I am very very behind on you, and once my stomach stops feeling like a radioactive rave in Indio in the middle of brush fire season, perhaps I shall update you.
...Perhaps.
XO,
KATKO
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Eastern Beauty
1) Czech children are adorable. They also have a tendency to wear matching reflector vests on field trips, only adding to the adorable.
2) Shirtless middle-aged men practicing SWORDFIGHTING in the parks around Petrin Hill...
3) $1 beer.
4) GOOD $1 beer. Pilsner is a way of life.
5) Smazany Syr. Fried cheese, covered in mayonnaise wrapped in a bun. My arteries are crying.
6) Reliable public transportation.
7) Chapeau Rouge.
8) The Language. It might be freakin' impossible at first, but once you can get by on your own, you feel like a GOD.
9) The view. I had my doubts in the depressing depths of dreary winter snowstorms and freezing rain, but this city is absolutely gorgeous once the sun remembers we exist. I've grown rather fond of my fairytale skyline.
10) Bizarre 1970's TV renditions of classic Eastern European folk tales. Someone turns into a bear, then there's a witch with a wooden pig sleigh that leads the bear man to a peasant girl who was turned into ice, and then the devil comes up from hell to punish another devil who got drunk and joined the army, where he meets a local farm boy who fell in love with the gorgeous bitchy sister of the icicle girl, who magically thaws with the kiss of an honorable Slavic warrior... blah blah.. and everyone looks tres Russian and has a kindly grandmother who ends up saving the day with maternal wisdom and national spirit! Somehow underneath all this is a bunch of communist propaganda.. meanwhile, I'm still trying to figure out how the hell the girl turned into an ice cube...
XO,
KATKO
2) Shirtless middle-aged men practicing SWORDFIGHTING in the parks around Petrin Hill...
3) $1 beer.
4) GOOD $1 beer. Pilsner is a way of life.
5) Smazany Syr. Fried cheese, covered in mayonnaise wrapped in a bun. My arteries are crying.
6) Reliable public transportation.
7) Chapeau Rouge.
8) The Language. It might be freakin' impossible at first, but once you can get by on your own, you feel like a GOD.
9) The view. I had my doubts in the depressing depths of dreary winter snowstorms and freezing rain, but this city is absolutely gorgeous once the sun remembers we exist. I've grown rather fond of my fairytale skyline.
10) Bizarre 1970's TV renditions of classic Eastern European folk tales. Someone turns into a bear, then there's a witch with a wooden pig sleigh that leads the bear man to a peasant girl who was turned into ice, and then the devil comes up from hell to punish another devil who got drunk and joined the army, where he meets a local farm boy who fell in love with the gorgeous bitchy sister of the icicle girl, who magically thaws with the kiss of an honorable Slavic warrior... blah blah.. and everyone looks tres Russian and has a kindly grandmother who ends up saving the day with maternal wisdom and national spirit! Somehow underneath all this is a bunch of communist propaganda.. meanwhile, I'm still trying to figure out how the hell the girl turned into an ice cube...
XO,
KATKO
Friday, April 24, 2009
Unsolved (CZECH) Mysteries.
There are many lovely, beautiful and wonderful things about our great Czech nation... but I'm homesick, and thusly, thought I should share the few things that baffle me about my temporary home.
1) Why are so many people on crutches?! My housemate theorizes that the hearty diet of potatoes and pork has bred a nation of gout... possible... but who knows.
2) Why no deodorant? WHY?! Now that the warm air has hit the great Czech nation, tram rides are becoming increasingly unpleasant.
3) So many churches, so little religion.
4) Obscene PDA's: on the tram... between middle-aged couples... sitting in consecutive front facing seats. Necks aren't supposed to bend that far. Also, please keep your tongue in your own mouth.
6) Ketchup... on everything.
7) ALWAYS shutting bathroom doors when it's vacant... how are you supposed to tell it's empty if you shut the door all the way?!
8) Plaid pants with giant solid color patches on the knees, why does EVERYONE have a pair? *UPDATE* I just found out they're gardening pants... practical yet undeniably PLAID. Function does not eclipse fashion people, not even in the eastern block.
9) Paying for the basket of pre-dinner bread.
That's all for now.
XO,
MC
1) Why are so many people on crutches?! My housemate theorizes that the hearty diet of potatoes and pork has bred a nation of gout... possible... but who knows.
2) Why no deodorant? WHY?! Now that the warm air has hit the great Czech nation, tram rides are becoming increasingly unpleasant.
3) So many churches, so little religion.
4) Obscene PDA's: on the tram... between middle-aged couples... sitting in consecutive front facing seats. Necks aren't supposed to bend that far. Also, please keep your tongue in your own mouth.
6) Ketchup... on everything.
7) ALWAYS shutting bathroom doors when it's vacant... how are you supposed to tell it's empty if you shut the door all the way?!
8) Plaid pants with giant solid color patches on the knees, why does EVERYONE have a pair? *UPDATE* I just found out they're gardening pants... practical yet undeniably PLAID. Function does not eclipse fashion people, not even in the eastern block.
9) Paying for the basket of pre-dinner bread.
That's all for now.
XO,
MC
Monday, April 13, 2009
Burrr lin, I said Burrrrr! (PART I..)
Berlin, Berlin, where to Begin? This weekend proved to be my best yet out in the wide world of abroad travel; Berlin may very well be my Paris of the east- clean, historic, energetic and most importantly: full of good cheese!
I arrived into Berlin, late, at about 4 pm, after missing my initial train out of Prague's Holesovice station at 8:40 due to a tres typical bout of hentzly lethargy, and a vampireish hatred of the morning sun. The train ride took about 5 hours, during which I read a bit of my book (White Teeth) and napped using my trusty stuffed lobster as a headrest. The train was divided into cute compartments for six people each and I shared my ride with two pleasant Canadian girls and a rotund little Russian woman who kept staring at me while I slept. Got off the train at Hauf something bahn something station, the main station in Berlin, and wandered around for about 10 minutes looking for an ATM, which turns out, in German are called "geldautomats." After scaling and scouring the mountainous station I finally stumbled upon a money machine, took out too much money (damn you exchange rate!) and hopped a cab to the "Mittes Backpacker Hostel" a few blocks away.
The hostel (discovered by me of course) was perfect, nay, more than perfect: it was quirky and cheap. The walls and doors of reception were painted a bright orange, the furniture a mix of old movie theater seats and a hodgepodge of tacky, well-loved couches, the staff was young, nice and pierced and our room, my room for the next three nights, was also home to 31 other people. Now me, I hesitated at the thought of such a place; I'd heard all the hostel horror stories, but I guess the student mentality of my peers ("it's cheap, let's eat it, it's cheap let's do it") was finally beginning to set in. So, for the low price of 20 Euros a night, I was at home in the Mittes backpacker hostel. The shared dorm room was painted a blinding lime green and was divided into 10 or so single beds and row upon row of metal bunk beds. I quickly claimed a top bunk and waited for Mario, my partner in crime, to arrive. Mario had already arrived in the city 5 hours earlier, but without me, spent the entirety of his afternoon wandering the streets of Berlin, lost and alone! Well, not exactly... I think he went to the German history museum. Anyway, we met up, and after a tearful reunion, bounced off into the heart of Mitte in search of a hearty dinner. That's when we stumbled upon "Amerit," a cheesy looking outdoor Indian cafe with giant plaster statues of the great god Ganesa. Mario, being the better Catholic, had fish, but I could help it (sorry Mom) and devoured a bowl of Lamb Curry and rice, which was sooooooo good. Post dinner we walked around the city looking to be cultured, and stumbled upon a lovely park and gorgeous surrounding museums and churches, we pranced on the grass, spun in circles and then made our way back to the hostel, where we promptly passed out.
The next day we discovered our traveling comrades across the room: Peter, Stuart, Mich, Eric and Leili were fast asleep and hungover from the past night's escapades, which Mario and I were too tired to participate in... besides, we are old souls! Mature, responsible 90 year olds, who prefer a good book and some Ovaltine to getting hit on by strange German men and waking up with a hurricane of a headache. Yeah... I dunno, I think all this going out all the time has just gotten old, a club is a club is a club, no matter where you go, and I've learned to know my body better, when I don't feel like going out, why push it? It's not worth missing out on the possibilities of daytime exploration and cultural immersion! (Dork much?)
The next day we took a year long U-Bahn ride to a cafe I had scouted out in my giant "Let's Go Europe!" book. Turned out that the cafe was smack in the middle of the Gayborhood, for I was the ONLY girl in the whole place. Our waiter wore hot pants, a blue bob wig and bunny ears, and all the patrons of this fine establishment wore leather pants and tank tops. Mario was pleasantly pleased at our fine serendipitous luck and we ate a massively wonderful breakfast at this "Cafe Berio."
After that I had to pop into a drugstore and grab some anti-histamines, for spring had a officially sprung and decided to screw me the hell over in the allergy department. My eyes itched and twitched, my nose was a waterfall of ick and my sneezes were 18 seconds apart.
