Some action in the Czech Republic:
There is a soccer game tonight and the Polish are here. They have thousands of extra police in outfits similar to those seen at the RNC as well as the U of M riot. Very exciting.
Note to self:
Stay away from drunk Polish people.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Friends
The CIEE program is all about friends--forcing them upon us, making us feel as though we did not pay them thousands of dollars for them to set us up with our "Czech Buddies" and "Czech Friends." The concept, of course, is fine. They introduce us to people from the Czech Republic so they can help us out as we traverse the world that is Prague--help us get a taste of the culture, figure out the public transportation systems, and get involved in the life of Prague. The names they give to these people, though, make it sound as though we are incapable of befriending people of our own accord.
Of course, even when they force "friends" upon us, there is no guarantee that we will become friends. In my case, that is. I'm just that much of a loose cannon (and that bad at small talk).
Yesterday we went on a daytrip to Northern Bohemia to look at folk trip. There were six of us on the trip, a very small number considering all the other day trips we went on we had to take a large coach bus (for this trip we took a Pilsner van--of all the things I would have expected Pilsner to sponsor, I never thought it would be driving). The first part of the trip we spent in Kourim, looking at an open-air folk architecture building. The second part of the trip was in Hradec Kralove.
First task there? Lunch with local students. Our new friends.
Somehow I, with my nonexistent small talk skills, got paired with fellow American Amanda, with equally terrible small talk skills, and three Czechs who, despite their excellent English, were obviously also not up to par with their small talk skills.
I suppose if we had really been paying attention, even before we sat down we should have noticed that ours would not be the most dynamic group. While all the other Czechs charged ahead and sat down at the first tables, our three Czechs hung back and took the last available table. Amanda and I did the same.
The first few seconds at the table were very telling of what lunch would be like--we all sat down, not saying anything, and then awkwardly looked around the table, trying to figure out where to start. We never found a good place to start.
Our questions got one word answers (Amanda asked the guy what type of music he listened to, and he responded, "Rock." "Do you listen to American music?" she asked. "No."), and all the usual small talk topics were quickly exhausted. They did try to ask us some things, as well ("Are there guys on your program?" "Yes. They're just not here today.") And when we tried to connect with them on the one thing we know in the Czech Republic, Prague, they asked, "What do you think of Prague?"
"I like it a lot, " I said.
"Yeah, so do I," responded Amanda.
They looked at us incredulously.
"Really? You do? Not just Old Town, but all of it?"
Amanda and I looked at each other and hesitantly replied, "Yes...why? Don't you?"
"No. I don't."
"Why not?"
"It's too big and dirty."
"Well then you'd better never go to New York."
After that the conversation was pretty much shot--we couldn't talk to them about their majors (they were medical students--Amanda and I are both very definitely in the humanities), my attempts to make jokes about how difficult Czech is to learn fell upon deaf ears, and we all waited anxiously for our food to come.
I looked longingly at the other tables while our silences stretched on for hours. It had gotten to the point where it was more awkward to talk than it was to be silent, so we all quietly contemplated our cauliflower soup as we ate in silence.
Finally, the CIEE leader of the group told us that we had to move on to the museum we wanted to hit up before heading home, so we all packed up and walked across town to the museum. Inside the museum we had very little time because lunch had stretched on interminably. It was possibly the most painful two hours of my life. Well that's a lie. I'm sure I could think of some that would be more painful, but in recent (and recorded) memory, this is the most awkward, uncomfortable time I have spent. The museum, though, had a model of the town we were in. I heard one of the Czech people excitedly ask her new American friend, "Do you want to see where I live?" Compare this to the people Amanda and I were with--we all consciously avoided each other for the rest of the day.
In our defense, it wasn't completely our fault that our lunch was such an epic fail. We were not good at small talk, but neither were the Czechs. They were capable of speaking long sentences, but instead limited themselves to one or two word answers. We could have found better topics to discuss, though eventually Amanda and I just descended into talking about baseball (she's a Yankees fan, I'm, obviously, a Twins fan).
