 16th century, but it was so cold in the church that I could barely appreciate it.
Finally we were back on the bus and heading “home” to Prague. It was an uneventful ride, and within hours we were back to the dorm, ready to unpack and hit the hay in anticipation of tomorrow’s first day of Czech class.
Before I continue this adventure, it’s necessary I introduce you to even more characters. You already know Kate, Adrian, Kacy, Jake, Ryan, and Walt, but there are a couple more key players in this Prague adventure.
First – my roommates! Our room is set up as 2 bedrooms linked by a little hallway that holds the shower/sink room, the toilet/sink room, and a tiny kitchenette with two hot plates, yet another sink (I'm starting to sense a theme), a mini fridge, and a small kitchen table. I live with Rebecca, also known as the girl in the dark black glasses. This lady is a KOOK rivaling even me on the hyper scale and I love her. When she’s not busy being a ridiculously entertaining and kick-ass journalist/spam writer, she’s either skyping with her dancing boyfriend or hitting the town. Our suitemates are Becca (the “juvie” from Texas I mentioned before who’s surprisingly less like a convict than I expected) and Michelle (chef extraordinaire and future food critic). Together, we’re the ladies of S326 and S328, bound together by an overflowing shower, a critical shortage of toilet paper, and the woes of fitting four girls’ food in one small fridge.
As for the loonies outside my room, I start first and foremost with Alex (and not just because he promises to write my first comment… *wink wink*). This dude was either a comedian or a court jester in his last life because he’s literally ALWAYS making us crack up. He has a flair for the dramatic and a slyly goofy nature that comes out at the most random moments. He’s also quite the stud in his Waldo hat. Then there’s Ian, who I like to think of as the mysterious one. He’s all calm and cool, the traditional Marlboro Texas cowboy, but then he’s always surprising me – turns out he’s a killer dancer, a fishing expert, and a Sherlock-Holmes-with-a-pipe lookalike all in one. Who’da thunk?
Jordan is my polar opposite (at least on the music front). She’s a chain-smoking hotsy totsy little lady, and we all love her to death. Chris is more commonly known as the dude in the cowboy hat. An awesome writer and a ready laugher, he’s all-around pretty darn cool. Jessica and I are the resident non-beer-lovers of the group, but that lady’s even more awesome than me (a hard feat, I know) because she can pop-drop-and-lock like it’s her business. Sign me up to go dancing with this chick ANY day. Stephanie with the forever-forgotten last name is the traditional best friend type: sweet, kind, wholesome, and caring, I know that lady’s got my back no matter what. And finally, the infamous Diego (Adrian’s long-lost roomie from Venezuela): a sarcastic little smartass who somehow keeps me giggling 24/7. He sounds like Puss in Boots and acts like a 7-year-old looking for naughty fun. Dude ROCKS.
This is a lot of the “family” but I’m sure I’ll be introducing more and more characters in the future blogs. For now, though, we’re all set to continue the adventure.
Feb. 5, 2010
After a late night of dancing, I was so awake and full of energy that I stayed up til 6am, updating my blog and facebook photo albums. Perhaps not the wisest of decisions that I’ve made, but as Thursday’s first event was at 1:30pm, I was still able to get a full “night” of sleep.
First stop today was at the AIFS Office to pick up our official Charles University student ID cards. Turns out the ID cards weren’t actually at the office – they herded us there to stagger our arrivals at the actual ID office so as not to overwhelm the staff. I didn’t mind; I LOVE the AIFS Office. There’s free internet, free printing, free water, and free toilets, but even more wonderful is that to get to the 3rd floor office (4th floor for ye Americans who don’t call the ground floor “floor 0”) you can take the CONTINUOUS ELEVATORS! I’m totally taking a video of these contraptions the next time I’m there – they’re mad fun.
