I still have a lot of more general entries, but since I’m suddenly doing things again (I’m feeling a little better but not really well enough to be doing what I’m doing, but I’m the most sick of not doing things), I need to write about actual activities.
Last night I went to the US Embassy for a Marines party. Yes, you read that right. One of the girls in my group worked at the embassy in Portugal over the summer, and she got really close to the Marines there, so she wanted to meet the Marines here and long story short we were invited to this “party.” I was pretty excited because I had no idea what to expect, yet I anticipated great things from the inside of an embassy. When we arrived, we had to go through a metal detector, hand over all cell phones, cameras, etc. for the duration of our stay, check our passports, wear two separate badges identifying us and our security level, and be escorted by a Marine at all times. The ten-minute ordeal of getting us inside, however, was probably the most exciting part of the whole affair. I was pretty disappointed by the fact that the “party” was held in this basement bar with a pool table and a karaoke machine that reminded me of thousands of Wisconsin bars, except for maybe crappier. For those of you who go to Carleton, Dad’s is way classier than the inside of this Embassy, and I’m not joking. Granted, we were probably in the least fancy area, but still. The company wasn’t great, either. We left pretty quickly. This is one of those topics that if you’re curious about more details, you should ask me when I’m not writing in my blog.
This morning I woke up feeling like I got hit by a truck, because thanks to the assault on my immune system, I now have a killer cold (cough, runny nose, the whole bit). As soon as I emerged from my room, Elena asked me if I wanted to go for a walk with them. I had planned on going into Prague, but I figured a short walk wouldn’t ruin those plans, and I’m in need of some exercise, so I said sure. We began by taking the path around the fields where I run, and about 1.5 miles in, we veered off in a direction I’d never taken. I found myself going down this rocky path about three times slower than Jan and Elena and praying with all my might that I would neither fall to my death or start an avalance. Suddenly, we were climbing up rocks, dodging under trees, leaping over creeks, etc, etc. The scenery alone was probably worth it: many leaves have fallen but there are still a lot of green trees, we were in a forest for a lot of the time, there were beautiful rivers and crazy rock formations, not to mention classic rolling hills. It sure was rigorous, though. It reminded me a lot of Devil’s Lake, except for the rocks were smaller and it wasn’t as well groomed.
Even more crazy, though, was the fact that the whole thing was like an adventure shopping trip for Elena. She was constantly yelling, “come on everyone and find nuts!” and we would all have to dash over to the tree and pick up all of the walnuts we saw. Or “Ah! Look at this beautiful mushroom!” and we’d all go searching for others like it (because if you find one, you’re likely to fine more of its ‘family’, or at least that’s what they keep telling me. At one point during the walk, we found a rustic apple tree, and Elena whipped out a knife and cut apples up for us, telling me that this was her favorite type, and we ended up bringing home a bag full of about 20 apples. So many times during the morning I thought to myself, “Where am I and what have they done with Prague?” It was insane to realize that I was actually closer to Prague than when I’m in the house, which is pretty darn close to Prague, yet I was having this ridiculous nature extravagganza.
3 hours later, I had completed one of the most strenuous hikes of my life. As we were nearing the house, Elena exclaimed wildly and started to pick a ton of these bright red football-shaped berry things, and asked me what we called them in English. I of course had no idea, and she started telling me how they were the seeds of some flower. I asked if she was picking them for us to plant or to eat, and she replied, “No no, we will dry them and use them to make tea.” All I could think was “Of course we will.” It’s just such a different life. I’m glad to know about these paths, though—we took one, but there were a ton of branches to explore—and I’ll go back for sure, but it wasn’t the best day for it.
When we got back, Elena whipped up some mushroom soup and this mushroom chicken pasta dish, and we all ate ourselves sick. I then started talking about going into Prague, but Elena said, “Don’t you want to come to this festival?” Well, I had no idea about any festival, but next thing I knew, I was there. It was in a village near Rostoky, and was basically a cute little gathering for families. It’s almost impossible to describe how rustic, quaint, and innocent things like this feel to me. They built an oven out of clay and wood (today, actually) and were baking bread in it at night. They made a sauna out of a tent they created from birch branches and skins of animals. They were selling their special town gulash. It’s just crazy. We went to two marionette puppet shows (both in Czech, both in this re-made barn, and both very interesting to watch), then stuck around in the barn (which doubles as a popular Prague club/pub) to watch the live band. The place got pretty full and the band was really entertaining. It was like a mix of polka and rock music, and of course had an accordian player, but it felt very modern, and it was fun to watch the people.