On the plus side, the weather was GORGEOUS, so Mario and I made our way around the parks and gardens of the city before heading to the Pergamon museum. There we spent the next two hours looking at Greek and roman artistic perfection: The Gates of Ishtar, partially constructed palace steps and entrances from ancient Greece, Islamic art and Mosque ceilings and entrances.
Hmmm, after that we stumbled upon an amazing health food store right by the hostel, a place called "Fresh Friends," where I picked up a block of goat cheese and a baguette before we headed off to meet up with the rest of the group across town. While we waited for them to arrive at the designated meeting point Mario and I downed a pint of Berliner at a local bar and soaked up some of the final rays of the fast fading day....
TO BE CONTINUED WHEN I WAKE UP FROM MY MID AFTERNOON NAP!
(maybe... or a week from now, who knows?)
I arrived into Berlin, late, at about 4 pm, after missing my initial train out of Prague's Holesovice station at 8:40 due to a tres typical bout of hentzly lethargy, and a vampireish hatred of the morning sun. The train ride took about 5 hours, during which I read a bit of my book (White Teeth) and napped using my trusty stuffed lobster as a headrest. The train was divided into cute compartments for six people each and I shared my ride with two pleasant Canadian girls and a rotund little Russian woman who kept staring at me while I slept. Got off the train at Hauf something bahn something station, the main station in Berlin, and wandered around for about 10 minutes looking for an ATM, which turns out, in German are called "geldautomats." After scaling and scouring the mountainous station I finally stumbled upon a money machine, took out too much money (damn you exchange rate!) and hopped a cab to the "Mittes Backpacker Hostel" a few blocks away.
The hostel (discovered by me of course) was perfect, nay, more than perfect: it was quirky and cheap. The walls and doors of reception were painted a bright orange, the furniture a mix of old movie theater seats and a hodgepodge of tacky, well-loved couches, the staff was young, nice and pierced and our room, my room for the next three nights, was also home to 31 other people. Now me, I hesitated at the thought of such a place; I'd heard all the hostel horror stories, but I guess the student mentality of my peers ("it's cheap, let's eat it, it's cheap let's do it") was finally beginning to set in. So, for the low price of 20 Euros a night, I was at home in the Mittes backpacker hostel. The shared dorm room was painted a blinding lime green and was divided into 10 or so single beds and row upon row of metal bunk beds. I quickly claimed a top bunk and waited for Mario, my partner in crime, to arrive. Mario had already arrived in the city 5 hours earlier, but without me, spent the entirety of his afternoon wandering the streets of Berlin, lost and alone! Well, not exactly... I think he went to the German history museum. Anyway, we met up, and after a tearful reunion, bounced off into the heart of Mitte in search of a hearty dinner. That's when we stumbled upon "Amerit," a cheesy looking outdoor Indian cafe with giant plaster statues of the great god Ganesa. Mario, being the better Catholic, had fish, but I could help it (sorry Mom) and devoured a bowl of Lamb Curry and rice, which was sooooooo good. Post dinner we walked around the city looking to be cultured, and stumbled upon a lovely park and gorgeous surrounding museums and churches, we pranced on the grass, spun in circles and then made our way back to the hostel, where we promptly passed out.
The next day we discovered our traveling comrades across the room: Peter, Stuart, Mich, Eric and Leili were fast asleep and hungover from the past night's escapades, which Mario and I were too tired to participate in... besides, we are old souls! Mature, responsible 90 year olds, who prefer a good book and some Ovaltine to getting hit on by strange German men and waking up with a hurricane of a headache. Yeah... I dunno, I think all this going out all the time has just gotten old, a club is a club is a club, no matter where you go, and I've learned to know my body better, when I don't feel like going out, why push it? It's not worth missing out on the possibilities of daytime exploration and cultural immersion! (Dork much?)
The next day we took a year long U-Bahn ride to a cafe I had scouted out in my giant "Let's Go Europe!" book. Turned out that the cafe was smack in the middle of the Gayborhood, for I was the ONLY girl in the whole place. Our waiter wore hot pants, a blue bob wig and bunny ears, and all the patrons of this fine establishment wore leather pants and tank tops. Mario was pleasantly pleased at our fine serendipitous luck and we ate a massively wonderful breakfast at this "Cafe Berio."
After that I had to pop into a drugstore and grab some anti-histamines, for spring had a officially sprung and decided to screw me the hell over in the allergy department. My eyes itched and twitched, my nose was a waterfall of ick and my sneezes were 18 seconds apart.
On the plus side, the weather was GORGEOUS, so Mario and I made our way around the parks and gardens of the city before heading to the Pergamon museum. There we spent the next two hours looking at Greek and roman artistic perfection: The Gates of Ishtar, partially constructed palace steps and entrances from ancient Greece, Islamic art and Mosque ceilings and entrances.
Hmmm, after that we stumbled upon an amazing health food store right by the hostel, a place called "Fresh Friends," where I picked up a block of goat cheese and a baguette before we headed off to meet up with the rest of the group across town. While we waited for them to arrive at the designated meeting point Mario and I downed a pint of Berliner at a local bar and soaked up some of the final rays of the fast fading day....
TO BE CONTINUED WHEN I WAKE UP FROM MY MID AFTERNOON NAP!
(maybe... or a week from now, who knows?)
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Wien....er? (Hehehe)
Oops. So much for keeping ontop of this thing.
What came after Krakow? Ah yes, Vienna! Land of the Wienersnitzel, the von trap family, attractive people, the Danube... couch surfing?
I'd always wanted to go to Vienna, even the name sounds good looking. Ah yes! Just spending the weekend in Vienna, makes me sound like well bred heiress or monocled millionaire with un tres French looking mustache.
So there were 5 of us; four boys and me, typical.
Ken and Nick had already left for Austria the night before, so Peter, Stuart and I hopped on the bus Friday morning 8 am to meet up with them. The bus ride was a short 4 hours of uncomfortable seats and growling tummys and by the time we arrived in Vienna (or Wien as they say in Yerman) we were more than ready for a good leg stretch and some jidlo- but as the bus pulled into the station we were taken aback...
Where the hell are we?! I ask, looking, slack-jawed, at the concrete and metal surrounding me. I panic, worrying Vienna won't live up to my "Sound of Music," size expectations, and proceed to have a heart attack when suddenly, Stuart, map in hand, points us towards the U-bahn across the street.
Ah! Hope!
The train takes us to the center of Vienna, Stephanplatz, where we begin our hour-long search for Ken, Nick and Mike. We know they're in a museum, but which one...? We walk towards "museum isalnd," the part of town where... well I assume its function is self-explanatory. Soon enough, whether by chance or divine intervention, we spot the trio across the street.
We yell! We cry! We Rejoice!
We're starving, so we make our way back into the center of the city, looking for a traditional Viennese lunch. It takes foreverrrr to decide on a place; "too expensive, too touristy, no seats, smells bad, blah blah etc etc." But, when we finally do find a suitable dining location, the endless trek proves to be worth it. The restaurant is a quaint little pub on a far off side street with a yappy chihuahua and FANTASTIC Wienersnitzel.
I eat every last bite and wash it down with a pint of the local beer and then feel like sleeping for 12 years.
Post-food, we go in search of our living arrangements. Today is the day I begin my journey as a surfer of couches, a gypsy, an American minstrel of sorts, in short, a bum. Ken, being the daring lad he is, had, two weeks earlier, decided to sign up for the infamous "couchsurfing.com," where, for all you internetaphobes out there, people from all over the world offer up their couches for people wishing to travel cheaply and meet new friends along the way.
Ok, so my thoughts on this venture were rather polarized: a) I really hope I don't die at the hands of some wacko axe murderer VS. b) this could be the coolest thing I ever do. Apparently B won out, because in 30 short minutes after lunch, I find myself at the door of Astrid and Stephanie Shlager.
Astrid and Stephanie are sisters, both studying at the University of Vienna. They share their apartment with Bene, Steph's boyfriend. The apartment is AMAZING. Super nice, especially for a students place, edgy, modern and tres clean, I find myself immediately at home, and park myself on the smallest couch in the living room (Nick claims the pull out and, Ken grabs the larger couch so I don't have much of a choice, but I don't care, I'm too exhausted to fight it.) I fall asleep, and wake up three hours later feeling refreshed and ready to explore.
But what is this? They're throwing us a party?! There's a bucket of Sangria in the kitchen and all of a sudden the apartment is crawling with Austrians. Thats when we meet Bopsy and Gilly, two of the loveliest people I have yet to meet abroad. Both super blond and bubbly, these two girls tell us all about the Vienna and promise to take us around tomorrow for a quick tour of the city. Bopsy shares a bottle of Rose with me and smiles, flashing a sparkly rhinestone permanently super-glued to her front left tooth. Soon the apartment is full of smoke and laughter, and, the overdose of both leads our group out into the night, in search of dancing and late night snacks.