The real kick in the pants, though, came at the very end of our time in Hradec Kralove when we were waiting on the steps of the museum for the Pilsner van to come pick us up. Amanda and I stood together, our Czechs huddled together a few steps down from us, and all the other American-Czech groups were exchanging phone numbers and making plans to meet up. As soon as the van pulled up, Amanda and I were the first down the steps, and I said to our "friends" as we passed, "It was nice meeting you. Good luck being doctors!" and waved, and was in the van.
No matter what CIEE says, no matter what they call these people they set us up with, they cannot make me be friends with these people. This is not necessarily a conscious decision, but is instead something that comes about from my general incompetence.
Of course, even when they force "friends" upon us, there is no guarantee that we will become friends. In my case, that is. I'm just that much of a loose cannon (and that bad at small talk).
Yesterday we went on a daytrip to Northern Bohemia to look at folk trip. There were six of us on the trip, a very small number considering all the other day trips we went on we had to take a large coach bus (for this trip we took a Pilsner van--of all the things I would have expected Pilsner to sponsor, I never thought it would be driving). The first part of the trip we spent in Kourim, looking at an open-air folk architecture building. The second part of the trip was in Hradec Kralove.
First task there? Lunch with local students. Our new friends.
Somehow I, with my nonexistent small talk skills, got paired with fellow American Amanda, with equally terrible small talk skills, and three Czechs who, despite their excellent English, were obviously also not up to par with their small talk skills.
I suppose if we had really been paying attention, even before we sat down we should have noticed that ours would not be the most dynamic group. While all the other Czechs charged ahead and sat down at the first tables, our three Czechs hung back and took the last available table. Amanda and I did the same.
The first few seconds at the table were very telling of what lunch would be like--we all sat down, not saying anything, and then awkwardly looked around the table, trying to figure out where to start. We never found a good place to start.
Our questions got one word answers (Amanda asked the guy what type of music he listened to, and he responded, "Rock." "Do you listen to American music?" she asked. "No."), and all the usual small talk topics were quickly exhausted. They did try to ask us some things, as well ("Are there guys on your program?" "Yes. They're just not here today.") And when we tried to connect with them on the one thing we know in the Czech Republic, Prague, they asked, "What do you think of Prague?"
"I like it a lot, " I said.
"Yeah, so do I," responded Amanda.
They looked at us incredulously.
"Really? You do? Not just Old Town, but all of it?"
Amanda and I looked at each other and hesitantly replied, "Yes...why? Don't you?"
"No. I don't."
"Why not?"
"It's too big and dirty."
"Well then you'd better never go to New York."
After that the conversation was pretty much shot--we couldn't talk to them about their majors (they were medical students--Amanda and I are both very definitely in the humanities), my attempts to make jokes about how difficult Czech is to learn fell upon deaf ears, and we all waited anxiously for our food to come.
I looked longingly at the other tables while our silences stretched on for hours. It had gotten to the point where it was more awkward to talk than it was to be silent, so we all quietly contemplated our cauliflower soup as we ate in silence.
Finally, the CIEE leader of the group told us that we had to move on to the museum we wanted to hit up before heading home, so we all packed up and walked across town to the museum. Inside the museum we had very little time because lunch had stretched on interminably. It was possibly the most painful two hours of my life. Well that's a lie. I'm sure I could think of some that would be more painful, but in recent (and recorded) memory, this is the most awkward, uncomfortable time I have spent. The museum, though, had a model of the town we were in. I heard one of the Czech people excitedly ask her new American friend, "Do you want to see where I live?" Compare this to the people Amanda and I were with--we all consciously avoided each other for the rest of the day.
In our defense, it wasn't completely our fault that our lunch was such an epic fail. We were not good at small talk, but neither were the Czechs. They were capable of speaking long sentences, but instead limited themselves to one or two word answers. We could have found better topics to discuss, though eventually Amanda and I just descended into talking about baseball (she's a Yankees fan, I'm, obviously, a Twins fan).