They took us on a long roundabout walk to get to the ID place and by the time we arrived we were all a little windswept and red-nosed, making for rather entertaining ID photos. From there we wandered to Wenceslas Square to find the classroom building on Jindrisska Street where the majority of us will have our Czech language courses. On the way we stopped for street sausages, the kind that brought me to foodgasm last time. I decided to be all adventurous and get a different type of sausage – the whiter #13 instead of my usual, redder #11. Worst decision of the day. It wasn’t disgusting but it just wasn’t #11. Boo.
By this time, we’d been walking outside for about an hour and holy crap, were we freezing! Next on the schedule was a walking tour of Prague with ECES but because of the cold about half the people opted out of it. The “ditchers” took off for a local pub and I have to admit, I was mighty tempted to join them. Instead I grabbed some tea and warmed up as best I could.
Before long the tour started and we found ourselves following the tour guide past the Jewish Quarter, over a bridge, and on the funicular for a ride up Petrín Hill. The whole time our tour guide spoke into a microphone about the sights we were passing while we listened via earpieces. I felt all secret agent walking around with an earpiece, like I was Sydney Bristow. Super cool.
We stopped at a bunch of landmarks, my favorite of which was a giant replica of the Eiffel Tower only 2 years younger than the original. The best part of the entire tour, though, was not even planned. There’s a long path down a steep hill that connects the Eiffel Tower to the Castle, and we planned to walk it. Little did we know that yesterday’s brief warm spell combined with today's plunging temperatures had created a new layer of thick, slick ice – so much ice in fact that the stairs on the path were no longer stairs, but just one long, sleek ice slide. We tried to walk down at first, but that just wasn’t gonna happen – one person and then another and another lost their footing and slid, unable to stop or even slow themselves the whole way down. Go and look at the video I posted just prior to this entry and watch closely. They’re sliding down a STAIRCASE! I kept trying to walk upright and each time, within seconds, found myself on my hiney sliding down the hill. Allie was in absolute heaven – somehow she made it back up the hill to slide down all over again! It was quite the adventure, and definitely the best laugh I’ve had in a while.
The remainder of the tour was anticlimactic. I kept bursting into giggles every time I remembered the accidental sledding experience. Everyone had wet bums – some from the snow, others from… well… you can figure it out.
After the tour ended we hit the grocery store to prepare for our first ever FAMILY DINNER! Tonight, Allie was the brave soul who volunteered to be head chef. She made chicken curry, Jake made wild rice, Kacy made fresh salad with cheese and apples, and I steered clear of the kitchen rather than risk setting something on fire. Everyone contributed: I brought dessert, Kate and Adrian brought wine, Diego brought champagne, Walt and Alex provided the kitchen and utensils, and we all took part in the glory known as family dinner. It reminded me of last August’s pre-going-abroad “family dinner” with Lucy, Sarah, TKaps, and Mikey. :)
The dinner was a brilliantly improvised success. We drank wine from beer mugs, mixed the salad in a shopping bag, and even shared plates (*cough cough Alex and Diego*). It was ridiculously delicious – Allie, you are a kick-ass cook! After dinner we cleaned up and randomly decided to watch the cave episode of “Planet Earth” on a laptop. All in all, it was a wonderful, happy, gloriously kooky night.
Friday, Feb. 6, 2010
Today I woke up bright and early to pack for the AIFS weekend trip to Moravia, a region in the southern part of the Czech Republic. By 10:30am, we were all loaded on the buses and on our way. It was a long drive with only one real stop, at the 13th century era church in the small town of Tišnov. The church itself was as grand and ornate as it seems all are in Europe, but what really made it stand out from the rest was its epically beautiful cloister. I can only imagine how beautiful it must be in the summer because even in the freezing cold with snow covering every surface it was still breathtaking. I could just imagine myself hundreds of years in the past, meandering serenely along it in a flowing gown. It was like I was on a movie set, but better because of course this was real life!
