Well hello there

My oh my it has been a while since I posted. In my defense, my schedule has been pretty, um, packed? Hardly: fall break, midterms week, and lazy week. What can I say, I'm on a freakin roll. But I'm sorry it's taken me so long to actually get back into blogging, and I hope this post makes up for my absence.

So fall break. 4 countries in 11 days. There's no point in giving a you a detailed summary of what happened every day, because while exciting things did indeed happen on a daily basis, who the fuck wants to read through that. So instead, here's a general list of what fall break was like:

• London: I was only in London for 18 hours, but in that time I managed to get fish and chips, Indian food on Brick Lane, get drunk, and spend a surprising amount of money. I mean, the Brits must travel in style because their money is worth twice as much as everyone elses. It's a little out of control.
  

• Istanbul: There's really not enough I can say about how goddamn cool Istanbul is. It is so different from anywhere I've ever been before- it's a Muslim country, there are these beautiful old mosques EVERYWHERE, there are so many ruins just scattered around the city, and it's still a little rough around the edges. So much hookah, it was ridiculous. The food is out of control delicious, and cheap! I could eat a dinner of amazing street food for like two dollars. Roasted chestnuts, baklava, sesame donuts, rice pilaf, grilled corn, and all sorts of other things. My favorite was the fish bread- you could go down to an area right on the river where fishermen would bring their catches, pan fry them on these giant griddles floating on boats moored to the dock, and serve it to you in an amazing sandwich with onion, salt, and lemon juice. Did I mention the hookah? One night Lisa and I got a little turned around in the slums going back to our hostel and stumbled upon a traditional Turkish wedding in the street. It was also right underneath the train tracks, so every ten minutes or so this massive train would roar by, separated from the wedding by a single chain link fence. It was very Slumdog Millionaire. Now I'm determined to keep heading east until I hit India. Graduation? Hmmm....

• Athens: I was only in Athens for a day and a half, so I didn't see everything, but it has to be one of the dirtiest cities I've seen. Not like piles of trash on the streets or anything like that, but it just felt really grimy. I got a little turned around heading to the hostel from the airport and before I knew what was going on I was standing in the middle of a huge drug deal. People were literally standing next to me on the sidewalk and shooting up heroin. The Acropolis was cool, the food was great, blah blah blah. Moving on.

• Rome: The overeating began even before we left for Rome. It turned out that we were on the first Easyjet flight from Athens to Rome, and so the airline gave us free hats and a catered lunch while we were waiting to board. Good stuff. Rome is a beautiful city, and it's like walking through a giant museum. We saw everything you're supposed to see (except the Forum, which mysteriously closed early on Saturday) and ate way more pasta than anyone should. It's our hostel that's worth mentioning, though. THAT shit was crazy. You may have seen my facebook status where I quoted the receptionist saying "If you need anything, ask me now, because I'll be drunk by 9." The place was run by this Italian midgit (not a real one) named Salvatore who was a little too old for this and spoke no English and his Irish sidekick, Jeff. It was just one long hallway with a bunch of rooms coming off of it, and every night, it turned into a raging party that usually ended with Salvatore standing on the table and pouring champagne into people's mouths. This, um, theme made a lot of people in the group uncomfortable, but I thought it was kinda fun. Inappropriate, of course, but oh so entertaining. I met many new friends and I could not tell you any of their names or where they're from (I have a vague memory of a fellow Red Sox fan). Free drinks will do this to you. You could write a movie about this place; in fact, Alex rightly compared it to a European version of Old School. Dead on.

So that was my little eurotrip. Totally worth the money. I came back and wrote papers last week for midterms, which is why I didn't get around to posting. I love how much the professors here seem to hate the American style of grading- it seems like in every class I have, the professor has made some surprised/annoyed announcement that they has to provide NYU with midterm grades, which is so stupid, but they have to do it. I have a feeling they just give everyone A's. My Reporting the Arts professor still refuses to actually give us letter grades on our papers, as did Jan Urban, so its anyone's guess.

Last weekend, lots of people went to Berlin, so Kush, Melody, Sean, Max, and their friend from Vienna did lots of wandering and drinking and, um, other fun things too. I had no work because the previous week was midterms, so it was a nice way to decompress after traveling so much over fall break. This week was more of the same, with work not really picking back up yet. I think all the Czechs are looking forward to the anniversary of the Velvet Revolution (next Tuesday. It'll be ridiculous, I am so joining in the re-enactment of the student march and partying in Wenceslas Square) so they can't focus on much else right now. I'm OK with that.

In other news, like many other NYU students, I'm currently mapping out my schedule because I have to register on Tuesday. My schedule for next semester, in a word, blows. I have a class, one class, on Mondays from 8:30-12:10. That sucks because Tom Beidelman is teaching a class called Anthropology of Death, but its MW 9:30-10:45. DAMNIT. Then I have a lecture Monday nights from 6:20-8:50. On top of that, I have to take Con West, and the only one I'm interested in taking has Friday recitations. UGH. I know bitching about a Friday class is probably really annoying to all you people who don't go to NYU, but I don't care. Going two and a half years with a four day week (three days last semester) will do that to you.

I also need to start applying for internships, but when you're living in a magical place like Prague, that shit all feels so distant. I'm thinking the Daily News as of now. It would be so great if I got an internship because then I would use that as my fourth class and continue to put off my anthropology major. Plus my resume is pretty bare. OK sorry I'm done talking like a grown up now.

Before I go, I'd like to point out that I'm really starting to hate other groups of Americans in Prague. They just suck. Chapeau was so full of them last night that I might have well as been back in New York. They're loud, obnoxious, rude, apallingly stupid; in other words, they fit right into the stereotype that Americans suffer abroad. Maybe it's because I've lived here for almost three months and I'm starting to feel like attached to Prague, but I'm sure that when I see them my face contorts into the classic Czech scowl. I'm sorry, but there are other bars in the city besides Chapeau and other restaurants besides Bohemia Bagel (although it is really good). Have you ever gotten yelled at by a Czech person in a grocery store? Do you know how to use the trams? Have you ever gone out for a beer before an evening class? Have you gone to Mecca on Wednesdays because even though it's so far, it's free? Do you know the joy of Radost brunch and sleeping beauties? Do you know how to get around Old Town without a map? No. You don't because you don't live here. Us NYU kids, we do. For these four months, this is our city. Remember that next time you head out on one of those idiotic pub crawls.

The Life and Times of the Machova 12

Note: Wow, it has been a while since I last posted, and again, to all those who enjoy this blog as a means of procrastination, I'm sorry. Tons o' stuff has happened over these three weeks, and I'll fill you in on all if it as soon as I can. In the meantime, enjoy a guest post by Rebecca Smith about how the Machova 12 got from Amsterdam to Copenhagen.

The collective goal of the Machova 12 was to get as fucked up as possible and still make our flights, trains, or buses. On our last day in Amsterdam, I began to worry that this goal was unrealistic. High people miss trains; it happens. When I’m high the only place I can successfully get to is Bohemia Bagel. As the afternoon hours passed I made a to-do list hoping it would make our departure more successful-

1. Finish all the weed incase of dogs on the train
2. Get some edibles
3. Find E
4. DON’T MISS THE FUCKING TRAIN. We took a taxi to Amstel Station to assure that I could put a check next to #4 on my list. We bee-lined it for the Eurolines counter and with a great feeling of success I asked the woman behind the counter where we could find our train.

“Train?” She said, with more humor than confusion.
“Yes, the train to Copenhagen.” I said, showing her my ticket.
“You on a bus.” She said, laughing and pointing to the bus in view outside the window behind me.

FAIL.

5. To-do list addition #5- Survive a 14 hour bus ride to Copenhagen.

In all honesty, the first 8 hours weren’t that bad. We had all had a decent helping on hash cake, and I was optimistic about the entire situation. I think Melody and Natalie PTFOed before we even left the station. Fortunately for me, and unfortunately for Robert, who was my bus buddy, hash makes me a little giddy. Therefore I sang every song from Capital Gold Love Legends, rapped in entirety “The Bad Touch”, “The Touch it Remix”, “Blueberry Yum Yum”, and every Missy Eliot song I know. I like to think that this was only audible to Robert and me; however the reality is that it might have been a bit of a show for everyone within a few seats of us. Now Robert must have been really intimidated by my rap skills, because at this point things got competitive. But, obviously, I am better than Robert at everything.

