part of the deal in living in a major city in europe is the public transportation. and part of the gig with public transportation is just that...it's public. everyone uses it.
here in prague the normal system of subway trains, trams and buses shuts down at midnight, at which time the night system of buses and trams takes over. i've seen some gnarly things on night trams, including a major fight between a drunk guy and his equally intoxicated girlfriend. all i have to say about that is this: the foley artists (guys who do sound effects for TV and movies) make fist-to-flesh sound a lot cooler than it actually does; AND i do everything i can to avoid night trams.
so the really drunk folks--the ones who didn't quite make it to the last metro--use the night system to drag their butts home. and the ones who got an early start (say, 10am) grab the last metro.
praguers are notoriously private on public transportation. self-preservation from communist times, or so i hear. you can find the random person who makes eye-contact in a non-staring kind of way (the more pervasive, cold, dead-eyes kind of thing) but it's usually within the context of admiring a cooing baby or wiggly puppy. my own self-preservation comes in the form of my ipod and phone, which is conveniently equipped with a monopoly game i've gotten pretty good at (it's the british version: anyone else know the british boardwalk?).
then there are the drunks. i have pictures on my phone of men sprawled out on the pleather seats--the men who probably are awakened at the last stop by the train operator and forced to walk home or sleep it off on a bench outside the station. then there are the ones who are drunk enough to be obnoxious, but not so drunk they are already asleep. like tonight, for example.
a couple stops into my 25-minute journey home i noticed a man pacing the car. this is pretty unusual in itself, but this guy had the added charm of carrying a full bottle (unopened) of cheap czech rum, a cloth sack over his shoulder full of bottles of beer (probably full as well--i couldn't hear the clinks thanks to the aforementioned ipod), and various wildflowers draped over his person. my drunk alert became heightened immediately. i've seen plenty of drunks become unstable when the train brakes for a stop and go sailing into the unwelcome laps of those who just enjoyed a night at the opera. that was not going to be me. my section of the car was pretty full of people. mostly men. a single woman across from me and a well-dressed couple next to her. i allowed myself a grin as the drunk moved past me into another part of the car and noticed that one of the men across and down from me was sharing my amusement. i might be on alert but i can laugh at someone else's idiocy!
as i watched the drunk weave unsteadily away from me i witnessed another not-unheard-of sight. a young man seated two sections from me suddenly lurched forward and puked onto the floor (i couldn't see much of the actually event thanks to the woman seated in the section between us). immediately the women near him grimaced and got up with their male companions to stand near the next door down. but he wasn't done. nope. he puked at least twice more. once i heard the splash (must have been between songs) and so, finally, did the couple across from me. the woman hid her head in her man's shoulder for a few stops.
the wanderer stopped in front of the sickie and kindly offered him a swig of his rum, which the puker wisely waved off. he spent the rest of his ride looking a little green. i was thankful for a) sitting on the same side as him with b) the woman's lap in the way so i didn't have to see the puddle in front of him; i sometimes sense that i could become a sympathy puker.
and then the drunk made his way back down to my end. i stared at my phone as if my game was the most interesting thing on earth and hoped he wouldn't talk to me and force me to tell him off: foreign accents in czech just cause interest among the belligerent. he offered his now-open rum to the woman across from me, who did her best to ignore him. so he moved down to the couple, who likewise refused. he must have touched the dress coat on the man because his companion made a great show of brushing it off repeatedly. he then went to the other woman (oh yeah, then i noticed another one) next to the man with the dress coat. she turned down his offer, which prompted him to get down on his hands and knees before her. i couldn't quite see what he was doing but she tried valiantly to ignore him at this point and didn't quite succeed. somehow being on all fours didn't provide him the balance i would have expected, and he sprawled on the floor, his bottle nearly rolling away, when the train braked at the stop before mine. when the train started moving again he got to his feet and offered the rum to me on his way to the doorway, which i ignored intensely.
here's where things got really tricky. my stop is very popular and i realized we might all be exiting together--which means anything could happen. sure enough, the wanderer stayed in the doorway nearest me and the puker rose to his feet at the next door as the train slowed, slipping in his puddle as he did so. i shot out of the seat and waited for the doors to open, turning my back on both of them. as the doors opened i felt someone bump into my back. F---! i said loudly (ok, go ahead and judge me, but first consider what you would have said if you thought that the guy who just slid in his own vomit had crashed into you), which, as predicted, sparked curiosity. i saw that it was only the wandering drunk, who immediately repeated the word with mounting interest. i didn't wait around to see where he was going and sped up the steps, muttering to myself about the ridiculousness of this country all the way from the exit doors, across the street and to my door.
it feels so good to share this with you. i have not imbellished anything, either. why would i when the story is this good?
it made me reflect, though, on how everyone gets to witness everyone else's crap when you're all stuck on public together but maybe suffering through rather harmless drunks on the metro is better than the alternative. in the U.S. the wanderer would probably have crashed his car into a tree and the puker would have gotten it all over himself and the friend who was kind enough to drive him home if he didn't pass out on the floor and then choke on it. this way, the vomit puddle stayed on the floor of the metro and, even though it got tracked through the whole car thanks to the wanderer, a metro employee will hose it down, everyone will get home relatively safely--home being a term i use loosely enough to possibly mean the vestibule of one's apartment building, and tomorrow night they'll be back at it.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
pain
so, at the risk of jason's head exploding in surprise, here it is: a second post in as many days.
i have two herniated disks between L4 and L5 and S1. for those who would rather i write in intelligible english: i have two swollen disks of cartilage between the three lowest vertebra in my back. the first major sign of this took place last month while i was home in prague, four days before i planned to fly to lisbon, portugal, for the wedding of my co-workers and friends.
the pain started while i was already sick in bed with a cold. i sneezed three times in an awkward position and suddenly felt pain like knives stabbing me in the lower back and all the way down my left leg. i could barely find a comfortable position to lie in, never mind walk or sit. genius that i am, i thought maybe a walk would help things (because walking is for me a good preventer of back pain). i could barely change into different pants without keeling over in pain and i had to wrangle my socks on using not my hands but the toes on my other foot. should have been a sign. i got about 50 steps from my door before turning around, it was that bad.
i went to a doctor of physical therapy here in prague who made some gentle adjustments, did some glass therapy, which involves suction to promote circulation, and gave me an injection to shrink the swelling and relieve the pain. within a couple days the pain was gone, i could walk a bit more normally, and i was given the ok to fly to lisbon. while in lisbon things seemed to improve. went to the wedding, which was beautiful, gazed at the pounding waves of the atlantic ocean, and hung out in the city, enjoying the cafe culture.
then on sunday morning (flight back to prague scheduled for monday morning) while in the shower, i felt something move in my back when i twisted and bent--reaching to adjust the water temperature. i could not sit still in church that morning. the whole right side of my body from the waist down had this dull sort of pain that was only alleviated (while sitting) when i torqued my body weight completely onto my left hip with my right leg crossed over the left. the image of the pain that keeps coming into my mind is of heavy lead weights within my leg, pulling at it. that doesn't even make sense as i read it but it's what i remember.
the pain eventually got so bad sunday evening that i called my doctor in prague from my friend nelly's phone while waiting for a table at the hard rock cafe. i'd taken two swallows of darn good beer when something seemed to move again and the pain became unbearable even while standing. and now my toes were numb and tingly, too. my doctor's orders were short and sweet: get to a hospital immediately.
the details of this story could take 10 posts to tell but suffice it to say that within 10 or so days i went to 2 hospitals in lisbon and was treated in 1 emergency room, was examined 2 days later by a portuguese orthopaedic surgeon, was stuck in lisbon for 2 extra days, went to an emergency room in prague, got a CT scan, had 4 drug infusions through IV, and took more medication than i have in years. i was out of it for a while. i feel kind of bad for the people i emailed during that time. i don't know how coherent anything was, and they may not have realized that i truly was tripped out on legal drugs.
