amo's blog

Last night, one of my friends pulled out his Prague guidebook for the first time all semester. He started reading descriptions of museums and restaurants aloud to everyone in the study-room.
“This one has live jazz on the weekends!” he exclaimed of one restaurant.
“We won’t be here for the weekend,” came the reply. Ouch. No, we won’t.
 
With papers still due between now and Friday, I’m trying not to think about leaving. I can’t give you final thoughts; my thoughts are all on my finals. Over the next four days I need to:
-watch the Geminid meteor shower
-write a 20 page paper
-visit 2 parks
-visit one last museum
-eat Czech food with friends
-attend the last dorm potluck
-paint on the Lennon wall
-do Christmas shopping
-pack
 
I feel pretty good about my semester. Listening to my friend read through the guidebook, I realized that I’ve been to a lot of the places listed and a whole lot more that aren’t. Beyond that, I’ve had adventures with friends into the suburbs and out of the city. It’s been wonderful; I really feel like I’ve made the most of my time here. A friend from the dorm mentioned yesterday that he wishes he had gotten out more, and he admitted that he has yet to visit the park behind our dorm or the bar/restaurant on our street. ‘Let’s go for a walk! We can stop in the bar for soup after!’ I wanted to offer, I really did, but he had already fallen back into the television show he was watching over his study break. Oh well.
 
Everyone is cramming and writing and wishing that they had gone out more. Even having been out a lot, I’m wishing I had been out more. Maybe if I knock this last paper out of the way early I’ll have at least one day to relax. I’d like to say a proper good-bye to Prague. It’s been good to me, and I’d like to say thanks.

The title is my favorite Dr. Seuss quote. Obviously he wasn't writing at quite this time of year, but you get the jist of it. The picture is my own from a field trip.

I feel like I can't quite write this yet. Of course reflection and retrospection are always good things, but I feel like I need to digest this experience from a distance before I'll be ready to really give good advice. By the time I'm on my connecting flight home I should be ready. Already though? Now? I'm still visiting museums! Writing papers! Attending concerts! Photographing Flat Stanley with Prague Castle!

In short: I haven't left yet. I still have 10 days here and I'm trying to hold on to them. Trying with all my might and against all reason.

Advice for students coming to Prague over the fall semester:

1. Don't let NYU scare you. They will tell you that Czechs are reserved to the point of being unfriendly. They will tell you that you will get pick-pocketed. They will tell you that remaining vegan/vegetarian is nearly impossible. They may also say that the winter is no colder than it is in NYC and that you will have no problem staying in touch with the mothership in Manhattan if you make an effort.
The real story?
There is no denying that the public transportation here is very quiet and that you should avoid yelling across the streets. That said, Czechs ARE friendly if you're respectful. Many of the younger ones speak English, and you'll be grateful for this after an older Czech person attempts to converse with you and you disappoint him/her with your lack of Czech language skills. If you use some common sense, you are much less likely to get pick-pocketed. There are plenty of vegan/vegetarian restaurants and others besides. Be prepared for winter to be very cold at times (not as windy as NYC but certainly colder). And don't expect your home advisers to be overly helpful; if you need something, send the email as soon as you can and mark it high priority so that maybe you get an answer.

2. Do take advantage of all that they offer. So I know it's lame to do school trips. Especially after you make your own friends, you may be tempted to ignore the weekly events that the school offers. Don't do it! They've got some experience here and want to help direct (and subsidize) your explorations of the Czech Republic. Let them! Sign up for as many of the school trips as you can and go with an open mind. They're really very enjoyable (contact me if you have questions, I've been on most of them!). The school also hosts events at the Prague campus. Personally, I stayed away from most of the student council sponsored stuff, but the academic lectures and the RA outings enriched my experience beyond belief. Again, these people have lived here much longer than you, so be grateful and let them show you around. It helps that the RAs and staff here are (except for the grumpy librarian- watch out for her!) friendly, helpful, and just really great people. Take the time to get to know them and find out how they see their city/country. You won't regret it.

3. You've already heard this but DON'T TRAVEL TOO MUCH! If you're sure that you're never going to be in Europe again, then feel free to leave every weekend. Otherwise, try to take some time to explore Prague. It's a beautiful city with a lot to offer, and you'll be buying an unlimited public transit pass (for cheap!) so you have no excuse to be bored in your dorm. Of course some travel is nice, and Prague is a very central location, but be sure to spend some time in this city and this country. If you do travel, try not to always be running West. Hang out in Central and Eastern Europe, and you might be surprised by what you can discover.