So we take the U-Bahn out to a club by the river, which is so packed that its glass walls steam over making it hard to breathe, let alone move around inside, I have a drink or two, dance for about a half an hour, get accidentally burned by Bopsy's cigarette and at that very moment, decide to call it a night. (But not before grabbing some street sausage, mmmmm!)
Hmmm, next day it rains, pours actually, and the wind is enough to blow us over as we trek around the city. Trashcans are FILLED to the brim with broken umbrellas and we laugh as we watch tourist after tourist fight flailing, out of control, metal wings as the wind overpowers them. We climb up to the top of the main cathedral in Stephanplatz, a trek which seems to take forever, and I find myself grow sickly dizzy and claustrophobic the tiny, winding spiral staircase to the top.
The view from the tower is pretty, but slightly less impressive than I had imagined, the windows are TINY, and it's hard to see much. After that we go to a cafe to eat some of the infamous Austian... ummm... well, some sort of cake that begins with an S, which was DELICIOUS. Now my memory fails me... That night brought on another party, this time at Bopsy and Gilly's apartment, and a trek for food which failed miserably, as Nick and I left the apartment looking for street vendors around 1am and couldn't find any, got so tired from walking around we just headed home after that, while everyone else stayed out till literally 8am. Nick left his camera in the cab but didnt realize it till the next morning when he was packing up his stuff to leave. Tres ugh. Anndddd then I met up with a family friend for coffee (Starbuckkksss!) and then found Peter and Stuart in time to visit the Natural history museum where we made fun of stuffed anteaters and other awkward animals. They left me there so they could pack up, for I was carrying my backpack with me and I got to hav some much neeeded alone time in the museum cafe where I munched on a Caprese sandwich and downed a pot of mint tea. Spilled an entire sugar packet all over myself, caught the bus, slept, made it back to Prague in one piece.
FIN.
What came after Krakow? Ah yes, Vienna! Land of the Wienersnitzel, the von trap family, attractive people, the Danube... couch surfing?
I'd always wanted to go to Vienna, even the name sounds good looking. Ah yes! Just spending the weekend in Vienna, makes me sound like well bred heiress or monocled millionaire with un tres French looking mustache.
So there were 5 of us; four boys and me, typical.
Ken and Nick had already left for Austria the night before, so Peter, Stuart and I hopped on the bus Friday morning 8 am to meet up with them. The bus ride was a short 4 hours of uncomfortable seats and growling tummys and by the time we arrived in Vienna (or Wien as they say in Yerman) we were more than ready for a good leg stretch and some jidlo- but as the bus pulled into the station we were taken aback...
Where the hell are we?! I ask, looking, slack-jawed, at the concrete and metal surrounding me. I panic, worrying Vienna won't live up to my "Sound of Music," size expectations, and proceed to have a heart attack when suddenly, Stuart, map in hand, points us towards the U-bahn across the street.
Ah! Hope!
The train takes us to the center of Vienna, Stephanplatz, where we begin our hour-long search for Ken, Nick and Mike. We know they're in a museum, but which one...? We walk towards "museum isalnd," the part of town where... well I assume its function is self-explanatory. Soon enough, whether by chance or divine intervention, we spot the trio across the street.
We yell! We cry! We Rejoice!
We're starving, so we make our way back into the center of the city, looking for a traditional Viennese lunch. It takes foreverrrr to decide on a place; "too expensive, too touristy, no seats, smells bad, blah blah etc etc." But, when we finally do find a suitable dining location, the endless trek proves to be worth it. The restaurant is a quaint little pub on a far off side street with a yappy chihuahua and FANTASTIC Wienersnitzel.
I eat every last bite and wash it down with a pint of the local beer and then feel like sleeping for 12 years.
Post-food, we go in search of our living arrangements. Today is the day I begin my journey as a surfer of couches, a gypsy, an American minstrel of sorts, in short, a bum. Ken, being the daring lad he is, had, two weeks earlier, decided to sign up for the infamous "couchsurfing.com," where, for all you internetaphobes out there, people from all over the world offer up their couches for people wishing to travel cheaply and meet new friends along the way.
Ok, so my thoughts on this venture were rather polarized: a) I really hope I don't die at the hands of some wacko axe murderer VS. b) this could be the coolest thing I ever do. Apparently B won out, because in 30 short minutes after lunch, I find myself at the door of Astrid and Stephanie Shlager.
Astrid and Stephanie are sisters, both studying at the University of Vienna. They share their apartment with Bene, Steph's boyfriend. The apartment is AMAZING. Super nice, especially for a students place, edgy, modern and tres clean, I find myself immediately at home, and park myself on the smallest couch in the living room (Nick claims the pull out and, Ken grabs the larger couch so I don't have much of a choice, but I don't care, I'm too exhausted to fight it.) I fall asleep, and wake up three hours later feeling refreshed and ready to explore.
But what is this? They're throwing us a party?! There's a bucket of Sangria in the kitchen and all of a sudden the apartment is crawling with Austrians. Thats when we meet Bopsy and Gilly, two of the loveliest people I have yet to meet abroad. Both super blond and bubbly, these two girls tell us all about the Vienna and promise to take us around tomorrow for a quick tour of the city. Bopsy shares a bottle of Rose with me and smiles, flashing a sparkly rhinestone permanently super-glued to her front left tooth. Soon the apartment is full of smoke and laughter, and, the overdose of both leads our group out into the night, in search of dancing and late night snacks.
So we take the U-Bahn out to a club by the river, which is so packed that its glass walls steam over making it hard to breathe, let alone move around inside, I have a drink or two, dance for about a half an hour, get accidentally burned by Bopsy's cigarette and at that very moment, decide to call it a night. (But not before grabbing some street sausage, mmmmm!)
Hmmm, next day it rains, pours actually, and the wind is enough to blow us over as we trek around the city. Trashcans are FILLED to the brim with broken umbrellas and we laugh as we watch tourist after tourist fight flailing, out of control, metal wings as the wind overpowers them. We climb up to the top of the main cathedral in Stephanplatz, a trek which seems to take forever, and I find myself grow sickly dizzy and claustrophobic the tiny, winding spiral staircase to the top.
The view from the tower is pretty, but slightly less impressive than I had imagined, the windows are TINY, and it's hard to see much. After that we go to a cafe to eat some of the infamous Austian... ummm... well, some sort of cake that begins with an S, which was DELICIOUS. Now my memory fails me... That night brought on another party, this time at Bopsy and Gilly's apartment, and a trek for food which failed miserably, as Nick and I left the apartment looking for street vendors around 1am and couldn't find any, got so tired from walking around we just headed home after that, while everyone else stayed out till literally 8am. Nick left his camera in the cab but didnt realize it till the next morning when he was packing up his stuff to leave. Tres ugh. Anndddd then I met up with a family friend for coffee (Starbuckkksss!) and then found Peter and Stuart in time to visit the Natural history museum where we made fun of stuffed anteaters and other awkward animals. They left me there so they could pack up, for I was carrying my backpack with me and I got to hav some much neeeded alone time in the museum cafe where I munched on a Caprese sandwich and downed a pot of mint tea. Spilled an entire sugar packet all over myself, caught the bus, slept, made it back to Prague in one piece.
FIN.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Auschwitz to Out.
Krakow.
Went on the CIEE trip to Krakow the weekend after Denmark, unfortunately this excursion resulted in sleep deprivation and frostbite. The trip left Thursday night at midnight, so of course we had to go out first.
Three beers and a McDonalds run (ewww) later, we are on the bus, I’m wedged in the very back between two chatty best friends and their backpacks. I pass out after struggling to find a position in which my head doesn’t feel like its about to fall off, and unfortunately wake up once every 52 minutes for the next six hours. “Please don’t use the bathroom, it freezes in this weather.” The bus driver announces. Well HAH, take that, I have to pee. Rebellion!
We arrive in Poland as the sun is coming up, only to see...nothing. Just white; miles of snow a foot deep, everywhere. The sky is grey, and the light that manages to penetrate the thick clouds, covers the world in light blue. The perfect morning to go to Auschwitz.
We arrive at the camp at 7:45, after a brief stop to a student center where we pick up rolls and coffee. We are the first tour of the day, and one of only three that will be visiting the camp in this weather. The girl next to me is wearing ballet flats. Wow. Smart. For the next three hours she waddles around like a double-peg legged pirate.
Now for a turn to the serious:
Walking around the camp was more than surreal, it was to bizarre to even register as reality. I thought back to my 8th grade history class, the weeks and months spent on the holocaust, the pictures of sleepwalking skeletons, of children calmly walking had in hand with their pregnant mothers to the gas chambers and I can’t place those images in this barren stretch of land. The brick SS housing units are mostly empty, although a few of them have been converted into sparsely filled mini-exhibitions. One room is filled with women’s hair, I pause towards the end of the glass case and my heart stops; pigtails, blonde, short, definitely a child’s. The next case is full of baby clothes, another of mangled glasses, one of suitcases, marked with names for their falsely-promised reclamation. Another room is filled with pots and pans, another with mountains of shoes.