Except the dot game. And rock paper scissors. But you see, I just had to find my element -which turns out to be listing items on the McDonalds menu. Watch out for that salad menu. And don’t you dare forget Chicken Selects. Bitch. After I had redeemed myself- if you can call listing everything on a McDonalds menu redeeming- I decided to make some art. A blatantly hash cake-induced Van Gough recreation to be exact.

Something I forgot to mention was our fellow companions on the torture bus. I couldn’t quite figure them out, but if I had to make a painfully specific guess based on stereotypes and a mediocre knowledge on European immigration, I would say that they were northern African Muslim immigrants trying to make a new start in a Scandinavian welfare state. Now I have to admit, that the sheer number of them was mildly terrifying. It was somewhat like when you accidently get on the A train going express when you want to go to the Museum of Natural History but you end up in Harlem. You don’t need to get to 106^th street to realize you have made a mistake. Take one look around and based on demographics alone, you know you’re the only one going to Harlem on accident.

I have learned that the cheapest mode of travel is often the sketchiest. Take the Chinatown bus for example. I know when I get on that bus that it’s going to be sketchy. It will be full of Chinese people, transporting live chickens and drugs to Boston. That’s fine, because I expect it. But did we unknowingly board the Chinatown bus of Europe? I soon began to wonder –we were on a 14 hour bus on accident, what type of people do this willingly? Refugees from Darfur? I can only assume.

Apparently illegal immigrants have very shady passports –meaning that they had little booklets with pictures gluesticked-in with hand-written information scribbled on the side. Our American passports barely touched the fingers of the border control officers before the handed them back with the utmost satisfaction. I could have shown then a passport saying I was Elian Gonzales and they wouldn’t have cared. Only one man was escorted off the bus by the immigration officers.

We arrived in Hamburg around 11pm. Ironically one of the few things I saw in Hamburg was hamburgers –a McDonalds in fact. At this point I thought my bladder might actually explode, which was also ironic because I had been bragging to Robert that I had the bladder of a trucker –because what’s a bigger turn-on than a girl with a bladder of steel? And although the bus driver had stopped every two hours, which I found pointless, by the time we stopped in Hamburg I was at a point of desperation, but too afraid to run in for the bathroom in case the bus left. At this point I made the grave mistake of wondering how the situation could get any worse.

1:00am. Still in Hamburg. Still about to piss myself. A second bus pulled in and I realized we have been waiting two hours for connecting passengers. A terrifying man who looks like Abu Hamza al-Masri stormed off the bus and started furiously unloading numerous things from the underneath baggage compartments. He put his new-born child, no older than 2 months, in its little carrier on the ground in the middle of the ten foot space between the busses. His wife fussed around with their toddler and he continued to toss things from under the bus toward the space where the newborn is sitting. A diaper bag, small back pack, and blanket go flying towards the little guy, missing him by less than a foot. Dazed, I watched as he grabbed the folded stroller from under the bus and chucked it haphazardly behind him. Almost in slow motion I watched it glide through the air and brutally land –stroller wheel to the face, full impact to the soft infant skull- on his newborn baby.

Now, I hate babies. Newborns specifically. They are terrifyingly fragile, mushy, and high-maintenance. And I don’t have a great track record either. Once while I was babysitting I left a baby, he couldn’t have been more than a few months old, on the couch while I went to get some goldfish crackers. I heard I thud from the kitchen and ran back into the living room only to find the baby face-up on the ground, wailing. Not only that, but he also managed to land directly on top of the remote, just for kicks. He was fine, I think. I can’t guarantee that he’s going to get great SAT scores one day, or even grow into a normal shaped skull, but they never reported me for child abuse, so I figure there wasn’t even a bruise the next day. This summer I was also watching a two year-old when he managed to break his femur. But I wasn’t getting a snack when it happened so I feel far less responsible.

But no human on earth could watch something like that and not feel a little queasy. And unfortunately for this guy, although he didn’t see what he had done, two bus-loads of people had. The bus-driver started screaming at him in German, pointing out that he had almost crippled his own child. And what makes the whole situation worse is that Abu Hamza didn’t even care. He just kept unloading his shit. Then I realized that this terrifying man was getting on our bus. Our driver got into a yelling match with the guy for about 15 minutes, and from what I could understand it was something about having too much luggage. Or no ticket. Or almost killing his child. Whatever it was, I agreed –don’t let that man on our bus. But Abu Hamza got on our bus. Despite all obstacles we made it to Copenhagen and successfully made it to every plane, train, and torture bus of the trip.

It was predicted that one of the Machova 12 would die by the end of fall break, and it was on that bus I thought it was going to be me. As I sat there with a baby-killing terrorist mere seats away from me, I just prayed that from where I was sitting I would survive the blast of his shoe bomb.

Shipping Out

Mom and Dad are in town this week, so I get to play tour guide in exchange for free meals like some sort of trained monkey. Kidding, kidding. But seriously, this weekend was brimming with good decisions:

Going to Kutna Hora with NYU. Had I known that Maria “Motormouth” Homerova was coming on this trip, I would never have signed up. We had to leave by 8:15 in the morning, so the bus was full of people who, unless they have no lives, are definitely not awake by that time on a Friday morning. So once we brave the cold to walk to the bus stop (to be fair, we had the shortest walk), we all settle in and expect to sleep for most of the way to Kutna Hora. Right? Wrong-o. Someone made the huge mistake of handing Maria the microphone to the bus’s intercom system, and literally the woman did not shut up for 45 minutes. I had my iPod on at almost full volume and I could still hear her talking. It’s not like she’s talking about Kutna Hora, either. I’m pretty sure at one point she was looking out the fucking window and describing what she was seeing.

Once we got off the bus, it wasn’t much better. Being a veteran of three Homerova tours, I knew what to expect, but many of these kids had no idea what they were in for. We went into this beautiful cathedral, and she literally walked us around the perimeter, stopping every five feet to describe the next stained glass window. Chelsey and Natalie were smart- they realized what was going on right away and sat the fuck down while everyone else took an hour walking in a circle around a not-so-big cathedral. At least we were all miserable together so no one shushed me this time for being loud and stupid. I tried to get drunk at lunch to make it more interesting but it didn’t really take, which was unfortunate. Jan judged me for drinking cold beer on a cold day, but I’m not really sure what the alternative is. Hot beer? No thanks. The silver mine tour was really cool though, especially because our tour guide looked like he was staring at the bridge of his nose the entire time. I don’t know how safe it was to have this man leading us into a 500 year old mine, but whatever.

Taking my parents to the Church of Our Lady before Týn. That’s the giant cathedral right off of Old Town square- you know, the one you walk past to get to Chapeau (because you probably don’t remember the walk back). We went in there near the end of our sightseeing day on Saturday, and while it’s beautiful on the outside, it’s actually kind of boring inside. Most of the walls and ceiling are white. So we’re wandering around, and we’re all a little footsore, so we find a little alcove of pews to sit in. Right beside us is a creepy little figure of Jesus as an infant, and my dad, who is a neonatologist and really bored by this point, looks over at it and comments that it looks a little microsephalic. Mom, who went to Catholic School but the most she got out of it was a basic knowledge of Latin and countless stories of old nuns beating up kids, told him to stop diagnosing the Baby Jesus and we all had a good laugh. Then this Czech man with a nametag (I guess that makes him a figure of authority) comes over to us, bangs his fist on the pew, says something angrily in Czech, and points to the door. He even did us the favor of walking us out to make sure we actually left. Whatever. I’d like to point out that he made way more noise than we did.

Drinking a liter and a half of burcak on Saturday night and then going to Beer Factory. This sort of speaks for itself, but whatever. Cave Bar and burcak was fine, but it was by far the lamest Beer Factory experience ever. There was a man charging a cover outside, and although I know from experience that if you just stall and pretend like you’re not sure if you want to go in they’ll probably let you in for free, it was raining and no one else wanted to play that game. The place was fucking dead. I was so angry that we had to pay that cover. There were probably 15 other people in there, including a fat Asian man with a rat tail who surprised everyone by grinding with another guy. It would’ve been more fun if the music was better, but every time we went to request a song, even songs we had heard there, the DJ claimed he didn’t have it. Oh, and the drunk British man who pulled his pants down in front of us in Wenceslas Square was just the icing on the cake.