What else? Bring good walking shoes. And a warm coat. And an umbrella. Try the Beckerovka and all varieties of Czech beer you can get a hold of. Drink Burcak. Attempt to learn enough Czech to be polite. Be patient. Know that you will be charged for bread, water and ketchup at restaurants. Even McDonalds. Don't eat McDonalds.  Go to a Megaphone concert. Get lost at least twice. Don't forget to do your homework. Talk to your professors (ask them which bars to go to and where to plan the weekend trips you do take!). Take lots of pictures. Make lots of friends.

And every once in a while, be sure to

stop

and just take everything in. It's cliche, but true: the semester will be over before you know it.

My family has an odd Thanksgiving tradition. For as long as I can remember, we have gone out to have Thanksgiving in a restaurant. Some of us get turkey; some don't. And if my godmother is not with one of her sisters that year, then she joins us.

When we realized that this was our year to enjoy my godmother's company (since we do usually have to share her with her sisters), my parents asked her if she wanted to come to Prague. My dad wanted to come to show my family the city he loves, and my godmother said ok. My mom, who really doesn't like to travel, agreed to come. My two sisters came, too. And to top it all off, my boyfriend had been planning to come over Thanksgiving anyway, so he was here too.

Since I had class Thursday, I met them in the morning and we walked a bit around Old Town. I hadn't realized how much I have learned from my architecture class until I was playing tour-guide. What a pleasant surprise! We covered a lot of ground at first. Then I dropped them at the Cubist Cafe (at the Black Madonna House) to explore the museum and get some lunch while Cass, my boyfriend, and I went to class. We met up with them after, and they were feeling warmed and nourished so we went back out into the cold. We ventured into Minor Town, stopping at the monument to the victims of Soviet oppression, and caught the funicular up Petrin. F-u-n-i-c-u-l-a-r. It's a word I didn't know until I came here. It means a tram that goes up a steep incline. Who'd have thought.

Since the sun sets around 4, it was dark when we got to the top of the hill. We headed to the top of Petrin Tower (the mini Eiffel Tower replica they have here) to enjoy the lights of the city at night. We finished just in time to go back to their hotel so those who wanted to could change and clean up for our Thanksgiving dinner. In a restaurant. With my godmother. (Plus my boyfriend this year.) Since Cass and I didn't have clothes to change into, and my dad and youngest sister didn't feel the need to change, we went to the bar on the top floor of the hotel for drinks. The lounge was called "Cloud 9" and it was hysterical. We walked down a long hall with flashing lights and into a lounge that was obviously designed to be more of a night-club lounge for individuals seeking...companionship?...than a pre-dinner drink place for a handful of family members. We laughed at the 'hetero-friendly party night' sign on the way out, and we joined the rest of the crew for our thanksgiving dinner in the much more family-oriented hotel restaurant: Czechouse. If you don't tease them for the bad punning then I won't either. The food was great. We managed (somehow) to keep all our traditions, despite being on another continent. And I have to confess that I did not order turkey. As per usual.

The picture above is of my boyfriend and my youngest sister. Like all of the pictures I include, it's one I took myself.

My family is coming for Thanksgiving and they land in Prague tomorrow. This means a number of things...but the most alarming is that it means Thanksgiving is here and the semester is almost over.

I was wandering around and listening to everyone attempt to come to terms with the fact that we will soon be back in the United States--where it's ok that we'll be under-age because the beer isn't worth the $8 it costs anyway-- and then I read our article for this week. An expedition around one's bedroom? That sounds as exciting as cleaning out that desk drawer that collects all the business cards and event flyers that wind up in the bottom of my purse. What a wonderful idea!

No sarcasm here; I'm really that kind of person. And I really needed to read this article this week. Now I know how to combat the urgency that I suddenly feel when I move through the city. Showing my family around will force me to look at Prague through the eyes of a new-comer, the way I did our first week here. Doing so after taking an excursion around my room and another through the neighborhood promises to be somewhat soothing. Yes, I'm leaving soon. But I haven't taken a moment of my time here for granted, so it will be fine to leave. Beyond that, going home to the familiar will be an occasion for another series of sednost-focused excursions...which will make the reverse culture-shock much easier to bear.

General consensus here is that our professors are way overqualified to be teaching us. Well...most of us. They all know each other, the authors of all the texts, and the details about anything/everything remotely related to their fields. You think I'm kidding, but it's true. And slightly intimidating. I've been very lucky to have excellent professors. If you're considering coming to Prague, I can say I'm taking Elementary German I, History of Czech Architecture, IR: EU and Central Europe in Transition, and Literature and Place, and all of my professors are very approachable, very engaging, and very active in their fields. I'm sooooo lucky and constantly grateful.

Here's the part where I make a fool of myself by gushing: Clarice Cloutier blows my mind about twice a week. She teaches 'Literature and Place of Central Europe,' a Gallatin class that explores culture through poetry, prose and short stories.