the thing that has taken adjusting to (besides becoming comfortable with stripping down to bra and underwear every time i walk into a doctor's office) is describing the pain. i never realized how difficult it can be to pinpoint pain and put it into words.
now, while a person is in pain it's usually relatively simple to describe it. dull or sharp, inside or on the surface, achy or stabbing, constant or intermittant: when you're feeling it it's not so hard to tell a doctor exactly what it's like. however, when you don't feel it all the time, and it's not as bad as the pain you were feeling two weeks ago (because what i felt then was so much worse than what i feel now, is it really pain? or just pressure? something?), it becomes much more difficult.
i've heard that our brains have convenient ways of forgetting exactly what pain feels like. once it's over we can remember that we were in pain but we can't physically relive that pain in the same way again.
about 5 years ago i had a stomach infection that lasted a month. didn't know it was a stomach infection until the end of that month. and what got me to finally see a doctor was a) a fever b) demands from my friends that i do so and c) pain so bad i was hallucinating. let me explain c. i remember lying in bed, scrunched in the fetal position. the pain wasn't constant; it came in waves. and when each wave came i saw the pain in my mind: it had colors and movement. but that's all i remember of the pain. i remember how it looked. weird.
have you ever had a cold or something where you forgot what it feels like to be healthy? as if you've never been anything but sick or never not felt the pain. it's strange to me that when we're healthy we have a hard time refeeling pain, and when we're in pain or otherwise unhealthy, we can't remember not being in that condition. are we such creatures of the present that we can only feel the physical sensations of our current condition? is it protection by the brain that keeps us from reliving the actual sensations of pain? because it seems to me that the physical sensations of pleasure or absense of pain are difficult to relive as well. (psychological and emotion memories of pain and pleasure are, conversely, rather easy to relive.)
is that what keeps people returning to the same pain or the same pleasure over and over again--the impossibility to relive the actual sensation without stimula of some kind? scientists all over the world continue to do experiments relating to pain and pleasure. honestly, i don't know what their findings are. guess i'd have to do some research on that (this is why people blog. no need for evidence). but my hunch is that people (or other animals) may learn to get around pain, but if they have to endure pain to get to pleasure or something else they want, they will take the pain every time. because the memory of it isn't quite concrete enough to keep them from trying for what they want. just a hunch.
what does this lack of sensation memory prompt in us? on some level i think it pushes us forward. were we able to relive pleasure concretely, we might not leave the house some days. were we to relive pain we likewise might stay behind locked doors. is it the hope of physical pleasure--be it a soft sweater, a juicy pear, a passionate kiss--that motivates us? is it the absence of fear of pain--be it a stubbed toe, a fresh papercut, a herniated disk--that allows us to move through the day?
and what of those who live in chronic pain? i don't think my mom has painless days anymore. i think there are terrible days, bad days, and not-so-bad days. but i don't think, pain-wise, she has good days anymore. she leads a chronic pain group. and i think it's the only place she can really talk openly about life with pain. because her family doesn't really understand what she lives with. we live mostly free from pain. she lives with occasional moments of less pain. and she probably can barely remember what life without pain felt like. (the only time we've ever bonded or really spoken as, well, peers, over pain was when i complained recently about having to describe it to my doctor after the fact and she agreed that it's difficult and annoying to try to answer a doctor's questions concerning the detailed aspects of pain. i realized as she talked that i have no concept of the kind of pain she lives with.)
the pain in my leg came back about 10 days ago and it felt like i had a muscle cramp in my calf. i could barely sleep and any comfortable position i found lost its comfort within about 5 minutes. but the pain has subsided and i'm now judging the severity of the disk problem not by how much pain i feel, but whether or not i have feeling in my foot--which has stayed numb the whole time. you'd think numbness would be preferable to pain, but in some ways it's not. i could seriously hurt my foot right now (i think i twisted my ankle pretty badly while still in lisbon) and not know it and not seek treatment for it, and suffer permanently. i wouldn't think i'd ever desire pain, but it's possible that i might choose pain over nothing at all.
i have two herniated disks between L4 and L5 and S1. for those who would rather i write in intelligible english: i have two swollen disks of cartilage between the three lowest vertebra in my back. the first major sign of this took place last month while i was home in prague, four days before i planned to fly to lisbon, portugal, for the wedding of my co-workers and friends.
the pain started while i was already sick in bed with a cold. i sneezed three times in an awkward position and suddenly felt pain like knives stabbing me in the lower back and all the way down my left leg. i could barely find a comfortable position to lie in, never mind walk or sit. genius that i am, i thought maybe a walk would help things (because walking is for me a good preventer of back pain). i could barely change into different pants without keeling over in pain and i had to wrangle my socks on using not my hands but the toes on my other foot. should have been a sign. i got about 50 steps from my door before turning around, it was that bad.
i went to a doctor of physical therapy here in prague who made some gentle adjustments, did some glass therapy, which involves suction to promote circulation, and gave me an injection to shrink the swelling and relieve the pain. within a couple days the pain was gone, i could walk a bit more normally, and i was given the ok to fly to lisbon. while in lisbon things seemed to improve. went to the wedding, which was beautiful, gazed at the pounding waves of the atlantic ocean, and hung out in the city, enjoying the cafe culture.
then on sunday morning (flight back to prague scheduled for monday morning) while in the shower, i felt something move in my back when i twisted and bent--reaching to adjust the water temperature. i could not sit still in church that morning. the whole right side of my body from the waist down had this dull sort of pain that was only alleviated (while sitting) when i torqued my body weight completely onto my left hip with my right leg crossed over the left. the image of the pain that keeps coming into my mind is of heavy lead weights within my leg, pulling at it. that doesn't even make sense as i read it but it's what i remember.
the pain eventually got so bad sunday evening that i called my doctor in prague from my friend nelly's phone while waiting for a table at the hard rock cafe. i'd taken two swallows of darn good beer when something seemed to move again and the pain became unbearable even while standing. and now my toes were numb and tingly, too. my doctor's orders were short and sweet: get to a hospital immediately.
the details of this story could take 10 posts to tell but suffice it to say that within 10 or so days i went to 2 hospitals in lisbon and was treated in 1 emergency room, was examined 2 days later by a portuguese orthopaedic surgeon, was stuck in lisbon for 2 extra days, went to an emergency room in prague, got a CT scan, had 4 drug infusions through IV, and took more medication than i have in years. i was out of it for a while. i feel kind of bad for the people i emailed during that time. i don't know how coherent anything was, and they may not have realized that i truly was tripped out on legal drugs.
the thing that has taken adjusting to (besides becoming comfortable with stripping down to bra and underwear every time i walk into a doctor's office) is describing the pain. i never realized how difficult it can be to pinpoint pain and put it into words.
now, while a person is in pain it's usually relatively simple to describe it. dull or sharp, inside or on the surface, achy or stabbing, constant or intermittant: when you're feeling it it's not so hard to tell a doctor exactly what it's like. however, when you don't feel it all the time, and it's not as bad as the pain you were feeling two weeks ago (because what i felt then was so much worse than what i feel now, is it really pain? or just pressure? something?), it becomes much more difficult.
i've heard that our brains have convenient ways of forgetting exactly what pain feels like. once it's over we can remember that we were in pain but we can't physically relive that pain in the same way again.
about 5 years ago i had a stomach infection that lasted a month. didn't know it was a stomach infection until the end of that month. and what got me to finally see a doctor was a) a fever b) demands from my friends that i do so and c) pain so bad i was hallucinating. let me explain c. i remember lying in bed, scrunched in the fetal position. the pain wasn't constant; it came in waves. and when each wave came i saw the pain in my mind: it had colors and movement. but that's all i remember of the pain. i remember how it looked. weird.