So there you have it. Midterms are in full swing this week, and I leave for fall break on Thursday, so this will be my last post until after I get back from exotic and far-away places. But first, we need to talk about Reporting the Arts and how ridiculous class was today. OK. So we turned in our first paper, written without guidelines of any sort, last week and were supposed to get them back today. In a normal class, you get the paper back, look at the comments, and maybe go bitch about the grade to the professor after class. In this class, he goes through each of the papers and says what he liked and didn’t like in front of everyone. Yes. Fortunately, I got a barely-audible “Good,” Claire got a “I like this” and Natalie was given the honor of a full sentence- “I think this was the best Oktoberfest story.” Then when a few of us went up to him after class to get the papers back, he told us that they’re not for us and he’s keeping them. To top it off, he told us that he isn’t even grading the papers… hmmmm. He also informed us that NYU is making him give midterms grades this year, but instead of doing that, he decided to point out who hasn’t talked enough in class. Oh and we have another paper, guideline-free, due the day we get back from fall break. SUPER DUPER.

I haven’t even thought about packing for fall break and I really should considering I leave in less than three days. London, Istanbul, Athens, and Rome. It should be a blast, although I’m a little disappointed that I’m not going to be able to make it to Sensation. It’s ok, because I still have Fuerza Bruta to look forward to back in New York. Plus, Machova will definitely be well represented. So Kurt, Kush, Chelsey, Natalie, Daniel, Sean, Max, Melody, Becca, Rob, Kaitlin, and whoever else is going: have fun, don’t die, and you better not be sober for it. See you in two weeks!

Rain, Rain, Go Away

Let me start this post by saying that the weather in Prague is totally fucked. When I woke up this morning, it was 40 degrees and cloudy. When I got out of class, it was drizzling. When I got out of the metro on my way home, it was sunny and really windy. When I went to the gym, it started HAILING out of nowhere. When I got out of the gym, it was cloudy again. When I got off the tram on my way home, it was completely sunny. Now I get that October is a rainy month and the weather isn't going to be all peaches and cream all the time, but come on. That is way too much to handle for one day. Also, I've spent almost my entire life living on the coast of Connecticut, where clouds and storms move west to east. WEST TO EAST. They don't come up from the south, pass over us, stop, backtrack, pass over us again, move in a circle, and then disappear. That shit just does not fly back in the states, but apparently, that's how clouds move in the middle of Europe. Someone should really look into that.

Fall is o-fficially here in Prague, and while I love the cold, it's a little early for 35 degrees at night. Lenka told Alexis that winter in Prague usually doesn't come until around January, and after five straight days where it didn't get above fifty degrees, I'm starting to think that she's lying. The leaves are turning, but as with any metropolitan area, it's not as pretty as it is back home. Apparently it's going to be a banner year for fall foliage back in New England because it rained all summer, and I'm a little sad that I haven't been home for fall in three years. In related news, the Red Sox lost and I'm depressed. Moving on.

Weather update: it was sunny when I started this post, and now there are dark clouds in the sky and it's hailing again. Whaaaaaat. And according to BBC Weather, there's a chance of snow for the next three days. Super!

Brie flew in this weekend to see Prague (and me, I guess) and we had a great time. You can read about her impressions here, so I'm not going to go through the laundry list of things we did. But on Saturday night, we went to a local bar (we call it Piano Bar because there's a piano in it, but I actually don't know the real name) so she could experience burcak, aka the nectar of the gods. When we came into the place, which is pretty small, it was full of Czech people enjoying their drinks and singing along while the old bartender was strumming away on a guitar and some other old man was playing an accordian.

• Side note: Last time we went, the place was empty and Nolan was playing "Let It Be" on the piano when all of a sudden we heard this strange singing coming from the back room. The old bartender was singing along to the song IN FALSETTO in sort-of English. Phenomenal.
  

When Brie and I sat down, he stopped playing and everyone stopped singing and he said something to me in Czech. I said "Uh, anglicky?" (English?) and everyone in the place cheered and yelled "Anglicky!!!" at us. Then he asked in broken English what we wanted to drink, and I said "Burcak, prosim," and everyone yelled "Burcak! Yah!!" at us and laughed. Turns out it's still a little scary to have people yell things at you in Czech, even if they are being friendly. Then we made friends with Allan, an old British man who wandered over to our table and asked us how we knew about burcak. All in all, an excellent night. Oh and Brie, just so you know, that is NOT usually what happens when we come into a bar and can't speak Czech.

In other news, I had my first tangible work of the semester this weekend and I think I did OK. It's hard enough to be out of school mode for an entire summer, but it's even harder when you get to school and you don't have much work for the first month. I'd rather be punched in the face with work than have this extra taste of freedom because that way you're sort of numb to whatever you have to do for the rest of the semester. This weekend I had a thousand word travel writing piece to write and a small quiz to study for, and it was like damn, this is A LOT. Of course, it's not a lot, but it's so easy to fall into that mindset. I'm going to have to make the transition quickly though, because I have another paper due the day after fall break and there is no way I'm writing it while traveling.

The revolving door of friends and relatives visiting continues this weekend with my parents, which should be a lot of fun. It's also my last weekend in Prague for a while, so I plan on taking full advantage of that. But for now, it's reading aka nap time.

AA for Food Thieves?

Another week, another lack of updates. I suck, I know. Let me make it up to you with the following email about everyone's favorite hamburglar, sent to us a few days ago by Thea:

Dear students,

Apparently food continues to disappear from at least one kitchen and several of your rooms. Please remember to lock your rooms and apartments when you're not there, as we can't guarantee the safety of your belongings otherwise.

I'm growing increasingly concerned about the person who is taking the food. If you feel you need to talk to someone, please come to my office or send me an email. I can get help for you. If you choose to come talk to me (or Martina) you won't be punished, we want to help.

Best,

Thea

I think I speak for most people when I say, um, what the fuck? This person/these people aren't anorexic cleptos, Thea. They don't need your help, they need to get over the fact that they had stuff stolen and stop taking other people's stuff as an act of revenge. I'm also confused about the sudden concern- she definitely threatened them with expulsion in the last email, so why the change of heart? It's sort of like she's trying to pull off the classic good cop/bad cop, but I'm pretty sure you need two people for that to work. Hrmmmm.... plus, what can she actually do? I doubt there's a program for food thieves in recovery. I smell a trap.

All this reminds me of something that happened my senior year of high school. Everyone has one story that, when they think about their time in high school, just jumps out at them, and this is one of them. One day, some kid took a dump in a school bathroom and then wrote messages on the mirrors using his "fecal matter." Now that's disgusting and everything, but when they made the announcement about it, I realized how funny the situation actually was. He would strike every week or so, leaving his shit poetry or whatever he was writing on the mirrors, and school administrators had absolutely no idea who it was. In time, he developed a sort of cult hero status among all of us, eventually earning his own moniker- The Poop Bandit. They eventually busted him for stealing laptops, and it came out during that business that he was the Poop Bandit. Three years later, there's only one class left at Waterford High that was there for his reign, and I suspect they will pass down the story to everyone else.

I'm not sure if the saga of the hamburglar(s) has earned that kind of notoriety yet, but I certainly hope it does. I can see it now: at orientation in New York for the fall 2010 students, a nervous sophomore will ask about what it was like living in Machova. The four or five Prague veterans will exchange looks and maybe a knowing chuckle, pause, and then launch into the story of disappearing yogurt and stolen pizza toppings. Five years from now, students will be cautioned upon arrival about the dangers of a communal refrigerator. Why, someone will ask, has there been a problem in the past with stolen food? Shaking his bald head and smiling, Honza will answer: You have no idea.

This week promised to be really easy, and it is exceeding expectations left and right. That's not to say I'm just sitting around all day, but let's run down my schedule. Monday was Radio News and Reporting the Arts, and while Radio News made me work and think, all we did in Reporting the Arts was watch a movie. Tuesday was Cultural History of the City, and we spent half the class in a museum and half in the classroom and I spent it all not paying attention. Today, I had Modern Dissent, which is always really great, but Radio News got cancelled. Tomorrow, Jan Urban is going out of town so we're watching a movie in Modern Dissent, and it's field trip day in Reporting the Arts. Yes, that's really my week. With Sean's help I discovered StumbleUpon, which now owns my life, so I'm filling my free time nicely.

Other than that, not much has happened since my last post. I went to Barcelona this weekend with Alexis and Brie and for some much-needed fun in the sun. It's one of the most gorgeous cities I've ever seen, thanks mainly to Gaudi's genius and insanity. We met Alexis' parents there and spent most of our time eating, napping, and exploring. The pictures (assuming I ever get around to posting them on facebook) will speak for themselves, so I don't need to go into too much detail. My favorite part was definitely the last day when we went to this mountaintop park that has incredible views of the entire city and harbor.

Travel highlights:

• There was an old man in spandex pants and a military jacket dancing around to the airport muzak at 7:15 in the morning. Honestly, it was the perfect send-off from Prague.
  