The real kick in the pants, though, came at the very end of our time in Hradec Kralove when we were waiting on the steps of the museum for the Pilsner van to come pick us up. Amanda and I stood together, our Czechs huddled together a few steps down from us, and all the other American-Czech groups were exchanging phone numbers and making plans to meet up. As soon as the van pulled up, Amanda and I were the first down the steps, and I said to our "friends" as we passed, "It was nice meeting you. Good luck being doctors!" and waved, and was in the van.
No matter what CIEE says, no matter what they call these people they set us up with, they cannot make me be friends with these people. This is not necessarily a conscious decision, but is instead something that comes about from my general incompetence.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Graphs
I just looked at this chart. I don't consider myself to be a very chart-oriented person. But if I'm reading this fairly simple line graph correctly, the exchange rate for Czech and US money hit rock bottom (for the year at least) about a week ago.
I knew I felt a bit emptier than usual when I took my 2,000 CZK out of the bank last week.
I knew I felt a bit emptier than usual when I took my 2,000 CZK out of the bank last week.
Cesky Krumlov Tally
I spent last weekend in the quaint Cesky Krumlov, a town in southern Bohemia near the Austrian border. It was a school trip, which means that everything (everything) was paid for, right down to the 500 crowns they gave us for the meals they didn't have us scheduled for.
Cesky Krumlov is on the UNESCO world heritage list. This means nothing to me, but to some it means everything. I don't know how many of you are that kind of person, so I feel that it is relevant to post here. Because it is on the UNESCO list, it does not have a McDonalds. This did not stop me from getting a hamburger and milkshake (-2 culture points) our first night there.
The rest of our first night, however, was culture-filled. We went to a Baroque Music Festival (+1 culture point, +1 cool point) that also offered free food (+1 cool point) and free wine (+1 cool point, +1 culture point, +1 class point). I was feeling like a particularly classy individual until I accidentally shot a grape seed onto the castle floor (-1 class point, +1 cool point for channeling Harry Burns).
The music was harpsichord (+1 culture point), cello, and opera singers doing Handel (+1 culture point), Vivaldi (+1 culture point), and Handel again (+1 culture point). After the show I carried on a fairly extensive discussion about Water Music (+1 culture point, +1 cool point), Sophie's Choice (+1 cool point, +1 smart point), and Handel's Messiah (+1 culture point, +1 cool point).
I wish I could live in the hotel we stayed in. It is amazing, and way too good for college travellers. Tanya and I shared it. We think that it was maybe meant for Ivana, the CIEE representative on the trip, and her husband, but we didn't think we'd mention it to them. We had the biggest room (+1 cool point) with a king-size bed (+1 cool point). The bathroom had a big flush little flush toilet (+1 cool point, +1 environment point) as well as a bidet (+1 cool point, +1 culture point) that I did not use (+1 smart point).
At the bar the first night, I ordered a "Hemingway Special" (+1 cool point) that made me feel very literary and cultured (+1 culture point, +1 class). With a normal drink, it would be difficult to feel cultured when your drink is orange and has two cherries and a large piece of pineapple speared with a plastic sword, but when it's called the "Hemingway Special," the drink is dripping with culture. I have a friend (Katherine) who is an Emily Dickinson fan (like myself) who worked as a tour guide at the Emily Dickinson museum over the summer. Before I started on my Hemingway Special, she and I recited Emily Dickinson poetry (+1 culture point, -1 cool point, +1 smart point) just because we could (+1 cool point).
On the bus to Cesky Krumlov, my friend Eric and I decided that we would go to Copenhagen this coming weekend (+1 cool point, +1 spontaneous point). Unfortunately, after looking at the ticket prices, we realized that it is impossible to spontaneously go to Copenhagen on a budget (-1 spontaneous point), so I am left in Prague next weekend. Shoot. Whatever will I do?
On Saturday we toured the castle (+1 culture point) and saw a functioning Baroque Theatre (+1 culture point) and spent some time in the castle gardens.
