Praha, Pivo and a Little Prosim

And the workshops are under way…

Add bullet point #3 to my curriculum vitae. In addition to doing ‘regular’ classes for Glossa & Skrivanek, I’m now doing some workshops with TEFL classes at The Language House. I’m new at this and so far my lessons have not been structured as proper TEFL lessons. But, in my defense, I’m not teaching a foreign language to these people. I’m talking to native speakers. My goal isn’t to teach 8-10 new words and incorporate them into an activity. There is a set list of information that I’m required to dissect and if I planned out the material as a traditional TEFL lesson, the lesson would be far longer than it needs to be. If I attempted to elicit all the necessary points, we’d be in a classroom for hours. And when there’s beer to be had, this process impedes on the consumption of said potent potable.

I gave nearly a 3 hour ‘tour’ to the new class on Monday. It really shouldn’t be called a ‘tour’ because that’s not really what it is. Yes, they follow me around and I remark about appropriate things such as banking, post offices, markets, and perhaps a bit of history. But as I’m not an official tour guide nor do I have a brain full of historical data regarding this city, the ‘tours’ aren’t really that informative. I suppose the tour is just a quick way to let new students see a bit more of the famous landmarks here in Prague and I’m happy to be the one to do that. However, being the nerd I am I still scripted out some points to cover during said tour and even carried notes. Yes, really.

The new TEFL class seems like a cool bunch. Ten of them are in their twenties and they all seem like a super cool bunch. I hate to say it but they’re probably cooler than my class. Of course, I still have my peeps from my class but the age range in our unit was more varied and, well, we also had Ian.

Let me tell you about Ian. Ian is a guy originally from Rhodesia (and he made frequent reference to himself being Rhodesian—modern day Zimbabwe) but had been living in the UK for years. Ian also claimed to be 43 years old. I use word claimed as well, if you saw him you’d doubt said figure, too. To be kind he appeared to have lived a rough life and I know he enjoyed the bottle quite a bit. In addition to his questionable age, Ian also had 7 children. Yes, that’s certainly higher than the average bloke but if you saw this chap, you’d perhaps be surprised at the amount of sex that is required to manufacture said quantity of offspring. Oy vey. It was rumored also that Ian, in large part, came to Prague so that his ex-wives could not locate him and thus force him to pay for child support. Oh yes, what an upstanding fellow. Additionally, Ian also claimed (again, claimed) that he had a Russian doctor as a fiance. Upon hearing this I was convinced that she was a mail-order bride as no self-respecting female of the medical community would shack up with (and desire sex from) an old and hardened drunken child abandoner. Supposedly this woman also supported him financially and sent him money with frequency.

I feel I should also mention that about half-way through our course one of his baby Momma supposedly attempted suicide. (I’m not trying to make light of a failed suicide attempt but this guy frankly is/was full of shit so I say all of this with speculation as what the real truth might be….) Although this woman was his ex, he was all torn up over the news and just stopped coming to our classes. By the way, attendance is mandatory; you are required not only to be present but also create and teach real lessons to real people every day. If you can’t do those things, you ain’t gonna get yo paper. So, in the middle of his depressed state he then basically locked himself in his shitty room above a local brothel (yes, true) and apparently just festered in his own Rhodesian filth while chain smoking and accumulating empty vodka bottles that became strewn about the room. I know, I’m providing quite a romantic image of this lovely man.

In the end, Ian officially dropped out of our class and continued to fester away in his rather expensive room for a few more weeks. But Ian wasn’t going to bow out completely just yet…..Ian re-enrolled in the next TEFL class (and again, paying more money). I saw him once in the building and I can report he appeared sobert. But, I was later informed that the mysterious Russian doctor was again financing him. At some point it was rumored that during his second course he & Dr. Svetlana Boginskaya (I hope someone will get that reference) got hitched and for a second time he dropped out of the course.

I suppose now Ian is just a legend; the kind of person that TEFL classes will hear about in the hallways of The Language House. Perhaps he’ll gain the status of being ‘that guy’ and providing a beacon of disappointment and failure by which all future TEFLers shall avoid whilst passing in the night.

All this said though, Ian isn’t a jerk or an asshole. I feel obligated to say I liked the guy and he was always very nice to me. However, it was quite apparent to me and everyone else that due has/had some issues and is probably also guilty of stretching the truth a bit if not being a full-blown pathological liar.