• Paris-Beuvais airport is not even remotely close to Paris. It smelled like cow dung and I'm pretty sure the airport (all 3 gates of it) used to be part of a farm. By the way, if any of us are starting to convince ourselves that Czech food isn't that bad, that it's actually pretty good and what were other people complaining about, stop. I had one of the best meals of my European experience in a dinky little cafe in this dinky little airport. Just goes to show you that the Czechs need to put away the communist cookbooks and branch out a little.
• The seats don't even recline on RyanAir. Love that shit. Our flight attendant had a combination of a Spanish accent and an Irish brogue, which was hilarious. He also tried to sell us electronic cigarettes, because that way we could smoke them on the plane and god forbid anyone has to go 2 hours without a cigarette. We thought about buying a pack just to see what the hell it was like but in the end I decided against the straight shot of pure nicotine to my brain.
• The Czechs are indeed determined smokers, and I'm pretty sure that every announcement on my flight back to Prague ended with something like "Oh, and remember, this is a non-smoking flight. Smoking is illegal. Don't smoke. Yes, that means you."

I got back to Prague in the middle of a rainstorm, AND it was cold. Thanks, Praha. I missed you too!

The Robin Hood of Machova

Once again, I have to apologize for my lack of updates, especially to those who visit this blog as a means of procrastination. The internet here has been constantly shitting the bed this week, so it’s been difficult to fit blogging in when I’m more focused on checking my email and looking up class readings on Wikipedia. Right now, I’ve spent about an hour trying to upload a single photo album on facebook because the internet keeps dying halfway through. Oh, the things my tuition dollars do for me.

Brief stories from Cesky Krumlov, the quaint little village where NYU sent us for the weekend:

• I absolutely could not focus on the castle tour. I don’t know what it was, and I think everyone thought that I was high, but I couldn’t stop laughing at just about anything that anyone said. At any given time, the scene on the tour was the group standing around the tour guide listening to her information and me doubled over in a corner laughing hysterically to myself. I managed to spread the insanity to the rest of the group, so by the end of the tour, we were probably the most obnoxious bunch of kids ever. Weeeeeeeeeee

• I saw people wandering around at like 10 in the morning on Saturday wearing traditional clothing, drinking beer, and eating sausages. I have so much to learn from these people.

• Our inability to be serious on tours continued into the brewery, where Nolan kept singing “I gotta golden tiiiiicket, I gotta golden tiiickeeeet!” and everyone else quoted Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Our tour guide was possibly the most nervous man on the face of the planet, and he prefaced everything he said with “I can say.” There were no free samples at the end :((((

• This was my first experience of staying in a hostel, and it is exactly what people tell you it is- a bunch of beds in a room. It’s kind of like summer camp, except it’s a little sketchier. Thank god we were only there for one night, though, because the snoring was exceptional. There were 8 guys in my room, and at any given point during the night, at least 4 were snoring their heads off. I’m not talking about a little congestion coming through in their breathing. All together, it sounded like the shredder from FernGully in stereo sound. Terrific.

• Not only did our waitress at lunch bring us expensive bottled water when we asked for tap (free), but she charged me for the take-out box for my leftovers. That's the last time I order water in a restaurant- why pay two bucks for a water when you can pay half that for a beer? This is how alcohol dependence starts. Sneaky sneaky, you slippery Czech woman. She was very friendly and smiley, so I should’ve known that something was up. We were eating outside, and at one point she even offered us blankets because it was getting a little chilly. We said no, which is good because looking back on it I’m pretty sure she would’ve charged us for those too. I’ve got to stop looking like a silly Americski.

In other news, Machova is completely out of control. Over the last couple weeks, people are getting food stolen left and right. It started on the second floor, where apparently people would go grocery shopping, come back, and within an hour all their shit would be gone. One time, this alleged thief stole soup out of the pot as some girl was making it when she walked away for a second. This thievery has spread to the other floors- on mine, Sean had a frozen pizza stolen and someone stole my lunch meat (expired, thank you very much. I hope you got food poisoning you fucker) and my butter. The RAs and the building manager had a meeting the other day and decided to put locks on some of the fridges and are threatening suspension if they catch the person.

There are some theories floating around- it's mainly the first floor, so some think that it's drunk people who come home late at night with a serious case of the drunchies and hit up the first floor they find. Nolan and I have our own theory- it's everyone. Obviously it started with someone, but by this point, especially considering the volume of stuff that has been taken, everyone is just stealing everything to get back at whoever took their shit.I'm waiting to go grocery shopping until all this blows over. It's interesting to think how this got started, though. I can see being lazy and cheap enough to like take a little butter from someone else for your morning toast, but to out and out steal something? Nolan had an entire liter of milk stolen, and I can't imagine that the thief was thinking "Hey, it's ok, he'll never even know!" Plus, you'd probably be getting fat if you were stealing everyone's food and eating it by yourself. Talk about an eating disorder. The following is what I think the thief, if he or she is acting alone, would look like. Decide for yourself:


The latest and greatest food thief story happened on Wednesday night, when one of the thieves was making a grilled cheese with stolen ingredients at like 2 in the morning. Well, they thought they heard someone coming into the kitchen, and obviously they didn't want to get caught, so they put the grilled cheese on a plate, ran out the door, and threw it down the stairs! The girls on that floor woke up to find a shattered plate on the landing with the still intact and still hot grilled cheese sandwich on it. It's like, what kind of a reaction is that? WHY would you throw it down the fucking stairs? It's like I'm living in another dimension, that's how crazy some of these people are. They had to be under the influence of something. Now I think all this is hilarious, but the people in charge are putting on their serious pants and getting all bent out of shape about it. We got back from Cesky Krumlov to find an email from the director of the program saying that whoever is stealing food better stop or else! Dun dun dunnnnnnnn.

Weekend Warriors

I apologize for the lack of updates once again, although this time I have an excuse. HA! Read on to find out...

Thursday night, as I mentioned before, was our first European football (soccer for all you Američané out there) game. It wasn't as over-the-top insane as I thought it would be, but it was still a lot of fun. I learned two things:

1. I know jack shit about the rules of football (it can end in a tie? that's lame).
2. Non-alcoholic beer tastes similar enough to regular beer that you don't notice the difference until you're three pints in and you don't feel any different.

I exaggerate. It might have had a little alcohol in it, but the general consensus between all of us was that they watered it down to the point of no effect so that people don't get as insane as they do in places like Spain and England. You have no idea how disappointing it is to wait in line for like half an hour, hand over 5 bucks, and not end up at least a little tipsy. Jak smutné. After the game, a small contingent of us, determined to get drunk, bounced around from bar to bar for a while before we ended up back at Beer Factory, only this time we were literally the only people there. If you've never danced around like an idiot in an empty club to "Soul Bossa Nova," I HIGHLY recommend it. Success all around.

Fast forward to Saturday. Saturday was Damon's 21st birthday, and while that is like the smallest of deals here in Praha, we decided to go all out and get hammered anyways. Now, I had woken up around 2 in the afternoon on Saturday and was already dealing with a cold, so I hadn't eaten anything. Kush and I went out for happy hour, had a few beers, came back, went out with everyone else, had more beers, went to a bar, had more, stopped at a grocery store on the way home, and had some more. Grand total? 10 beers (5 liters), on a mostly empty stomach. Needless to say, Sunday was the worst day of my life. The night was fun, though. We made some older Czech friends, and one of them kept wandering over to our table and taking our picture randomly. Apparently at the next bar people went to there were some friendly Czechs buying them drinks. I dont' know where these people hide, but I have not met a Czech person who looked like they wanted to buy me a drink. Now I'm telling you all this because I want you to LEARN from my mistakes. Nevermind the hangover, I don't even want to think about how many calories I consumed. Tsk tsk. I'm hitting the gym hardcore this week (I'm just playin witchu justin).

I spent most of Sunday in bed recovering, venturing out only to book fall break and take a walk with Kush. With the exception of not being able to eat anything and drinking water and orange juice like it was my job, it was actually pretty nice. I got a jump on watching Entourage and writing a little survival guide for my parents so they don't offend as many people as I did when I first arrived. But blogging my misery was the last thing on my mind, which is my excuse. Bahaha.

Fall break is planned and paid for (by yours truly, thank you very much), and my bank account is unhappy. I'm OK with it. Lisa and I (and possibly Kush) are heading to London for a day and a night, then Istanbul for 4 days, meeting up with everyone else in Athens for two, Rome for two, and then Venice or Copenhagen. Why Copenhagen on Halloween? That's why. I'm so excited, but I'm not going to bore you by translating that feeling into words. Just know that I'm aware how fortunate I am that I get the chance to do something like this.