have you ever had a cold or something where you forgot what it feels like to be healthy? as if you've never been anything but sick or never not felt the pain. it's strange to me that when we're healthy we have a hard time refeeling pain, and when we're in pain or otherwise unhealthy, we can't remember not being in that condition. are we such creatures of the present that we can only feel the physical sensations of our current condition? is it protection by the brain that keeps us from reliving the actual sensations of pain? because it seems to me that the physical sensations of pleasure or absense of pain are difficult to relive as well. (psychological and emotion memories of pain and pleasure are, conversely, rather easy to relive.)
is that what keeps people returning to the same pain or the same pleasure over and over again--the impossibility to relive the actual sensation without stimula of some kind? scientists all over the world continue to do experiments relating to pain and pleasure. honestly, i don't know what their findings are. guess i'd have to do some research on that (this is why people blog. no need for evidence). but my hunch is that people (or other animals) may learn to get around pain, but if they have to endure pain to get to pleasure or something else they want, they will take the pain every time. because the memory of it isn't quite concrete enough to keep them from trying for what they want. just a hunch.
what does this lack of sensation memory prompt in us? on some level i think it pushes us forward. were we able to relive pleasure concretely, we might not leave the house some days. were we to relive pain we likewise might stay behind locked doors. is it the hope of physical pleasure--be it a soft sweater, a juicy pear, a passionate kiss--that motivates us? is it the absence of fear of pain--be it a stubbed toe, a fresh papercut, a herniated disk--that allows us to move through the day?
and what of those who live in chronic pain? i don't think my mom has painless days anymore. i think there are terrible days, bad days, and not-so-bad days. but i don't think, pain-wise, she has good days anymore. she leads a chronic pain group. and i think it's the only place she can really talk openly about life with pain. because her family doesn't really understand what she lives with. we live mostly free from pain. she lives with occasional moments of less pain. and she probably can barely remember what life without pain felt like. (the only time we've ever bonded or really spoken as, well, peers, over pain was when i complained recently about having to describe it to my doctor after the fact and she agreed that it's difficult and annoying to try to answer a doctor's questions concerning the detailed aspects of pain. i realized as she talked that i have no concept of the kind of pain she lives with.)
the pain in my leg came back about 10 days ago and it felt like i had a muscle cramp in my calf. i could barely sleep and any comfortable position i found lost its comfort within about 5 minutes. but the pain has subsided and i'm now judging the severity of the disk problem not by how much pain i feel, but whether or not i have feeling in my foot--which has stayed numb the whole time. you'd think numbness would be preferable to pain, but in some ways it's not. i could seriously hurt my foot right now (i think i twisted my ankle pretty badly while still in lisbon) and not know it and not seek treatment for it, and suffer permanently. i wouldn't think i'd ever desire pain, but it's possible that i might choose pain over nothing at all.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
coupla things
hey, i never promised anyone i'd be a good poster. i think i admit to being a lousy poster most every time i drag myself to my computer to write. and then i get reflective. i enjoy writing. it's good to get thoughts to paper or, well, screen. maybe i should hustle to get that wireless router so i can have my laptop anywhere i go in my apartment instead of just the home office that sometimes feels too office-y. regardless. here i am and i do have more to say after i watch a movie. 'the virgin suicides.'
anyway. fyi for all of you others out there whose lives were changed by eric schlosser's book 'fast food nation': mcdonald's owns mexican fast-food joint chipotle. just found that out today. we have exactly zero chipotles here in prague but i plan to keep this in mind when i'm back in the US. others of you may want to find another burrito place. hint: go somewhere not part of a chain!
the other thing of note strikes me as rather funny: the male version of the czech word for 'virgin' is 'panic.' as in the 40 let panic (40-year-old virgin). i'm used to looking at that with my czech eyes but i realized as i looked at my ticket that panic is a rather ironic word to translate into 'virgin.' commence jokes now.
funny to see two movies in two days with 'virgin' in the title. wait--what am i, 13 again?
anyway. fyi for all of you others out there whose lives were changed by eric schlosser's book 'fast food nation': mcdonald's owns mexican fast-food joint chipotle. just found that out today. we have exactly zero chipotles here in prague but i plan to keep this in mind when i'm back in the US. others of you may want to find another burrito place. hint: go somewhere not part of a chain!
the other thing of note strikes me as rather funny: the male version of the czech word for 'virgin' is 'panic.' as in the 40 let panic (40-year-old virgin). i'm used to looking at that with my czech eyes but i realized as i looked at my ticket that panic is a rather ironic word to translate into 'virgin.' commence jokes now.
funny to see two movies in two days with 'virgin' in the title. wait--what am i, 13 again?
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
too long
it's been a long time.
blogging has proved harder than i thought it would be. i think it's a discipline thing. there are days when i come into my computer room, scan new emails and then walk away. ok, that's most days. actually sitting down to write something somewhat meaningful has become intimidating. as if every blog should be earth-shattering. not true, i know.
i still write for myself, in a little notebook i carry around with me to jot things down when i am inspired. that, too, takes discipline, and that, too, has long empty stretches.
i traveled this summer. with friends to visit friends and make new ones. i learned that i can't stand trying to vacation in touristy cities. that most certainly comes from living in a touristy city. prague in the summer is a nightmare. those days when i am required to venture into the center, i find myself silently screaming at the mobs of italians, germans, americans, japanese to get the crap out of my way so i won't be so late getting to the astronomical clock to meet my friends who are themselves tourists because if they weren't we'd certainly be meeting somewhere less crowded. and, yeah, i still like to mess with people watching the slow-as-molasses movement of the apostles through the foot-high windows on the world as the skeleton rings his little bell and vanity checks himself in his mirror. i encourage whoever i am with to clap and cheer loudly when it's all over, just to make everyone around us think that they must have missed something, because clapping for what they saw is surely overkill.
oh yeah, traveling. there are wonderful people out there. people who will sit and talk with you as you while away the hours in their restaurant, enjoying the delicious food their mother started preparing at 5am and drinking the wine they keep bringing to you in little half-liter metal pitchers. and after you've come by a couple times to sit in the pedestrian walkway that serves as their main seating area, under eaves of grapevines with rattan chairs poking through attic windows of the building across the way, or edging your chair just underneath the awning they scrambled to let down so the mid-afternoon shower won't dampen your hair, they won't let you pay them for the delicious mom-made food anymore because you are no longer customers, you're family. who take you out to experience their culture in a way other visitors never even hear about, again not allowing you to pay, but singing in your ear a translation of the love songs being belted out not 20 feet away, all to hand over their bed to you at 6am and themselves sleep on a spongy air mattress so that you can have a few hours of rest before getting on an airplane, then preparing a lovely late breakfast on the balcony for you and filling you with food and coffee and then dragging you out for more coffee because they have a starbucks, and you are american.
or the folks who are so thrilled that you've come to stay with them in their vacation home that they won't let you pay for a thing, not even the dessert and coffee you ordered while you waited for them to come get you from the town square because it was too confusing to give you directions to their place.
or the hotel owner who takes pity on you for having 'problems' at midnight, when you should be arriving in the above-mentioned town but because you, the driver, didn't listen to your passenger, you made a huge circle on a single mountain on a very large peninsula and ended up back in the touristy beach town with only one hotel that seems to be open. and said owner has now walked in on the two of you, sitting sheepishly in the corner of his darkened restaurant, waiting for either him to show up or the opening bars of 'the shining' theme to begin playing. half-price for a bed for the night ain't bad.