But anyway, back to the new TEFL class… in Language House ‘tradition’ it’s known that the most recent TEFL class takes out the new class. But, there were only 3 people in the June class and well, the proportion of new to old would be horrible skewed. Instead, Dita & I put out a bowling & pivo invite via Facebook. It was an evening of cheap beer which in my book is always a good thing. We were at some ‘nonstop’ (an English word that Czechs like to use) place in Vrsovice. The bowling was a mere 2 lanes. Yes, a big and fancy place! Aside from not having the requisite stinky bowling shoe rental, the lanes in this place are also much shorter than the standard. The pins are also on strings. Yes, strings. They are like marionette pins just bouncing about.

At this point I’ll also mention that all the marionette dolls here kind of creep me out. I don’t get it. Their creepy little painted faces and dancing limbs are just plain wrong. I don’t want a replica Pinocchio with tiny wooden feet clopping away on the floor of my flat. Ick. No thanks. Next.

Random pic installment:

My parents were here last week and since my Mom loves me, she fulfilled my requests of bringing over some Frank’s Red Hot and Kraft Mac & Cheese. I’ve expounded on my love of FRH before but since it’s 100% unavailable here and I love it so, I had to have it. Thanks to airline restrictions, Mom had to split up a bottle into the ‘appropriate-sized travel containers’ therefore I received 4 small squeeze bottles of Frank’s. I don’t need the bottle to know there’s crack inside. The mac & cheese… ok yes, this stuff is delicious. I can live without it but simply because it’s also 100% unavailable here, I had to have it. Lastly, Mom brought some powder packets of Hidden Valley Ranch. Ranch is the shit. No arguing. My sister would probably even argue that there is some unknown lifeforce contained within the Ranch particles. All that said, here’s my dinner of chicken with FRH, Ranch and a big GD pile of Kraft Mac & Cheese. I certainly didn’t make this meal for the purposes of photography or aesthetics. I just wanted some tasty vittles.

While M&D were here, we did a day trip to Karlovy Vary. KV is a spa town in W. Bohemia. It’s quite a picturesque little town with lots of cute shops and the like. KV is also the home of Becherovka. Becherovka is pretty much the Czech national spirit. It’s described as an herbal liquor made of 30+ herbs. When I first heard this I equated Becherovka with Jagermeister which is fucking nasty. Jag is herbal so I was making a natural assumption. I was wrong. While Jag tastes like the medicine you Mom made you choke down as a kid, Becherovka tastes like Christmas. At the Becherovka museum shop, they sell the regular stuff along with Lemond (readily available here) as well as a cordial variety and something called KV 14. I had never seen the latter two nor has a friend of mine who is from KV. The KV 14 isn’t as sweet or syrupy as the regular variety and the KV 14 is also made with 10% red wine. It’s certainly more ‘alcoholic’ tasting than the standard but I will confirm it’s pretty good. Recommended serving: very chilled either straight or with orange juice.

It’s been raining like a mother bitch lately. Gorgeous day today, though. What’s a girl to do on a sunny summer day in Prague?

Me and some new TEFL peeps.

p.s. Happy Birthday America now go drink a PBR!

No, I’m not sick but I am bad. Bad for not blogging lately. Shit. Don’t hate me, readers. I gots things to do, man!

My parents visited last week but I’m in the middle of planning out a workshop for tomorrow s I opromise to give a more detailed update this weekend. I’ll even include pics because that’s just how freaking amazing I am. Modest, too…..

Not much new this week in the thousand-year-old city. The city of 100 spires. The Mother of Cities. Ah yes, fucking Prague!

Work is getting ready to roll into the summer session and I only have 1 class that is ‘finished’ as of the end of the month. Apparently I’m one of the lucky ones! I’ll be working for The Language House starting next month. Doing what, you ask? Get this–I’ll be doing job assistance workshops. Nice, eh? Adding an additional employer and new experience is yet another bullet point on the old cirriculum vitae.

VISITORS!

No, these visitors aren’t from another planet. But they will be coming from a little place called The United States of America and they happen to be my parents. I will be on full tour guide patrol/duty for the next week as they are arriving tomorrow. The requisite ‘tidying up’ was completed yesterday. I am genetically predisposed to clean for visitors. I was a good child today and bought some delicious local beer and a bottle of Becherovka for when they check out the flat. Yes, I am fully prepared to imbibe!

Pretty pretty pretty…..

I snapped the following last Saturday night.

Well, it’s been a while since I blogged so this one is going to be peppered with randomness…

1. Usually, when using the metro, I stand. This isn’t because the seats are gross and dirty, this is because many times it’s just easier to get off the metro if you are in front of the door. That said, the other day I was seated just minding my own business. Then, to my left and at perfect eye level there stood a man. While this man was facing away from me, therein lies the heart of my story. Uh well, rather perhaps I should say therein lies the ’seat’ of my story.