Nolan's parents came into town this weekend, the first in what I believe is a month straight of parents visiting every weekend. They were incredibly nice and took us all for drinks, which is something I could get used to. GOD I'm going to have such a hard time going back to New York and paying $5 for a beer. It's kind of a problem.

Check back in a few days for a less summative post. I know it can be tedious to read "Today I did this and then I did this and then we drank this and then this HILARIOUS THING happened," so I promise to fill the next post with hilarious rants. Or maybe you like the stories? Whatever. I learn from the best.

This song just came up in my iTunes. You're welcome.

The Birds and the Bees

After I admonished Holley for going a week without posting to her blog, I realized that I hadn't posted anything since that fateful trip back from Vienna. Whoops.

The title of this post is not a reference to sex, but to actual birds and bees, of which Prague has plenty. Being from the backwoods of Connecticut (yes, Connecticut isn't all Lacoste shirts and boat shoes), I'm used to nature. Hell, I revel in it. But when I came to Prague, I didn't expect there to be so many bees hanging around. On my five minute walk to the metro every morning, there's a pretty good chance I'm going to get bothered by at least one of those little tyrants. Alexis and Damon are downright terrified of bees and have run down the sidewalk to escape a potential sting at least one time apiece. I try to put on the tough-guy act and pretend like I'm not scared, but I'll bug out if one lands on my face. I mean, can you imagine? Ugh. Here's hoping that the first frost kills them all, but if they can fly all the way up to our terrace on the roof, we're dealing with monsters here.

The pigeons are also a little out of control. Less than 48 hours after arriving here in Praha, I was almost pooped on by one of them. Maybe the fates were with me that day, or maybe God finally decided to pay back that karma I earned by picking up a $20 on the street and giving it back to the guy who dropped it, but the poo missed my head by about an inch, grazed my arm, and landed right next to my shoe. I was told by several people that this was good luck, and I'm gonna have to call bullshit on that. I've lived in New York for two years and on the shore for the other 18, and I've never once had a bird poop on me. I'm more annoyed with them than anything else, but Damon fears them. Apparently he walked out onto the terrace after dark one time and was surprised by a flock of pigeons flying at his face, which must've been terrifying. I fed pigeons once when I was in Puerto Rico, and let me tell you, they are not to be messed with.

This week was mostly uneventful. I'm trying to head to the gym regularly because I don't want to come back to the states looking pregnant, and with the amount of beer I consume, it's a very real possibility. On Monday, NYU threw us a welcoming party, which I thought was strange considering we've been here for two weeks. The food was DELICIOUS... way better than any catered event back in New York. And, of course, they had beer and wine, and I must've started at least 10 conversations with "Isn't it great how they serve us alcohol at an official school function?" Smooth is my middle name.

Alexis just made me Thai peanut noodles and ginger chicken for dinner. Yum. Moving on.

People continue to rage every single night, and I don't understand where they get the energy for that. I'm down for a couple of beers and maybe a glass of wine, but I need at least two days off from getting crazy and partying. I see lots of these people during they day, and 9 out of 10 times they're stumbling around asking people to put them out of their misery. I know how we Americans love things in excess, but there's got to be a point where these people can't sustain that lifestyle anymore. I should really turn this into an anthropological case study... oh wait, I'm not in Gallatin. I need to take classes to get credit for things!

I wish I could tell you that I'm traveling somewhere exotic and crazy this weekend (read: Transylvania? Check back in November for that trip), but it's Damon's birthday and I'm a good friend. But I'm sure that this weekend will be brimming with crazy Praha adventures, so I'm not disappointed at all. In fact, in a couple of hours we're headed to our first European football game. If we can't eke out some good stories from that, then I'm not sure we even deserve to be here.

Props to Columbus

Note: Sorry, this is a long one. I promise I'll tone it down in the future!

What a weekend! Aditi, Alexis, and I arrived in Vienna on Friday and eventually made our way to my cousin Kathy’s apartment. Let me tell you, traveling around in a city that you haven’t even seen a map of is incredibly disorienting. I literally had no idea where I was at any given time until Sunday.

The adventures started as soon as we got to Kathy’s place. She lives on the fifth floor of her building, so being lazy and carrying heavy backpacks, the three of us decided to pile into the closet-sized elevator while Kathy took the stairs. Well, this is a ghetto-fabulous elevator and there’s no interior door, so there’s nothing between you and the moving wall of the elevator shaft. Being a five year old, I decided to reach out and touch the moving wall. Big mistake. An alarm sounded an the elevator jerked to a halt between floors. We were frozen in panic when Kathy’s voice floated like the voice of God from somewhere in the building: “Push five again!” So we push five, and the elevator starts moving, but as soon as we get between four and five, the elevator jerks to a halt again. Well, the floors aren’t very thick, and the exterior elevator door has a glass panel in it, so we could see a little bit of the fourth and fifth floors. While we’re standing around unsure of what to do, we see Kathy’s head appear in the little window at our feet. “Huh,” she says, almost amusedly. A split second later, a pair of legs shows up on the fifth floor, and whoever those legs belonged to was very angry with us. So there we are, four and a half floors off the ground in a freaking closet, being yelled at in German and trying to follow Kathy’s instructions.

But it doesn’t stop there. Oh no. Kathy suggests that we press other floors, and every time it stops halfway between whatever we press and the floor below it. Alexis decided that we should press the ground floor, because logically, you can’t go through the ground. Great idea! So we press the button, head down, reach the ground floor, and watch helplessly as the lobby disappears above our heads. Finally, the elevator reaches some kind of bottom, and there’s a door, but beyond the door is nothing but blackness. Alexis said something along the lines of how she didn’t want to go out there because it looked like hell, but Aditi was brave and opened the door. It was literally the blackest darkness you could imagine, but we managed to find a light switch using our cell phones. Turns out we were in some sort of storage cellar that Alexis rightly compared to a Nazi bunker. Welcome to Vienna!

Friday night was really fun- we went to a beer garden (because we haven’t done enough of that already) in some awesome amusement park. Delicious, delicious food. I had seen this thing called “pork knuckle” on menus in Prague, but it sounded too gross to order on my own. Boy, was I wrong. It’s this massive pork drumstick, deep friend in awesomeness. There was other food involved, but hey, I really don’t remember much beyond the knuckle. There’s even a picture of me gnawing on the bone willingly. I’m not ashamed.

On Saturday we did all the touristy things- cathedrals, Habsburg palaces, and plazas, oh my! In my quest to drink my way through Europe, I’ve decided to have a traditional beverage in every country that I visit. In Austria, that would be Radler- half beer, half lemonade. It sounds disgusting, but trust me, it’s probably the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted. I normally hate extra flavors in drinks- coffee, tea, and especially beer. But it’s just this incredible combination of sweet, bitter, and tart all at the same time. As I write this, a half-empty six pack of Radlers is sitting between Alexis and me on the bus, and we intend to educate Machova about the wonders of mixing beer and lemonade.

We met up with our friend Nolan, who was also visiting Vienna this weekend, at an Australian bar where Kathy was meeting a friend of hers. We were sitting around the downstairs bar, enjoying our Radlers, when suddenly “Wonderwall” came on the stereo. I had no idea that this song was so popular with the Central European crowd, but the entire bar just busted out singing. True, there were a fair number of ex-pats there, but there were definitely a lot of people who didn’t speak English and were simply making sounds similar to the actual words. But hey, I do the same thing when I’m singing along and I don’t know the actual words, so fair is fair.

We met up with Kathy’s boyfriend Jim that night and he made me buy a cheese-filled sausage from a stand. I did not regret it.

On Sunday morning Jim made us all crepes. It was so nice having an apartment to stay in instead of crashing in a hostel- I can’t thank Kathy and Jim enough for taking us in like that! After a fattening breakfast, we rented some bikes for a Euro apiece and biked around the historic area in Vienna. We only had an hour to kill because we were going to a wine festival in the afternoon, but it was so worth it. Europe is so bike friendly and the bike path took us past some of the most beautiful buildings in town. We returned the bikes and managed to get back to Kathy’s place on the tram all by ourselves! We’re such good travelers.