But I can’t fill these shoes, I cant place the hair, I can’t envision the thousands and thousands of dead attached to these possessions, perhaps it’s a defense mechanism, but when I look out at the barbed wire I do not hear the gunshots. On the contrary there is a deafening, piercing silence. The silence of suffering. That calm in the air after a storm; unnatural, heavy.
My hands grow cold even in their mittens, my sneakers are soaked through, and then I think of the barefoot buried, the rags of the tenants of torture.
The actual tour of the camp didn’t teach me anything new I hadn’t already learned in school, but that wasn’t the point. The point was connecting that learned knowledge with the wind and the biting cold; making Auschwitz more than a lesson, for the lessons make only the history, a reality, my visit placed fact in a real context, transforming all that knowledge into something greater, something tangible, a feeling, not despair, but reverence and respect for the strength of the human spirit, the power of survival, if not physical, a kind of moral, spiritual, survival, a survival that outlives us and hangs in the air in even the darkest corners of the world.
Anyway, enough seriousness, Krakow wasn’t all heavy, although WWII left the city in quite a depressing state; Krakow wasn’t exactly gorgeous, although there were certainly some better spots within the city. The churches we saw there were absolutely astounding; without a doubt the most beautiful churches I’ve ever seen. Gold and deep blues, stars and elaborate geometric patterns all over the vaulted ceilings, huge altarpieces covered in gold leafing, candles everywhere, cold gray stone meeting intense panels of paint.
The food in Krakow was also, surprisingly enough, delicious. I had perhaps the best meal I’ve had abroad that very weekend: Short ribs, mushroom soup (in un bread bowl, au bon pain style duh.) and a tall glass of “Piwo.” (aka Pivo, aka Beer. Polish and Czech are super similar, but one distinct difference is the Czech V’s turn to W’s in Poland.)
Tra la la, what else? The night life is decent, my good friends Peter, Chris, Emily and I made it out to a few clubs which were pretty fun, although a bit too sweaty at two in the morning. Some Polish guy handed me a post-it that said, (in polish, I had to ask a policeman to transslate) "You hathe the most beautiful eyes in the world." Tres flattering as far as unwanted attention goes, much better than an awkward dancing attempt. Nope, ain't gonna happen sir, mi dispiace.
Went on the CIEE trip to Krakow the weekend after Denmark, unfortunately this excursion resulted in sleep deprivation and frostbite. The trip left Thursday night at midnight, so of course we had to go out first.
Three beers and a McDonalds run (ewww) later, we are on the bus, I’m wedged in the very back between two chatty best friends and their backpacks. I pass out after struggling to find a position in which my head doesn’t feel like its about to fall off, and unfortunately wake up once every 52 minutes for the next six hours. “Please don’t use the bathroom, it freezes in this weather.” The bus driver announces. Well HAH, take that, I have to pee. Rebellion!
We arrive in Poland as the sun is coming up, only to see...nothing. Just white; miles of snow a foot deep, everywhere. The sky is grey, and the light that manages to penetrate the thick clouds, covers the world in light blue. The perfect morning to go to Auschwitz.
We arrive at the camp at 7:45, after a brief stop to a student center where we pick up rolls and coffee. We are the first tour of the day, and one of only three that will be visiting the camp in this weather. The girl next to me is wearing ballet flats. Wow. Smart. For the next three hours she waddles around like a double-peg legged pirate.
Now for a turn to the serious:
Walking around the camp was more than surreal, it was to bizarre to even register as reality. I thought back to my 8th grade history class, the weeks and months spent on the holocaust, the pictures of sleepwalking skeletons, of children calmly walking had in hand with their pregnant mothers to the gas chambers and I can’t place those images in this barren stretch of land. The brick SS housing units are mostly empty, although a few of them have been converted into sparsely filled mini-exhibitions. One room is filled with women’s hair, I pause towards the end of the glass case and my heart stops; pigtails, blonde, short, definitely a child’s. The next case is full of baby clothes, another of mangled glasses, one of suitcases, marked with names for their falsely-promised reclamation. Another room is filled with pots and pans, another with mountains of shoes.
But I can’t fill these shoes, I cant place the hair, I can’t envision the thousands and thousands of dead attached to these possessions, perhaps it’s a defense mechanism, but when I look out at the barbed wire I do not hear the gunshots. On the contrary there is a deafening, piercing silence. The silence of suffering. That calm in the air after a storm; unnatural, heavy.
My hands grow cold even in their mittens, my sneakers are soaked through, and then I think of the barefoot buried, the rags of the tenants of torture.
The actual tour of the camp didn’t teach me anything new I hadn’t already learned in school, but that wasn’t the point. The point was connecting that learned knowledge with the wind and the biting cold; making Auschwitz more than a lesson, for the lessons make only the history, a reality, my visit placed fact in a real context, transforming all that knowledge into something greater, something tangible, a feeling, not despair, but reverence and respect for the strength of the human spirit, the power of survival, if not physical, a kind of moral, spiritual, survival, a survival that outlives us and hangs in the air in even the darkest corners of the world.
Anyway, enough seriousness, Krakow wasn’t all heavy, although WWII left the city in quite a depressing state; Krakow wasn’t exactly gorgeous, although there were certainly some better spots within the city. The churches we saw there were absolutely astounding; without a doubt the most beautiful churches I’ve ever seen. Gold and deep blues, stars and elaborate geometric patterns all over the vaulted ceilings, huge altarpieces covered in gold leafing, candles everywhere, cold gray stone meeting intense panels of paint.
The food in Krakow was also, surprisingly enough, delicious. I had perhaps the best meal I’ve had abroad that very weekend: Short ribs, mushroom soup (in un bread bowl, au bon pain style duh.) and a tall glass of “Piwo.” (aka Pivo, aka Beer. Polish and Czech are super similar, but one distinct difference is the Czech V’s turn to W’s in Poland.)
Tra la la, what else? The night life is decent, my good friends Peter, Chris, Emily and I made it out to a few clubs which were pretty fun, although a bit too sweaty at two in the morning. Some Polish guy handed me a post-it that said, (in polish, I had to ask a policeman to transslate) "You hathe the most beautiful eyes in the world." Tres flattering as far as unwanted attention goes, much better than an awkward dancing attempt. Nope, ain't gonna happen sir, mi dispiace.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Denmark Part II.
Oh wow, I have a lot to catch up on. Typical Mary-Cait, procrastinating, always late on everything. Dear lord.
The rest of Denmark was top-notch; I had a lovely Valentine's day dinner with Laura K and three of her closest girlfriends. We all went out for Italian and Andrea (the second Massachusetter in the group) brought us all bouquets of roses, which was adorably heartwarming considering I had never had a pleasant, or even moderately good, Valentine's Day until this year, although it was hard to ignore the fact that my Valentine was on the other side of the world. (no, not you mom...ok maybe a little.)
That night we hit up an overpriced Irish Pub wher eI introduced my new friends to the Snakebite (1/2 Lager, 1/2 Cider and a splash of blackcurrant syrup) and then Laura K ditched us, with my blessing, for her boyfriend James while the rest of us bounced merrily along to a club called "Rust." Rust turned out to be a bust (hah!) and I began to feel ill after an hour or so of hardcore dance-age, so I decided to cut my losses and end the night with a good Danish (as in the pastery) and some sleep.
The next morning Laura K and I wandered into town to do some typical American sight-seeing! However it turns out theres not so much to see in Denmark, not that that's a bad thing, I'm a firm believer in avoiding tourist attractions. You can learn so much more just bopping around and getting lost then you can in some museum; after a while they all blend together. Regardless, we hit up the "Round Tower," which is... well, a round tower with a good view of the city, and then took the bus over to "Christiania" Denmark's infamous hippy commune.
Christiania
Wow... where to begin. The town is a mess of graffiti walls and trash-strewn dirt roads leading to houses made of scrap metal and found objects. On every corner, groups of men huddle over tables strewn with baggies filled with green leafy bushels of illegal vegetation. Stands sell cliché stoner paraphernalia: a bob Marley flag, a hemp sweater only 800 korun!
The locals, of which there are about 1,000, (you cannot move to Christiania, you must be voted in by a resident council) wander the streets in packs with spray paint, looking for a stretch of clean wall to cover. The few cafes and galleries sell hummus and finger paintings of clowns, more artwork made on recycled plates and gum wrappers. As it gets darker men huddle around their trashcan fires, Laura and I pass a playground and a park for the invisible children of this 70’s time warp.
The police don’t raid today, but they usually come by once a week.
Too smoky.
I buy a shirt that screams “Bevar (save) Christiania!” and we go home.
