The word "Lost" takes on such a desperate meaning when used in religious settings.
"I'm sorry I was late [to Bible Study]. I was lost."
"We are all Lost once."
"I took the wrong exit."
"The Devil leadeth us astray--to the wrong exit, into temptation."
"So...yeah. I was lost."
Pause, meaningful look, pat on the shoulder. "And now you are found."
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Schedule
Because I have two papers and three tests looming, it is therefore fitting that I will continue my procrastination break (I began Watership Down last night) and give you all an update on my upcoming schedule. I could go minute by minute, but I have somewhere that I need to be in an hour (and leave for in 20 minutes) so that will be unnecessary.
December 10--Dinner at my Czech Teacher's House
December 11--Chanukah Services Followed by Chanukah Party
December 12--Write Jewish Paper
December 13--Art Paper Due
December 14--Jewish Paper Due, Jewish Presentation
December 15--Art Journal Due, Contemporary Czech Culture Final
December 16--Art History Final, TREVOR Arrives
December 17--Other Art History Final
December 18--"Graduation" Ceremony, Farewell Dinner, Move Out of Homestay into Parents' Apartment
December 19--FAMILY Arrives
December 20-25--Enjoy Prague
December 26-28--Enjoy Vienna
December 28--Bus from Vienna to Prague, Bus from Prague to Amsterdam
December 29--Arrive in Amsterdam
December 29-31--Sleep in a Cabin (in Amsterdam)
Night of December 31--Sleep in a Tent (in Amsterdam)
January 1-4--Sleep in a Cabin (in Amsterdam)
Night of January 4--Stay in Some Hostel (in Amsterdam)
January 5--RETURN TO AMERICA: DORITOS, COSMO, AND CHOCOLATE MILK
Well I still have 16 minutes before I leave. Obviously I have a fair amount of time left in Europe, but it should go quickly considering all that I will be doing. Luckily, though, once the program is over, my time in Prague will not be characterized by the shadow of lack of productivity hanging over my head. School will not be in session and therefore I can curl up and read Watership Down, or Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (assuming Trevor let's me borrow it, of course) as I please.
Note to self: relax.
Today it is raining. It has not yet gotten cold enough for snow, yet. So I am left with cold AND wet feet, as opposed to just the cold feet that I would be encountering were I in Minnesota, or really any northern clime that's NORMAL and has looked at a calendar and REALIZED that it is DECEMBER and therefore should be COVERED in SNOW. Unfortunately, Prague has not received the climate calendar that the rest of the world has, and therefore does not realize that Christmas's without snow are only appropriate in places where you can wear shorts on Christmas. If you can't wear shorts on Christmas, then there should be snow. It's as simple as that.
Today I had fish and potatoes for lunch. The fish was ok until I got past the breading. The potatoes were fabulous as always.
My host family has some amazing oranges. I think that I am going to eat at least five of them a day until they run out. They are juicy. And easy to peel. Perfectly ripe. And smell amazing.
December 10--Dinner at my Czech Teacher's House
December 11--Chanukah Services Followed by Chanukah Party
December 12--Write Jewish Paper
December 13--Art Paper Due
December 14--Jewish Paper Due, Jewish Presentation
December 15--Art Journal Due, Contemporary Czech Culture Final
December 16--Art History Final, TREVOR Arrives
December 17--Other Art History Final
December 18--"Graduation" Ceremony, Farewell Dinner, Move Out of Homestay into Parents' Apartment
December 19--FAMILY Arrives
December 20-25--Enjoy Prague
December 26-28--Enjoy Vienna
December 28--Bus from Vienna to Prague, Bus from Prague to Amsterdam
December 29--Arrive in Amsterdam
December 29-31--Sleep in a Cabin (in Amsterdam)
Night of December 31--Sleep in a Tent (in Amsterdam)
January 1-4--Sleep in a Cabin (in Amsterdam)
Night of January 4--Stay in Some Hostel (in Amsterdam)
January 5--RETURN TO AMERICA: DORITOS, COSMO, AND CHOCOLATE MILK
Well I still have 16 minutes before I leave. Obviously I have a fair amount of time left in Europe, but it should go quickly considering all that I will be doing. Luckily, though, once the program is over, my time in Prague will not be characterized by the shadow of lack of productivity hanging over my head. School will not be in session and therefore I can curl up and read Watership Down, or Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (assuming Trevor let's me borrow it, of course) as I please.
Note to self: relax.
Today it is raining. It has not yet gotten cold enough for snow, yet. So I am left with cold AND wet feet, as opposed to just the cold feet that I would be encountering were I in Minnesota, or really any northern clime that's NORMAL and has looked at a calendar and REALIZED that it is DECEMBER and therefore should be COVERED in SNOW. Unfortunately, Prague has not received the climate calendar that the rest of the world has, and therefore does not realize that Christmas's without snow are only appropriate in places where you can wear shorts on Christmas. If you can't wear shorts on Christmas, then there should be snow. It's as simple as that.