I realize how abruptly this is ending, but I’m getting really really tired. That’s what trekking across the Czech wilderness will do to you, I guess. More later. Maybe tomorrow I’ll make it to Prague?
Saturday, October 6, 2007
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
If You Want to Be a Praguer, Just Come Along With Me...
Now that I know my way to school and back without having to think about it, and I’ve seen it all enough times that I no longer need to gape quite as obviously, I’ve taken up a new occupation during my commute: pretending I’m a Praguer. Don’t laugh- this is no easy art. You can wear almost anything, but the more layers you’re wearing, the better, and it’s best if you have on several colors/fabrics that don’t exactly match, but don’t exactly look bad together, either. Nothing you wear should be bulky, yet you should have on enough things that the overall effect is definitely bulk. Colors are important, but it’s best if they’re covered by many drab layers so that only peeks of bright are visible (presumably to illustrate your light-hearted, friendly interior). Accessories are crucial; at least one bag (a backpack counts) is essential, and this should be augmented by any other random prop, as long as you’re full of stuff. The most convincing is a well-worn plastic bag with handles from one of the bigger stores (I recommend Tesco or Billa). It doesn’t matter what is in the bag, but you must guard it with your life, and it should look like you carry it with you everywhere.
None of that, however, is nearly as important as your demeanor. First and foremost, you must appear to be intensely worried about something. This worry prevents you from connecting to the other people around you, and makes you much more important than any current, trivial happenings. Thus, if there is a ruckus or someone needs help or is running for the subway, you must not only look disinterested, but be disinterested, since your worry consumes your whole being. Of course, you must never, ever smile. BUT – and here’s the tricky part for me- all of this worrying must be totally non-dramatic. There can be no crinkling of the brow, no perceptible sighing, no slouching of the shoulders nor rubbing of the temples, because, my dear Praguer, you are a rock. Even though the weight of the world is on your tiny shoulders, you must proceed with the undertone of confidence, austerity, fortitude, and resilience that calmly asserts, “My family made it through Communism, goddamnnit, and we can certainly make it through this.” For when you are a true Praguer, you proceed through life with the knowledge that your country has been through hell and back, and with the conviction that you, personally, somehow helped it survive, so if you currently look reserved, apathetic, and worried (because you are), so be it. You stand with your weight equally distributed on both feet, glance around vacantly, and continue to focus on your problem of the day.
I know what you’re asking: “Claire, how did you become such an authority? You have only been practicing this technique for a few weeks.” Well, my friends, today I acieved a sure medal of success: Just as I was truly worried about being sick and maybe having to go to the doctor, as I was ignoring everyone around me and living in my own little world, as I was defiantly promising myself that I wasn’t really sick, I saw a man on the up escalator, clearly a tourist, snap a picture of me to take home and show his family and friends what a real Czech girl looks like. Talk about an affirmation. Coming up soon: Whether it’s a good thing to be a Praguer, aka the much-awaited entry, “Are Czech People Attractive?”
None of that, however, is nearly as important as your demeanor. First and foremost, you must appear to be intensely worried about something. This worry prevents you from connecting to the other people around you, and makes you much more important than any current, trivial happenings. Thus, if there is a ruckus or someone needs help or is running for the subway, you must not only look disinterested, but be disinterested, since your worry consumes your whole being. Of course, you must never, ever smile. BUT – and here’s the tricky part for me- all of this worrying must be totally non-dramatic. There can be no crinkling of the brow, no perceptible sighing, no slouching of the shoulders nor rubbing of the temples, because, my dear Praguer, you are a rock. Even though the weight of the world is on your tiny shoulders, you must proceed with the undertone of confidence, austerity, fortitude, and resilience that calmly asserts, “My family made it through Communism, goddamnnit, and we can certainly make it through this.” For when you are a true Praguer, you proceed through life with the knowledge that your country has been through hell and back, and with the conviction that you, personally, somehow helped it survive, so if you currently look reserved, apathetic, and worried (because you are), so be it. You stand with your weight equally distributed on both feet, glance around vacantly, and continue to focus on your problem of the day.