The rest of Denmark was top-notch; I had a lovely Valentine's day dinner with Laura K and three of her closest girlfriends. We all went out for Italian and Andrea (the second Massachusetter in the group) brought us all bouquets of roses, which was adorably heartwarming considering I had never had a pleasant, or even moderately good, Valentine's Day until this year, although it was hard to ignore the fact that my Valentine was on the other side of the world. (no, not you mom...ok maybe a little.)
That night we hit up an overpriced Irish Pub wher eI introduced my new friends to the Snakebite (1/2 Lager, 1/2 Cider and a splash of blackcurrant syrup) and then Laura K ditched us, with my blessing, for her boyfriend James while the rest of us bounced merrily along to a club called "Rust." Rust turned out to be a bust (hah!) and I began to feel ill after an hour or so of hardcore dance-age, so I decided to cut my losses and end the night with a good Danish (as in the pastery) and some sleep.
The next morning Laura K and I wandered into town to do some typical American sight-seeing! However it turns out theres not so much to see in Denmark, not that that's a bad thing, I'm a firm believer in avoiding tourist attractions. You can learn so much more just bopping around and getting lost then you can in some museum; after a while they all blend together. Regardless, we hit up the "Round Tower," which is... well, a round tower with a good view of the city, and then took the bus over to "Christiania" Denmark's infamous hippy commune.
Christiania
Wow... where to begin. The town is a mess of graffiti walls and trash-strewn dirt roads leading to houses made of scrap metal and found objects. On every corner, groups of men huddle over tables strewn with baggies filled with green leafy bushels of illegal vegetation. Stands sell cliché stoner paraphernalia: a bob Marley flag, a hemp sweater only 800 korun!
The locals, of which there are about 1,000, (you cannot move to Christiania, you must be voted in by a resident council) wander the streets in packs with spray paint, looking for a stretch of clean wall to cover. The few cafes and galleries sell hummus and finger paintings of clowns, more artwork made on recycled plates and gum wrappers. As it gets darker men huddle around their trashcan fires, Laura and I pass a playground and a park for the invisible children of this 70’s time warp.
The police don’t raid today, but they usually come by once a week.
Too smoky.
I buy a shirt that screams “Bevar (save) Christiania!” and we go home.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Denmark to Krakow to Terezin.
Well it certainly has been about 82 years since I last updated this crazy party machine, and boy oh boy do I have a lot to tell you!
At the end of last season, Mary-Caitlin was immersing herself in the cultural offerings of the city. Now we follow her trek across Europe in search of adventure, or at least better food. (UGH if I have to eat one more pot of gulash you will have to roll me home...)
So two weeks ago, on the morning of Friday the thirteenth, my FAVORITE day for flying, I boarded a Czech air flight to Copenhagen to visit former roommate and all around crazy person, Laura Beth Kazprzyk.
The flight was a short 92 minutes and I spent all of it passed out across my seat with a stuffed lobster as a pillow. Upon landing I realized that I didn't have Laura's cell phone number... or address, so were I not able to find her, I was essentially stranded in Scandinavia all by my lonesome. Hmmm.... oh well. I waited fifteen minutes, no Laura. Twenty minutes, no laura.
So in the meantime I got a Starbucks coffee to calm my frazzled nerves and plunked down on a cold metal bench in the center of the arrivals terminal, where I essentially looked like a lost child in a department store, with my old checkered backpack and giant Middleburuy sweatpants dragging across the floor as I walked. A half an hour had gone by and still, no Laura. And the suddenly, out of no where, a bouquet of tulips appears under my nose, "Happy Valentines Dayyyyy!"
Oh thank God.
So we take the train/bus back to her house in Norbergade (spelling?) and catch up on the past two months of eachothers lives. I spill coffee all over myself, people speculate that we're dating (what beautiful flowers!) and I stare in awe at the immaculate beauty that is Copenhagen.
Seriously, the city is gorgeous. The streets are clean, the air cleaner, and the people very, very good looking. Prague has a darker kind of beauty, its medieval, a little dirty, a little communist, a little underground. Copenhagen on the otherhand is Disneyland. The buildings are white and well maintained, people bike EVERYWHERE, and people leave their babies outside when the go to lunch?! Ok this last part I found absolutely bizarre. I guess the city is just that safe, but really? I saw at least twenty infant filled strollers outside of coffee shops and restaurants in the cold February air. People are crazy. This tops parents who leash their children.
Anyway so Laura had class an hour after I got in, so I decided to do what I always do when I'm bored and alone, dye my hair. And so, a life long dream has been fulfilled. I, Mary-Caitlin Hentz, am a Jenny Lewis redhead. Oh god. (Yeah it looked great for the first week, but now I'm beyond tired of it) Anyway, post hair disaster, Laura K picked me up and we wandered around the center of the city, ducking into quirky shops and buying bags of candy to munch on. (Disaster number two: the Danes are super hot on black licorice, which would be perfect for me, had I not bough a pound of black licorice covered in SALT.)
After the wandering Laura K and I grabbed some food and got ready for the evening. That night was pretty tame, Laura and her roommates had a few people over for drinks and then we made our way over to The Student Bar, a crowded dance party not officially affiliated with any institution but the go to haunt of all danish students. This was, I think, my favorite part of the whole trip. I have never experienced a bar quite like this one. The place was crowded with every subgenre of music nerd and grandma dress wearing film major I have ever seen. Sweatervests, suspenders, bowties, bad perms, high waisted pants and sixties throw back music. Laura K and I spent the whole time doing the twist on the crowded dance floor while her friends drank $10 beers at the bar. (Oh yeah, and Denmark is ridiculously expensive.)
To be continued....
At the end of last season, Mary-Caitlin was immersing herself in the cultural offerings of the city. Now we follow her trek across Europe in search of adventure, or at least better food. (UGH if I have to eat one more pot of gulash you will have to roll me home...)
So two weeks ago, on the morning of Friday the thirteenth, my FAVORITE day for flying, I boarded a Czech air flight to Copenhagen to visit former roommate and all around crazy person, Laura Beth Kazprzyk.
The flight was a short 92 minutes and I spent all of it passed out across my seat with a stuffed lobster as a pillow. Upon landing I realized that I didn't have Laura's cell phone number... or address, so were I not able to find her, I was essentially stranded in Scandinavia all by my lonesome. Hmmm.... oh well. I waited fifteen minutes, no Laura. Twenty minutes, no laura.
So in the meantime I got a Starbucks coffee to calm my frazzled nerves and plunked down on a cold metal bench in the center of the arrivals terminal, where I essentially looked like a lost child in a department store, with my old checkered backpack and giant Middleburuy sweatpants dragging across the floor as I walked. A half an hour had gone by and still, no Laura. And the suddenly, out of no where, a bouquet of tulips appears under my nose, "Happy Valentines Dayyyyy!"
Oh thank God.
So we take the train/bus back to her house in Norbergade (spelling?) and catch up on the past two months of eachothers lives. I spill coffee all over myself, people speculate that we're dating (what beautiful flowers!) and I stare in awe at the immaculate beauty that is Copenhagen.
Seriously, the city is gorgeous. The streets are clean, the air cleaner, and the people very, very good looking. Prague has a darker kind of beauty, its medieval, a little dirty, a little communist, a little underground. Copenhagen on the otherhand is Disneyland. The buildings are white and well maintained, people bike EVERYWHERE, and people leave their babies outside when the go to lunch?! Ok this last part I found absolutely bizarre. I guess the city is just that safe, but really? I saw at least twenty infant filled strollers outside of coffee shops and restaurants in the cold February air. People are crazy. This tops parents who leash their children.
Anyway so Laura had class an hour after I got in, so I decided to do what I always do when I'm bored and alone, dye my hair. And so, a life long dream has been fulfilled. I, Mary-Caitlin Hentz, am a Jenny Lewis redhead. Oh god. (Yeah it looked great for the first week, but now I'm beyond tired of it) Anyway, post hair disaster, Laura K picked me up and we wandered around the center of the city, ducking into quirky shops and buying bags of candy to munch on. (Disaster number two: the Danes are super hot on black licorice, which would be perfect for me, had I not bough a pound of black licorice covered in SALT.)
After the wandering Laura K and I grabbed some food and got ready for the evening. That night was pretty tame, Laura and her roommates had a few people over for drinks and then we made our way over to The Student Bar, a crowded dance party not officially affiliated with any institution but the go to haunt of all danish students. This was, I think, my favorite part of the whole trip. I have never experienced a bar quite like this one. The place was crowded with every subgenre of music nerd and grandma dress wearing film major I have ever seen. Sweatervests, suspenders, bowties, bad perms, high waisted pants and sixties throw back music. Laura K and I spent the whole time doing the twist on the crowded dance floor while her friends drank $10 beers at the bar. (Oh yeah, and Denmark is ridiculously expensive.)
To be continued....
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Tosca, or why jealousy always ends in death?
Highly considering melding my multifaceted film and fashion knowledge into this blog and somehow, whether by force or by... wait who am I kidding? By force, taking the interweb by storm!