Today I had fish and potatoes for lunch. The fish was ok until I got past the breading. The potatoes were fabulous as always.
My host family has some amazing oranges. I think that I am going to eat at least five of them a day until they run out. They are juicy. And easy to peel. Perfectly ripe. And smell amazing.
Nuns
At the tram stop today I saw two nuns. One of them looked introspective and at peace. The other looked cold and bug-eyed. I feel like only one of them gets it.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
The Alternative to Snow...
I never thought that I'd miss snow. I'm not a person particularly inclined to bask in the glow of snow. I can appreciate the flakes as they fall from the sky, and know that they are beautiful, but ultimately, I don't feel a particular kinship with this form of precipitation. It is cold.
I was in Greece over the weekend. And while Friday was a beautiful day, at least 20 degrees and sunny, Saturday it poured rain. There were puddles in the street, mingling with the excessive amounts of garbage left by striking garbage workers. It was while walking down the street, after getting completely soaked by an enormous splash from a car driving much too quickly, and after being forced to SHOUT over my shoulder to make Trevor hear me, that I realized one thing that snow has over rain: Rain makes everything louder. Snow makes everything beautifully muffled.
It was not until hearing news of the events that were/are taking place in Minnesota at the moment--southern Minnesota no less--that I realized how much I miss snow. There is a blizzard in Minnesota. Here, it has been raining for days. I have not seen a flake of snow for months, and none of it has stayed on the ground here.
I hated snow until I realized the alternative was rain. When I get home, the best welcome I could get (once my plane lands in the MSP airport) is a blizzard that follows us all the way back to Duluth, forces us to drive 20 mph the entire way home, and makes Dad squint into the darkness while getting all sweaty and angry.
I was in Greece over the weekend. And while Friday was a beautiful day, at least 20 degrees and sunny, Saturday it poured rain. There were puddles in the street, mingling with the excessive amounts of garbage left by striking garbage workers. It was while walking down the street, after getting completely soaked by an enormous splash from a car driving much too quickly, and after being forced to SHOUT over my shoulder to make Trevor hear me, that I realized one thing that snow has over rain: Rain makes everything louder. Snow makes everything beautifully muffled.
It was not until hearing news of the events that were/are taking place in Minnesota at the moment--southern Minnesota no less--that I realized how much I miss snow. There is a blizzard in Minnesota. Here, it has been raining for days. I have not seen a flake of snow for months, and none of it has stayed on the ground here.
I hated snow until I realized the alternative was rain. When I get home, the best welcome I could get (once my plane lands in the MSP airport) is a blizzard that follows us all the way back to Duluth, forces us to drive 20 mph the entire way home, and makes Dad squint into the darkness while getting all sweaty and angry.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Toilet Trees
Over the weekend I went to Greece with Trevor. Upon arriving at our hostel in Athens--Hostel Zeus, named after the king of Olympus--I found myself needing to use the facilities. I made the trek down to the end of the hall and encountered a toilet with a most unsettling message: DON'T THROW PAPERS IN THE TOILET. Had the sign not depicted a hand throwing a medicine bottle--presumably empty though I'm going to assume this doesn't matter--and what appeared to be a crumpled up piece of computer paper into the gaping mouth of a toilet, I would have immediately interpreted the sign as being a warning against the disposal of your toilet paper in the actual toilet. But because to me the image seemed to warn against throwing garbage into the toilet, I thought I'd be safe flushing it all down together. After all, toilet paper is made for toilets (it's all in the name) and therefore has been designed to be flushed. If a toilet can't handle toilet paper, what else can't it handle? Other things that it, by virtue of it being a toilet, should be able to handle?
This concerned me deeply, so I promptly thrust if far from my mind and thus decided that the answer to my confusion lie in the word "papers." I do not call toilet paper "toilet papers." Rather I call it "squares of toilet paper." Perhaps they would be called "papers" if they were not all strung together in one "toilet paper roll." But they are. So I decided the "papers" to which the sign was referred were papers of a bureaucratic sort.
"Don't worry," I assured the toilet as I settled down on the seat, shifting my body weight to my right side to avoid the discomfort of the pinching that came about as a result of tiny hairline cracks in the toilet seat. "Don't worry, Toilet. I'll keep my documents to myself." I knew that I had to get home somehow and therefore had no plans to throw my passport into this Greek toilet.
The incorrectness of my interpretation of the sign rapidly became clear, though, when I attempted to flush my economical amount of toilet paper (I had still been a bit hesitant to fully trust my original interpretation). The bowl emptied, the water refilled, and there, floating, lurking in the depths was a lonely square of toilet paper.
It was then that I looked in the garbage can, searching out where my toilet square should have gone. I peeked in through the swinging lid and saw a garbage can much fuller than I usually see in bathrooms. I couldn't tell in what manner the toilet paper had been used--for all I knew, someone could have been using all those toilet "papers" to blow their nose. Swine flu, you know. Choosing not to take a whiff, however, I decided to trust my instinct and believe that this was the rightful place of my toilet paper. At that moment, I was very happy that I was not the janitor at this hostel.
