A Day In the Life

Everyone appreciates a lazy day, especially me. It's even better if the dreary weather gives you all kinds of excuses to stay inside. Today I discovered that a day of doing nothing has to have a few ground rules. First, you have to have access to some kind of television or movies. Preferably in English. Second, it's nice to have someone to talk to (on the phone or in person), if you want. It's also nice to have the option of an activity-("I think I'll reorganize the closet!") When you TRULY have nothing to do, it gets trickier. I have read books and magazines, showered, cleaned the room and watched tv. It's 8 p.m. and everyone is staying late at the studio to finish their projects. I'm starting to become (more) eccentric with all of this time I'm spending alone. The last time this happened, I ended up with 5 cats.

So, in all of my free time, I did some channel surfing. Here is what I discovered: We have approximately 20 channels of porn. I think they are mostly 1-900 numbers, but it's hard to tell because they are all in German. However, they do show boobs on regular tv (sorry mom) and I don't think they are into plastic surgery. All natural, and that's not necessarily a good thing.

My next option is music videos. There are probably 3 channels and almost all of the videos are from the U.S., but I've watched the same videos so many times that I've memorized the dance moves. So when Britney calls looking for back-up dancers, tell her I'm in Prague.

Option #3-World News. Not terrible, but it sounds like the reporter is debating whether or not his life is worth showing up to work for one more day. At least it's in English!

And finally, the Jesus networks. There are at least 2 channels that are on 24 hrs. a day. And the best part is that all of the preachers have southern accents! I spent two hours on Daystar Networks without batting an eye. My favorite show is called "The Ramp". As in 'the ramp to Heaven' I presume. It has young fatigues-clad dancers performing a step-routine for Christ and a minister who is late 30's(?) and looks like Chris Robison, lead singer of the Black Crows-long hair, tattoos, etc.

So what are the long term effects of watching too much Ausrtian MTV and Jesus TV. Maybe I'll be able to come out with my own religious video! The possibilities are endless! I've been pondering a career change-now who wants to be a back-up dancer?

McMansion is Relative

Yesterday we moved to the penthouse. We had originally requested a two person room with a private bathroom, and when we arrived, that's what we got, technically. Our room had two single beds pushed together and about 2 feet around the edge of the bed to walk. We had some decent storage space, but you either had to stand in front of the door or sit on the bed. Now the bathroom. At first we thought there had been a misunderstanding because our bathroom was down the hall, so we assumed we were supposed to share it with other people. When Dave asked them, they said that it was, in fact, our private bathroom. Super. Two problems: it smelled TERRIBLE and we had to take keys with us every time we left the room. Imagine locking your bedroom or living room, unlocking the kitchen or bathroom, relocking, and repeating as many times as you move from room to room. This includes 3 a.m. when you have to pee and your hand-eye co-ordination isn't so great. This also rules out peeing with the door open, my personal favorite. And then there was the SMELL! It smelled strongly of sulfur all the time. I'm not sure if it's a common problem here, but some of the toilets have a permanently terrible smell-like sewage. The bathroom itself was immaculate and recently renovated, but none of that could stop whatever may have been lurking in the depths.

So our old room was probably 12'x12' with detached bath. Our new room feels like the equivalent of Robert Redfords' estate. Two people can pass each other without one of them walking on the bed. We can even pull out a chair far enough to sit on it (without the back of the chair touching the bed and blocking the door). There is enough room on the floor to have a picnic (as when entertaining friends)! The possibilities are endless! And we have an attached bathroom-no more peeing with the door closed for me-Dave is thrilled. (In case you don't know Dave, this is sarcasm, Dave is not thrilled. When he asked me why I refuse to close the door I told him that it gets too lonely in there. He didn't even argue-probably because you can't argue with a crazy person.) Also, this bathroom doesn't stink! All of my dreams have come true! Move over George Jefferson...