or the friends who keep playing your favorite card game with you even though you can beat them with one eye covered by a sleeping mask (true story) just because they know you love it. the same friends who tried to tell you it was going to rain and maybe traipsing through ruins more than a mile from the car isn't such a good thing with such angry-looking clouds approaching, but who cheerfully splash with you through puddles as you trudge back to the car, hopelessly soaked. the same friends who listen to you share the deepest sadnesses of your heart and the darkest moments of your desert and who tell you they love you and give you warm hugs without trying to make you snap out of it.
these people give me hope against the others out there who desire to take, use, and destroy. those who see another as a distraction from the pressure they are feeling and who will use a warm body the way they use alcohol: to delete the voices and pain in their heads. those who will plant false hope and give empty promises in order to take what they want. those who see others only for what they can provide for them at that moment and who refuse to admit they might have been wrong. those who are so callous to the yearnings of their own souls that they don't desire to see into the soul of another.
i thank God for the good people out there. who show Jesus to me without even knowing it.
blogging has proved harder than i thought it would be. i think it's a discipline thing. there are days when i come into my computer room, scan new emails and then walk away. ok, that's most days. actually sitting down to write something somewhat meaningful has become intimidating. as if every blog should be earth-shattering. not true, i know.
i still write for myself, in a little notebook i carry around with me to jot things down when i am inspired. that, too, takes discipline, and that, too, has long empty stretches.
i traveled this summer. with friends to visit friends and make new ones. i learned that i can't stand trying to vacation in touristy cities. that most certainly comes from living in a touristy city. prague in the summer is a nightmare. those days when i am required to venture into the center, i find myself silently screaming at the mobs of italians, germans, americans, japanese to get the crap out of my way so i won't be so late getting to the astronomical clock to meet my friends who are themselves tourists because if they weren't we'd certainly be meeting somewhere less crowded. and, yeah, i still like to mess with people watching the slow-as-molasses movement of the apostles through the foot-high windows on the world as the skeleton rings his little bell and vanity checks himself in his mirror. i encourage whoever i am with to clap and cheer loudly when it's all over, just to make everyone around us think that they must have missed something, because clapping for what they saw is surely overkill.
oh yeah, traveling. there are wonderful people out there. people who will sit and talk with you as you while away the hours in their restaurant, enjoying the delicious food their mother started preparing at 5am and drinking the wine they keep bringing to you in little half-liter metal pitchers. and after you've come by a couple times to sit in the pedestrian walkway that serves as their main seating area, under eaves of grapevines with rattan chairs poking through attic windows of the building across the way, or edging your chair just underneath the awning they scrambled to let down so the mid-afternoon shower won't dampen your hair, they won't let you pay them for the delicious mom-made food anymore because you are no longer customers, you're family. who take you out to experience their culture in a way other visitors never even hear about, again not allowing you to pay, but singing in your ear a translation of the love songs being belted out not 20 feet away, all to hand over their bed to you at 6am and themselves sleep on a spongy air mattress so that you can have a few hours of rest before getting on an airplane, then preparing a lovely late breakfast on the balcony for you and filling you with food and coffee and then dragging you out for more coffee because they have a starbucks, and you are american.
or the folks who are so thrilled that you've come to stay with them in their vacation home that they won't let you pay for a thing, not even the dessert and coffee you ordered while you waited for them to come get you from the town square because it was too confusing to give you directions to their place.
or the hotel owner who takes pity on you for having 'problems' at midnight, when you should be arriving in the above-mentioned town but because you, the driver, didn't listen to your passenger, you made a huge circle on a single mountain on a very large peninsula and ended up back in the touristy beach town with only one hotel that seems to be open. and said owner has now walked in on the two of you, sitting sheepishly in the corner of his darkened restaurant, waiting for either him to show up or the opening bars of 'the shining' theme to begin playing. half-price for a bed for the night ain't bad.
or the friends who keep playing your favorite card game with you even though you can beat them with one eye covered by a sleeping mask (true story) just because they know you love it. the same friends who tried to tell you it was going to rain and maybe traipsing through ruins more than a mile from the car isn't such a good thing with such angry-looking clouds approaching, but who cheerfully splash with you through puddles as you trudge back to the car, hopelessly soaked. the same friends who listen to you share the deepest sadnesses of your heart and the darkest moments of your desert and who tell you they love you and give you warm hugs without trying to make you snap out of it.
these people give me hope against the others out there who desire to take, use, and destroy. those who see another as a distraction from the pressure they are feeling and who will use a warm body the way they use alcohol: to delete the voices and pain in their heads. those who will plant false hope and give empty promises in order to take what they want. those who see others only for what they can provide for them at that moment and who refuse to admit they might have been wrong. those who are so callous to the yearnings of their own souls that they don't desire to see into the soul of another.
i thank God for the good people out there. who show Jesus to me without even knowing it.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
kristova leta
i realize i've done a lot of stuff in czech on here. sorry if that's weird to you. it's the world i live in and it seems normal to me. i meander in and out of czech and english all the time and sometimes we just don't have equivalent words in english to the czech. take the above phrase, for instance. it means, literally, "Christ years."
for the last year as i told people my age when they asked i got a smile and nod as they said, 'oh, next year is your Christ years.' i was 32 until yesterday. the first time i heard this i demanded that the speaker go back and explain to me what that phrase meant to them and how on earth the most atheistic nation in europe retained such a biblical description for a year of one's life.
the usual response to this demand is 'uhhh. isn't that how old he was when he died?' and the answer is, of course, yes. the question is almost always put back to me, 'don't you say this in english?' and my response is usually 'uhhh. no.'
amazing. i sat down with my czech tutor today and we went through many of the czech phrases that come from the Bible and/or a judeo-christian background. some were familiar to me because of their english equivalent: sacrifical lamb, forbidden fruit, doubting thomas. others are not used in english: job's news (bad news); benjaminek (given to the youngest member of a family, team, group, etc); 'don't stand there like lot's wife' (!); and others. i can give you more if you're interested.
it's remarkable how much has been retained by the language and the culture that flows from it. God promises a remnant when belief in him and faithfulness to him wanes. and it seems to me that no matter how dark this place seems and feels and is, there is a remnant of belief in God here—evidenced in the language of this place.
so how should this year be different from all the others? it is, after all, my Christ years. that's quite a mantle to hoist on an age. (and i always thought there were no more good birthdays to look forward to after 25.) i don't really know. a good friend send me an sms last night that said, in essence, since it's your Christ years, stay sober! hm. i'm not sure what prompted that but it's not bad advice. staying sober insures you won't miss something (well, unless you fall asleep or aren't paying attention) that you would if you...ahem...weren't sober. and i, for one, have had plenty of regrettable moments that would have been blessedly avoided had i followed the above advice.
i can say without hesitation that i hope my Christ years will not end with public (or private) crucifixion. and i hope not with another form of death either. but it is odd to realize that, at my age, Christ had been walking alongside his 12+ friends—teaching them, healing others, dining with outcasts—for three years already, and he was almost done. i think i'm just getting started. i might have used my time much differently had i known i only had 36 months or so to accomplish my goals. that's a startling thought and not one i'm sure i want to entertain. (do i really want to think that through?) one thing is certain: i don't feel old enough to be done with life, and i don't feel old enough to know much about life, either. i'm just getting started.
at least i hope that's the case.
for the last year as i told people my age when they asked i got a smile and nod as they said, 'oh, next year is your Christ years.' i was 32 until yesterday. the first time i heard this i demanded that the speaker go back and explain to me what that phrase meant to them and how on earth the most atheistic nation in europe retained such a biblical description for a year of one's life.
the usual response to this demand is 'uhhh. isn't that how old he was when he died?' and the answer is, of course, yes. the question is almost always put back to me, 'don't you say this in english?' and my response is usually 'uhhh. no.'