Where to start...First, we were all initially intimidated by the size of the readers. We walked into class the first day and started discussing how huge they are. Then, someone on the end who had been quiet the whole time speaks up and says that we should relax. She says that we won't get through both readers because we read for quality and not quantity. Enter Clarice, whose young face and colorful clothing had us all convinced she was another NYU student. Officially, her university bio says she speaks 5 languages. Hungarian wasn't on that list, though she's read to us from a Hungarian brochure, so let's say that she speaks at least 5 but maybe more. She has a pile of degrees and honors from prominent universities...Lest I sound like too much of a creeper, I'm just going to say she's brilliant and leave it at that.

If you were to come class with me, we would walk towards our large, cold classroom and stop in the cozy sitting room outside. Most likely, Clarice would be sitting on the couch with her feet tucked up, and she would announce that we're having class in here. We would pull out whichever reader we're using that week and I would again wonder how many hours went into compiling them. We have two sizable readers filled with English translations of works that were originally in Slovak, Slovene, Polish, Hungarian, Czech, and sometimes others. Since Clarice does translation work, she picked which version of each work to include in the reader, which translation she thought was best. That's really important when looking at poems and short stories where each word was carefully selected for its impact.

Clarice tells us what it's like to live in the Czech Republic. She's originally from Chicago, and she understands the kinds of things that we "temporary central-east Europeans" are noticing as different from home. She also knows that most of us know little to nothing about the cultural differences between these countries we're studying. Through sharing food, proverbs, photographs, museum exhibits, walking tours, and anecdotes about meeting the author of whichever piece we're discussing at the moment, Clarice interdisciplin(arily?) points out the similarities and differences in the cultures we touch on. As I've learned, no matter how much they may have in common, the Czech Republic, Slovakia, Slovenia, Hungary, and Poland (the focus countries of our course) certainly do not deserve to get lumped together as central-eastern European countries in the manner that they sometimes are. By which I mean, the manner that we American students with our incomplete knowledge of European history (most of us, even those who got 5s on their AP exams) do when we assume that since we live in Prague we know what it would be like to live in any of these other countries, save some minor differences. Especially over fall break, I realized that the difference between Czech Republic and Slovenia is not the difference between Pennsylvania and Rhode Island because these are two different countries. It sounds obvious, I know, but it's hard enough to find an American who knows where Ljubljana is let alone the ways it differs from Budapest or Bratislava.

That was a bit of a tangent...sorry. My point is, Clarice's class rocks. The material is interesting, her style is refreshing, and she's pretty inspiring.

And she likes trees, which is always something I appreciate.

For my History of Architecture class, we frequently take trips to see examples of building styles around the city. The thing is, my professor happens to be the official historian for Prague Castle, so we tend to spend a lot of time there. I would love to write about something obscure and original (the inside of the computer repair shop or the beer hall who's name translates 'the dry gums') but there is just no escaping Prague Castle when in Prague.

You can walk in from a couple different spots or you can take the 22 tram. I usually like to walk up the stairs near the Malostranska metrostation. The view from the top of the stairs is beautiful. You can turn around and look out over all of Old Town and Minor Town. Then there is a passage-way leading into the castle. There are guards posted there, as well as other places around the castle, and you shouldn't try to make them move because it's just not nice. Anyway. Now that you're up the hill and in the castle complex itself, you'll pass the Lobkowicz palace and museum on your left and the museum of toys on your right. The one on the left showcases the private collection of the Lobkowicz family, which is pretty extensive, and the one on the right...I'm not sure why it exists and especially why they put it where they did. Strange.

Further on, you'll enter a small square. The old romanesque church behind you is well worth looking into. On your left is a museum in part of the old royal palace. It has displays about the history of the castle complex and artifacts found during digs there. Very cool if you're into that sort of thing. And of course, right in front of you is St. Vitis cathederal. When talking to non-Czechs, I find that they most often refer to St. Vitis as 'Prague Castle.' It's an easy mistake to make, I guess. The building is HUGE. If you walk around it to the right, you pass a very old historic pub. If you walk around it to the left, you end up in a bigger square with a long pink building on your left. You just passed the oldest part of the cathederal and the newest part (as in 1920s new) is in front of you. That pink building is the President's palace. If you go though the Egyptian-looking passage through it, you can enter the castle gardens and look at the defenestration window. Fun! If not, you keep walking through that courtyard, though a passage and into a smaller courtyard surrounded by more buildings that look like the pink one. They're more governmental buildings...we went in with my class but they're not open to the public. You can pass through them and eventually out of that castle area through the big baroque gate (with more unsmiling guards). You emerge into a larger square with lots of people all around. To your left, there is a wall from which the view is spectacular. There's a statue of TGM (Thomas Garrigue Masaryk), the first president of the first republic who took his wife's last name as his middle name when they married. Behind him are a few big buildings that are under construction at the moment and will someday open as a museum. On your right is the Archbishop's palace. He still lives and works there, lucky guy.

