Kutna Hora Trip

Just chillin at our favorite tearoom in Praha working on some lessons and studies for next week.

We've gotten into a busy groove managing everything that comes with expat life, but there was still a little time for some fun this week. Yesterday, we hopped on a train and traveled Hogwarts Express style through the Czech countryside to Kutna Hora. It looked to me a lot like the arctic tundra, but my token Canadian bff informed me that that is not the case. It was pretty and barren and white though.

We arrived in this tiny town that's often featured in travel books and lists of things to see before you die, but the six of us were the only human life it seemed for miles. After consulting our map, we headed to the famous Bone Church. In the warmer months, it's a major tourist attraction but we got to experience it extremely intimately. The church was erected in a graveyard that's been there since 995, when a member of the royal family scattered dust from Golgatha on the site.

The really incredible thing about this church however, is the interior and the decor formed from the bones of 40,000 humans; victims of the Black Plague in the 14th century. The Schwartzenburg royal family crest is present, there's a monstrance, a chandelier, and tons of religious imagery--all made out of bones. The architect's intent was to show the transiency of human life, inevitability of death and the ultimate power of God. It really wasn't as creepy as it sounds--pretty unique thing to see.

We spent the afternoon in Kutna Hora in awe of the snow covered cathedrals just planted in the middle of a tiny country town. Many dumplings and a Pilsner or two graced our table in a standard Czech pub, and we hit the rail back to Praha. This time, we had a new friend in our cabin. His mannerisms were maniacal, and he  never took his eyes off of us the whole time. It's certainly not taboo in Czech culture to stare at someone like it is in the US, but this was rather odd. Just before we pulled back into the station, he stood up abruptly, grabbed two samurai swords from the luggage rack, and left us in a fit of confused laughter. Never a dull moment.

Cultural Disparity

The week has been crazy busy with 12 hour school days plus apartment hunting, the visa process, etc. We finally found an apartment that we love—perfect part of town, just enough space, and best of all: a couple of rare amenities. Reminiscent of communism, I suppose, the Czechs waste no money on extraneous comforts like dishwashers, microwaves, and dryers. Our new apartment is only lacking the latter.

This brings me to cultural disparity number one: no dryers=very stiff clothes. It’s like pulling on a thin sheet of fresh smelling cardboard. I’m still baffled that especially in such a climate they won’t succumb to modern technology and just throw clean clothes in a machine and pull them out soft and dry an hour later. Another minor effect of this we discovered when we attempted to cleverly rid our clothing of the smoke stench that clings to it after entering any restaurant or bar. “Dryer sheets,” we thought. “That’s the answer, and we can prolong the inevitable 24 hour wash/air dry cycle.” Of course, without dryers, would there be any need for dryer sheets? The answer is no, and there ended our brilliant quest for freshness.

Cultural disparity number two: Snow. It’s everywhere, all the time. So much that we take it for granted. On our morning walks to school we tip our hats to snowcapped Winston, but that’s about it. Thursday night, however, we celebrated the end to the most difficult part of the week by eating a late dinner after class. When we walked out, there were feet upon feet of fresh snow. It was so late that we were the first ones to see it undefiled by footsteps or tires, and it was literally glittering under the streetlamps. Our token Canadian was even impressed. We went down to the park in the neighborhood to revel in the fresh snow in all its glory, and there we met two new friends, Victor and Victor. It wasn’t until the next morning when we arrived at school black and blue and comparing battle scars that we realized how misleading that beautiful, glittering fluffy looking stuff actually is. Scars will fade, but the memories of sledding down the hill (sledless) with Victor and Victor never will.

I don’t know what to call cultural disparity number three. Last night, we walked into a restaurant that we’d been eyeing for a while. The sign said Casa Latina: Mexican Cantina and Grill, and it looked pretty clean and not too crowded from the outside. We walked in and immediately felt like we’d entered someone’s home unannounced. It looked like any other restaurant, but it was completely empty and the “employees,” seemingly shocked that people had entered to patronize their establishment, were sitting around watching a bootleg copy of Django projected on the wall. We asked if we could eat, and they ushered us to the back room. One guy took our order, and then a couple more came up and asked for it too. It was starting to get weird. They brought out one person’s beer at a time in five minute intervals—completely contrary to Czech fashion—and continued to ask for our order. There were literally two items on the menu: quesadilla with ham or quesadilla with chicken. Still unclear as to what was so befuddling.