The man in question was reading a book or a magazine (I can’t remember and it isn’t important) and perhaps he was unaware of an apparently chronic problem. You see, this man has an unfortunate condition; for the sake of definition, this is something that I’ll call ‘twitching ass syndrome.’ Due to lack of medical acumen, I could not nor cannot ascertain what said condition is actually labelled therefore and for the sake of this writing, it is TAS for short.

This guy’s ass was twitching at full speed. Both cheeks were fully engaged in said twitching activity. The alternate flexing and relaxing of the cheeks was a most interesting visual. Perhaps some could consider such movements to be a kind of silent ass symphony.

I’m not even quite sure what the expression ‘full throttle’ means but I’m going to use it when discussing the separate entity that is/was this dude’s twitching proclivity. This display of gluteal twitches went on for about 5 metro stops and that’s only because I got off the metro and went on my merry way.

All of this brings me to a series of queries…..Does this guy’s ass really twitch uncontrollably for hours at a time? Is this a real and diagnosed condition? What (if any) medical treatment can be sought in connection with such a chronic issue? Has the medical field carelessly disregarded conditions like this for the more ‘glammed up’ research of say, warts, necrotizing fasciitis and seasonal affective disorder?

One last note….before you go Googling this condition (and I already have), there is a serious lack of written material on the subject. Funny thing, I actually knew someone years ago who also had a twitching ass (yes really). However, his gluteal twitches are associated with Tourette’s. His Tourette’s manifested in strange and frequent coughing fits quickly followed by a body shake and ass twitch. Metro man was exhibiting no other obvious Tourette’s-like tics so who’s to say what was happening.

2. The closest grocery store to my flat is the Albert at Namesty Republiky. I mention this store often not because it’s absolutely amazing (it isn’t) but because I’m there too much. There are certainly better Albert branches in Prague; I just happen to live near one of the shitty ones. But, the close proximity and frequent sales are a plus so it’s all good by me.

A frequently appearing word here in Czech is AKCE. Directly translated, I’m not sure what it means but it refers to either a sale or a discount. AKCE is in big capital letters all over Albert. Albert’s sales are pretty killer.

Exhibit A…… it was one of the big AKCE promotions that Branik beer was so insanely cheap a few weeks ago. Refresher: cheap as in 3.90Kc/each. Add in an extra 3Kc for the bottle return and you have a beer for between 25 and 50 US cents. NICE!

Exhibit B……….There was also a big sale of Milka chocolate bars a few weeks ago. Czechs go batty over chocolate (and so do I), so these candy bars were snatched up in no time. Also, I’ll mention that the chocolate bars here are not the standard US size. I’m not sure how many grams each bar weighs but I’ll guess and say these babies might be 8-10 ounces. In other words, they are quite substantial. To provide some kind of reference as to how MUCH Czechs love their sweets, there was a per person/per bar limit on the Milka sale. One afternoon, I was behind a family (that although purchased separately) that bought about 60 freaking Milka bars. Um yeah, that’s a lot of chocolate.

Exhibit C………On my morning run to Albert today, I was in the bakery area and took advantage of the AKCE on some kind of breakfast pastry. I didn’t bother to read the name but I jumped at the 4.90Kc price. Anyway, I’m a sucker for beer/alcohol/wine on sale especially when it’s ‘foreign’ to my palate. All this sale stuff I buy could be complete shit but frankly, it’s ‘exotic’ to me so what the hell.

Hmmm, what’s that inside? Oh silly me, it’s chocolate. Ok, I’ll eat it. Poof! Magic! All gone!

I’m posting this pic because these little bastards are delicious. Not much more needs to be said when you have pecans in the mix. I don’t know what it’s called but I’m pretty sure there’s crack inside. *The pic looks oddly like a stock photo; it’s not. The white plate underneath just gives the illusion that this image is for an in-store demo.

Exhibit D………What else have I bought on sale, you ask? Well of course, I’ll tell you….. some locally produced wine! I’ve purchases cheap wine before, I’m not above doing so. I’m pretty far distances from being an oenophile, so I’m insulting nobody buy making poor choices in the vino department. This week the big AKCE was on wine labeled from Prague 4. F.Y.I., Prague 4 is pretty much in the heart of the city so it’s rather laughable that a bottled product is coming from somewhere in Nusle. While Tesco (and even Albert) have super SUPER cheap boxed wine for the homeless guys, this stuff was only about a half notch above that. I dropped a whopping 27Kc on a bottle of this stuff. Eh, it was fine but at least it was in a bottle.