From here there are any number of places you could go. There's the very Baroque Lucerna palace, the Strahov monestary with it's stunning library, and of course there's the Strahov brewery where you can try their monestary beer. It gets crowded so go early or call ahead!

In another part of the complex is a museum showcasing Cartier diamonds (not sure why) and the gate to the royal gardens. The gardens, now closed for the season, were closed for the shooting of Mission Impossible (6? 7?). But my ever-persuasive professor got us in. Among the interesting buildings in the garden is Belvedere Castle. It was built as a summer palace and is the only renaissance building in Prague that is completely faithful to Italian design. The weather here is just too cold to put outdoor verendas on most buildings. The sloped roof of this palace was later the inspiration for the roof of the National Theater on the other side of the river. And from here, if the garden gate onto the street is open, you can hop on the 22 tram going down hill to rest your sore feet and return home.

For my Intro to Anthropology class last semester, we read a book by Nancy Ries called "Russian Talk: Culture and Conversations during Perestroika." Now before the Czechs get too offended that I'm comparing them to Russians, let me say that I'm not directly comparing them. I just want to say that Ries talked about how people became so accustomed to waiting in lines for things that they kept waiting in lines even after the USSR collapsed and store shelves became better stocked (relatively). Back when I was reading the book, I knew what she meant but I didn't understand. Then I decided to study abroad in the Czech Republic.

When first applying for my visa, I thought I had everything covered. I made two photocopies of each document, paperclipped all the documents together in the order that they'd been listed on my checklist from NYU, and blocked out an hour of time instead of the half-hour NYU said we would need. Well. I was missing a document that hadn't been on the checklist, had wrong information on the documents because the fill-in guide the school gave out had had wrong information on it, and was late to my next committment because I was at the consulate for three hours. In the stress of all this, I hardly paid attention to the nuances of the process of applying for the visa itself. In retrospect, the set-up is overly complicated and beurocratic, but very efficient and well-organized. The applicant brings all of his or her paperwork to the consulate. Then the nice lady at the desk goes through it all. She gives the applicant a number slip (like you get at a deli counter) that considers the reason the person is at the consulate as well as his or her place in line because there are different desks for different needs. Then the person sits and waits with the other people who are (quietly) sitting and waiting. On a board overhead, numbers are flashing. When the number on the board matches the number on the person's ticket, he or she gets up and goes to a desk. The person behind the desk quickly and efficiently completes whatever transaction is called for. Then it's done and the applicant leaves.

What I didn't realize while still in NY is that this entire process would be repeated many times during my stay here. When I went to buy a new camera, for example, I submitted an order online, paid at a money-machine in exchange for my deli-ticket, waited outside the next building for my number to flash on the board, went inside when it did and traded my ticket for my camera with barely two words exchanged the entire time. When I went to mail a package today, it was the same. I pressed a button on a machine saying that I wanted to send a package, received a number accordingly, waited in line, watched a board, went up to a window, traded in my package for a receipt... The process is somewhat intimidating here where all the buttons on the ticket-dispensing machines are in Czech, but the language barrier isn't a problem otherwise. No one else in line wants to chat, and the business person who I conduct my actual transaction with certainly has no interest in small talk. Which is efficient...but initially confusing for someone who's time working in retail has included many seminars to train personal customer service.

I like the Czech way. Maybe in a few years they'll be able to boil the process down to fewer steps (literally fewer steps would be nice), or maybe not. People here are used to doing things themselves, and they really are good at it. My postage transaction, once I got to the window, took under 30 seconds. Just know that you can't be in a rush because the line before you get to the window moves at whatever pace it wants. These have been good learning experiences for me. I'm practicing patience and building self-efficacy. Want to join me? Get in line!

PS The picture, as always, is my own. This one is from a building at the Plzener brewery in which they bottle the beer. It seemed fitting.

Like Brianna, I'm going to sort-of talk about Prague in Black and Gold (Peter Demetz). Honestly, it was our required reading book for the summer, so most NYU Prague students can give you some of their thoughts. Like most, I didn't finish the book. Unlike most, I made it more than half-way though. Getting an idea of how we generally felt about it?

As someone who is interested in history, I found it interesting to learn about the different events in the city. It was useful to get familiar with some of the events and place names before arriving here, because then I knew what was being discussed when they came up in discussions and lectures. The thing is, I knew the names but didn't understand the events. The style in which the book was written contributes to this; the author includes sweeping descriptive statements and excludes the stories that explain why certain descriptions are accurate. Why was this kind king kind or this sly counselor sly? I want to know, but Demetz doesn't really explain. He throws out his opinions and trusts that we the readers will just accept these ascertains from him because he's the expert. Personally, though I do trust that he knows what he's talking about, I'd really like an explanation once in a while.