I know what you’re asking: “Claire, how did you become such an authority? You have only been practicing this technique for a few weeks.” Well, my friends, today I acieved a sure medal of success: Just as I was truly worried about being sick and maybe having to go to the doctor, as I was ignoring everyone around me and living in my own little world, as I was defiantly promising myself that I wasn’t really sick, I saw a man on the up escalator, clearly a tourist, snap a picture of me to take home and show his family and friends what a real Czech girl looks like. Talk about an affirmation. Coming up soon: Whether it’s a good thing to be a Praguer, aka the much-awaited entry, “Are Czech People Attractive?”
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
What's in a Name?
Did You Know...
That Czechs celebrate Name Days? They basically found a way to get two birthdays; though they don’t celebrate their Name Day quite as much as a birthday (no parties, for example, just small gifts and well-wishes), it’s almost better because it’s easier to remember, since all of your friends remember your names. On a Czech calendar, each day tells the name that should be celebrated that day. Here’s the kicker, though: each name has to have a day. That’s right- you have to get permission from the government if you want to name your child a name that isn’t on the calendar. Now it makes sense that I know so many “Petr”s and “Jan”s; when you’re limited to 365 names (and some of those are really quite vile even by Czech standards), you’re bound to repeat.
That Czechs celebrate Name Days? They basically found a way to get two birthdays; though they don’t celebrate their Name Day quite as much as a birthday (no parties, for example, just small gifts and well-wishes), it’s almost better because it’s easier to remember, since all of your friends remember your names. On a Czech calendar, each day tells the name that should be celebrated that day. Here’s the kicker, though: each name has to have a day. That’s right- you have to get permission from the government if you want to name your child a name that isn’t on the calendar. Now it makes sense that I know so many “Petr”s and “Jan”s; when you’re limited to 365 names (and some of those are really quite vile even by Czech standards), you’re bound to repeat.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Shrooms, Zuzka, School, and So it goes
Last Tuesday I went mushroom hunting, and I haven’t been the same since. I can’t believe that I’ve wasted 21 years of my life not mushroom hunting! It was a wonderous, adventurous, relaxing experience, and I fully intend to take up the habit back in the states. I will, however, need some more training first. After tiptoeing through the brush, scrutinizing the ground for any sign of fungi life, I would let out a yelp of success, only to be told by my temporary host sister, Zuzka (Suzy), that I would die if I ate my triumphant find. After a string of these failures, an exasperated Zuzka implored me to just “Look at this one! See how nice and warm and friendly it is?! Now look at yours, see?! It’s cold and mean.” While that advice did not help me, I manage to consistantly identify one “good” mushroom- a very friendly dark brown little guy with a yellow spongy underside- and I generally stuck with that one from then out. We bought back quite a bounty, and immediately schnitzeled them for dinner. Schnitzeling is a delightful and easy process with a rewarding name, so expect me to schnitzel you something when I get back. Actually, schnitzeling seems to be a sort of euphenism for “deep-frying,” so maybe it’s best if I don’t do it too often. This was all dandy until the next morning, when Zuzka woke up terribly ill, and I had a flashback to my own plate full of schnitzelled mushrooms. I didn’t get sick that day, though, so we concluded it was just a good old-fashioned Czech bug, which I promptly picked up two days later. I can’t say I’m surprised; I spent all week drinking Kofola (a strange, rootbeer-ish soda), water, and tea out of the same bottle as Zuzka. She asked me if that bothered me, and I, deciding to throw my American caution and anxiety about germs to the wind, said of course not. Foolish Claire discovered that there’s some widsom in our worries after all. So, here I am, in bed for the fourth straight day, with plenty of time to update my blog.