The only downside to Tišnov was the fact that we weren’t allowed to use the toilets there – apparently the pipes were frozen! Many of us ladies had to GO, so the final 30-minute ride to the hotel in Brno was a tense, sit-on-your-foot, don’t-you-dare-make-me-giggle adventure. We arrived, got our room keys, and dashed upstairs.
The meeting time for dinner was 6pm so we had about 2 hours to explore Brno on our own. A couple of us headed out for a walk only to discover that we were in the boondocks of the city. Our street had one grocery store and a bunch of shady-looking unmarked buildings. We walked for a while and found a whole slew of bars/casinos in a row, plus one random second-hand shop that seemed to specialize in 80s prom dresses. We eventually entered a bar and greeted the waitress in Czech. Ohh, was she pissed. Honestly, we said two words in Czech and her response was “****. English.” I actually don’t know WHAT word she said there, but it was short and harsh and could easily have been a Czech swear word.
We got a round of drinks and just hung out, biding our time til dinner, and at 6pm we were back on Bus #1 on the way to the restaurant. Turns out it was a full hour away, so to stay entertained we sang along to Kacy’s I-pod (“she’s cheer captain and I’m on the bleachers!” :P). Finally we arrived at the Templar Order Restaurant in the town of Ĉejkovice. This place was amazing. Back in the 12th century when the Templar Order was flourishing, it ordered the construction of hundreds of miles of underground, stone tunnels. Today, this branch of the tunnels is half restaurant-half wine cellar, where they store casks of aging wine alongside “archives” of the best wines from every year. First we ate, and man oh man was the food amazing. I had a pork/almond dish with the most hearty, delicious mashed potatoes I’ve ever tasted. Granted it was almost 8pm by the time the food arrived, so I was hungry enough to find even poop on a stick delicious, but it was nonetheless a great meal. We sat at 2 long tables arranged Hogwarts style and decked out with wine glasses and cloth napkins, the whole shebang.
We then went on a tour of the wine cellars, following a petite, grandmotherly Czech woman as she narrated in Czech and Jana translated in English. There is just so much wine down there! A couple of the casks are ridiculously large – one could hold an entire band with room to spare. The coolest thing of all, though, was how much the tour guide looked like Grandma Clem. The resemblance was just uncanny – it really made me wonder whether I have some Czech in my blood.
The tour ended and the wine tasting began. The waiters brought out bottles upon bottles of white and red wines, representing various vineyards and multiple years. I had a glass of white wine and stopped, but most people went to town. We were there for at least an hour and by the time we got back on the bus, people were DRUNK. I thought the bus ride here was crazy; the bus ride back was even CRAZIER.
We got to the hotel and while most people hurried off to the bar for more drinks, I called it a night and within minutes fell fast asleep.
Sat., Feb. 7, 2010
This morning started off on the right note with a killer breakfast buffet. The oranges were amazing and even Kristi (the official Rice carb-ivore) would have approved of the massive bread selection. I had some sort of shmere called “hazelnut cocoa cream” that just blew my mind. It looked like chocolate/vanilla pudding and tasted like heaven – I’ve got to see if I can get some in Prague!
At 10am we pulled out and drove about 40-min to the town of Slavkov where we toured the battlefield of Austerlitz. In 1805, French Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte fought his most famous battle here against the Austrian Emperor Francis and the Russian Tsar Alexander. Appropriately, it is known as “The Battle of Three Emperors.” Today, Austerlitz is just a long, rolling field with a large memorial (called the Memorial of Peace) on Prace Hill in the center of the battlefield. There’s a small but intriguing museum beside it that uses 80s-era audiovisuals to tell the story of the battle and Napoleon’s decisive victory. People seemed to especially love the gift shop here. Rebecca, for one, bought a dagger (a replica, not a sharp one), which I of course stole and ran off with to take silly pictures and terrify people.