Smoking and Fitness

It turns out that the Czech people do not smoke in as many public places as I had imagined. I had envisioned smoking on the treadmill, in the produce section, at the elementary schools, in the hospitals, etc. Realistically, it is mostly restaurants and bars. SOMETIMES they have a non-smoking section (of 4 tables) but the second-hand smoke has so thoroughly saturated the place that it makes zero difference.

I had heard a rumor that the gyms here had a bar with cocktails and smoking for before, after, (and during?) your workouts. Well, I've only been to one gym and there was no one smoking. And as far as I could tell, there were no cocktails either (sadly). The only "bar" is a smoothie bar and I don't think that they are spiking the smoothies. Honestly, I'm a little disappointed. Not that I wanted to be wheezing on second-hand smoke during a yoga class, but the irony would have been pretty funny.

I signed up for a Pilates class at the gym. I was waiting for the instructor on a bench outside the room with a few other ladies. Two feet in front of me was a weight machine. A body-builder who was 6'15'' about 300 lbs. comes over and has to use this machine. The gym was empty, but apparently he had to use THIS machine. Not only that, but he had to grunt LOUD with each rep. It was hilarious! Maybe it was all a coincidence, but it sure felt like he was trying to impress us while he blasted his delts.

So more and more people are showing up for Pilates and I'm getting worried because its giving me a flashback of the time I signed up for water aerobics and was the youngest by at least 40 years. Then the instructor shows up. All of my previous instructors (in the U.S.) have been very thin, super-fit women who could kick Wonder Woman's ass. Not only is my instructor a DUDE, but he's huge (almost as big as the delt-blaster) and covered in tattoos! Hmm. Like everything else in Prague, not what I was expecting.

It turned out to be a really challenging class-more like a combination of Pilates and high-school p.e., but still worth the 100Crowns ($6.00).

Next I'm going to try yoga or zumba. Not speaking Czech makes these classes a whole new adventure-its really helping me learn how to count to 10.

What a Difference a Decade Makes

Today was the last day of classes for the week (no class on Fridays) so of course people are ready to unwind. The interesting thing is that our NCSU group has around 25-30 people, 75% of them female. In addition, many of them are as young as 19, and the legal drinking age of 18 is really just a suggestion. So one might imagine that the activities that the ladies have planned might not coincide with the ones that I have planned. Some of the grad students, Dave and myself were playing cards with one of the professors in the common area when we got an anonymous tip. Apparently the ladies were getting ready for a big night out that wasn't starting until midnight and didn't require much clothing. Well, I couldn't pass up an opportunity to see the train before the wreck, so I marched upstairs for some small talk. Nevermind the fact that I don't know any of their names or have spoken more than 5 words to any of them. Also, I was wearing my favorite outfit-grey sweatshirt (too big), bright green sweatpants (sagging in the butt), brown fuzzy socks and teal danskos. Also, I had a braid on one side of my head because the other side had come out. It is amazing that they didn't assume that I was a homeless person. I made enough small talk to get a good look at things (micro mini-skirts, cleavage everywhere) and then they asked me what I was doing. Maybe they thought that I just hadn't started getting ready yet. After all, it was only 10:30. I still had plenty of time. I almost choked to keep from laughing. I wished them fun times and headed back to our room. I just hope I get to see the remnants of the trainwreck tomorrow. How was it so much fun 15 years ago and now is absolutely unbearable? Signing off-it's 11:30 and almost past my bedtime.

The Learning Curve Cont.

Well, another learning curve. I just realized that I do not have an indefinite amount of space for a single blog post. That took 30 min.

Now, back at Tesco in the grocery section. First I am going to need a cart. It's important to watch and see what everyone else is doing so as to embarrass yourself a little less. It looks like you have to unlock the carts by inserting money. Got it. I'm collecting packaged items and doing my best to decipher what might be inside, but it is nerve-wracking because Tesco is like shopping in the middle of Times Square. It is a mob scene at every hour of the day.

