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!
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