The next stop was Gregor Mendel’s Garden and Museum, but after parking, unloading, and reaching the entrance, we discovered it was closed. Oops! We’d rushed to stay on schedule but now had way more time than anticipated, a full 2 hours to get lunch before meeting for a walking tour of Brno. My group grabbed 2 tables at a little café in the center of town and took our time eating.
One thing that I’ve noticed about the Czech Republic is that at pretty much every restaurant, you receive a bread basket and then get charged based on the number of pieces of bread you consume. A piece averages only about 25cents, but the “no free bread + no free refills” mentality made me an unhappy camper for a while. I’m getting used to it slowly but surely, but one thing I am NOT and will NEVER get used to is the dearth of toilets in Europe! It seems that “public restrooms” are a foreign concept, and even when you find toilets, you usually have to pay for them. It’s rarely more than 5kc (about 25cents) but it still feels unnatural to have to PAY to pee!
Another thing that’s different is that most buildings are barely (if at all) heated. I find that I’m chilly just about wherever I go, especially on tours where we spend most time either outside or in absolutely bone-chillingly cold churches, caves, passageways, etc. My dorm room tends to be chilly too, but thanks to a ridiculously warm comforter, that’s rarely a problem.
Anyway, back to Brno. At 3pm we met our tour guide in the main square and set off to see the town. Mom would’ve liked this lady – she was quick and to the point, and she didn’t wait around for stragglers (“slow people don’t get stuff”). At one point I stayed back with about 1/3 of the group to take pictures, and she and the rest of the group just disappeared. We searched for them for maybe 10 minutes before calling people still WITH her to get directions to rendezvous with them again. The lady also embraced another Rice family tradition: climbing. It seemed that any time we found stairs we went up them. We didn’t have time to go to the tip-top of Brno’s main cathedral, but I can bet that if we did, she would have led the charge up the stairs. All in all, it was a tiring but also great introduction to the town.
Brno is the second largest city in the Czech Republic (Prague is #1) but isn’t even close to being a bustling metropolis. It’s a quiet, kind of gloomy town with communist-era utilitarian buildings interspersed with beautiful, old-time buildings. There’s a constant layer of smog hovering over the city and a generally somber air about the people. While I was there, I found myself missing Prague.
The tour ended where it began, and at this point the group dispersed. A couple people headed off to find an ice-skating rink (an endeavor that ended with them far out of town and turned away from the rink because the ice was “bad”), but as today was my first day not wearing an ankle wrap since I sprained it, I decided it was better to be safe than sorry, and I didn’t go with them. Instead, Diego, Chris, and I returned to the Cathedral hoping to climb to the top of the spire but by the time we got there, it was already closed. We wandered around a bit before returning to the main square and beginning the long trek back to the hotel. In retrospect, trying to navigate an unfamiliar city in the dark was probably not a wise decision. What should have been a 15 minute walk turned into an hour-long adventure involving multiple pit stops to ask for directions, an illegal tram ride (we couldn’t find the ticket machine but we snuck on anyway), and aching feet all around. Thank god I had walked around the hotel area yesterday, because when we got to the right part of town I was able to lead us back. It felt so good to walk into the heat of the lobby!
We warmed up for a bit and then went to dinner at the hotel restaurant. I was absolutely exhausted from the day and I had a chill that I just couldn’t shake, so after dinner I went to my room to take a hot shower, write a bit, and then pass out.
Sunday, Feb. 8, 2010
I woke up this morning way too early, just not tired anymore. I wasted a bit of time but still got downstairs a full hour and a half before departure time. It actually worked out – there was no line for the internet AND I didn’t have to fight the AIFS hordes for breakfast. Morning success!