Sunday, on the way back to Prague, we stopped in a brewery at Trebon. I don't know what the name of the beer is, but I do know that after we finished our free 0.5L samples of it, Eric and I had an extensive conversation about Mortal Kombat II on Super Nintendo and the different abilities of the characters (+2 cool points), followed closely by an intense conversation between Eric and Tanya about Super Smash Brothers (+2 cool points). Obviously we are all gamers at heart.
Final Tally:
Culture: 11 points
Cool: 17 points
Class: 1 point
Spontaneous: 0 points
Environment: 1 point
Smart: 3 points
*Disclaimer: Sorry if my math is wrong. There were a lot of points this time. I would just like to point out how cool I have gotten since coming here, though.*
Cesky Krumlov is on the UNESCO world heritage list. This means nothing to me, but to some it means everything. I don't know how many of you are that kind of person, so I feel that it is relevant to post here. Because it is on the UNESCO list, it does not have a McDonalds. This did not stop me from getting a hamburger and milkshake (-2 culture points) our first night there.
The rest of our first night, however, was culture-filled. We went to a Baroque Music Festival (+1 culture point, +1 cool point) that also offered free food (+1 cool point) and free wine (+1 cool point, +1 culture point, +1 class point). I was feeling like a particularly classy individual until I accidentally shot a grape seed onto the castle floor (-1 class point, +1 cool point for channeling Harry Burns).
The music was harpsichord (+1 culture point), cello, and opera singers doing Handel (+1 culture point), Vivaldi (+1 culture point), and Handel again (+1 culture point). After the show I carried on a fairly extensive discussion about Water Music (+1 culture point, +1 cool point), Sophie's Choice (+1 cool point, +1 smart point), and Handel's Messiah (+1 culture point, +1 cool point).
I wish I could live in the hotel we stayed in. It is amazing, and way too good for college travellers. Tanya and I shared it. We think that it was maybe meant for Ivana, the CIEE representative on the trip, and her husband, but we didn't think we'd mention it to them. We had the biggest room (+1 cool point) with a king-size bed (+1 cool point). The bathroom had a big flush little flush toilet (+1 cool point, +1 environment point) as well as a bidet (+1 cool point, +1 culture point) that I did not use (+1 smart point).
At the bar the first night, I ordered a "Hemingway Special" (+1 cool point) that made me feel very literary and cultured (+1 culture point, +1 class). With a normal drink, it would be difficult to feel cultured when your drink is orange and has two cherries and a large piece of pineapple speared with a plastic sword, but when it's called the "Hemingway Special," the drink is dripping with culture. I have a friend (Katherine) who is an Emily Dickinson fan (like myself) who worked as a tour guide at the Emily Dickinson museum over the summer. Before I started on my Hemingway Special, she and I recited Emily Dickinson poetry (+1 culture point, -1 cool point, +1 smart point) just because we could (+1 cool point).
On the bus to Cesky Krumlov, my friend Eric and I decided that we would go to Copenhagen this coming weekend (+1 cool point, +1 spontaneous point). Unfortunately, after looking at the ticket prices, we realized that it is impossible to spontaneously go to Copenhagen on a budget (-1 spontaneous point), so I am left in Prague next weekend. Shoot. Whatever will I do?
On Saturday we toured the castle (+1 culture point) and saw a functioning Baroque Theatre (+1 culture point) and spent some time in the castle gardens.
Sunday, on the way back to Prague, we stopped in a brewery at Trebon. I don't know what the name of the beer is, but I do know that after we finished our free 0.5L samples of it, Eric and I had an extensive conversation about Mortal Kombat II on Super Nintendo and the different abilities of the characters (+2 cool points), followed closely by an intense conversation between Eric and Tanya about Super Smash Brothers (+2 cool points). Obviously we are all gamers at heart.