amazing. i sat down with my czech tutor today and we went through many of the czech phrases that come from the Bible and/or a judeo-christian background. some were familiar to me because of their english equivalent: sacrifical lamb, forbidden fruit, doubting thomas. others are not used in english: job's news (bad news); benjaminek (given to the youngest member of a family, team, group, etc); 'don't stand there like lot's wife' (!); and others. i can give you more if you're interested.
it's remarkable how much has been retained by the language and the culture that flows from it. God promises a remnant when belief in him and faithfulness to him wanes. and it seems to me that no matter how dark this place seems and feels and is, there is a remnant of belief in God here—evidenced in the language of this place.
so how should this year be different from all the others? it is, after all, my Christ years. that's quite a mantle to hoist on an age. (and i always thought there were no more good birthdays to look forward to after 25.) i don't really know. a good friend send me an sms last night that said, in essence, since it's your Christ years, stay sober! hm. i'm not sure what prompted that but it's not bad advice. staying sober insures you won't miss something (well, unless you fall asleep or aren't paying attention) that you would if you...ahem...weren't sober. and i, for one, have had plenty of regrettable moments that would have been blessedly avoided had i followed the above advice.
i can say without hesitation that i hope my Christ years will not end with public (or private) crucifixion. and i hope not with another form of death either. but it is odd to realize that, at my age, Christ had been walking alongside his 12+ friends—teaching them, healing others, dining with outcasts—for three years already, and he was almost done. i think i'm just getting started. i might have used my time much differently had i known i only had 36 months or so to accomplish my goals. that's a startling thought and not one i'm sure i want to entertain. (do i really want to think that through?) one thing is certain: i don't feel old enough to be done with life, and i don't feel old enough to know much about life, either. i'm just getting started.
at least i hope that's the case.
Saturday, May 21, 2005
civilized or just dumb?
i went wednesday to see the midnight showing of star wars episode 3 (benefit of living in europe: seeing the premiere at least 6 hours before anyone in the US). and i just have to say: well done, george. seriously. i wasn't a huge fan of 1 or 2 (i considered joining the 'i hate jarjar' fan/antifan club), and certainly didn't hold any sort of special place in my heart for anakin, thanks to the walking plywood performance of hayden christensen in 2. i have since heard that george directed him to be as oakish as possible and can only say to that: whatever.
in 3, hayden has aged and looks less *Nsync-y and more Nirvana-y as he moves with stealth (and oh so much less whine) toward Darthdom. and now i feel free to love darth again with that love reserved only for the truly evil. so much better. and ewan, thank goodness, has lost some of his beardliness and looks less wookie and more jedi. now, lest you think all i did while watching the movie is check out the hotties, let me say the story was fantastic and answered so many questions that i, as NOT a fanboy, did not already know the answers to. (man, just wait for darth's first breath through the mask!)
the first two episodes were decent movies in themselves but didn't feel very connected to the initial three. however, watching 3 made me want to pop in 4 and go, oh yeah. what can i say? the whole thing is clearer and *sniff* even better now.
alright. enough of that. the title of this blog refers to a common practice of prague cinemas (movie theaters to the north americans out there): assigned seats.
usually i consider assigning seats in a movie theater a bit of a pain and kind of useless, like when there are only 10 or so people in the auditorium and the ticket person has put you in the back row left. then, i move. you would, too.
but as i finished getting ready at home before the midnight show (braiding the hair and fashioning my best attempt at leia's sticky-bun headphones—that takes a lot of dexterity and bobby pins to do yourself, fyi), i began to have flashbacks to premieres i attended in the states and to the long lines and *gulp* pushing shoving biting and running into auditoriums so as not to be stuck in the front row left. as my breathing sped up and i found my braids slipping through my clammy hands i suddenly remembered the way czechs do it: assigned seats. aaaahhhh.
rob and i arrived at the theater with about 20 minutes to spare and found tons of people crowding the entrance but, on closer inspection, realized everyone was just standing around having a very civilized group smoke before heading in. four auditoriums were hosting the show and as we took our seats—calmly, with no running or pushing or shoving—i thought to myself, 'well now, isn't this civilized?' isn't it? choose your seats the hour, day or week before you plan to see the movie. keep the system loose when the theater is mostly empty, but for the big shows and premieres: what a relief.
then, of course, the panic set in that we might be watching a dubbed version of the movie. rob kept trying to reassure me that it was for sure titled. i believed him, sort of. i was all ready to scream 'NNNNOOOOOOO' and go running from the theater when the titles didn't appear and a czech voice started reading 'a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.' but, thankfully, the czech subtitles came onscreen when the english words did.
sorry to say, the braided buns came out the second lucasfilm started glowing. but i wasn't alone. i saw two girls on the metro in full leia regalia: the white flowing robes and belt of bling. way to go, girls.
in 3, hayden has aged and looks less *Nsync-y and more Nirvana-y as he moves with stealth (and oh so much less whine) toward Darthdom. and now i feel free to love darth again with that love reserved only for the truly evil. so much better. and ewan, thank goodness, has lost some of his beardliness and looks less wookie and more jedi. now, lest you think all i did while watching the movie is check out the hotties, let me say the story was fantastic and answered so many questions that i, as NOT a fanboy, did not already know the answers to. (man, just wait for darth's first breath through the mask!)
the first two episodes were decent movies in themselves but didn't feel very connected to the initial three. however, watching 3 made me want to pop in 4 and go, oh yeah. what can i say? the whole thing is clearer and *sniff* even better now.
alright. enough of that. the title of this blog refers to a common practice of prague cinemas (movie theaters to the north americans out there): assigned seats.
usually i consider assigning seats in a movie theater a bit of a pain and kind of useless, like when there are only 10 or so people in the auditorium and the ticket person has put you in the back row left. then, i move. you would, too.
but as i finished getting ready at home before the midnight show (braiding the hair and fashioning my best attempt at leia's sticky-bun headphones—that takes a lot of dexterity and bobby pins to do yourself, fyi), i began to have flashbacks to premieres i attended in the states and to the long lines and *gulp* pushing shoving biting and running into auditoriums so as not to be stuck in the front row left. as my breathing sped up and i found my braids slipping through my clammy hands i suddenly remembered the way czechs do it: assigned seats. aaaahhhh.
rob and i arrived at the theater with about 20 minutes to spare and found tons of people crowding the entrance but, on closer inspection, realized everyone was just standing around having a very civilized group smoke before heading in. four auditoriums were hosting the show and as we took our seats—calmly, with no running or pushing or shoving—i thought to myself, 'well now, isn't this civilized?' isn't it? choose your seats the hour, day or week before you plan to see the movie. keep the system loose when the theater is mostly empty, but for the big shows and premieres: what a relief.
then, of course, the panic set in that we might be watching a dubbed version of the movie. rob kept trying to reassure me that it was for sure titled. i believed him, sort of. i was all ready to scream 'NNNNOOOOOOO' and go running from the theater when the titles didn't appear and a czech voice started reading 'a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.' but, thankfully, the czech subtitles came onscreen when the english words did.
sorry to say, the braided buns came out the second lucasfilm started glowing. but i wasn't alone. i saw two girls on the metro in full leia regalia: the white flowing robes and belt of bling. way to go, girls.
Monday, May 16, 2005
hoši děkujem!