Our Kofola- (for Zuzka) and water- (for me) drinking binges give you only a small idea of the true picture: In Olomouc I experienced a five-day slumber party. But let me start with the reason why: Zuzka. She was a bit taller than I and very skinny, with chin-length dark hair and glasses. The first thing she said to me was, “Are you Claire?” and the second was “Do you like carrots?” When I told her that I did, indeed, like carrots, she was so delighted she ran straight into a wall. I’m not kidding. For those of you who know Hannah Moodie, Zuzka could be her identical Czech twin, personality-wise. She was an absolute dear. She lived in a flat with her 18-year-old sister, dad, and stepmom (sometimes—the parents left because I was there, much to delight of Zuzka’s older sister, who is also a sweetheart but clearly valued my presence only because it meant the absence of her parents, and she took the opportunity to spend every night with her boyfriend), and I was clearly there for Zuzka. I have never in my life met anyone who adored me so completely and unreservedly. She was SO EXCITED that I’m an English major (she likes literature, too!), she was SO EXCITED that I played broomball (she had never heard of it but had the Wikipedia site bookmarked from her desktop, she was SO EXCITED that I wasn’t mean (the first night she told me “I’m so glad you’re you!”), and she was SO EXCITED that I was there that she was sure I’d rather sleep with her in her room than in the bed her dad made her set up in the living room (she was wrong, but I slept with her anyway, because she’s exactly the type of person who I hate to disappoint). SO, like I said, it was a five-day slumber party, and I am not exaggerating. She rented movies for us to watch, we ate pizza and ice cream and candy and soda, we kept talking after turning the lights off and started talking right away in the morning. Now, let me make it clear that I have never really liked slumber parties, even when I was 15, and this was no exception, but I guess it was fun sometimes. Other times, it was extremely smothering and annoying that I had to practically babysit this 15-year-old.
But, like I said, she was a darling, and her capitol-d Dreams are to visit/live in America and go to Yale. Seemingly unrelated, she also loves Gilmore Girls (She also reminds me almost exactly of Rory), and this turned out to be a very dangerous combination. Throughout the week, she would ask me things like, “Is it normal to drive a Jeep?” and I would reply as honestly as I could with something like, “No, I do see people driving them, but it isn’t very common where I’m from,” and Zuzka would furrow her brow and say, “But Lorelai (from Gilmore Girls) drives a Jeep.” And I was forced to become a big-bad illusion crusher, though I was saved from Zuzka’s wrath because she simply chose not to believe me. Whenever I told her something that didn’t add up to what she had seen, she looked skeptical and pushed me for awhile, then clearly concluded that I didn’t know what I was talking about because I didn’t go to Yale. Ay yi yi.
The gigantic benefit of Zuzka, however, was that she helped me “Explore Olomouc.” We traipsed all around the city, which is a University town and holds about 100,000 people, admiring buildings, taking photos of fountains, strolling through parks, climbing towers to get the best view of the whole city... My favorite part was when we crept inside this HUGE church. We could hear music coming from inside, and we thought that mass might be in progress, but Zuzka assureed me that we still had to at least peek inside. When we did, we saw a full orchestra and choir simply practicing for a performance that night, so we sat down and watched for almost an hour. It reminded me of that scene in the church in Home Alone, but it was better. We also went on several short excursions, one to a nearby tiny villiage with a beautiful church on top of the hill which the Pope visitied in 1992, and one to a town about 30 minutes away with a huge fairytale castle. The castle’s inside was the best castle’s inside I’ve seen so far, all dark wood and with gorgeous furniture. The tour was hard to take seriously, however, because we all had to wear these ridiculous red shoes over our shoes which made us look like a company of jesters getting ready to be interviewed by the king.
On Monday-Wednesday in Olomouc I went to school with Zuzka. This was a mixed experience for me. First, the school is public (as almost all schools here are, and public schools are usually far better than private), and it’s one of two English-immersion schools in the country. By their third year in the school (when they’re about 12), students are taught all of their classes in English. I mostly hung out with the teachers, and they were all very interesting, energetic, and kind people. I went to some literature classes and many English language classes where the lesson was, “This is Claire. She is American. Ask her questions.” It was strange to me to be so valued for my ability to speak English. The students asked mostly predictable questions, and it was interesting to hear their assumptions about Americans, like that all Americans have met celebrities, that we are all vegetarians, we all love McDonalds (as you can see, these are sometimes contradictory assumptions), that we are all fat and usually loud, and mostly “Crazy.” (I’ll go more into the perceptions of America idea in a later blog). Every class asked me whether I like Czech beer, which seems to be yet another matter of exceptional national pride.