Final Tally:
Culture: 11 points
Cool: 17 points
Class: 1 point
Spontaneous: 0 points
Environment: 1 point
Smart: 3 points
*Disclaimer: Sorry if my math is wrong. There were a lot of points this time. I would just like to point out how cool I have gotten since coming here, though.*
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Friday, October 2, 2009
Legs
I know I've been talking a lot about hills lately and a lot about my legs in life generally. But I would just like to say that, thanks to all these hills I have to walk up and down daily, I am going to come back to America with beautifully sculpted calves and to-die-for thighs. If my legs weren't so short, people would be asking me to be a leg model.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Napoleon Complex
I didn't realize dogs could have an ego until I came here. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised--Freud was born in the Czech Republic. Obviously there must have been something in the air here that made him put a name to such self-awareness and, well, ego. I have met my fair share of people who think highly of themselves, but I have honestly never met a person with such a bloated sense of self-importance as some of the dogs I have seen here.
This observation may stem from the fact that I have had my fair share of interaction with dogs since I got here. The family I am staying with has two big dogs: a German Shepherd, and a dog that's part "Czechoslovak wolf" (I used to think this was a breed, now I think it just means "wolf"). These two dogs are total sweethearts, though their physical size combined with their tendency to bark at anything that moves is a bit overwhelming at first. Whenever anyone walks by, the dogs know, I know, and the neighbors (much to their dismay) know as well that there is someone outside the gate. I have to say that I think their senses of self-worth are much higher than they should be, though given their size, I will let it slide.
However, there are some dogs where I don't understand where it comes from. Big dogs? Sure. They are large and could maybe kill you. They have a right to feel like they are superior to me. Little dogs? Not a chance. I have found that little dogs know just how to position themselves so that their barks will echo as you walk down the street, making you shiver and stop in your tracks as you look around, wondering if a German Shepherd is about to launch itself over some garden gate to kill you. But when you look around, all you see is a beagle, looking you straight in the eye, it's little (very little) body quivering as he tries to make you back down.
To these dogs, all I can say is, "Really, dog, really? Dog, you are about two inches tall. If you pissed me off, I could pick you up and put you in my pocket before you had the chance to attack me." And then I continue walking. This interaction continues to happen, so I can only assume that they only understand Czech and that the language barrier is the one thing that prevents them from understanding that I'm not impressed.
Honestly, weiner dogs don't scare me, and I don't think they ever will, regardless of how loud they bark. Or maybe if they were somehow able to hide from me the fact that they weigh twelve pounds on a good day, I would be a bit more scared. This is another problem. And I tell this to them sometimes when they are barking at me. Sometimes I say, "Dog. I can see you. You are behind a gate, not a wall. I know that I could step on you and crush you if I weren't paying attention. Show a little respect." Once again, language barrier.
And I have had a lot of opportunities to experience these dogs. The Czech Republic is teeming with dogs. They are literally everywhere--on the metro, on the tram, sitting outside grocery stores, walking in parks, playing in the grass, pooping on the sidewalk, killing wild hedgehogs, etc. If I were told to think of one word that would give the essence of the Czech Republic to other people, I would without a doubt and almost immediately respond with, "Dogs." They are impossible to escape.
Part of the problem with them may be that none of them are neutered, so they keep reproducing at incredible speeds. I don't know what another reason is, except that the Czechs like dogs. In class yesterday, we asked our teacher about this phenomenon. A couple of us were discussing it amongst ourselves, trying to find the reason. When we asked her about it, she responded with, "Yes, I suppose we do have a lot of dogs," and then continued on to say, "I'd say we have more dogs than Germans."
I'm still trying to decipher exactly what she meant by the "more dogs than Germans" comment. She either meant, in the Czech Republic, there are more dogs than German people, or else she meant, there are more dogs in the Czech Republic than there are in Germany. Either way, there are a lot of dogs. I like to think that there are more dogs than Germans here, just because it has a nice, somewhat xenophobic ring to it.
Well, I just looked it up (on Wikipedia) and I have discovered that Germans make up 0.4% of the population in the Czech Republic. I am going to take a wild guess and say that there is a considerably larger population of dogs here, judging from the number of dogs I have seen on the metro compared with the number of Germans I have seen (please take into account, though, that I have no idea what real Germans look like). It is difficult to say this for certain, however, because unfortunately the CIA World Factbook does not (apparently) consider dogs to be a minority, and therefore have no listing of them in their demographic statistics.