Prague in Black and Gold makes for a matter-of-fact historical overview of the city. Since living here, I've found certain books, artists, and films being mentioned repeatedly both in my classes and as personal recommendations by my professors. By the end of the semester, I'll have a long list (which I promise to post online somewhere) of materials to look at for a more holistic and interdisciplinary view of Prague. I am, after all, a Gallatin student, and interdisciplinary is just the way to go! Especially in a city like Prague where the social circles beyond a certain point are small enough that all the best artists and authors reference all the others. Aside from a couple of books on the reading list for this class, as soon as I get access to Bobst again I'm going to be looking up:

The Good Soldier Svejk (a book)
Maj (famous love poem)
Czeslaw Milosz (he's not Czech, but his poetry is wonderful)
Citizen Havel (a film)
The Corner Shop (another film)
I Served the King of England (a book)
Bedrich Smetana (composer)
Ivan Pinkava (photographer)
Josef Bolf (painter)

A quick note on the inclusion of Milosz: Living in the Czech Republic means living in Central Eastern Europe. This might sound obvious, but before arriving here I hadn't realized how much the cultures and histories of the area are intertwined. I didn't know that looking up the history of Poland or Slovenia would help me understand Czech history (though I should have known to read up on Slovakia). As much as people here are proud of their countries, they acknowledge this interconnectedness (begrudgingly, sometimes)...and I would have gladly done the homework necessary to participate in their conversations if only I had known then what I know now.

My laptop has been completely broken for about a month now. I know I should get it fixed. I'm going to try this week...but I don't speak technology well even in English-speaking countries and so am a little nervous about attempting such a feat here. Wish me luck.

One consequence of this inconvenience is that I pretty much live in the study lounge at my dorm. Since it's only one flight of stairs from my room, I can easily run upstairs to make coffee or grab a sweater. Since it's part of my RAs' room, I don't worry about leaving books there the way I would in a lounge at a larger dorm. This study room is cozy and useful. And it's increasingly becoming my home.

Here there are bright yellow walls and orange carpeting. There are some ivy plants on the exposed ceiling beam, some philodendren on the bookshelves, and some herb plants on the computer desks. The bookshelves have Czech language aides, travel guides, and Russian romance novels. The walls have pictures from past programs and also one very creepy marionette. One can study at a computer, the couch, the table, or a desk in a corner that--to be frank--no one uses because there is usually a piano keyboard resting on it.

Tonight, I am joined by a girl reciting Russian conjugations and a boy reading economic theory while eating dried pineapple slices. The night before break, we had a spontanious end-of-exams party (though I hadn't quite finished exams yet) which even included a phone call to my mom so everyone could sing her 'Happy Birthday.' Sometimes people plan travels in here. Sometimes they gather for potlucks. Sometimes they fall asleep. Sometimes they cut through on their way to the smokers' balcony. It's a strange space really. And I'll probably continue to use it even after my laptop is fixed. Otherwise, there will be no one around to tell me which pumpkin recipe sounds better or which art nouveau flower would make a better tatoo.

My reading of the article was several times interrupted by my quest to find food. This led me to wonder whether the processes involved in a "back room" experience maintain their authenticity when transferred into a new space. The new space doesn't have to be a "front room" but maybe it is a different room all-together.

A specific example:
I did not go to Lake Bled over fall break. I went to Slovenia and stayed with a wonderful family in Litija, and one of the many things they taught me about was the existence of Lake Bled. They did this by sharing with me some "kremšnitas" (cream slices)...otherwise known as Blejska rezina (Bled cake). As we were enjoying the dessert, they told me that this was a pretty good copy but that I should really go to Lake Bled to have the original because it's much better...and a regional specialty. Authentic.

Since it will probably be quite some time before I have a chance to experience the original version, I'm currently quite content with the copy. I actually thought it was pretty tasty. But here is where things get complicated. I'm giving a presentation tomorrow on my fall break experience. Wanting to give my fellow classmates a taste of Slovenia, I started searching online for recipes for the cake. Wanting to get the best (ie most authentic) recipe possible, I looked first at recipes written in Slovene. This was ridiculous. Even when I ran them through google-translate, the complicated directions came out incomprehensible. I had to settle for looking for them in English.