(ha! i discovered that the czech diacritics work.)
the 10 million or so folks on this planet who call themselves czechs are sleeping with smiles on their faces tonight. they kicked some canadian booty. world champions with a score 3-0. good job, guys.
the first goal came early in the first period. the second in the middle of the third and the third goal late in third period, on a canadian power play with an empty goal to boot. Josef Vasiček sent it down the ice and into the goalie-less net. very nice aim, Pepa.
my friend rob and i joined 30,000-40,000 of our closest friends in old town square (staromak) to watch the games on big screens (AND be entertained at the breaks by a hilarious cover band called Las Vegas). by the end of the second period fireworks were already being lit and 'we are the champions' was being sung. maybe a little premature, but it all worked out in their favor.
the cameramen in vienna favored reaction shots of the supermodel girlfriends-slash-wives (no surprise) while the crowd in prague screamed, spilled beer (all over rob), and smashed bottles onto the cobblestones. all in all a fantastic night.
now the metro is full of shouting fans (the one night passengers are actually alive and breathing on public transportation it seems) and cars zip through the center, blaring their horns and hanging flags out the windows. i'm very happy for the czechs. they are extremely proud of their hockey, as well they should be. this is their 11th world champion title. the 6th, apparently, since 1996 (i had to look at fox sports for that stat--the story was listed 5th on a sidebar...pretty important news to americans, i know).
i'd like to say to all of the americans out there who are ashamed of their nationality when they travel and prefer to say they are canadian, thinking they'll get better treatment: well, tonight that was surely NOT the case! (and shame on you, anyway.)
the canucks played a very good, very physical game. the shutout was thanks to Tomaš Vokoun, the czech goalie who has done a tremendous job filling the very big skates of Dominik Hašek. they did, however, make idiots of themselves by picking a very large, longer-than-necessary fight in the last 45 seconds. gentlemen, gentlemen. please. so three very unhappy canadian players had to sit out the last few moments pouting in the penalty box. bad show.
it's easy to sound patronizing when saying that i'm glad czech won but i really am glad, grateful, proud for them. hockey is such a big deal here and there's so little for major national pride. and anyway, i doubt the canadians were gathered in a big public space in ottowa cheering on their players. these celebrations aren't typical in north america. so glad i'm here.
rob and i delayed our ride home by toasting the team in a nearby restaurant. we sat near the door and watched the happy czechs with flags blanketing their shoulders and faces painted red, white and blue walk past screaming their chants. and along came a sanitation worker dressed in orange, pushing a wheeled bucket with a broom sticking out of it. i wouldn't want his job tonight. old town square is covered in broken glass, strips of toilet paper and cigarette butts (i'm somewhat amazed my hair didn't go up in flames. rob was, too--about his own, which he said was FULL of product).
the 10 million or so folks on this planet who call themselves czechs are sleeping with smiles on their faces tonight. they kicked some canadian booty. world champions with a score 3-0. good job, guys.
the first goal came early in the first period. the second in the middle of the third and the third goal late in third period, on a canadian power play with an empty goal to boot. Josef Vasiček sent it down the ice and into the goalie-less net. very nice aim, Pepa.
my friend rob and i joined 30,000-40,000 of our closest friends in old town square (staromak) to watch the games on big screens (AND be entertained at the breaks by a hilarious cover band called Las Vegas). by the end of the second period fireworks were already being lit and 'we are the champions' was being sung. maybe a little premature, but it all worked out in their favor.
the cameramen in vienna favored reaction shots of the supermodel girlfriends-slash-wives (no surprise) while the crowd in prague screamed, spilled beer (all over rob), and smashed bottles onto the cobblestones. all in all a fantastic night.
now the metro is full of shouting fans (the one night passengers are actually alive and breathing on public transportation it seems) and cars zip through the center, blaring their horns and hanging flags out the windows. i'm very happy for the czechs. they are extremely proud of their hockey, as well they should be. this is their 11th world champion title. the 6th, apparently, since 1996 (i had to look at fox sports for that stat--the story was listed 5th on a sidebar...pretty important news to americans, i know).
i'd like to say to all of the americans out there who are ashamed of their nationality when they travel and prefer to say they are canadian, thinking they'll get better treatment: well, tonight that was surely NOT the case! (and shame on you, anyway.)
the canucks played a very good, very physical game. the shutout was thanks to Tomaš Vokoun, the czech goalie who has done a tremendous job filling the very big skates of Dominik Hašek. they did, however, make idiots of themselves by picking a very large, longer-than-necessary fight in the last 45 seconds. gentlemen, gentlemen. please. so three very unhappy canadian players had to sit out the last few moments pouting in the penalty box. bad show.
it's easy to sound patronizing when saying that i'm glad czech won but i really am glad, grateful, proud for them. hockey is such a big deal here and there's so little for major national pride. and anyway, i doubt the canadians were gathered in a big public space in ottowa cheering on their players. these celebrations aren't typical in north america. so glad i'm here.
rob and i delayed our ride home by toasting the team in a nearby restaurant. we sat near the door and watched the happy czechs with flags blanketing their shoulders and faces painted red, white and blue walk past screaming their chants. and along came a sanitation worker dressed in orange, pushing a wheeled bucket with a broom sticking out of it. i wouldn't want his job tonight. old town square is covered in broken glass, strips of toilet paper and cigarette butts (i'm somewhat amazed my hair didn't go up in flames. rob was, too--about his own, which he said was FULL of product).
Sunday, May 15, 2005
you say hockey, i say hokaj
did you know the hockey world championship finals are tomorrow? if you are in the U.S., the correct answer to this question is 'no.' unless, of course, you are a die-hard hockey fan and have been seriously jonesing for a hockey fix with your precious nhl out of commission this year.
for the first time in who knows how many years, the world teams are not suffering as their best players remain in the U.S. to play for their moneyed teams--fulfilling contracts and the like as they battle for the stanley cup. nope, this year the gang's all here.
the joke here is that babies are born with skates on their feet, hockey is so much a part of the national fabric. but it seems to be wearing thin these days as i ask students if they play hockey or skate. the answer is usually a sullen 'no.' oh yes, i forgot--playing hockey means wrenching yourself away from your computer screen.
anyway, when hockey championship season rolls around, you will find czechs filling local pubs and bars, cheering for their mostly expatriate sons--who only seem to find their ways back to playing in the czech red, white and blue when the worlds or olympics are at stake.
i live in a huge panelak--one of those big communist-built hulks of a concrete building whose walls (prefab) are so, well, crappy, that when i am awakened at 7am by someone drilling five floors down and two entrances over it feels like it's next to my head. those times when i'm home watching hockey i can be away from the tv with the sound off and still know when a goal has been scored by the shouting echoing through the building.
czech played U.S.A. (why do i capitalize that? who knows? love of motherland?) thursday afternoon in the semi-final round. i was on my way to a graduation party in the countryside with a bunch of czech students and some of their teachers. on the bus ride there someone got a text message with the score 1-0 in favor of the U.S. and suddenly, as one, all heads whipped around to me. i don't play hockey! i protested. the rest of the afternoon i had to keep repeating 'today i am czech' so that no one would kill me and eat me as one of the more drunk teachers suggested. fortunately for me the czech players pulled off a mirrored game to last year's against the U.S.
that was here in prague, at the new arena (built by sazka, the company with gambling centers around the country. doesn't that seem odd and sort of a conflict of interest?). the score was tied at 0 even after overtime and the U.S. team won in the penalty shootout round. very disappointing and my students really didn't believe me when i said i was cheering for czech. they believed me this year when i joined in their 'kdo neskace neni czech: hop, hop, hop' (whoever isn't jumping isn't czech: jump, jump, jump) cheer as the czechs won in the penalty shootout round this time. whew. i escaped with my life--barely, it seems.
so i have had no problem telling czech friends that i am much more interested in a czech victory than an american one, not least of all because i don't think many folks in the U.S. even know it's happening. and here? well, i'm sure there will be video screens set up in old town square for the gold-medal game tomorrow night. i was there in 1998 when czech beat russia for the gold at nagano, so i think it would be right for me to be there again. i'm hoping czech pulls out a victory against canada as they did against sweden in vienna tonight. national pride doesn't show up too often here, but it does where hockey is concerned.