I was, however, distraught over this discovery. This toilet paper goes into the trash, not down the drain into the sewage system. From the short amount of time I had spent in Athens, I had seen a great deal of garbage, though no sewage. Piecing these two together, I could only hope that this was one bit of garbage that would not end up coming back to haunt me.
On Saturday night, Trevor and I decided to go out for a "nice" meal. To us, this means going to a place where you sit down and actually have to tip. It means nothing more. But the restaurant we went to was a pretty nice restaurant--very clean, very modern, and very tasty food. When the meal was done, I decided I would go to the bathroom, just so I could experience what it was like to flush toilet paper in Greece (and actually have it disappear). So I went down to the bathroom and was pleased with everything I saw--motion detector lights, a nice basin for the sink, and a very sleek, frosted glass door to the stall. Getting into the stall, though, I discovered a sign on the toilet that said, DON'T THROW PAPER INTO TOILET. This sign featured a drawing as well, though this time the artist kindly made the paper actually look like toilet paper--rather than having it look like a crumpled up piece of notebook paper, the artist drew a banner of toilet paper, with dotted lines crossing it to indicate the perforated edges for easy separation.
I was disgruntled, being forced to not throw my "paper" into the toilet, but rather proud of myself for being able to instantly decipher the meaning of this sign. I suppose it's easier to interpret when the drawing doesn't suggest garbage and the slogan doesn't suggest documents.
That night when we got back to the hostel, I went to use the bathroom again. There was a piece of toilet paper floating at the bottom (not mine). I had to smile at the poor person who had made this mistake. Sitting on the toilet, leaning to the right, I had to say to myself about the poor confused soul who had done this, "Silly, silly. Can't you read the sign?"
This concerned me deeply, so I promptly thrust if far from my mind and thus decided that the answer to my confusion lie in the word "papers." I do not call toilet paper "toilet papers." Rather I call it "squares of toilet paper." Perhaps they would be called "papers" if they were not all strung together in one "toilet paper roll." But they are. So I decided the "papers" to which the sign was referred were papers of a bureaucratic sort.
"Don't worry," I assured the toilet as I settled down on the seat, shifting my body weight to my right side to avoid the discomfort of the pinching that came about as a result of tiny hairline cracks in the toilet seat. "Don't worry, Toilet. I'll keep my documents to myself." I knew that I had to get home somehow and therefore had no plans to throw my passport into this Greek toilet.
The incorrectness of my interpretation of the sign rapidly became clear, though, when I attempted to flush my economical amount of toilet paper (I had still been a bit hesitant to fully trust my original interpretation). The bowl emptied, the water refilled, and there, floating, lurking in the depths was a lonely square of toilet paper.
It was then that I looked in the garbage can, searching out where my toilet square should have gone. I peeked in through the swinging lid and saw a garbage can much fuller than I usually see in bathrooms. I couldn't tell in what manner the toilet paper had been used--for all I knew, someone could have been using all those toilet "papers" to blow their nose. Swine flu, you know. Choosing not to take a whiff, however, I decided to trust my instinct and believe that this was the rightful place of my toilet paper. At that moment, I was very happy that I was not the janitor at this hostel.
I was, however, distraught over this discovery. This toilet paper goes into the trash, not down the drain into the sewage system. From the short amount of time I had spent in Athens, I had seen a great deal of garbage, though no sewage. Piecing these two together, I could only hope that this was one bit of garbage that would not end up coming back to haunt me.
On Saturday night, Trevor and I decided to go out for a "nice" meal. To us, this means going to a place where you sit down and actually have to tip. It means nothing more. But the restaurant we went to was a pretty nice restaurant--very clean, very modern, and very tasty food. When the meal was done, I decided I would go to the bathroom, just so I could experience what it was like to flush toilet paper in Greece (and actually have it disappear). So I went down to the bathroom and was pleased with everything I saw--motion detector lights, a nice basin for the sink, and a very sleek, frosted glass door to the stall. Getting into the stall, though, I discovered a sign on the toilet that said, DON'T THROW PAPER INTO TOILET. This sign featured a drawing as well, though this time the artist kindly made the paper actually look like toilet paper--rather than having it look like a crumpled up piece of notebook paper, the artist drew a banner of toilet paper, with dotted lines crossing it to indicate the perforated edges for easy separation.
I was disgruntled, being forced to not throw my "paper" into the toilet, but rather proud of myself for being able to instantly decipher the meaning of this sign. I suppose it's easier to interpret when the drawing doesn't suggest garbage and the slogan doesn't suggest documents.
That night when we got back to the hostel, I went to use the bathroom again. There was a piece of toilet paper floating at the bottom (not mine). I had to smile at the poor person who had made this mistake. Sitting on the toilet, leaning to the right, I had to say to myself about the poor confused soul who had done this, "Silly, silly. Can't you read the sign?"
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