However, since these plans are sadly still in the formative stages, I will return to last nights excitement. The Opera. So I, being a three day walking zombie from bronchitis island, am finally awake at 3pm yesterday afternoon. I pout, pace and contemplate schemes of how to sneak into our Czech classes trip to the State Opera without looking like I've been playing hooky all week. Unfortunately, I did not bring my fake mustache set, nor my grappling hook, so any scheme that could possibly work is out of the question. I poll my gang, the answer is go. Screw it. After all, I do have the doctors note and under eye circles to prove my illness. So I go, I get dressed up, throw on my once worn theory dress (the blue and black stretchy one I got a citation in for hurling a bottle of Pom off the bridge on the way to the mods.) throw on my kicky boots, use a blow dryer for the first time since new years and head into town.
It takes forevvvverrr to find the Stani Opera house, why? Because it is dark and I am directionally disabled and alone. Luckily I stumble upon two equally lost CIEE girls who join me in my quest for culture. Finally we find the place. (It really shouldn't have been hard considering the search lights and marble columns.) So we get in and...WHAT?! Where they hell did you get tickets? They handed them out today? In CLASS?!
Defeated and mildly depressed I crumple to the floor. "All dressed up and no where to the go" to the extreme. The woman taking the tickets frowns. "Here," she says, handing me an extra ticket, "some of the boxes are empty," she winks and I throw her a thousand Dekujus (thank yous) before running up the stairs to what awaits me; the best seat in the house. HAH. Take that healthy people!
And so the Opera was wonderful, really beautiful building, and an amazing performance. The set was a bit sparse, but then again I don't really have many operas to compare it to. The most exciting part of it was translating the Italian in my head and laughing when they messed up the subtitles. All in all it was a lovely time, I'm really glad I went, even though everyone dies in the end. (tres depressing)
Post-opera about forty of us decided to get food. Luckily, forty quickly turned into eight and the gang and I, plus some new friends, went out for some garlic soup and potato pancakes. Unfortunately, the croûtons in my soup tasted like mothballs. Thank god I wasn't expecting much. The highpoint of the meal was getting to know some new kids, I'm finding a lot of really great people out here.
Aside from that the atmosphere let much to be desired as the couple to our left was smoking like a chimney and the couple behind us seemed to drunk to remember where they were and decided to act out the love scene in Titanic.
Anyhow, as soon as dinner was through I decided to call it a night. After all, classes start on Monday and I can't very well afford to miss anymore school.
Responsibly yours,
MC
However, since these plans are sadly still in the formative stages, I will return to last nights excitement. The Opera. So I, being a three day walking zombie from bronchitis island, am finally awake at 3pm yesterday afternoon. I pout, pace and contemplate schemes of how to sneak into our Czech classes trip to the State Opera without looking like I've been playing hooky all week. Unfortunately, I did not bring my fake mustache set, nor my grappling hook, so any scheme that could possibly work is out of the question. I poll my gang, the answer is go. Screw it. After all, I do have the doctors note and under eye circles to prove my illness. So I go, I get dressed up, throw on my once worn theory dress (the blue and black stretchy one I got a citation in for hurling a bottle of Pom off the bridge on the way to the mods.) throw on my kicky boots, use a blow dryer for the first time since new years and head into town.
It takes forevvvverrr to find the Stani Opera house, why? Because it is dark and I am directionally disabled and alone. Luckily I stumble upon two equally lost CIEE girls who join me in my quest for culture. Finally we find the place. (It really shouldn't have been hard considering the search lights and marble columns.) So we get in and...WHAT?! Where they hell did you get tickets? They handed them out today? In CLASS?!
Defeated and mildly depressed I crumple to the floor. "All dressed up and no where to the go" to the extreme. The woman taking the tickets frowns. "Here," she says, handing me an extra ticket, "some of the boxes are empty," she winks and I throw her a thousand Dekujus (thank yous) before running up the stairs to what awaits me; the best seat in the house. HAH. Take that healthy people!
And so the Opera was wonderful, really beautiful building, and an amazing performance. The set was a bit sparse, but then again I don't really have many operas to compare it to. The most exciting part of it was translating the Italian in my head and laughing when they messed up the subtitles. All in all it was a lovely time, I'm really glad I went, even though everyone dies in the end. (tres depressing)
Post-opera about forty of us decided to get food. Luckily, forty quickly turned into eight and the gang and I, plus some new friends, went out for some garlic soup and potato pancakes. Unfortunately, the croûtons in my soup tasted like mothballs. Thank god I wasn't expecting much. The highpoint of the meal was getting to know some new kids, I'm finding a lot of really great people out here.
Aside from that the atmosphere let much to be desired as the couple to our left was smoking like a chimney and the couple behind us seemed to drunk to remember where they were and decided to act out the love scene in Titanic.
Anyhow, as soon as dinner was through I decided to call it a night. After all, classes start on Monday and I can't very well afford to miss anymore school.
Responsibly yours,
MC
Learning and Leprosy.
So last week started off with a bang. Following a fantastic weekend, I skipped merrily off to my second week of Czech with a song in my heart and... a horrible hacking cough in my throat!
Unpleasant to the max.
Monday we learned how to conjugate present tense verbs, Tuesday we practiced on some irregulars and on Wednesday... well actually, I have no idea because I was sleeping til four in the afternoon.
Wednesday afternoon, Miroslav took me to the nearby hospital to see if I could get some atomic strength cough medicine asap, but sadly they didn't accept non-emergency visitors until 7pm. So into the city we trekked, to the faraway Vodicova street, to the "24-Hour Doctor" the school had recommended. Unfortunately, due to rush hour traffic, this normally 30 minute journey took us an hour and a half. By the time we got to the Doctor they were...CLOSED? Apparently "24-hour" means you can call them 24-hours a day and for an extra $300 they'll come by your house! Ummmm no thanks, I rather spend my money on street cheese and svicova.
So it was back to the hospital, where we waited for another hour in a room full of people with far more advanced colds than I, probably getting me even sicker, until my name was finally called.
Now at this point I felt awful, I had dragged poor Miroslav around all of Praha for nothing, and now he had to describe to the doctors, in Czech, my horrible bronchitis like symptoms while I sat there like the lame English speaking tourist that I am. Finally, they slapped me with a weeks worth of antibiotics and, three days later, here I am, slightly bedridden and losing my mind. It's like that scene in Muppet Treasure Island, only a thousand times worse, and not at sea. I have Cabin Fever.
And that is why, last night I went to the Opera.
Unpleasant to the max.
Monday we learned how to conjugate present tense verbs, Tuesday we practiced on some irregulars and on Wednesday... well actually, I have no idea because I was sleeping til four in the afternoon.
Wednesday afternoon, Miroslav took me to the nearby hospital to see if I could get some atomic strength cough medicine asap, but sadly they didn't accept non-emergency visitors until 7pm. So into the city we trekked, to the faraway Vodicova street, to the "24-Hour Doctor" the school had recommended. Unfortunately, due to rush hour traffic, this normally 30 minute journey took us an hour and a half. By the time we got to the Doctor they were...CLOSED? Apparently "24-hour" means you can call them 24-hours a day and for an extra $300 they'll come by your house! Ummmm no thanks, I rather spend my money on street cheese and svicova.
So it was back to the hospital, where we waited for another hour in a room full of people with far more advanced colds than I, probably getting me even sicker, until my name was finally called.
Now at this point I felt awful, I had dragged poor Miroslav around all of Praha for nothing, and now he had to describe to the doctors, in Czech, my horrible bronchitis like symptoms while I sat there like the lame English speaking tourist that I am. Finally, they slapped me with a weeks worth of antibiotics and, three days later, here I am, slightly bedridden and losing my mind. It's like that scene in Muppet Treasure Island, only a thousand times worse, and not at sea. I have Cabin Fever.
And that is why, last night I went to the Opera.
Musings of Museums.
Shall we continue? As one may notice, if one checks the posting times on these new ramblings, I'm using this lazy and antibiotic infused Saturday to run through a weeks worth of excitement, so now that we've all had a chance to shower and shave, possibly grab a cup of tea and settle back into our comfy computer chairs, I bring you last Sunday.
I slept, until noon. (typical?)
But as soon as I awoke I was taken by a strong desire for cultural enrichment and sophisticated socializing. Thusly, I called up my go-to pals, the gang if you will, Peter and Stuart, and decided on an adventure of the Art Nouveau variety. Off we went into the heart of the city, into the tres touristy Wenceslas Square, to the Mucha museum!
AH. Perhaps this means very little to some of you, but Alphonse Mucha is without a doubt my favorite artist of all time. For future reference, the top three looks like this:
1) Mucha
2) Toulouse-Lautrec
3) Renoir
Now Mucha is the one who designed the famous Paris metro sign, he was the father of the short lived Art Nouveau movement, and an undisputed genius.