Sunday afternoon was magnificent. We met up with some of Kathy’s friends from work and headed out into the Austrian countryside for a wine festival. Kathy works at the UN, so her friends are all international and really, really cool. The wine festival was in this tiny, historic town full of family-owned vineyards. You paid 9 Euro for a glass and got to drink as much wine as you wanted. The food was “authentic” Austrian cuisine, and while I’m gung-ho about drinking in the local culture, I don’t really want to eat some of the stuff that people consume in Europe. But Kathy’s friends had other plans. One of them handed me a piece of bread with some sort of meat on it, and when I asked what it was, she said “If you like meat, you’re good to go.” So I ate it, and it was pretty good. I asked what it was again and went in for a second bite. “Blood sausage!” she said with a laugh. Yuck. Somehow, it didn’t taste as good after I learned what it was.

Even though I call myself a “beer guy,” I’m starting to really appreciate a good glass of wine. Dad, you must be so proud. The wine was really, really good, and Jim made sure we drank as much as possible since we had to leave early to catch our bus back to Prague. When it was time to go, we said our goodbyes at the festival and the three musketeers braved the train system (no English translations… damnit!), figured out where the bus stop was back in Vienna, and headed home. Oh, and remember the guy who smelled like a stink bomb on the ride to Vienna? Well, he’s back, and this time he’s sitting next to Nolan. Poor kid is dying up there.

Closing story: Less than a minute after we departed Vienna, I decided to bust open a Radler. I’d never had a bottled one before, so I smelled it before I took a sip to make sure it wasn’t gross artificial. It smelled like plain beer, and Alexis suggested that maybe the lemonade settled to the bottom and I should shake it up. Well, it was already open, so I did what I thought was the next best thing and put my thumb over the opening and tipped it over a la Corona with lime. Bad, bad, bad move. As soon as it was tipped over, I felt the pressure increasing on my thumb and a little bit shot out onto my arm. I immediately flipped it back over and tried to slowly let some of the pressure out. Instead of that happening, a stream of beer shot out across the aisle and hit the woman sitting across from me IN THE FACE. She proceeded to yell at me in Czech and called me a stupid American. Alexis was practically dying with laughter the entire time, but I was too shocked by how quickly everything went to shit that I couldn’t really speak for about five minutes. Go me!

Beer, Fans, and Political Dissension

NOTE: I wrote this post on the bus to Vienna yesterday, but the Wi-Fi crapped out before I had a chance to publish it. Check back on Monday for stories from Vienna (trust me, there are some good ones)!

Well, I survived my first week of classes in Praha. Overall, things went really well and I think I've finally settled on a schedule. I think. Despite my goal of settling down now that classes have begun, I still went out a lot this week. I think once I start to have homework, it'll be a different story. I did feel lame staying in on Wednesday night, which is THE party night here in Praha, but I had a 9 AM class with Jan Urban and I didn't feel like being hungover for it. Plus, thanks to my new tabletop fan and a little help from Dr. Procter and Nurse Gamble, I had a full night's sleep for this first time since coming here. WOOOO.

Buying the fan was a little adventure. I need white noise to sleep, and when I went into the local electronic store to get a fan, I was gretting with "How can I help you?" in close to perfect English. OK, I'm thinking, this'll be easy. So I ask for a fan, and he nods vigorously and disappears into the back. He comes out five minutes later with three blow dryers in his arms and says "Fan!" I tried to tell him that no, those are in fact NOT fans, but he didn't understand my pantomime version of wind. Eventually the manager came over and told me to go to this other place that sells home electronics. So I follow his vague instructions ("It's about... ahhh... two streets up? Maybe three. Then take left, go 200 meters down. I think yes it is there. Maybe right.") and find this other place, which is a miracle because it is literally a one room shop with no signs outside.

So I go inside and exchange "Dobry dens" with the old woman behind the counter. She's smiling, which is unusual for Czech people. Then I say "Anglicky?" (Engligh?), because I do not know how to say fan in Czech. Instantly, she stops smiling and says "No." in the most serious way possible. Awesome. I managed to buy a fan through pointing and grunting, but it really woke me up to the fact that I'm relying on English too much. Nolan let me steal a copy of his "Learn Czech" CD, so I'm going to start listening to that.

Let's talk about Jan Urban. I took his class, Modern Dissent, on Holley's strong (read: she threatened me) recommendation, and let it be known that I am so glad I listened to her. The man is a god. He's got this Indiana Jones vibe to him that is just so cool. Why? Oh, I don't know, maybe because he was a founding member of the revolutionary party that overthrew the communist regime in 1989. Maybe because he's written books exposing the corruption of the current Czech government. Maybe because in our first class, he had to take a phone call, and when he got off he turned to us and said "It's fun dealing with blackmail." He told us on the first day that life as a dissenter was nothing like the movies and we should just forget about Hollywood, but somehow I can't help but expect that at some point and assassin is going to crash through the window in the middle of class and they're going to have an epic fight. I can dream, can't I?

The second class was even more intense than the first. For those who don't know, the Czech Republic is in a state of political turmoil right now. The President, Vaclav Klaus, thinks that the constitutional court has too much power and is trying to seriously curb their authority. Elections are this fall, so many people think this is a power play to try to stay in office. Anyways, Jan is friends with the attorney who is attempting to expose the President's motives, and he was set to argue the case on Thursday. Well, he had been getting death threats this week, so Jan was harboring him. So we're sitting in class on Thursday when his phone rings. He picked it up, had a conversation in Czech, and then hung up. He then proceeded to tell us that someone had just tried to run his friend off the road as he was driving to the courthouse. Crazy, right?!?

It's weird to think that this kind of stuff still happens. I know there are those who think that the US government is like this, taking out political opponents with subterfuge and sabotage, but you're never this close to it. It's all well and good to joke about assassins interrupting class, but this was god damn real life. Watching the color just drain from his face as his friend told him what happened was a huge reality check for us. He was a little teary-eyed after that, and who could blame him? I mean, here we are, 20 years after his tireless efforts helped overthrow the Communist regime, and shit like that is still going on in a supposedly democratic government.

Well, as serious as that was, it didn't stop us from going out last night. We started at Pivovarsky Dum, this AMAZING microbrewery that I think has the best beer in Prague. After 2 or 3 or 4 beers there, we managed to talk our way into Beer Factory without paying the cover charge. Beer Factory is my new favorite place. It's a club and a bar, but the coolest part is that all the tables have beer taps in the middle and they keep track of how much beer you drink via a computer. But they also have a running tally on a big wall screen of which tables have drunk the most. It's like a carnival game for adults, although I'm hardly one of those.

And now, as I write this, I'm sitting on a bus headed to Vienna for the weekend. The Czech countryside is beautiful by the way. There's a guy sitting three rows up from me who smells so bad it's making my eyes water. Oh, Europe. Alexis, Aditi and I are staying with my cousin Kathy who lives in Vienna and works at the UN. It promises to be a fun time, filled with gelato, apfelstrudel, and wine. Plus, it'll be nice having a fun someone there who speaks the language to guide us around.

Curb Your Dog

Bah. So I stepped in dog shit yesterday for the first time, which is surprising considering how much of it is all over the sidewalks. But I didn't realize it until I got to class, and when I propped my foot up on my other knee, the smell just hit me. I apologize to anyone who was in that class.

On Sunday we took a scenic dinner cruise along the Vltava River, which was lovely. The food was pretty bad and the beer was a little expensive (it's both sad and impressive that I now consider anything above $1.50 a pint expensive), but the views of Old Town were pretty incredible. We went under the Charles Bridge, which is beautiful and almost 700 years old. But when we turned around to go back under, BOOM. We hit the damn bridge. It was pretty intense. The captain went underneath the bridge at an angle, and since it was a really long boat, the back end smacked into one of the bridge supports. I was carrying two plates of food at the time walking along the side and I almost fell off the boat. Apparently everyone in the basement thought we were sinking. So the crew was running around, looking to see if there was any damage, yadda yadda yadda, when BOOM. WE HIT THE BRIDGE AGAIN. When the back end bounced off of the one pillar, it swung around and hit the other. Needless to say we were the most photographed boat by people on the bridge that day.

After that fun and excitment, we all climbed a mountain and had a beer. Literally. There are these cliffs north of Old Town across the river, and some wise people turned the property on top into a beer garden. Amazing views of the city. Kush, Kurt, and I got separated from everyone else and had to find our own way home. Kush, a self-professed human GPS, lived up to his reputation and got us there. Props.