Now it is time to collect my produce. At least I know that I have to weigh it and get the price sticker. I'm nervous, but I think I can do it. I'm watching everyone in the produce section and no one seems to be weighing anything. In fact I don't even see a scale. Crap. I CANNOT screw up again-it's really beginning to effect my self-esteem. Maybe I should just put all of the produce back and purchase 3 months of frozen pizza. No, I can do this, but I'm going to have to ask the man for help. I ask if he speaks English-"a little". It turns out at this store you don't have to get the price sticker from the produce scale. They take care of it at the checkout, just like the USA! I make it through the checkout (without incident) and pack up my groceries-one backpack full and two grocery bags. When I return my cart I get my deposit back! This trip has gone swimmingly, and it only took me just under 4 hrs.! Now I just have to get these groceries home on the metro...

I am beginning to realize that my ideas about getting a job may have been nuts. There is no way to have a job here without speaking the language, unless I want to be a mime. And as it turns out, I don't have time for a job because most errands (groceries, laundry, etc.) are taking nearly 4 hrs. I try to commit to one errand per day. Any more than that would probably give me a nervous breakdown.

I hope this all doesn't sound too negative because we really are having a great time. Things are getting easier each day-it can be frustrating when you have to do everything wrong the first time in order to figure out how to do it right, but we're getting there. It's also been great to be with a group of Americans who are embarrassing themselves right along with you. It makes me sad to be fulfilling every horrible American tourist stereotype out there, but it's a learning curve.

The Learning Curve

We have been here a little over a week and my greatest discovery has been that everything takes FOREVER! This has nothing to do with the people of Prague, but my own inability to read maps and communicate. Also, walking, taking the metro (below ground) and the tram (above ground) take alot more planning than walking out to your driveway and zipping off in your car.

Ahh-my trip to the grocery store. I just picked up a few items, one of them being grapefruit. I take my items to the checkout and the cashier asks me something in Czech holding up the grapefruit. I have no idea what she wants. I realize (eventually) that she must need the price. I walk back to the produce section (far away) and realize that I have no way to communicate the price to her, so I borrow a pen from one of the other NCSU students and write the price on my hand. Now the line at the checkout has really grown. The cashier finally comes over and gets the price herself. As it turns out, you have to weigh your produce in the produce section and the scale spits out a tag with the price that you are supposed to put on your produce bag. Whoops, I guess I missed that. I know the Czeck people are not smiley, but she was clearly pissed.

A few days later I go to the Tesco, which is like Target on steroids. It has 6 floors, the first floor being a full grocery store. My goal is to get a few items to use in our room (knife, cutting board, hairdryer, etc) plus groceries. Well, I need to plan ahead because Tesco is a combination of metro plus walking, and I have to be able to get all of my items home. The Czeck people have opted not to embrace the rolling carts that they use in New York and D.C. Looks like I'm going to need a backpack. First I go to the floor with housewares and find most of my items pretty easily. However, plastic utensils are giving me a fit. They are nowhere to be found. I spend 30-45 min. looking for them. Maybe the Czeck people don't use them. I finally decide that I'm going to have to ask (Tesco employees speak very little English-I hate asking). She tells me that they are on level 3 with paper, as in stationery. Obviously she must have misunderstood what I was looking for because I can't imagine what plastic forks and stationery have in common. Well what do you know-she understood me perfectly because there they are, right next to the greeting cards. Hmm. Wouldn't have been my first guess.

Now it's time to look for a hair dryer. Probably in the beauty section (which is one entire floor). Wrong. They have liquor in the beauty section, but not hair dryers. After riding the escalators up and down for the better part of an hour, I decide to ask. She wants to sell me hair SPRAY. Close, but not quite. Now it is time for me to begin acting out how a hairdryer works and sounds. I'm glad no one here knows me because charades is embarrassing when you are the only one playing the game. Eventually we sort it out and she tells me that they are on the fourth floor in electronics. Right next to the televisions and game systems. Of course.