It was one of the most breathtaking museums I've ever visited, which is saying quite a lot considering it was pretty tiny. I nearly had a heart attack being that close to some of his prints. I spent a small fortune at the gift shop, and, on a rather unpleasant tangent, nearly got my head bitten off by the coat check lady when I tried to hang up my own coat. "NO SELF-SERVICE HERE," she yelled in broken English.
Terrifying, I'm far too fragile to be reprimanded by strangers. (Especially after the fried cheese I bought off the street, my stomach was already unsettled enough to begin with... ughhhhh.)
A Church! Made of PEOPLE!
Only in Eastern Europe...I can't even explain this properly, so here's the wiki-entry to do that macabre job for me.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sedlec_Ossuary
It's a strange feeling, being surrounded by thousands of skeletons. It was beautiful, in a gross, creepy kind of way. So the room filled with uncomfortable laughter, the flash of two dozen cameras taking pictures of gaggles of girls smiling before the giant human chandelier. Do you smile? It's a weird thought, smiling at mortality like that.
Return of the Plague
So, as some of you may know, I'm sick again. Everything up until that point (namely this past Tuesday) however, was fantastic. On Friday I went out with a few friends to a popular bar called Usudu, which, aside from being filled with cigarette smoke, is a pretty cool place to hang out. The bar is underground, designed in a series of tunnels that wind into larger rooms, each with a different feel. The first floor is a classy wine bar, the second full of fooseball tables the third full of punks, the forth full of loud obnoxious Americans dancing on tables... not me... of course. Anyhow, Friday was a bit of an early night seeing that the next morning was our all school mandatory field trip to the town of Kutna Hora, so I opted for a pivo or two and bounced on home around 12:30. The next morning a awoke at the ungodly hour of 7am to prepare for the 40 minute journey to Na Florenci street where we were to meet our buses. Surprisingly, I made it there with 10 minutes to spare and parked myself down on the bus next to Peter, my new friend from Emory, who unfortunately was not as lucky as I in the sleep department the night before. The bus ride wasn't bad, and was actually pretty relaxing, on the way there I inhaled the two sandwiches Daka had packed for my breakfast, caught a few minutes of sleep and watched the first Prague snowfall of my trip.
Our first stop in Kutna Hora was to the Cathedral, there's not much to say to distinguish it from the other 52 million cathedrals I've seen in my long 20 year existence, except for the amazng stained glass windows inside. BRILLIANT. Absolutely gorgeous, I took about 27 pictures just of windows, which I admit may be a bit obsessive, but none the less, I was rather impressed. Next we took a tour of the mint museum, which would have been really cool had they not closed all of the actual minting workshops, so basically it was just a room with a bunch of coins in glass cases, and not a lot of coins, maybe 20, 22 tiny, REPLICAS of coins. Tres sad. Anyway, I did however find out that the original dollar was based somehow on the czech tolar... but unfortunately I can't remember why. Oh well, I guess that's what wikipedia is for.
After that was my personal favorite, Obed! (lunch) We all crammed into this very touristy, but still quaint, medieval themed restaurant for arguably one of the best meals I have had in Prague: Potato soup, Chicken with potatoes, (notice a trend?) one non-alcoholic beverage of our choosing AND some sort of pastry that looked like it had a meatball in the middle of it, but it was actually some kind of candied berry (thank GOD.) Anyway, the food was fantastic, I got a hot chocolate that was pretty much just melted chocolate and loved every sip. Plus lunch gave me time to catch up with new friends before heading off to the main event of the day...
The Bone Church.
Our first stop in Kutna Hora was to the Cathedral, there's not much to say to distinguish it from the other 52 million cathedrals I've seen in my long 20 year existence, except for the amazng stained glass windows inside. BRILLIANT. Absolutely gorgeous, I took about 27 pictures just of windows, which I admit may be a bit obsessive, but none the less, I was rather impressed. Next we took a tour of the mint museum, which would have been really cool had they not closed all of the actual minting workshops, so basically it was just a room with a bunch of coins in glass cases, and not a lot of coins, maybe 20, 22 tiny, REPLICAS of coins. Tres sad. Anyway, I did however find out that the original dollar was based somehow on the czech tolar... but unfortunately I can't remember why. Oh well, I guess that's what wikipedia is for.
After that was my personal favorite, Obed! (lunch) We all crammed into this very touristy, but still quaint, medieval themed restaurant for arguably one of the best meals I have had in Prague: Potato soup, Chicken with potatoes, (notice a trend?) one non-alcoholic beverage of our choosing AND some sort of pastry that looked like it had a meatball in the middle of it, but it was actually some kind of candied berry (thank GOD.) Anyway, the food was fantastic, I got a hot chocolate that was pretty much just melted chocolate and loved every sip. Plus lunch gave me time to catch up with new friends before heading off to the main event of the day...
The Bone Church.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Tom Hanks is a God.
ITUNES is the devil. It tells me it's going to take 27 hours to download That Thing You Do!
Unfortunately, I have planned my ENTIRE evening around watching this movie. People are counting on me, dozens, and dozens, of people.
Well I guess the bar will have to do instead.
Unfortunately, I have planned my ENTIRE evening around watching this movie. People are counting on me, dozens, and dozens, of people.
Well I guess the bar will have to do instead.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Jak Se Mas?
[Week 2 of 17]
Dobre!
So my host family, is amazing. Miroslav, my musican host father is always bringing back brilliant/ quirky/hilarious Czech movies for me to watch and makes this dynamite pizza with BACON FLAVORED CHEESE. (I know, I couldn't believe it either.) Daka, my host mom, is one of the sweetest women I've ever met and is determined to fatten me up before I leave. They have a fifteen year old daughter Nela who's perhaps even more obsessed with Gossip Girl than Molly and a thirty year old son, from Daka's first marriage, who I have yet to meet.
We live in Praha 5, which is just across the river from where I go to school, which is in Praha 2. My commute isn't too bad, but it's a lot father than I am used to... which I suppose means I'll have to learn the fine, and long overdue art of punctuality... slash waking up before noon. My commute to the CIEE Program center in Vyshrad is as follows: walk from house down through small park to tram at Klamovka (15 minutes), take tram across river to Charles Square (15 minutes), switch tram for two stops (3 minutes) , get off, walk UPHILL to class (15 mintes.) So in total it takes me anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour to get from door to door.
The house is perfect, my family shares a two story house with Daka's brother and sister-in-law, who live on the floor above us. However, it's a bit more complicated than that as Daka and her brother don't really speak so the house is literally split in two, with each family having their own entrance to avoid confrontation. I don't know the full extent of the schism but from what I've been told Daka's brother's Russian wife isn't a very nice person.
I have my own room off of the living room with a perfectly tiny little bed and an equally adorable desk in the corner. The room used to be Nela's nursery and is aptly fitted with bright red teddy bear curtains and a lion king hanging lamp. I have a huge standing closet for all 8000 t-shirts I HAD to bring and plenty of room for all the dresses I brought just in case the sun comes out before I have to leave. I haven't gotten much of a chance to make the room my own just yet aside from the few pictures I've tacked up to the walls and random trinkets strewn about the shelves above my bed but I plan on getting more creative as time goes on.
As far as my studies goes I'm done with opening orientation and am now into my fourth day of intensive Czech. All in all it's going really well, the language is just as complicated and intense as I feared but I'm enjoying every minute of it. Class is every weekday from 9:3o to 2:30 until the 6th, except for today (we went out to lunch by the river) and tomorrow (we're going for some hands on practice: shopping.)
Yawn, more later, once I wake up.
Dobre!
So my host family, is amazing. Miroslav, my musican host father is always bringing back brilliant/ quirky/hilarious Czech movies for me to watch and makes this dynamite pizza with BACON FLAVORED CHEESE. (I know, I couldn't believe it either.) Daka, my host mom, is one of the sweetest women I've ever met and is determined to fatten me up before I leave. They have a fifteen year old daughter Nela who's perhaps even more obsessed with Gossip Girl than Molly and a thirty year old son, from Daka's first marriage, who I have yet to meet.
We live in Praha 5, which is just across the river from where I go to school, which is in Praha 2. My commute isn't too bad, but it's a lot father than I am used to... which I suppose means I'll have to learn the fine, and long overdue art of punctuality... slash waking up before noon. My commute to the CIEE Program center in Vyshrad is as follows: walk from house down through small park to tram at Klamovka (15 minutes), take tram across river to Charles Square (15 minutes), switch tram for two stops (3 minutes) , get off, walk UPHILL to class (15 mintes.) So in total it takes me anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour to get from door to door.
The house is perfect, my family shares a two story house with Daka's brother and sister-in-law, who live on the floor above us. However, it's a bit more complicated than that as Daka and her brother don't really speak so the house is literally split in two, with each family having their own entrance to avoid confrontation. I don't know the full extent of the schism but from what I've been told Daka's brother's Russian wife isn't a very nice person.