They streamed Christina Aguilera YouTube vids on the projector and eventually brought out our meals through a small door in the wall, one by one and very slowly. They FOR SURE went and got this food somewhere else and brought it into the restaurant for us. We finished and went up to pay, but the guys up front said, “oh no, you cannot leave now. The owner has just gone to the store and will be back in a minute.” The hostage situation ended about half an hour later when the owner returned and allowed us to pay and leave. We made a mental note of some curious language on the chalkboard alcohol list, and when we got home, did a little research to find that—long story short—Casa Latina is not, in fact, a Mexican Cantina and Grill.

That’s all I’ll say about that. We’ll be a little more selective about our dinner excursions in the future. 

Roots

Moving to New Orleans after graduation was one of the best decisions I ever made. In just a few months I was exposed to so many different cultural activities, and for the first time, I was required to make very adult choices. From budgeting to cooking (nutritionally), it seemed like every day was a new experience in the real world. Living with one of my best friends made the transition from college life to working life one of the most exciting adventures yet. We tried to do everything New Orleans had to offer, and we had the absolute best time while we were at it.

A couple of times on walks through Audubon Park, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of the Brees family, we discussed the odd sensation of living in a place and actively not putting down “roots.” We knew that there was a timeline on Nola life, so we didn’t try to find “our coffee shop,” or “our bar” or even “our friends,” really. We went to festivals, theatres, and Red Beans and Rice and Monday Night Blues, but we didn’t establish any sort of permanence in the city.

We decided that Prague would be a little different. Even though we’re only staying for a year (our parents have drilled that into our heads), we want to have “our” places and people here. We’re already succeeding! We are currently sitting in our favorite café, and the owner knows exactly what we want. It probably helps that “can I have a latte, please” was one of the first Czech phrases I committed to memory.

We’ve also made some great friends in our course. Everyone here is from very different backgrounds, so there’s never a dull moment when we talk about our hometowns, upbringing, and lives up to this point. Our school has a tradition that at the end of the first week, alums from the course take the new kids out on the town. Hearing about their experiences, successes and complete enamor of the city made us even more excited than we thought possible.

We took their advice on some exploration and spent Saturday walking from end to end of this beautiful town. Letna Park follows the river bend and affords the most beautiful view of the city. We found ourselves here, at the top, in a former discotheque patronized by the most affluent communist leaders. There was a couple taking engagement pics, so we snapped a couple too…between the snow and the view, it was just too perfect.

Doesn’t even look real, does it?

Today I navigated the metro and tram for the first time by myself to celebrate mass across the river near the castle. I had read that this is the only Catholic church that offers an English mass. What I expected to be Our Lady of the Snow turned out to be Notre Mere du Neige, but the church was so pleasant and beautiful, and there were so many charming French children running around that I might find myself there in the future if (as it seems) there is no mass in English.

Anyway, my apologies for such a long post! I'll try to keep them shorter from now on. Thanks for reading :) love y’all!

The Czechs are Hilarious

Before I begin with this post, I want to add a disclaimer: Last summer, in New York, I kept a word document blog chronicling my harrowing mishaps in a city that rejected me like a bad organ transplant. The purpose was so that I had something to look back upon to remember these experiences if ever the rose colored glasses ascended and I thought it might be a grand idea to give NYC another shot. These stories, compiled in a document a la creedthoughts.com (see The Office clip), were the back story behind many of the lighter things that went into this public blog at the time.

In Prague, however, I feel like I’m living in a fairy tale. I’m afraid this writing will come off sugary and effusive, but I literally cannot say one thing indicating that this life is anything but a dream. Of course we have class every day from 9am to 5pm and sometimes as late as 9pm, but even though that's a substantial amount of time, it's all very interesting material. Fair warning? Ok.

Monday was one of the most extraordinary days of my life thus far. We had our first day of classes, and once we finished, the group was reassembled for a tour of the city. Night was falling and so was a slight rain—everything was shiny and freezing. We walked through the Old Town and had a history lesson about the architecture of the main buildings and the famous clock. Many of these structures are thousands of years old…mind boggling to my American brain.

Charles the 4^th is the most popular king in Czech history, and much of the beautiful architecture in Prague is attributed to his genius. One thing I find fascinating is that Charles and the architects at the time shared the common belief that God is the only being who can create something perfect and symmetrical. All around the city, this is evidenced in cathedrals, monuments, and even the castle—they have two towers that are of slightly different sizes and are said to represent masculinity and femininity, Adam and Eve.