for the first time in who knows how many years, the world teams are not suffering as their best players remain in the U.S. to play for their moneyed teams--fulfilling contracts and the like as they battle for the stanley cup. nope, this year the gang's all here.
the joke here is that babies are born with skates on their feet, hockey is so much a part of the national fabric. but it seems to be wearing thin these days as i ask students if they play hockey or skate. the answer is usually a sullen 'no.' oh yes, i forgot--playing hockey means wrenching yourself away from your computer screen.
anyway, when hockey championship season rolls around, you will find czechs filling local pubs and bars, cheering for their mostly expatriate sons--who only seem to find their ways back to playing in the czech red, white and blue when the worlds or olympics are at stake.
i live in a huge panelak--one of those big communist-built hulks of a concrete building whose walls (prefab) are so, well, crappy, that when i am awakened at 7am by someone drilling five floors down and two entrances over it feels like it's next to my head. those times when i'm home watching hockey i can be away from the tv with the sound off and still know when a goal has been scored by the shouting echoing through the building.
czech played U.S.A. (why do i capitalize that? who knows? love of motherland?) thursday afternoon in the semi-final round. i was on my way to a graduation party in the countryside with a bunch of czech students and some of their teachers. on the bus ride there someone got a text message with the score 1-0 in favor of the U.S. and suddenly, as one, all heads whipped around to me. i don't play hockey! i protested. the rest of the afternoon i had to keep repeating 'today i am czech' so that no one would kill me and eat me as one of the more drunk teachers suggested. fortunately for me the czech players pulled off a mirrored game to last year's against the U.S.
that was here in prague, at the new arena (built by sazka, the company with gambling centers around the country. doesn't that seem odd and sort of a conflict of interest?). the score was tied at 0 even after overtime and the U.S. team won in the penalty shootout round. very disappointing and my students really didn't believe me when i said i was cheering for czech. they believed me this year when i joined in their 'kdo neskace neni czech: hop, hop, hop' (whoever isn't jumping isn't czech: jump, jump, jump) cheer as the czechs won in the penalty shootout round this time. whew. i escaped with my life--barely, it seems.
so i have had no problem telling czech friends that i am much more interested in a czech victory than an american one, not least of all because i don't think many folks in the U.S. even know it's happening. and here? well, i'm sure there will be video screens set up in old town square for the gold-medal game tomorrow night. i was there in 1998 when czech beat russia for the gold at nagano, so i think it would be right for me to be there again. i'm hoping czech pulls out a victory against canada as they did against sweden in vienna tonight. national pride doesn't show up too often here, but it does where hockey is concerned.
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
'tis the season
...for maturita.
yes, here in the czech republic, spring is not only the time when the dirty black snow has finally melted and the trees being showing green again, but students hit the books. hard. the gymnasium (college-prep high school) next door to me is an 8-year school and i am close to several of the 8th-year students. this week was their maturita.
maturita is one of the smattering of latin-based words found in czech. two guesses what it derives from. in german it's called the abitur, if you cared to know. the maturita is a set of 4 15-minute oral exams. yes, oral. and before you start with the 'psshaw, no problem' line, allow me to explain further. the students are required to speak on czech literature and either english or german (most at this school choose english) and then choose two more subjects. common ones are: yet another language, math, history, geography, chemistry, biology. more random are: social sciences, computer programming. for each subject they are to be prepared to answer one of 30 questions that they will choose by picking a number out of a bag. seriously. they receive the questions beforehand and study from them.
'questions provided beforehand=easy as pie' you say? let's do the math. 120 possible questions and you have to be prepared to talk (at least once in a foreign language) for 15 minutes (including answering questions from your teachers, which may or may not help you) on each of them or risk failing. add to this the pressure mounted by your teachers, who tell you over and over again throughout the year that this is a really big deal and you HAVE to study hard, compounded by knowing that you might not get into university if you get a failing grade, not to mention the shame to yourself and your family of the dreaded 5 (no A-F here in favor of the more clinical 1-5).
and so, students begin studying for their maturita in the fall, and really get serious after christmas, and the cramming reaches fever pitch around easter. the kids are given the week before the exams off as 'holy week' and many don't show up the week before that, either. the students i know and love told me that for the last 9 or so days they hadn't showered, they've barely slept, and rarely eaten. i think lukas is the big exception to that rule. more on him later. daria tells me she subsisted on chocolate.
yesterday i ventured into school for the afternoon segment, as a support to vera. the first thing i saw when i rounded the corner was vera, excited to see me and reaching out for a hug. the second was a very red-eyed classmate of hers who was clearly somewhere in the middle of a cry. she had received a 5 and was not doing well with it. i listened sympathetically as she talked with vera and then, when vera left, i smiled at her, squeezed her arm and said, 'keep breathing.' this earned me a smile and she sighed and said she was going home to sleep. can't blame her.
i think the 5 scared the crap out of vera, though. she was extremely nervous. english was her first subject.
oh, have i mentioned possible topics? no? here are a few:
english: australia; british education system; washington d.c., and points of interest; early american history (vera asked me at one point if the first continental congress was in 1774. i laughed and said i have NO idea)
geography: the universe
history: ancient egypt, mesopotamia; czech history from WWII
it goes on. basically pretty broad but rather random. creates a need to study useless facts so that they can be parroted back on demand and promptly forgotten.
let me make a long story short (too late). even though vera panicked before each exam (english, history, czech lit., social science) she got good topics and answered them very well (in so many ways it's all about the luck of the draw). 4 hours after she started she was informed she got 4 1s. i'm so proud of her. and i was honored to be there as her support and for her to tell me i was exactly the person she needed there with her. doesn't often get better than that.
this morning i went back to support eliska and daria. both of them had studied long and hard and they were both surprisingly relaxed. they had the same subjects: english, czech lit., biology and chemistry. neither of them was sure what their grades would be. daria got all 1s and eliska got 1s and a single 2. the students are told their grades alone in the room with the teachers. daria came zooming around the corner out of the room yelling 'samy,' meaning only 1s. very exciting.
this afternoon iva and lukas went in. iva is late for everything and her maturita was no exception. she didn't miss anything but she cut it closer than anyone else would have. she brought a heavy backpack full of books and her older sister weighed down with more of the same. before each subject she spent her 30 minutes of downtime cramming for the next. she dragged me into her study room before english to get warmed up. lukas, on the other hand, was the picture of relaxation. he had shown up the day before and we chatted while vera talked about czech literature. he said he knew that he knew all he could know and so he was going to play volleyball. he told me today he slept well last night and was so bored this morning he just sat watching tv until it was time to come to school. lukas (english, math, czech lit., programming--he's been working at a multinational company most of the year as a computer whiz) got all 1s as well. iva (czech lit., enlish, history, geography) got 2 1s and 2 2s. she immediately took off to find her geography teacher to ask why.
i am so proud of all of them for the work they put into it and for the poise with which they went through the ordeal. each one of them said it was somewhat easier than they imagined and that they can't believe it's over. all they have been pressing for for so long finally done with. all that's left is a short ceremony on friday morning. they are now free. well, free until they have to take college entrance exams, which begin in about 2 weeks. tomorrow we head to their classmate's cottage for a night of celebration.
yes, here in the czech republic, spring is not only the time when the dirty black snow has finally melted and the trees being showing green again, but students hit the books. hard. the gymnasium (college-prep high school) next door to me is an 8-year school and i am close to several of the 8th-year students. this week was their maturita.
maturita is one of the smattering of latin-based words found in czech. two guesses what it derives from. in german it's called the abitur, if you cared to know. the maturita is a set of 4 15-minute oral exams. yes, oral. and before you start with the 'psshaw, no problem' line, allow me to explain further. the students are required to speak on czech literature and either english or german (most at this school choose english) and then choose two more subjects. common ones are: yet another language, math, history, geography, chemistry, biology. more random are: social sciences, computer programming. for each subject they are to be prepared to answer one of 30 questions that they will choose by picking a number out of a bag. seriously. they receive the questions beforehand and study from them.