A few of the other differences? Well, the students all stand up when the teacher enters the room (always a few minutes late), and don’t sit until permitted to do so by the teacher. I was in a history class that was teaching Evolution and I didn’t realize how strange that would be to hear so blatantly in a school until I was there. There’s a picture of the Czech president hanging in every classroom, which is very Big Brother-esque. The students all change their shoes when they get to school, a fact I didn’t realize until late Wednesday afternoon after I had traipsed my contaminated outdoor shoes all over the school for three days.
Really, though, the school was remarkable mostly for its similarities to American schools. In fact, it almost could have served as the model school- the students were well-behaved and very smart, it was creepily utopic. The strangest thing might have been how hesitant the students were to guess about something or assert their own opinion- they were very eager to spit out only exactly what the teacher wanted to hear. The near-perfect nature of the school was what I found somewhat frustrating. First, I was coming into it with an idea for a project in mind, and my project revolved around the problem of integrating Roma (Gypsy) children into the schools, and this school in particular didn’t have that problem because they didn’t have any Roma children. In fact, when I asked one of the teachers what the biggest challenge she faced in her school was, she said that it was the lack of bilingual textbooks (written in both English and Czech). This, to me, seemed like a rather luxurious problem to have. In addition, they were very progressive and aware in that in several classes I hear them discuss everything from Global Warming to Guantanamo, and they were all outspoken about Bush and the stupidity of the war and all of the other problems he caused. Yet they never really discussed the problems with themselves or their own country, namely that of the extreme marginalization of the Roma population. I had a terrible and frightening conversation with Zuzka which greatly discouraged me, because she was extremely racist, but I won’t go into that now- ask me if you’re curious.
All of this is not to take away from the extreme intelligence and talent of the teachers and students. For example, I went to a Spanish class that completely blew my mind. The teacher was teaching in both English and Czech and the students were all speaking in Spanish and I was the only one who had any trouble with it. I, in fact, had a lot of trouble with it, and I still have been answering people in Spanish. In addition to that, Zuzka’s starting to study Latin and joining Sign-Language club. It’s simply overwhelming. It’s just that the school, with all it’s liberalism and progressive nature, is somehow so awfully behind on this topic. In any case, the whole experience helped me conclude that I probably won’t go to that school for my project, an option which I was strongly considering before.
In any case, I thouroughly enjoyed my time in Olomouc, though it wasn’t as rural as I expected, and there I received one of the best compliments of my life: Zuzka told me, “You have a really good ‘ahoj!’.” “Ahoj” means “Hi,” and she went on to say that she thought I was her sister because my ahoj was so Czech-like. I also saw many people hitchhiking, which was a strange sight for me.
Anyway, at the end of that I met up with the group of students in Cesky Krumlov. It truly was idyllic, I could see why so many people so heartily recommended it. It features this huge, colorful castle, tiny cobblestone streets, and beautiful buildings and shops, all around a river. It was so quaint that it was almost funny. I’ll put up some pictues, then you’ll get a real idea. It was rather touristy, which was a bit disappointing, but it sure was gorgeous. There was a big fair to celebrate St. Wenceslas Day, which featured stands selling sausage, donuts, Burcak (special wine made from young grapes), tons of hand-made jewlery, scarves, pottery, etc. It was almost too perfect. The most exciting part was the gathering of Wenceslases on Saturday- they were trying to set the world record for the most Wenceslai in one place at one time. However, I wasn’t able to enjoy this or really anything else because I got sick almost right away in Cesky Krumlov, so unfortunately I’m not a fair or a generous judge. I did go on a tour of the castle and the Baroque theater, and both were pretty incredible. The theater, though not usually my thing, was breathtaking because it was extremely old, all candle-lit, and the backdrop/sides of the stage made it look like it was a hundred feet deep, even though it only went about 15 feet back. It was really really neat. But I couldn’t fully appreciate it, so again, I’ll try to put up pictures. Time to go rest again, but rest assured that I’m back, and I’ll be updating frequently again.