By 9:45 everyone was gathered in the lobby, packed and ready to go. Our first stop: Gregor Mendel’s garden and museum, which had been closed yesterday. The garden itself was unspectacular: just a snow-covered plot within the monastery’s walls. The museum, too, was a stretch, as it covered all of Mendel’s life rather than just his science-altering gardening hobby. I saw his original peas (they look oddly like kibble nowadays) and his spectacles, and I read a lot of signs about his contribution to genetics, but probably my favorite part of the museum was the gift shop where they had some hilarious shirts. I also loved the fact that I can now say with absolute sincerity that I’ve been to a “Pea Museum” (ha-ha!).
After another hour on the bus we arrived at the coolest part of Moravia so far: the Moravian Karst system, a series of underground caves replete with rivers, soaring holes that allow smidgeons of light to peek through from the far-distant surface, stalactites and stalagmites (some joining to form columns), and a multitude of other beautiful sights. It was about a 15-minute walk on a VERY ice path to get to the cave entrance, but at least THIS path was level!
Soon we were descending through narrow cave tunnels approaching the vaulted ceiling of the cave’s first chamber. From there we continued to walk, passing a vast underground lake and many rock formations that seemed to defy gravity before we finally emerged from the depths of the earth only to find ourselves at the bottom of a massive crater ringed by snowy trees far above. It was absolutely breathtaking.
We returned underground and within minutes found ourselves at a dock, a boat waiting to transport us along a narrow, winding, underground river. I boarded the first boat and off we went, so close to the rocks that from time to time I found myself leaning to get out of the way of rocks in our path. It felt like a ride at Disney World (Pirates of the Caribbean, perhaps) but 100x cooler because it was REAL. Eventually we emerged from the cave and docked in the sunlight, but the ride had been so amazing that I didn’t want it to be over.
The walk back to the main area was an adventure in and of itself. The icy path had somehow gotten icier, and a couple of us had fairly spectacular wipeouts. I pulled a “Cool Running” and took Adrian down with me when I toppled, but Alex’s fall was by far the most entertaining. I have no idea how this happened but he did a sort of sideways flip before landing, sending his inhaler skittering out of his pocket and away on its own. He looked up, his Waldo hat askew and his face is a state of absolute befuddlement about how he’d reached the ground, and it was possibly one of the most hilarious, “America’s Funniest Home Videos” moments I’ve ever witnessed.
Luckily we got back to the buses unscathed, and after a quick lunch we were off to our final stop in Moravia, the small town of Adamov. Here we visited a church to see a beautiful carved altar from the 16th century, but it was so cold in the church that I could barely appreciate it.
Finally we were back on the bus and heading “home” to Prague. It was an uneventful ride, and within hours we were back to the dorm, ready to unpack and hit the hay in anticipation of tomorrow’s first day of Czech class.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
BLOG POST 5
February 3, 2010
Today I journeyed to Kutná Hora, home of the infamous Sedlec Bone Church and man! was it a boring day. Our tour guide was a total dud – he knew his facts but he presented them so bone-dry and in such a nonlinear fashion that in the end all that came out of his mouth was “blah blah blah.” I learned next to nothing… but at least the drive was beautiful, right?
Our first stop was an hour away from Prague at a castle called Ĉeský Ŝternberk. It was gorgeous from the outside, a large stone fortress surrounded by thick stone walls, all perched atop a hill bathed white in snow. When we first entered the courtyard we were greeted by the smell of grilling sausages and hot mulled wine (officially my favorite cold-weather alcoholic beverage of all time) and the beautiful view of a small village nestled in the valley below the hill.
The inside of the castle, however, was a letdown. The rooms, the art, and the furniture all showed their age, looking more beat-up than majestic. We explored from a bit and then continued our bus ride to the town of Kutná Hora, about 45-minutes away. Our tour guide took us on a walking tour of downtown but his confusing and circuitous speech pattern combined with his quiet voice and lack of microphone lulled the majority of us into a zoned-out (almost zombie-esque) stupor. He took us from one old building to another, but I couldn’t tell you anything he said.