Regardless: dogs in the Czech Republic are like the ugly frat boys on campus--they think they're hot stuff when really it's too easy to ignore them.
This observation may stem from the fact that I have had my fair share of interaction with dogs since I got here. The family I am staying with has two big dogs: a German Shepherd, and a dog that's part "Czechoslovak wolf" (I used to think this was a breed, now I think it just means "wolf"). These two dogs are total sweethearts, though their physical size combined with their tendency to bark at anything that moves is a bit overwhelming at first. Whenever anyone walks by, the dogs know, I know, and the neighbors (much to their dismay) know as well that there is someone outside the gate. I have to say that I think their senses of self-worth are much higher than they should be, though given their size, I will let it slide.
However, there are some dogs where I don't understand where it comes from. Big dogs? Sure. They are large and could maybe kill you. They have a right to feel like they are superior to me. Little dogs? Not a chance. I have found that little dogs know just how to position themselves so that their barks will echo as you walk down the street, making you shiver and stop in your tracks as you look around, wondering if a German Shepherd is about to launch itself over some garden gate to kill you. But when you look around, all you see is a beagle, looking you straight in the eye, it's little (very little) body quivering as he tries to make you back down.
To these dogs, all I can say is, "Really, dog, really? Dog, you are about two inches tall. If you pissed me off, I could pick you up and put you in my pocket before you had the chance to attack me." And then I continue walking. This interaction continues to happen, so I can only assume that they only understand Czech and that the language barrier is the one thing that prevents them from understanding that I'm not impressed.
Honestly, weiner dogs don't scare me, and I don't think they ever will, regardless of how loud they bark. Or maybe if they were somehow able to hide from me the fact that they weigh twelve pounds on a good day, I would be a bit more scared. This is another problem. And I tell this to them sometimes when they are barking at me. Sometimes I say, "Dog. I can see you. You are behind a gate, not a wall. I know that I could step on you and crush you if I weren't paying attention. Show a little respect." Once again, language barrier.
And I have had a lot of opportunities to experience these dogs. The Czech Republic is teeming with dogs. They are literally everywhere--on the metro, on the tram, sitting outside grocery stores, walking in parks, playing in the grass, pooping on the sidewalk, killing wild hedgehogs, etc. If I were told to think of one word that would give the essence of the Czech Republic to other people, I would without a doubt and almost immediately respond with, "Dogs." They are impossible to escape.
Part of the problem with them may be that none of them are neutered, so they keep reproducing at incredible speeds. I don't know what another reason is, except that the Czechs like dogs. In class yesterday, we asked our teacher about this phenomenon. A couple of us were discussing it amongst ourselves, trying to find the reason. When we asked her about it, she responded with, "Yes, I suppose we do have a lot of dogs," and then continued on to say, "I'd say we have more dogs than Germans."
I'm still trying to decipher exactly what she meant by the "more dogs than Germans" comment. She either meant, in the Czech Republic, there are more dogs than German people, or else she meant, there are more dogs in the Czech Republic than there are in Germany. Either way, there are a lot of dogs. I like to think that there are more dogs than Germans here, just because it has a nice, somewhat xenophobic ring to it.
Well, I just looked it up (on Wikipedia) and I have discovered that Germans make up 0.4% of the population in the Czech Republic. I am going to take a wild guess and say that there is a considerably larger population of dogs here, judging from the number of dogs I have seen on the metro compared with the number of Germans I have seen (please take into account, though, that I have no idea what real Germans look like). It is difficult to say this for certain, however, because unfortunately the CIA World Factbook does not (apparently) consider dogs to be a minority, and therefore have no listing of them in their demographic statistics.
Regardless: dogs in the Czech Republic are like the ugly frat boys on campus--they think they're hot stuff when really it's too easy to ignore them.
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