Our Kofola- (for Zuzka) and water- (for me) drinking binges give you only a small idea of the true picture: In Olomouc I experienced a five-day slumber party. But let me start with the reason why: Zuzka. She was a bit taller than I and very skinny, with chin-length dark hair and glasses. The first thing she said to me was, “Are you Claire?” and the second was “Do you like carrots?” When I told her that I did, indeed, like carrots, she was so delighted she ran straight into a wall. I’m not kidding. For those of you who know Hannah Moodie, Zuzka could be her identical Czech twin, personality-wise. She was an absolute dear. She lived in a flat with her 18-year-old sister, dad, and stepmom (sometimes—the parents left because I was there, much to delight of Zuzka’s older sister, who is also a sweetheart but clearly valued my presence only because it meant the absence of her parents, and she took the opportunity to spend every night with her boyfriend), and I was clearly there for Zuzka. I have never in my life met anyone who adored me so completely and unreservedly. She was SO EXCITED that I’m an English major (she likes literature, too!), she was SO EXCITED that I played broomball (she had never heard of it but had the Wikipedia site bookmarked from her desktop, she was SO EXCITED that I wasn’t mean (the first night she told me “I’m so glad you’re you!”), and she was SO EXCITED that I was there that she was sure I’d rather sleep with her in her room than in the bed her dad made her set up in the living room (she was wrong, but I slept with her anyway, because she’s exactly the type of person who I hate to disappoint). SO, like I said, it was a five-day slumber party, and I am not exaggerating. She rented movies for us to watch, we ate pizza and ice cream and candy and soda, we kept talking after turning the lights off and started talking right away in the morning. Now, let me make it clear that I have never really liked slumber parties, even when I was 15, and this was no exception, but I guess it was fun sometimes. Other times, it was extremely smothering and annoying that I had to practically babysit this 15-year-old.
But, like I said, she was a darling, and her capitol-d Dreams are to visit/live in America and go to Yale. Seemingly unrelated, she also loves Gilmore Girls (She also reminds me almost exactly of Rory), and this turned out to be a very dangerous combination. Throughout the week, she would ask me things like, “Is it normal to drive a Jeep?” and I would reply as honestly as I could with something like, “No, I do see people driving them, but it isn’t very common where I’m from,” and Zuzka would furrow her brow and say, “But Lorelai (from Gilmore Girls) drives a Jeep.” And I was forced to become a big-bad illusion crusher, though I was saved from Zuzka’s wrath because she simply chose not to believe me. Whenever I told her something that didn’t add up to what she had seen, she looked skeptical and pushed me for awhile, then clearly concluded that I didn’t know what I was talking about because I didn’t go to Yale. Ay yi yi.
The gigantic benefit of Zuzka, however, was that she helped me “Explore Olomouc.” We traipsed all around the city, which is a University town and holds about 100,000 people, admiring buildings, taking photos of fountains, strolling through parks, climbing towers to get the best view of the whole city... My favorite part was when we crept inside this HUGE church. We could hear music coming from inside, and we thought that mass might be in progress, but Zuzka assureed me that we still had to at least peek inside. When we did, we saw a full orchestra and choir simply practicing for a performance that night, so we sat down and watched for almost an hour. It reminded me of that scene in the church in Home Alone, but it was better. We also went on several short excursions, one to a nearby tiny villiage with a beautiful church on top of the hill which the Pope visitied in 1992, and one to a town about 30 minutes away with a huge fairytale castle. The castle’s inside was the best castle’s inside I’ve seen so far, all dark wood and with gorgeous furniture. The tour was hard to take seriously, however, because we all had to wear these ridiculous red shoes over our shoes which made us look like a company of jesters getting ready to be interviewed by the king.