I won't be bringing the cake to class tomorrow after all, because I don't have a big enough pan as it happens. But the experience made me think about touristic "relics" and whether they keep their value when they change contexts. If I eat a "Bled cake" that isn't from Bled but is from Slovenia, is it authentic? If I make a "Bled cake" in Prague from a recipe written in Slovene, does it keep any of its original appeal? If I make a "Bled cake" in Prague from a recipe written in English, can I really still call it a "Bled cake"? Should one choose to consider the touristic adventure as a pilgrimage, than a relic of such an adventure would be something that gets its importance based on its proximity to the pilgrimage site. Theoretically, if I was trying to share with my classmates my (non-existant) time at Lake Bled, I would be better off showing them pictures and describing the cake than attempting to recreate the experience for them. However, since I'm trying to share with them an experience of enjoying imitation cake based off the traditional recipe with people who were teaching me about Slovenian culture, my classmates could actually have a fairly authentic simulated experience if I were able to make them the cake. Even if the recipe would be an English one.

Now I'm hungary again.

The two conversations dominating the NYU scene around here:
"So what are you doing/ where are you going/ how much did you spend on/ etc...FALL BREAK" And these questions are met with the appropriate lists of European destinations, transportation companies researched, travel buddies, and expressions of excitement.

or

"Soo tired/ soo much work/ test-paper-test-paper/ due tomorrow/ thesis/ etc...MIDTERMS"

These comments are met with sympathetic support, expressions of equal stress and fatigue, and concern about grades. Sometimes, a conversation even develops on the difficulties of researching 1) without Bobst and 2) without being able to read and speak Czech. The conversations usually lead into each other and are conducted loudly and emphatically. And I couldn't be more amused.

Of course midterms are stressful. I'm not remarking on that fact but rather on the way we seek comfort in mutually whining about it. No matter what people say about study abroad classes, these exams really are work and studying is all the harder when there is a whole country to explore. The funny thing is that midterm-season seems to prompt the same response from (American?) students no matter where they are. Deep breaths, everybody. We'll survive; we always do. Although I have to say that I'm not looking forward to trying to study/write for finals while trying to come to terms with having to go home. I have a policy of not worrying about the future, so that's really not a worry...but it's a thought.

Upon hearing a snatch of the second conversation, one of my most well-travelled professors asked the students if they had ever seen the film "If It's Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium." I haven't--though I'll look it up once I'm back in the Avery-Fischer center--but he explained that the film follows the adventures of a city-hopping group of friends on a Eurotrip. He then cautioned the students who were discussing their plans to hit 12 cities in 10 days that they should try to take time to actually be in these places. A very frequent phrase overheard in the computer lab these days is "X is a beautiful city! We were only there for about 6 hours, but I wish we'd had more time. It's a really cool place!"

Now I know I sound arrogant and cynical. For the record, if a person is content to collect snatches of experience to justify identifying as well-traveled, that's his or her business and it's fine by me. (Check out the play 'Dinner' by Moira Buffini, keeping this all in mind.) I certainly don't have room to talk; my 'plans' are far from planned and it's true that I probably won't see Sweden this trip. That's really ok by me. The picture above is from a silver mine in Kutna Hora...2 hours outside of Prague. There's so much I haven't seen or done here. I just want a fall BREAK: time to go to a place and take it in. Why spend obscene amounts of money marathoning a continent? I just don't understand. Here's wishing everyone the best of luck on their midterms. I know you're stressed and tired. Me too. Have some tea, get some sleep and look forward to your break.

Here's also wishing everyone safe travels over the break. Be careful. Be open. And remember to stop every once in a while to breathe the air and the history of the place you're in. I hope you find everything you hoped for and more.

I just read the small text above and realized that now would be a good time to mention that these are all my own pictures. In case you haven't guessed.

The picture above is of the so-called Lennon wall. The problem is, I took the picture before John Lennon's birthday (which was October 9th and he would have been 70). Usually, the graffiti on the wall changes from week-to-week, but it was mobbed for his birthday. His fans left new graffiti and burning candles in his honor.

Where to start explaining this one...
The Prague Museum of Music currently has an exhibition about the Beatles, which should give you some idea of the impact they had here. They were popular during the Prague Spring, which meant that civilians could celebrate (within reason) when their music and culture snuck through the Iron Curtain. As guitars made in Czechoslovakia had contributed to the Beatles' sound, their sound then began influencing the music being made here. Young people started growing their hair longer (oh goodness) and sewing clothes that imitated Western styles (again, within reason).

Being at the museum with one of my professors meant that she translated the video clips for us. Many were about how the older generation disapproved of the 'long-hairs' and saw their new style as a sign of dangerous rebellion. As funny as the early videos were, there was one from after the '69 crackdown and the end of the Prague Spring. It was a government propaganda film about how this music was a leading source of criminality in the youth. In theory, it should have been the funniest video there. It certainly was the most ridiculous. The problem was, the fact that it existed at all--and that people believed it--made it lose all humor. It's frightening that a population can believe that having long hair will incite teenagers to beat elderly strangers, even in a culture where the elderly are treated with such respect.