After a stroll through the Old Town, we walked across the bridge and had a glass of mulled wine underneath it on the opposite side. We took the tram up to the castle gates and walked in. As soon as we passed through, a sudden hush fell on the group. We were the only ones in the massive castle courtyard, but even so, you could hear a pin drop. In front of us was the most unbelievable building I’ve ever seen. So ornate and massive, it’s hard to believe it was built by human hands. Construction on this cathedral was begun under Charles the 4th, but took 600 years and many different architects to complete. The last four architects left their lasting mark by etching images of themselves in the stone of the façade just above the doors. The Czechs are so funny to me. This stone image, on the largest and arguably most beautiful building in the world and hundreds and hundreds of years old, depicts the four architects in SUITS!

This I promise is my last “haha Czechs” moment of the day. Also in the castle is the office of the Czech president. A few months ago, he was caught on camera intentionally purloining a pen at a diplomatic event. The video went viral and the Czech people—becoming a bit of an international joke—responded by sending thousands and thousands of pens to the president at this office just to say “have a pen, bro, we’ve got your back.”

What a sense of humor, right? Amazing.

After perusing the castle grounds, we descended the long road back to the city. We went out for dinner as a group, tried the Czech national shot (a very potent cinnamon libation) and got wonderfully lost on the way back to our apartments. I think that’s a long enough post for today! I love hearing from you guys and keeping in touch, and I can’t thank you guys enough for continuing to keep me in your lives even though I’m not there. It’s one of the things that makes being here so happy. So thank you for that, and thanks for reading!

Song of the Open Road

Yesterday brought my first uniquely Czech/European encounter. I was sitting in a cafe about two blocks up from my apartment, working on some things from school and just completely immersed in what I was doing when the older man at the next table began to talk to Marissa and me. He bought us our first glasses of mulled wine and gave us a Czech lesson! He taught us that hooks over certain letters changes the pronunciation, and that the Czechs prounounce each syllable in a word the same (as opposed to emphasizing the first syllable as we typically do in English). It was probably one of the most fascinating hours of my life thus far.

That's really all I have for yesterday; today is our first day of classes and a tour of the city. Just for kicks I thought I'd share a bit of one of my favorite Walt Whitman poems:

The Soul travels;
The body does not travel as much as the soul;
The body has just as great a work as the soul, and parts away at last for the journeys of the soul.
All parts away for the progress of souls;
All religion, all solid things, arts, governments,—all that was or is apparent upon this globe or any globe, falls into niches and corners before the procession of Souls along the grand roads of the universe.
Of the progress of the souls of men and women along the grand roads of the universe, all other progress is the needed emblem and sustenance.
Forever alive, forever forward,
Stately, solemn, sad, withdrawn, baffled, mad, turbulent, feeble, dissatisfied,
Desperate, proud, fond, sick, accepted by men, rejected by men,
They go! they go! I know that they go, but I know not where they go;
But I know that they go toward the best—toward something great.

Dobry Den!

Round Three: Praha

 

Today was my first day in arguably the most beautiful city in the whole world. I’ll get to that, but first a few notes on getting here.

1) Leaving: Always a bittersweet affair. Although it is sad to leave family, friends and a city that I love, it’s also kind of amazing. I always had the same feeling about coming/going at LSU—life is good when you’re able to leave one place you love just to arrive at another. This departure was made infinitely more special than any other by my sweet best friends—under the guise of a Secret Santa exchange that most were unable to attend, they planned a surprise going away party with all of our best friends from college and some from Mobile, too. It was far and away the sweetest, most memorable event of my life, and it made leaving a little easier because friendships like that won’t change no matter where in the world we are.

2) Flying: I’m obsessed with flying. Once I hit the big time and can shirk responsibility, I’ll probably go missing for hours at a time. If you need me, check the runway. There’s just something ethereal about the melding of the extremely human airport experience and the supernatural flying one. I love it.

3) I live in Prague! Driving into the city from the airport, I had to actively remember to breathe. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen or imagined. Jet lag spared no victims and it was beginning to get dark and rainy, so we spent last night setting up our phones and arranging our rooms. This morning, we set off on foot in search of some breakfast. We gradually realized that breakfast is a) not a thing and b) the Czechs sleep in until late morning. After we finally found a café in Old Town, we were able to concentrate on something besides our rumbling stomachs…we looked up and for the first time realized we are truly in the most beautiful place in the world.

Every corner we turned was more breathtaking than the last. We had to pick up our jaws from the cobblestone streets as we meandered through the city center. During WWII, Hitler preserved Prague because he wanted to have his own castle here, so the architecture is ancient and impeccably preserved (hello, communism). Pictures really can’t do justice, but I’ll give it a shot anyway:

 

That's all for the first day! Much more to come. Thanks for reading!