'questions provided beforehand=easy as pie' you say? let's do the math. 120 possible questions and you have to be prepared to talk (at least once in a foreign language) for 15 minutes (including answering questions from your teachers, which may or may not help you) on each of them or risk failing. add to this the pressure mounted by your teachers, who tell you over and over again throughout the year that this is a really big deal and you HAVE to study hard, compounded by knowing that you might not get into university if you get a failing grade, not to mention the shame to yourself and your family of the dreaded 5 (no A-F here in favor of the more clinical 1-5).
and so, students begin studying for their maturita in the fall, and really get serious after christmas, and the cramming reaches fever pitch around easter. the kids are given the week before the exams off as 'holy week' and many don't show up the week before that, either. the students i know and love told me that for the last 9 or so days they hadn't showered, they've barely slept, and rarely eaten. i think lukas is the big exception to that rule. more on him later. daria tells me she subsisted on chocolate.
yesterday i ventured into school for the afternoon segment, as a support to vera. the first thing i saw when i rounded the corner was vera, excited to see me and reaching out for a hug. the second was a very red-eyed classmate of hers who was clearly somewhere in the middle of a cry. she had received a 5 and was not doing well with it. i listened sympathetically as she talked with vera and then, when vera left, i smiled at her, squeezed her arm and said, 'keep breathing.' this earned me a smile and she sighed and said she was going home to sleep. can't blame her.
i think the 5 scared the crap out of vera, though. she was extremely nervous. english was her first subject.
oh, have i mentioned possible topics? no? here are a few:
english: australia; british education system; washington d.c., and points of interest; early american history (vera asked me at one point if the first continental congress was in 1774. i laughed and said i have NO idea)
geography: the universe
history: ancient egypt, mesopotamia; czech history from WWII
it goes on. basically pretty broad but rather random. creates a need to study useless facts so that they can be parroted back on demand and promptly forgotten.
let me make a long story short (too late). even though vera panicked before each exam (english, history, czech lit., social science) she got good topics and answered them very well (in so many ways it's all about the luck of the draw). 4 hours after she started she was informed she got 4 1s. i'm so proud of her. and i was honored to be there as her support and for her to tell me i was exactly the person she needed there with her. doesn't often get better than that.
this morning i went back to support eliska and daria. both of them had studied long and hard and they were both surprisingly relaxed. they had the same subjects: english, czech lit., biology and chemistry. neither of them was sure what their grades would be. daria got all 1s and eliska got 1s and a single 2. the students are told their grades alone in the room with the teachers. daria came zooming around the corner out of the room yelling 'samy,' meaning only 1s. very exciting.
this afternoon iva and lukas went in. iva is late for everything and her maturita was no exception. she didn't miss anything but she cut it closer than anyone else would have. she brought a heavy backpack full of books and her older sister weighed down with more of the same. before each subject she spent her 30 minutes of downtime cramming for the next. she dragged me into her study room before english to get warmed up. lukas, on the other hand, was the picture of relaxation. he had shown up the day before and we chatted while vera talked about czech literature. he said he knew that he knew all he could know and so he was going to play volleyball. he told me today he slept well last night and was so bored this morning he just sat watching tv until it was time to come to school. lukas (english, math, czech lit., programming--he's been working at a multinational company most of the year as a computer whiz) got all 1s as well. iva (czech lit., enlish, history, geography) got 2 1s and 2 2s. she immediately took off to find her geography teacher to ask why.
i am so proud of all of them for the work they put into it and for the poise with which they went through the ordeal. each one of them said it was somewhat easier than they imagined and that they can't believe it's over. all they have been pressing for for so long finally done with. all that's left is a short ceremony on friday morning. they are now free. well, free until they have to take college entrance exams, which begin in about 2 weeks. tomorrow we head to their classmate's cottage for a night of celebration.
Monday, May 09, 2005
welcome one, welcome all
...to my blog.
first off, i would like to comment on the lack of caps. if this bothers you tremendously, such that you are unable to read this blog, i'm super sorry.
gee, did that sound trite? no? dang.
a friend, jason (see his blog here and check out day 58 specifically), recently flipped out while peeking over my shoulder as i wrote an email to a friend. he was mortified and nearly personally offended at my lack of capitalization. well, too bad. i would like to say that later in the day, as we continued (can you believe it?) to discuss the email slang/different grammar rules he did say that when he was in college and just starting the email thing, he said the way he and his friends figured they could get away with not capitalizing the letters requiring it was to just type the whole thing with the caps lock button depressed. oh, i said, THAT is better than no caps? first of all, harder to read. second of all, i don't want to be yelled at for a whole email. third, for emphasis you'd have to go to italics, and we all know that's a bit much. anyway, that made his whole criticism of my pinkie laziness moot, because he'd gone the other way himself. hmph.
emails are emails. folks, i'm an english major. i know grammar, i know spelling, i know punctuation. and i choose not to capitalize. once upon a time when i was the editor of a weekly newspaper entertainment section, a friend, kelly mcevers, wrote a review of the latest liz phair. and kelly wanted to do it a little differently so we agreed she'd write it as a friendly email. part of that was no caps, random misspellings and limited slang (this was 1995--it was still pretty new). we laughed as my copy editor went into spasms of disagreement but style won the day and the review ran in our email form.
now. would i do that with every review/article/feature that came along? heavens, no. but emails are allowed to have their own style and quirkiness--things you wouldn't allow in formal communication. and yes, if i have to write a "formal" email, i do capitalize. hey, i'm not trying to piss anyone off or make some kind of political statement. i just like the look of no caps. ever heard of bell hooks?
first off, i would like to comment on the lack of caps. if this bothers you tremendously, such that you are unable to read this blog, i'm super sorry.
gee, did that sound trite? no? dang.
a friend, jason (see his blog here and check out day 58 specifically), recently flipped out while peeking over my shoulder as i wrote an email to a friend. he was mortified and nearly personally offended at my lack of capitalization. well, too bad. i would like to say that later in the day, as we continued (can you believe it?) to discuss the email slang/different grammar rules he did say that when he was in college and just starting the email thing, he said the way he and his friends figured they could get away with not capitalizing the letters requiring it was to just type the whole thing with the caps lock button depressed. oh, i said, THAT is better than no caps? first of all, harder to read. second of all, i don't want to be yelled at for a whole email. third, for emphasis you'd have to go to italics, and we all know that's a bit much. anyway, that made his whole criticism of my pinkie laziness moot, because he'd gone the other way himself. hmph.
emails are emails. folks, i'm an english major. i know grammar, i know spelling, i know punctuation. and i choose not to capitalize. once upon a time when i was the editor of a weekly newspaper entertainment section, a friend, kelly mcevers, wrote a review of the latest liz phair. and kelly wanted to do it a little differently so we agreed she'd write it as a friendly email. part of that was no caps, random misspellings and limited slang (this was 1995--it was still pretty new). we laughed as my copy editor went into spasms of disagreement but style won the day and the review ran in our email form.
now. would i do that with every review/article/feature that came along? heavens, no. but emails are allowed to have their own style and quirkiness--things you wouldn't allow in formal communication. and yes, if i have to write a "formal" email, i do capitalize. hey, i'm not trying to piss anyone off or make some kind of political statement. i just like the look of no caps. ever heard of bell hooks?
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