On Monday-Wednesday in Olomouc I went to school with Zuzka. This was a mixed experience for me. First, the school is public (as almost all schools here are, and public schools are usually far better than private), and it’s one of two English-immersion schools in the country. By their third year in the school (when they’re about 12), students are taught all of their classes in English. I mostly hung out with the teachers, and they were all very interesting, energetic, and kind people. I went to some literature classes and many English language classes where the lesson was, “This is Claire. She is American. Ask her questions.” It was strange to me to be so valued for my ability to speak English. The students asked mostly predictable questions, and it was interesting to hear their assumptions about Americans, like that all Americans have met celebrities, that we are all vegetarians, we all love McDonalds (as you can see, these are sometimes contradictory assumptions), that we are all fat and usually loud, and mostly “Crazy.” (I’ll go more into the perceptions of America idea in a later blog). Every class asked me whether I like Czech beer, which seems to be yet another matter of exceptional national pride.
A few of the other differences? Well, the students all stand up when the teacher enters the room (always a few minutes late), and don’t sit until permitted to do so by the teacher. I was in a history class that was teaching Evolution and I didn’t realize how strange that would be to hear so blatantly in a school until I was there. There’s a picture of the Czech president hanging in every classroom, which is very Big Brother-esque. The students all change their shoes when they get to school, a fact I didn’t realize until late Wednesday afternoon after I had traipsed my contaminated outdoor shoes all over the school for three days.
Really, though, the school was remarkable mostly for its similarities to American schools. In fact, it almost could have served as the model school- the students were well-behaved and very smart, it was creepily utopic. The strangest thing might have been how hesitant the students were to guess about something or assert their own opinion- they were very eager to spit out only exactly what the teacher wanted to hear. The near-perfect nature of the school was what I found somewhat frustrating. First, I was coming into it with an idea for a project in mind, and my project revolved around the problem of integrating Roma (Gypsy) children into the schools, and this school in particular didn’t have that problem because they didn’t have any Roma children. In fact, when I asked one of the teachers what the biggest challenge she faced in her school was, she said that it was the lack of bilingual textbooks (written in both English and Czech). This, to me, seemed like a rather luxurious problem to have. In addition, they were very progressive and aware in that in several classes I hear them discuss everything from Global Warming to Guantanamo, and they were all outspoken about Bush and the stupidity of the war and all of the other problems he caused. Yet they never really discussed the problems with themselves or their own country, namely that of the extreme marginalization of the Roma population. I had a terrible and frightening conversation with Zuzka which greatly discouraged me, because she was extremely racist, but I won’t go into that now- ask me if you’re curious.
All of this is not to take away from the extreme intelligence and talent of the teachers and students. For example, I went to a Spanish class that completely blew my mind. The teacher was teaching in both English and Czech and the students were all speaking in Spanish and I was the only one who had any trouble with it. I, in fact, had a lot of trouble with it, and I still have been answering people in Spanish. In addition to that, Zuzka’s starting to study Latin and joining Sign-Language club. It’s simply overwhelming. It’s just that the school, with all it’s liberalism and progressive nature, is somehow so awfully behind on this topic. In any case, the whole experience helped me conclude that I probably won’t go to that school for my project, an option which I was strongly considering before.
In any case, I thouroughly enjoyed my time in Olomouc, though it wasn’t as rural as I expected, and there I received one of the best compliments of my life: Zuzka told me, “You have a really good ‘ahoj!’.” “Ahoj” means “Hi,” and she went on to say that she thought I was her sister because my ahoj was so Czech-like. I also saw many people hitchhiking, which was a strange sight for me.
Anyway, at the end of that I met up with the group of students in Cesky Krumlov. It truly was idyllic, I could see why so many people so heartily recommended it. It features this huge, colorful castle, tiny cobblestone streets, and beautiful buildings and shops, all around a river. It was so quaint that it was almost funny. I’ll put up some pictues, then you’ll get a real idea. It was rather touristy, which was a bit disappointing, but it sure was gorgeous. There was a big fair to celebrate St. Wenceslas Day, which featured stands selling sausage, donuts, Burcak (special wine made from young grapes), tons of hand-made jewlery, scarves, pottery, etc. It was almost too perfect. The most exciting part was the gathering of Wenceslases on Saturday- they were trying to set the world record for the most Wenceslai in one place at one time. However, I wasn’t able to enjoy this or really anything else because I got sick almost right away in Cesky Krumlov, so unfortunately I’m not a fair or a generous judge. I did go on a tour of the castle and the Baroque theater, and both were pretty incredible. The theater, though not usually my thing, was breathtaking because it was extremely old, all candle-lit, and the backdrop/sides of the stage made it look like it was a hundred feet deep, even though it only went about 15 feet back. It was really really neat. But I couldn’t fully appreciate it, so again, I’ll try to put up pictures. Time to go rest again, but rest assured that I’m back, and I’ll be updating frequently again.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
To Infinity and Beyond
Today I had one of those days when you realize at about 10am that you forgot to put deoderant on, and then spend the rest of the day worrying about it.
