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!