After the crack-down, the Beatles immitation groups had to stay quiet and their fans had to re-name their fan clubs. No English words allowed. That's when the Lennon wall comes into play. After John Lennon's murder, fans painted a tomb on a wall. It was 1980 and they wanted to pay tribute to someone whose (officially banned) lyrics of freedom reassured them that 'it's alright,' According to my teacher, many of her friends have talked about how knowing that things were normal in other parts of the world helped them endure their oppression. Of course, the government tried to stop people from writing on the wall. They whitewashed it, installed security cameras, and posted a night guard to arrest graffiti-artists. The artists, in turn, left candles, flowers, and new graffiti daily. And they still do.

This is an ever-changing piece of art. Instead of being preserved after the revolution, it has been allowed to remain alive. The original portrait of Lennon has been covered many times by now. Tourists have sharpie-d their names. Recently, someone stenciled cans of tomato soup all over the wall. This is alright. The wall is a sign of freedom-of-speech and I'm pretty sure Lennon would approve.

What to write about for Quotidian Life? I've already talked about grocery shopping. I considered writing about cobblestone streets in the rain. Or the magnificent public transportation system. Prague's lack of wheelchair accessible buildings, lack of wheelchairs, and abundance of old people with crutches. I could write about the residential blocks and their gardens, or the city spires at night. But I think I'm going to write about bathrooms.

Specifically, women's bathrooms since that's where my experience is. And even more specifically, the signs on the doors to the women's bathrooms.

Before coming to Prague, I was told that the Czechs typically have a fairly traditional view of women and our role in society. Since Prague is a major urban center, I haven't encountered this too much, but I'm not about to say that it's an incorrect statement. In our first week here, one of the Czech students I spoke with--a fantastic Mr. Feminist if ever I met one--told me about his female friend at university. He told me about how smart and hard-working she is, but then he expressed concern about her chances of getting a career. At first I thought he meant that there was discrimination in the hiring process. As he continued, however, I realized that he was refering to the chances of her wanting to pursue a career. He explained that many women complete multiple levels of higher education but that most of them then go and get married and become housewives. Not that there's anything wrong with this, but that they think this is what they are supposed to want and so they waste the opportunities that their education gives them.

Whether he was right or not, I really cannot say. After that conversation, though, I started to look for signals of how Czechs view women. Well. After some puzzlement over the lack of wedding rings (it turns out that the rings can be worn on either hand but are most frequently not worn at all), I realized that there were very blatant clues about how women are viewed and that I was seeing these clues in bars, restaurants, shops, and hotels on a daily basis. I'm talking about the signs on the doors to the women's rooms. I've seen wooden, metal, and paint. I've seen old women and young women, fat and skinny, clothed and nude...Sometimes they carry umbrellas. Sometimes they carry beer bottles. Of couse, the image reflects the views of the establishment rather than the views of the country, but it's a good place to start. I've started a photo-series and have about 11 pictures so far. It's difficult, though. Bringing one's camera to the bathroom is generally a social taboo...

Slowly but surely I have been working my way through "Open Letters," a collection of (surprise!) letters, speeches, and essays written by Vaclav Havel. My progress has been slow, in part, because the writing is so dense and thoughtful that I need to read each sentence about three times. It's like being back in second grade, only much more rewarding. Havel is a gifted writer. I'm embarrassed that this is the first I've read of his works, but I plan to read his plays next. In the meantime, I'm listening to names in history classes and finding that I remember them as addressees of some of these letters. The piece I am going to focus on here is the "Letter to Alexander Dubcek" that Havel wrote in 1969. Dubcek had initiated the democratization of the Prague Spring, but at the time of this letter he had been informed that the Communist Party did not approve of his actions and would be intervening soon.

The letter starts out rather personally: "I don't know if you remember me..." and maintains this tone of formal intimacy (or informal professionalism) throughout. Havel introduces himself and his intention, explains his view of Dubcek's situation, analyzes how Dubcek got there, what the views of the country are, what the views of the Soviet Party are, what Dubcek's options are, and what the results of each option would be. The Party wants Dubcek to renounce his belief in the Prague Spring democratization; Havel wants Dubcek to stand by his earlier decisions and declarations of support. He appeals to Dubcek's national and personal pride, and his finesse reminds the reader that Havel is not merely a Greek chorus but wholly and unmistakably a playwright.