Things have settled down quite a bit, so I don’t have that constant barrage of things to write about. That’s good, because I can catch up on things I’ve been meaning to tell you. For example:
Things that are Czech that you didn’t know were Czech
1. contact lenses
2. Gregor Mendel
3. propellors
4. nylons
5. Madeline Albright
6. Sigmund Freud
7. The word “robot”
That last one, “robot,” is a matter of considerable pride among the Czechs, meaning that no less than every single Czech person I’ve talked to for more than 10 minutes has within that time told me that a Czech man invented the word robot. Now go forth and win Jeopardy.
This is also a note to tell you that I might be taking a brief hiatus. I don’t think I’ll get a chance to write tomorrow, and on Friday morning I leave for my “regional stay.” We’re all being scattered to the far corners of the country to make grand discoveries and learn about ourselves. It should be interesting. I’m pretty excited about mine. I’m going to a town called Olomouc which is three hours by train to the east of Prague, and I’m staying with a family with two teenage girls. The girls speak English, the parents don’t at all. Over the weekend I’m just exploring the down, but then Monday through Wednesday I’m going to school with the girls. Another girl who did my program ended up going to the school for three weeks at the end to do her project there, and I’m thinking about doing that, as well. Most of their classes are in English, and she got to teach some by the end, so it sounds like a great opportunity.
On Thursday I meet up with the group at Cesky Krumlov. I know two things about Cesky Krumlov:
1. It’s considered a country town and it’s in the south of the Czech Repubil.
2. After the Czech people tell me about robot, they tell me to go to Cesky Krumlov. Seriously. In a voice that reminds me of that lady on Seinfeld who was always telling Jerry and Elaine “You have to see the baby.” So it should be good.
We return to Prague next Saturday, at which time I will update you about everything.
Things have settled down quite a bit, so I don’t have that constant barrage of things to write about. That’s good, because I can catch up on things I’ve been meaning to tell you. For example:
Things that are Czech that you didn’t know were Czech
1. contact lenses
2. Gregor Mendel
3. propellors
4. nylons
5. Madeline Albright
6. Sigmund Freud
7. The word “robot”
That last one, “robot,” is a matter of considerable pride among the Czechs, meaning that no less than every single Czech person I’ve talked to for more than 10 minutes has within that time told me that a Czech man invented the word robot. Now go forth and win Jeopardy.
This is also a note to tell you that I might be taking a brief hiatus. I don’t think I’ll get a chance to write tomorrow, and on Friday morning I leave for my “regional stay.” We’re all being scattered to the far corners of the country to make grand discoveries and learn about ourselves. It should be interesting. I’m pretty excited about mine. I’m going to a town called Olomouc which is three hours by train to the east of Prague, and I’m staying with a family with two teenage girls. The girls speak English, the parents don’t at all. Over the weekend I’m just exploring the down, but then Monday through Wednesday I’m going to school with the girls. Another girl who did my program ended up going to the school for three weeks at the end to do her project there, and I’m thinking about doing that, as well. Most of their classes are in English, and she got to teach some by the end, so it sounds like a great opportunity.
On Thursday I meet up with the group at Cesky Krumlov. I know two things about Cesky Krumlov:
1. It’s considered a country town and it’s in the south of the Czech Repubil.
2. After the Czech people tell me about robot, they tell me to go to Cesky Krumlov. Seriously. In a voice that reminds me of that lady on Seinfeld who was always telling Jerry and Elaine “You have to see the baby.” So it should be good.
We return to Prague next Saturday, at which time I will update you about everything.
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