Monday was the first day of classes. For some reason, most of my classes are on the 5th of the Academic Center. It's a walk-up. Fuck me. But classes went really well; I can already tell I'm going to love Radio News, what with my deep, resonant radio voice. Pshyeah, whatever. Reporting the Arts seemed interesting, and 60% of the grade is attendance. Whoops, can't skip that one. I don't mind though, the professor is really cool. He used to be the guitarist for Plastic People of the Universe, which is kind of a big deal here in the Czech Republic. Now he's in a Velvet Underground cover band, so rock on. I might drop Czech Art and Architecture because the guy is a bit of a prick and made it clear that if you have a class before or after it (I have both on Thursday), you won't be able to come on some of the excursions and therefore will get nothing out of the class. One kid asked about leaving early from excursions, and he said that if you'll do that you'll miss the concluding point and therefore not understand anything. It's like, hello, we're just going to a bunch of churches and looking at pretty paintings. I don't need you and your condescending "concluding point" to understand what I'm looking at. But I need this course to fulfill my expressive cultures requirement back in New York, so I'm pretty stuck.

I can honestly say, though, that the weirdest thing about classes here is hearing horses trotting around outside on the cobblestones. You're just like, whoa, what century am I in again?

The laundry machines here only take 20 crown coins, of which I had none today, so I went around asking people for change. That was fun. The only other time I've tried to do that it failed spectacularly. I was coming back from the gym, and upon realizing that I left my metro pass at home, I went to buy a ticket. But all I had was a 50 crown bill, and the machines only take coins. So I went into a nearby mall, walked up to the juice stand where I had literally just bought an orange juice and they speak english and asked for a coin. "No," she said with a laugh. Fuck. It took me like 10 minutes to find someone who would give me change. So, with that my mind, I was not looking forward to this. I learned the word for twenty in Czech class, and since I figured any sentence that I could cobble together from a dictionary would be wrong, I just found the word for coin and went around to local shops holding two 10 coins up and asking "Dvacet mince? Prosim?" (Literally: "Twenty coin? Please?) I must've looked like a crazy person. But the nice lady at the Chinese restaurant took pity on the Amerikan and his attempt at Czech, so she gave me the coins. The laundry machines here suck, but hopefully I'll have enough.

Booking travel plans now. It sucks because between last semester and this one, 4 discount airlines have gone out of business. FOUR. So it's going to be a little pricey. I'll do what I can, because I am not leaving Europe until my little list of places is all checked off.

Everybody's working for the weekend

So today wraps up my first full weekend in Praha. From the top:

Let's talk about Friday morning. For some sick, sick reason, signups for NYU's sponsored trips this semester were posted at 8 AM on Friday. Why. I want to know who was in charge of that super decision. It's like the administrators here are playing some sort of sadistic game to see how early they can force a bunch of hung-over college kids to wake up. Rumors had been flying around that people were planning on getting there a half hour early, so we all roused ourselves at 6:30 IN THE GODDAMN MORNING. So unpleasant. But we signed up for the trips we wanted, so it was worth it. I guess.

We all went out to breakfast afterwards. I have to admit, for a quiche prepared in a mock French bistro in a former communist country, it wasn't half bad. The fresh squeezed orange juice was outrageous, though. Alex had like 30 glasses because she thought she was getting sick and wanted to OD on Vitamin C. Anyways, I skipped my last Czech class to get back at NYU for making me get up at the crack of dawn. It was so nice- I went back to Machova, took a shower, watched a little TV. The best part was that the dorm was completely empty, so there were no loud idiots in the stairwell and no one blasting Tupac (I support both those things, just not in the morning). It's a nice preview of what my Mondays are going to be like, since I don't have class until 3:30.

A bunch of us took a guided tour of Prague Castle in the afternoon. It was absolutely gorgeous. The pictures on facebook speak for themselves, so I don't need to tell you again how amazing the sights were. But I just did. Whatever. Our tour guide was actually an NYU professor who just does these tours for fun.

One thing I didn't realize about Czech people is how many of them absolutely hate the direction their country has gone. When we walked past Madeline Albright's place of birth, she told us that Madeline was offered the presidency of the Czech Republic, but turned it down because she didn't want to live here. Then she turned to me and muttered "I don't know why anyone would want to come here from America. It's so much better there. This place is awful." WHOA. As Frankie says, relax. When we got to the castle, I asked her if the president still lived there. "Unfortunately," she replied. But this isn't like when people used to hate on George Bush because, as my anthropology professor once said, he's "a stumblebum retard." This is old school Central European dissension brewing. Scary stuff.

We also amused ourselves on the tour by trying to take the ugliest candid photos of each other. We're so mature.

Friday night was incredible. We started at this place called Pivovarsky Dum, which according to Holley means "Beer House." It lived up to its name, let's make that clear. Nolan, Kush, Damon and I split 2 Giraffes, which are giant 4 liter towers of beer, and in typical college kid fashion, we decided to race. It was a hard-fought battle, but Damon and I lost by about half a pint. And the beer? It was their house-brewed dark and light mixed beer, the best I've had so far. Plus, the menu had a section titled "Little things that go well with beer." I think every menu should have that. Kate, Alex, and Emily all had a shot of Absinth, which I don't have the balls to do yet. After Pivovarsky closed, we went to this place called Cheers for more drinks. Apparently we have no self-control.

So now we're all pretty toasted, and by that point, all we wanted to do was find a club and go nuts. Well Friday is not a big club night in Prague (why? I don't know), so after a while we found this hidden club underneath a place called Retro cafe. There was a bouncer at the door, but he let us in. It was so much fun, jumping around like an idiot to crazy techno music with a beer in my hand. There was a buffet with food layed out at one end of the room, but when Lisa decided she was hungry, we were all kicked out. Why? Because apparently we crashed some Czech girl's birthday party. On the way out the door I met a group of drunk Slovaks and they taught me a Slovak song. So cool.

Saturday night was equally memorable. Kush, Damon, Nolan, and I had tickets to the Czech Philharmonic's Opening Gala event, so we got all dressed up and went. Let me tell you, there's something about walking down an ancient cobblestone street in a fine suit that makes you feel like royalty. Try it, you'll know what I'm talking about. The Philharmonic was incredible. I'd never been to a professional orchestra in an old-school concert hall, and it was a sight to behold. There was a red carpet, fancy hors d'oeuvres, people dressed to a T. Classy as shit. The concert hall was breathtaking. It had this golden atmosphere to it that I can't even begin to describe.

Side note: During intermission, Damon and I went outside and saw a group of four NYU students dressed in hipster jeans and hoodies passing around a flask and making rum and cokes. Things like that make me so angry. How were you raised that you think it's OK to dress like that when you're going to see one of the world's best orchestras perform their opening concert? It's just disrespectful. And why do you feel the need to sneak this flask in? You can't go two hours without a drink? They were selling beers for a buck-fifty inside for Chrissake! You're not seeing your friend's shitty band in a basement in Williamsburg, so don't fucking act like it. Sometimes, I really hate being an NYU student.

Afterwards we went to this place called U sudu. Everyone knows it as Cave Bar, though, because it's actually this network of tunnels and cellars that's like 2 stories underground. It's the craziest place! You definitely feel that you're underground, but it's not uncomfortable or anything. They have this amazing stuff, I think it's called barcek, that tastes like apple cider but has way more alcohol in it than beer. Now usually I'm not into the fruity drinks, but this stuff was fantastic. And since you can't taste the alcohol (no really, you can't. Not like when people say you can't taste it but really it's just very faint. You cannot taste any alcohol in this), you don't realize how drunk you're getting until it's too late.

But the bar was a really great place to meet people. I met a guy from France who works in Prague. When I asked him about Paris he said it was dirty and that I should go to Poland instead. Interesting. When we were outside at one point, a German couple came up to us and said that their hostel locked them out and what should they do. I recommended they go inside and have a beer, and they did. Gotta love Prague. We all jammed into two cabs home, and I'm pretty sure we got ripped off.

On a down note, an ATM ate my friend Sara's debit card. She argued with the Euronet service guy on the phone for a while and all they'll do is extract the card and send it back to America. In three weeks. Definitely not using that ATM again.

Dobrý den! Jak vám mohu pomoci?

Before I get into this post, I'd like to point out that while I created this blog to keep my friends updated on my crazy Prague life, I'm also going to use it to try my hand at some travel writing. So if some posts are less entertaining and more long-winded, I apologize in advance. But that's for another day.