Finally it was time for a lunch break. My group of 8 ended up at an absolutely empty pub where the language barrier was a definite issue. I thought I ordered one meal but ended up getting something unidentifiable. I recognized ham and cheese and what looked like uncooked chili but tasted like week-old sloppy joes. I ate because I was hungry, but it tasted downright funky.
The tour continued at St. Barbara’s Cathedral, famous for its flying buttresses and stained glass windows, and ended at the Sedlec Bone Church. This place is absolutely RIDICULOUS. All its decorations are made from the human bones collected from 40,000 plague victims. There are crosses, chandeliers, even pyramids of bones stacked artistically atop one another. I don’t think words alone can do justice to the mega-creepiness of this church, so I've attached some pictures to the top of this post. "Czech" them out!
February 3, 2010
Today I journeyed to Kutná Hora, home of the infamous Sedlec Bone Church and man! was it a boring day. Our tour guide was a total dud – he knew his facts but he presented them so bone-dry and in such a nonlinear fashion that in the end all that came out of his mouth was “blah blah blah.” I learned next to nothing… but at least the drive was beautiful, right?
Our first stop was an hour away from Prague at a castle called Ĉeský Ŝternberk. It was gorgeous from the outside, a large stone fortress surrounded by thick stone walls, all perched atop a hill bathed white in snow. When we first entered the courtyard we were greeted by the smell of grilling sausages and hot mulled wine (officially my favorite cold-weather alcoholic beverage of all time) and the beautiful view of a small village nestled in the valley below the hill.
The inside of the castle, however, was a letdown. The rooms, the art, and the furniture all showed their age, looking more beat-up than majestic. We explored from a bit and then continued our bus ride to the town of Kutná Hora, about 45-minutes away. Our tour guide took us on a walking tour of downtown but his confusing and circuitous speech pattern combined with his quiet voice and lack of microphone lulled the majority of us into a zoned-out (almost zombie-esque) stupor. He took us from one old building to another, but I couldn’t tell you anything he said.
Finally it was time for a lunch break. My group of 8 ended up at an absolutely empty pub where the language barrier was a definite issue. I thought I ordered one meal but ended up getting something unidentifiable. I recognized ham and cheese and what looked like uncooked chili but tasted like week-old sloppy joes. I ate because I was hungry, but it tasted downright funky.
The tour continued at St. Barbara’s Cathedral, famous for its flying buttresses and stained glass windows, and ended at the Sedlec Bone Church. This place is absolutely RIDICULOUS. All its decorations are made from the human bones collected from 40,000 plague victims. There are crosses, chandeliers, even pyramids of bones stacked artistically atop one another. I don’t think words alone can do justice to the mega-creepiness of this church, so I've attached some pictures to the top of this post. "Czech" them out!
WEIRD, right?! Anyway, after a long and somewhat tedious day, we drove back to Prague and arrived around 6pm. By then, I felt super nauseated. I’m not sure whether I was carsick or whether my stomach was rejecting the nasty ingredients in lunch, but I thought I was going to be sick. I went back to my room straightaway to take some Pepto and a short nap. I woke up hours later feeling MUCH better. By then it was already 11 o’clock, so I had to hurry to get ready for a night on the town. We ended up going to an awesome pub/dance club called Chapeau Rouge. Considering it was a Wednesday night, there were a TON of people there. Many of them were AIFS students, especially the ones on the dance floor, but there were also local Czechs and one creepy homeless man who just stood at the bar waiting for people to buy him drinks. I spent the whole night going bonkers on the dance floor grooving to the European techno beats, and it ended up being a crazy awesome night. Getting back to the dorm was a definite challenge because the metro was closed and none of us were all too familiar with the tram system, but tonight it was Jake to the rescue, single-handedly navigating four ladies home safe and sound. (That dude seriously rocks.)
I knew it’s only been one week since I left home, but already I can say with utter certainty that I LOVE Prague.
I knew it’s only been one week since I left home, but already I can say with utter certainty that I LOVE Prague.
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