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.

People Watching: In Transit

When you're in big cities with lots of people, then you have lots of chances to see big things. Or at least the little things people wish you had missed.

Tram moments:



-A man trying to blow his nose the way I've seen skiers do it many times before: press against one nostril and blow hard to get rid of everything you want out of your nose. It didn't go so well for this man, and instead of get all the unnecessary mucus out of his nose and blown away onto the ground, he wound up with a long string of snot hanging out of his nose, swinging around. I'm sure he would have gotten away with it fine if he hadn't been doing it next to a tram stop where a semi-full tram was just pulling up.

-A woman with a kleenex or napkin (maybe toilet paper?) trying to find the best way to wipe her pretty-dog's butt. At least she was cleaning up after it.

Na metro:



-I was riding the up escalator, packed with people, and she was riding the down escalator alone. I was listening to my iPod but could still hear her burp echo through through the escalator transit tunnel. She continued on like nothing had happened.

-A young couple making out on the escalator down to the metro. There was no shame as his hand crept down her back to rhythmically squeeze her butt. They had it timed perfectly so that they came up for air just as it was time to get off the escalator.

Walking home:

-A man peeing into the bushes. He may have been giving me evil stares for gawking, but he was the one peeing in public.

Caveat Emptor

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.

I Was Almost Killed by a Sniper on the Tram This Afternoon*

After class today, I hopped onto a tram and took it (once again) to Andel and made a stop at Tesco so I could buy some notebooks and bread. Coming out of the Tesco (a European version of Walmart), I saw my tram pull up and I was cheered by the great luck I had happened upon. I would be home sooner than I had expected, and I was even looking forward to the trek up the hill.

But somewhere between the U Zlvonu (I think that's what it's called) and Bertramka, we ran into a little problem. I was thinking happy thoughts and thoroughly enjoying my life, so I didn't immediately notice that the tram had stopped prematurely. I was pleased I had the opportunity to look at shops that I usually don't get to look at. After a few minutes, though, I began to notice something was wrong. Stops were never this long, the doors hadn't opened, and I hadn't heard the automated Czech voice declaring the stop.

I looked around the tram car to see how others were responding to this. I was comforted by the fact that the man across the aisle from me was calmly reading "Dnes," what I can only assume is a daily newspaper. It was only when I saw a man in orange out in the street shouting at cars and hordes of people, obviously displaced from their trams, walking up the street that I began to be worried. Why were they walking up the street? Why were they not sitting comfortably, guarding their wallets and purses from pickpockets? But Dnes man was still reading his newspaper and I felt that I should take my cues from him--it's better to be calm in a horrible situation than it is to be freaked out in a fine one.

And then the people in the back of the car started banging on the doors, trying to find a way to open them. That's when it struck me--the tram had received death threats from anti-commuter terrorist groups and they were about to blow up the tram and had the entire area surrounded with snipers. It was a no-win situation. All was lost. How could Dnes man read the newspaper when his moments were limited?--either he would be blown up or shot to death, depending on the end he chose. If I had not been worried about my own life, I would have applauded this man. He was the equivalent of the string orchestra playing as the Titanic went down.

The orange man came into our car and opened the front door, shortly saying some things to us. I have no idea what he said, but the people in the back of the car booked it to the front and got out of the door. I followed them, deciding the people left sitting in their seats had chosen to sacrifice themselves to the certain death from the bombs for those of us who were younger, and had more life, and decided to brave the snipers.

I still wasn't completely sure what was going on, but I didn't want to ask. To do so would risk my own safety. What if, upon hearing I was American, the terrorists decided that I should be the first to die? Or what if the Czechs decided to offer me up as a sacrifice? Or what if they forced me to stay on the wired tram with the other sacrificees?

I refused to risk it.

So I got out of the tram car and began walking up the road to the next tram stop. There were three other trams stopped, other victims, I can only imagine, of the threats.

Literally two seconds after I had gotten off the tram, the tram stopped at the front of the pack began moving and, slowly but surely, the rest followed suit. I quickened my pace to try to catch a tram up the hill--I would face bombs rather than that walk. As I got to the tram stop, my tram pulled up and I jumped into it and plopped down two seats behind where I had originally been sitting, behind Dnes man.

I consider myself lucky that the terrorists called off their snipers, turned off their bombs, and let the daily commute recommence. Otherwise I may not be here.


*It is entirely possible that most of this took place solely in my head.

Taste of Home

Every morning I take a tram to Andel, then transfer to another tram (tram 7) that takes me to the bottom of a big hill that makes me die a little inside every time I look up it. One morning when I was on tram 7, I was staring out the window, probably contemplating the meaning of life when it came to me--in a shop window was an old-style Minnesota Twins t-shirt. I started in excitement, and pointed it out to the girl I was with--another fellow Minnesotan (though not the Twins fan that I am). Someday soon I think I'm going to buy that shirt. I think the label on it said that it's 80 CZK (about $5, obviously they don't really know the worth of the Minnesota Twins). Until then I get a little taste of home every morning when I pass it by.

Otherwise if I get homesick, I hear that the restaurant TexMex is very American here.