Here are some of the lines from the letter:

“After lengthy consideration, I decided to write to you because I believe that at this moment, it is the only way—within the limited scope available tome—that I can do something for a cause I regard as crucial to the whole country in which I live and in whose language I write”
 
“From a human point of view it is probably unjust that so grave a decision should rest on the shoulders of a single man, and yet it is immensely important that you, here and now, behave the way a majority of us still hope you will behave”
 
“At the same time, I claim no right to instruct you, nor do I intend to play the ‘conscience of the nation.’ My purpose is nothing more that to bring to your own private deliberations different viewpoints and arguments from those which, no doubt, surround you in abundance now, and to strengthen your inner certainties, which are probably being subjected to powerful external assaults and powerful inner doubts”
 
“[If you renounce your belief in the Prague Spring] you would deprive the people of their last certainly, their last remaining ideal, the last trace of their belief in human honor, in the meaning of principled behavior, in a better future, and in the merit of any sacrifice for the community. It would plunge the country deep into moral misery and cause people to lose sight of higher values, leading to a proliferation of selfishness, conformity, careerism, and indifference toward the fate of others”
 
“…I think as a playwright I can—if you’ll allow me—get inside your skin, at least to a certain extent. I think I understand something of your way of thinking, your problems, your hardships, your attitudes, and your intellectual and political traditions, relations, prejudices, and feelings"
In the end, Dubcek silently disappears into the footnotes of history without rising to Havel's challenge (and also without formally publicly admitting concession to the Party).

Considering my friend's quote (see subtitle), apparently the career path from writer to politician has historical roots in the Czech Republic. One of my professors took us to a museum exhibit on Havel and explained as part of her lecture that writers in the Czech Republic have a very distinct social niche. They don't write to entertain or to counsel, but they are responsible for showing the country itself as it is in the hopes that it will then react accordingly. Havel fits this classical tradition, here and in his other letters. Interestingly, after giving him power on account of his strong morals some thought that he was too forgiving and idealistic in his policies. No matter what opinions may be one way or another, his writings make it very clear that he thought carefully about what would be for the good of the whole country and made decisions accordingly. Though Dubcek did not follow his advice, Havel believed that politicians would and could stand up for the people if given support. I don't know that I can have as much faith in government as he did, but I can have faith in the visions of writers and the power of language. And I can't wait to finish this book.

The thousand spires that Prague is famed for include churches, castles, towers, fountains, and even a metranome. As striking as this spindle-filled skyline is, there is one building that Prague is particularly known by: Prague Castle. Sort of. So the Prague Castle (Prazský Hrad) is actually a collection of buildings on a hilltop in Minor Town. Unlike the Disney-version castle that I was raised imagining, this is a castle complex more comprable to that at Carcassonne, Versailles, Grimaldi Palace...or pretty much any other place designed to support an entire royal court of live people. The curious thing about the Prague Castle complex is that Havel opened it up for the public during his presidency. This means that the current Czech government has meetings in the large pink building and drives around in their cars with tinted windows, and all the while tourists mill around the old monastic library and the Libcowitz museum. 

Beyond this, the building that people most refer to when reducing Prague Castle to a single set of spires is St. Vitus cathedral. The cathedral was started in 1344 by King Charles IV (who is also founded Charles University and for whom the Charles Bridge is named), but it's construction was repeatedly interrupted by wars and financial problems. It was finished in...are you ready for this?...1929. Earlier in the semester, I'd gone with a friend to hear mass and walk around inside. As expected, it's stunning. The mass was in Latin and Czech, the organ echoed powerfully (though I was later to learn that the secrets to acoustically designing a cathedral had been lost by the time St. Vitus was finished so its sound isn't quite perfect), and the Mucha-designed stained glass window sparkled wonderfully and didn't seem completely out of place. All in all, I thought that I couldn't be more awestruck. Well.

It turns out that my professor for History of Architecture is the official historian for Prague Castle. We've been meeting there to explore the buildings each week, but this Monday blew my mind. We walked up to a tower of Saint Vitus, he pulled out a ring of old metal keys, opened a door that I hadn't even noticed previously, and ushered us up the narrow spiral staircase. We started in one of the newer towers and walked around the whole second-level balcony. That means I was eye-level with the bottom of the rose window. We got to see the broken noses of the sculptures of saints and architects on the walls. We walked above the room where the crown jewels are locked away behind their seven locks. We walked behind the Baroque organ that is now out of use. Our professor told us stories about the different stages of the construction process and about being with Havel when they first took out the coronation jewels after the fall of communism. He says these things like they're no big deal. We're standing on stones that had been in place 200 years before our own country had even been founded AND he's telling us about being with the nation's first president of the post-communism years to pull out the coronation jewels from their resting place. I looked over the railing, enjoying a birds-eye-view of the tourists milling about between the wooden benches below, and once again found myself awe-struck by and grateful for these kinds of experiences.