I have my own room off of the living room with a perfectly tiny little bed and an equally adorable desk in the corner. The room used to be Nela's nursery and is aptly fitted with bright red teddy bear curtains and a lion king hanging lamp. I have a huge standing closet for all 8000 t-shirts I HAD to bring and plenty of room for all the dresses I brought just in case the sun comes out before I have to leave. I haven't gotten much of a chance to make the room my own just yet aside from the few pictures I've tacked up to the walls and random trinkets strewn about the shelves above my bed but I plan on getting more creative as time goes on.
As far as my studies goes I'm done with opening orientation and am now into my fourth day of intensive Czech. All in all it's going really well, the language is just as complicated and intense as I feared but I'm enjoying every minute of it. Class is every weekday from 9:3o to 2:30 until the 6th, except for today (we went out to lunch by the river) and tomorrow (we're going for some hands on practice: shopping.)
Yawn, more later, once I wake up.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Je Daleko, Je Daleko.
[Week 1 of 17]
Wow. So my first week here in the Czech Republic is already coming to a close, and I must say it's gone by at an alarming rate, although that may be due to the fact that I slept from Thursday night to this morning due to an ambitious final attack by the new years cold germs left hiding in my body... (cough, sniffle, cough) But that's irrelevant, shall we start from the beginning?
I arrived last Sunday into the mist and the rain of what, thanks to global warming, is now considered an average winters day. Exhausted after a red eye and a two hour layover in Zurich, I promptly ignored the gloom and dragged my concrete legs up to my temporary home on the second floor of the Holiday Inn. Upon entering I met Lauren, my roommate for the night. We didn't say much, she watching Gilmore Girls (why?) and I on the verge of a coma, and so after our brief introductions I climbed into bed fully clothed and passed out, sleeping through our brief (and from what I've been told redundant) welcome meeting, barely waking up in time for our first dinner abroad.
Post nap, we met in the hotel lobby in packs of twenty or so, all starving and eager for our first Czech adventure. Our groups were led by two of our "Czech Buddies," local students from Charles University who had volunteered to live with us in our various apartments or dorms in order to help us assimilate and adjust. So off we went into the bitter cold of the evening, down through Prague 4, from our hotel in Vysehard, down the ice slicked cobblestone streets to a local pub. Once there we all crowded in, a horde of annoying americans, and promptly ordered "pivo" (beer) for all. Small talk followed, and soon I discovered I was outnumbered, for all my comrades hailed from UCLA or Central Jersey. Beyond that, I discovered that the ratio of girls to guys, is a pleasantly unbalanced 3:1, no one knows where Middlebury is, and that a lot of parents offer their children money in return for abstaining for underage drinking. Personally, I will add this to the list of things I will not do as a parent, below airport leashes and above letting them have tv in their room... but that's just me; I've seen it backfire too many times, and as for the leashes... I don't think I even have to argue for that one. But I digress, dinner was excellent, we all decided on Svickova, (beef in creme sauce) which was amazing, and opted out of dessert in favor of rest.
Day two started with a bang, or rather, a very loud series of knocks coming from the hallway. I shot out of bed to see who it could be, for I had another hour of sleep to get in before my Dorm meeting, when to my surprise I was met with "Mary-Caitlin, the homestay meeting has started!" I wiped my eyes, "wait, what? I'm not in a homestay, in fact, my name isn't on any of the housing lists, but I was told..." Ivana quickly explained the unfortunate clerical error and urged me to get change and head downstairs for my host family would be arriving to pick me up within the hour.
I pack, I stumble, and downstairs I meet Miroslav.
....to be continued.
Wow. So my first week here in the Czech Republic is already coming to a close, and I must say it's gone by at an alarming rate, although that may be due to the fact that I slept from Thursday night to this morning due to an ambitious final attack by the new years cold germs left hiding in my body... (cough, sniffle, cough) But that's irrelevant, shall we start from the beginning?
I arrived last Sunday into the mist and the rain of what, thanks to global warming, is now considered an average winters day. Exhausted after a red eye and a two hour layover in Zurich, I promptly ignored the gloom and dragged my concrete legs up to my temporary home on the second floor of the Holiday Inn. Upon entering I met Lauren, my roommate for the night. We didn't say much, she watching Gilmore Girls (why?) and I on the verge of a coma, and so after our brief introductions I climbed into bed fully clothed and passed out, sleeping through our brief (and from what I've been told redundant) welcome meeting, barely waking up in time for our first dinner abroad.
Post nap, we met in the hotel lobby in packs of twenty or so, all starving and eager for our first Czech adventure. Our groups were led by two of our "Czech Buddies," local students from Charles University who had volunteered to live with us in our various apartments or dorms in order to help us assimilate and adjust. So off we went into the bitter cold of the evening, down through Prague 4, from our hotel in Vysehard, down the ice slicked cobblestone streets to a local pub. Once there we all crowded in, a horde of annoying americans, and promptly ordered "pivo" (beer) for all. Small talk followed, and soon I discovered I was outnumbered, for all my comrades hailed from UCLA or Central Jersey. Beyond that, I discovered that the ratio of girls to guys, is a pleasantly unbalanced 3:1, no one knows where Middlebury is, and that a lot of parents offer their children money in return for abstaining for underage drinking. Personally, I will add this to the list of things I will not do as a parent, below airport leashes and above letting them have tv in their room... but that's just me; I've seen it backfire too many times, and as for the leashes... I don't think I even have to argue for that one. But I digress, dinner was excellent, we all decided on Svickova, (beef in creme sauce) which was amazing, and opted out of dessert in favor of rest.
Day two started with a bang, or rather, a very loud series of knocks coming from the hallway. I shot out of bed to see who it could be, for I had another hour of sleep to get in before my Dorm meeting, when to my surprise I was met with "Mary-Caitlin, the homestay meeting has started!" I wiped my eyes, "wait, what? I'm not in a homestay, in fact, my name isn't on any of the housing lists, but I was told..." Ivana quickly explained the unfortunate clerical error and urged me to get change and head downstairs for my host family would be arriving to pick me up within the hour.
I pack, I stumble, and downstairs I meet Miroslav.
....to be continued.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Mapping the Western Territories.
So, at last/alas, I am home.
Aspen was wonderful, and if it's any of your business, I have told you this already, and if I haven't told you... well then, quite frankly, I'm not going to. Although some of you may be amused to discover I tried my hand at snowboarding and kicked ass...mostly... except when I was too busy snowballing down the mountain. I have bruises in strange places...
California was a very different kind of nice; I got to spend a lot of time with my family, which was duly needed and much appreciated. The weather wasn't too bad either. (70 biatch!) Unfortunately the job search is a bit stalled as my trip coincided with most peoples first few days back from the Christmas/New Years break. Never fear though! Los Angeles is my summer, movies movies movies, or maybe television, but a set regardless. *knocks on wood*
Blargh, so this is basically just an update on my Prague-ress (HAH! WIT!) Yeah... I know. I haven't received my visa from the consulate just yet, and I'm beginning to worry. The other day I met with a family friend who just got back from Prague and didn't get his visa until half way through, which, though terrifying, gives me a bit of hope that even if I don't get it in time they'll let me in anyway.
All around super excited be heading off; I leave a week from tomorrow to get there by the 19th, and then it's two weeks of intensive Czech: 5 hours a day, 5 days a week. Not really looking forward to that, but it'll be amazingly worth it in the end. I'm still looking for a good volunteer program in the city; I have my heart set on working in an orphanage a few days a week. Other than that I'm just starting to pack and procrastinate...
Let the countdown begin.
<3
Aspen was wonderful, and if it's any of your business, I have told you this already, and if I haven't told you... well then, quite frankly, I'm not going to. Although some of you may be amused to discover I tried my hand at snowboarding and kicked ass...mostly... except when I was too busy snowballing down the mountain. I have bruises in strange places...
California was a very different kind of nice; I got to spend a lot of time with my family, which was duly needed and much appreciated. The weather wasn't too bad either. (70 biatch!) Unfortunately the job search is a bit stalled as my trip coincided with most peoples first few days back from the Christmas/New Years break. Never fear though! Los Angeles is my summer, movies movies movies, or maybe television, but a set regardless. *knocks on wood*
Blargh, so this is basically just an update on my Prague-ress (HAH! WIT!) Yeah... I know. I haven't received my visa from the consulate just yet, and I'm beginning to worry. The other day I met with a family friend who just got back from Prague and didn't get his visa until half way through, which, though terrifying, gives me a bit of hope that even if I don't get it in time they'll let me in anyway.
All around super excited be heading off; I leave a week from tomorrow to get there by the 19th, and then it's two weeks of intensive Czech: 5 hours a day, 5 days a week. Not really looking forward to that, but it'll be amazingly worth it in the end. I'm still looking for a good volunteer program in the city; I have my heart set on working in an orphanage a few days a week. Other than that I'm just starting to pack and procrastinate...
Let the countdown begin.
<3
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