Just to let everyone who has contributed to the 160 views on my blog know, I am getting sick of telling the truth. From now on, it is up to you to determine whether or not what I write is true because the mundane things in life are still mundane, even when you transplant them into a foreign country.
Think of it as a game.
Game #1
I was on the tram today, riding home from going on a fairly successful shopping trip (I bought a completely unnecessary hat, and a completely necessary purse). To set up the scene, I was standing at a pole because the seats were all filled. In the particular part of the tram where I was sitting, there was a row of two seats, and then one lone seat facing them, next to the window.
A little old woman climbed onto the tram. She was so small I could have put her in my pocket and carried her around with me. In fact, I’m sure that a large gust of wind could easily have blown her away, though I’m not sure the wind would have made any impact at all on her heavily gelled comb-over.
As soon as she got onto the tram, two twenty-something Czech people stood from their seats, the two seats by the window facing each other.
“Prosim.” The girl gestured to her seat.
“Ne, ne. Prosim.” The young man gestured to his.
The woman gave them both firm looks in the eye and said, “Dekuju” as she sat down in one and put her feet up on the other. She turned to the middle-aged man sitting in the seat next to her. Expecting to hear her say something in Czech that would no doubt be praising today’s youth, she instead scared him away with a vicious evil eye and put her shopping bags on his newly vacated tram seat.
I’m still trying to figure out how a woman who is less than five feet tall could manage to take up three seats on the tram.
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