I've been taking Czech classes this week. It's a good idea for NYU to make us take a crash course in Czech since there's no language requirement, but at the same time, how effective can a crash course be if you're learning one of the world's hardest languages? Tomorrow is the last day, and really the only thing that has improved is my grasp on the number 4. Holley, you know what I'm talking about. Čtyři. The little arrow over the C gives it a "tsh" sound, and for some stupid reason, the arrow over the r gives it an "ersh" sound. Sounds simple, right? No. Nothing in this language is simple. I know how to say simple things like "please" and "thank you" and "beer," but we haven't learned any verbs or sentence structure. Hmmm. Maybe my Amerikan tongue just isn't designed to make such crazy sounds.

Other that the classes, we've been filling our time with exploring and drinking. I bought my metro pass, but the picture I had to use was taken when my hair and beard were really long. And since I have darker skin than all the Czechs, I look like a roma in the picture. I had it checked by a policeman a few hours after he got it, and the look he shot me when he saw my picture was not a friendly one. But other than that, the metro is really easy to figure out and surprisingly clean. You can't eat or drink on the platform, as I found out when a Czech woman yelled at me while I was enjoying a croissant down there this morning. My friend Aditi had a similar experience with a nectarine yesterday. Touchy touchy.

I ventured into Old Town Square for the first time today and I really can't wait for tourist season to be over. It was like Times Square but 700 years old and full of people wearing Renaissance clothing. There was a madrigal playing from one of the food stands and it was really obnoxious. I just went to see what the fuss was about; I didn't expect to be surrounded by Robin Hood and his Men in Tights. And while I love this place, some of the streets are pretty smelly. For some reason, the street right outside the NYU center smells like garbage. And, in typical European fashion, deodorant isn't flying off the shelves in Tesco.

On the positive side, my Czech teacher pointed out the cheapest restaurants near the NYU Center, so I can continue to not cook my own meals. It's funny- everything is really, really cheap here, but you'd be surprised how fast you burn through money. You spend spend spend because it looks like monopoly money and you don't realize that there's, you know, VALUES and EXCHANGE RATES that come into play. Whatever. I don't plan on returning to New York with much money. You know, you can't take it with you.

Pictures of Prague will probably be up on facebook tomorrow!

Warm Bread and Street Justice

When I decided to write this blog, I told myself that I wouldn't update it every day because honestly, who wants to hear my thoughts that much. But a few things of import happened today that need to be discussed. Let's proceed.

1. I ended up standing next to a couple of gypsy kids on the subway today. They giggled and pointed at me a lot and it was very disconcerting. I kept a tight grip on my wallet, but from the stories I've heard about these crafty Romas, it wouldn't surprise me if they managed to get a couple bills out of it. Apparently they've used knockout gas before on people? Interesting.

2. I bought fresh baked bread at the grocery store today and it rocked my socks.

3. Jan Urban, one of the professors here, is by far the biggest badass I have ever met. He gave a talk today on being a dissident over the course of the 20th century in Prague and it made me really fucking excited for his course. Here's what happened during the Q and A session at the end.

Student: What were the dangers facing dissidents in Europe.
Jan: (walks up to the kid so he's face to face) Have you ever been handcuffed?
Student: No...
Jan: (dramatic pause) I figured. I have.
Student: OK...
Jan: Picture total humiliation. I would rather die than be handcuffed again. I would go berserk.

Then he went on to talk about how it's always the family of the dissident that pays the price, and how if you want to be good at this game, you have to be a fighter, and to be a fighter you must abandon all you know and love, you must not exist. It was like something out of a movie. SO COOL.

4. STREET JUSTICE: On the way home today we stopped at this little asian store for some fruits and veggies. While some of us were outside waiting, a shifty-looking guy walked up to the side of the door, reached up, yanked off the security camera, put it in his pocket, and walked away. A minute later, this little asian woman storms out and asks which way he went. She yells to some guy inside, and he runs out with a big-ass metal pipe. They took off running after this guy, caught up with him a block away, and proceeded to beat the shit out of him until he dropped the camera. The woman even took off her heels and was smacking him with those. OUCH. They absolutely wrecked this guy. When they got back to the store, we cheered for them. It was glorious.

The First Day, or “This Language is F*cking Bonkers.”

I have been in Prague for a little over 36 hours and I already understand why everybody loves this place so much. Especially my dear friend Holley, to whom I’m dedicating this blog. Hopefully it will help you remember all the amazing times in this city!

But first, the trip here. JFK is a giant bag of shit, let’s just get that out there. I mean, the drive there was awful. The weather was awful. No free wireless was awful. And waiting for my flight in a terminal where the only thing to eat is Panda Express? Awful.

The actual flights were great. Any flight where you are served spinach and cheese tortellini, red wine, and foccacia bread for dinner is amazing. AND AND AND the plane had those individual movie screens on the seat backs. Most of you are so well traveled that you’re like whatever, I expect that shit. But me? I’m impressed. I watched Aladdin, then slept, then played tetris, then slept.

Alexis and I had a 5 hour layover in Geneva (it was supposed to be 4 hours, but even though we left late, our pilot managed to get us there an hour early. I suspect a time-space continuum), so instead of sitting around the airport, we put on our adventuring hats and took a train into the city. Let me tell you it is one of the most beautiful cities I have ever seen. Even though I haven’t seen many. Whatever, I can still judge. But seriously, it is amazing. We walked down to the lake, which is enormous and crystal clear, ate breakfast at an outdoor café, met some fellow NYU in Prague students by chance, and just explored! We even figured out how to take the train back to the airport. We’re so good.

The only noteworthy thing about the flight from Geneva to Prague is that my in-flight meal was a soft pretzel and a Heineken. Whaaaaaaat.

Prague. Oh Prague. It is so pretty. The buildings are so old and beautiful, it makes me want to die. Like why can’t things look like this in New York? Why does Third North look like a prison? I’m in Machova, aka the best dorm. The rooms are a decent size, it has a patio in the courtyard with grills, and it has a kickass view from the balcony on the top floor. Oh the view. Now I had a great view from my room in Water Street last year, but honestly, it doesn’t even compare. This is a panoramic view of all of Southern Prague, with little hills and red roofs and trees as far as the eye can see. I want to move up there, but I think Honza the building manager would have a fit.

Quick notes about Prague:

• The people are just as unfriendly as all the guidebooks tell you. We’ve already run afoul of several Czech people. At the NYU pizza dinner last night, one of the girls at my table asked for vegetarian pizza when we were served chicken and corn pizza. The waitress said “HA!” and walked away. Awkward. When my friend Sam bought groceries today, she couldn’t fit everything in the allotted 2 plastic bags (bullshit), so the cashier started yelling at her in Czech, which is a terrifying language to be yelled at in. When Alexis tried to go sign up for the NYU-sponsored gym membership, the woman behind the counter began shouting “NO! NO!” at us and waving her arms frantically. After much back and forth, we discovered that we couldn’t sign up until tomorrow, Alexis asked if they had a business card so we could call and check. The woman replied, “What, you want me to make you a business card?” I think it’s hilarious.

• The beer is amazing, the best I’ve ever had. And it’s so goddamn cheap! I’ve consumed 4 liters of beer so far, and I think I’ve spent like nine bucks. Wow.

• Jetlag is a bitch and a half. If you’ve never been across a lot of time zones and people tell you “Oh, it’s not that bad” or “Just sleep on the plane and you’ll be fine,” slap them silly. I did everything you’re supposed to do and still I’ve felt like the walking dead since I got here. My stomach is still like “WHY ARE YOU EATING IT’S 2 IN THE MORNING” when I get up and have breakfast.

• There is a castle, a legit castle, in Prague and I intend to explore every inch of it.

• I hate being American right now. I see tourists from other countries, and with the exception of maybe Britain, we are by far the most annoying nationality to be around. The entire dorm got on the metro this morning to head up to the academic center and I felt so bad for the Czechs on the plane. I tried to smile at people and they just scowled. Come on guys, communism ended 20 years ago. Time to take off your huffy pants.

• As horrible as this sounds, tipping 50 cents on a 15 dollar lunch is great.

• I went grocery shopping today and for some reason I decided to buy all local stuff, so now I have no idea what I’m eating. It all tastes alright, but for all I know some of this stuff made with reconstituted fish parts. My roommate Damon bought milk in a tin; he’s much braver than me.

Side Story: We were all in a little corner grocery store tonight buying ice cream, and as I’m standing by the door, this woman walks in and accidentally knocks a basket of grapes off a shelf. They spill all over the floor, and some of them get squished as she hops around in surprise. WHILE I AM STANDING RIGHT THERE, she proceeds to pick all of them up off of the floor, put them back in the basket, and put the basket back on the shelf. Note to self; don’t buy anything from the front row.

So here I am, sitting in a room in Prague, writing a blog about my European travels. Could I be more original? Doubtful.