Dramatic posing of said wine.

3. So as I type this it’s Saturday morning at 945. I’ve been up for two hours (boo!) and if I was a normal person, I’d go back to bed. Alas, this will not happen just yet. I should be in bed because I was out much later than usual last night. It’s always the nights that you don’t PLAN to stay out late that shit happens and you just do.

My friend Dita wanted to go for a beer. Cool by me; I’m always up for a good pivo. We went to Chapeau Rouge which is a bar/club here in Old Town/Prague 1. I’d heard of this place and a bunch of friends had been before, but last night I popped my Chapeau cherry. The vibe of the place is pretty cool. There’s tons of random stuff around and it’s kitschy and a bit funky. We sat at a table in the front and there is a hilarious display in the front window.

I’ll do my best at describing it…..Imagine if you will a ceramic Mary. Yeah, Mary as in, ‘I’m having a baby Joe, take my ass to Bethlehem,’ Mary. Mary is holding a tiny CD, she’s positioned in a bowl of plastic grapes which are flanked by wooden fish. Said bowl is underneath a small spinning disco ball. The bowl is situation on a turn table so yes, Mary is a turnin’. As she does her never-ending cycle of spins, it’s then you notice the plastic guns that surround the whole piece. The symbolism is quite obvious and I love it. Now of course to the Christian fundies this is all obviously very offensive and sacrelege. To the rest of us normal fucks, it’s just plain awesome.

So anyway, back to my story…. when we arrived at Chapeau, it was about 8:30. A fairly early evening out even for American standards. But, we arrived at a good time as we were able to commandeer a table and hold it all night. The place filled up relatively quickly but we had our seats. Most excellent.

Dita & I met some interesting folks during the night. First off I’ll say that Dita is Czech and since I don’t know shit about this language, we were speaking English all night. I’m not sure if it’s because people heard us speaking English but they found us more interesting and wanted to talk and practice their own English. One guy we met is a local camerman and he told us some interesting tales of his travels including one of his buddy who had a vital organ removed (no, not the normal hospital variety excision) when he was kidnapped in Peru. Yikes! This guy was nice enough and we got a free beer out of it. Free beer is my favorite kind.

Camerman dude left and then we met the interesting ones… Again, I think because they heard us speaking English is why they asked if they could roll a joint at our table. (Yes, people DO smoke in public here!) This was a trio consisting of 2 Czech guys and a Slovak girl. One of the Czech dudes (Ladislav!) lives in Ronkonkoma (Long Island) and has a Slovak stripper girlfriend. Yes, live the American dream, buddy! The other two were a couple oh and by the way, they were wearing latex. Yeah, latex. Chapeau Rouge isn’t a fetish bar. But this couple you could just TELL is really into some kinky shit. Anyway, George (latex man) was telling me how his latex is the most comfortable and breatheable (my word, not his) item of clothing he owns. That is, until the dancing and fucking happens (this time his words, not mine). So, this statement gave me the visual of him & his latex girlfriend going at it screaming dirty Czech words to each other while they bite and slap and kick their way out of sex harness/swing. Yikes.

All that said, this trio was pretty nice and friendly and the two guys spoke rather decent English. We split two joints with them and chatted away. (’Why yes, so nice of you to offer, I think I will have a toke!’) During this toke toke pass ritual, George then started telling me about some monthly ‘parties’ in Palmovka. (**Sidenote: I wrote about Palmovka in a blog a few months ago. This is an area of town that I referred to a Communist wasteland. Palmovka is NOT the pretty Prague. ) These ‘parties’ while I’m not exactly sure what goes on at these parties have regular ‘underground’ body modification sessions. George then went into detail about what kinds of body mods they do: piercings (um ok, fine sure yeah, whatever), burnings (WTF), scarrification (again WTF)…… I do not get the hardcore body mods at all. I’ve heard of scarrification but burnings? Who does that shit? But the best part? George gave me his e-mail so I can get on the ‘list’ to these parties. Check and done. Really.

4. Even though I live thousands of miles from ‘home,’ I still like to know what’s happening there. Occasionally, I’ll check the local paper and look at local party pics. I came across these while looking through pics from Taste of the Bluegrass.

Other than say The Joker, has anyone seen a grin like this before? It’s like infinity.

Seriously, WTF is up with her dress. A stupid ribbon/bow that goes right across the middle? I don’t know shit about fashion but I am positive this is shit. The guys from Project Runway would vomit cashmere over this.

And now she’s dancing. And what’s with the expression on the face of the woman in the middle. You just know the that the normal and cute friend regretted going out with those two that night. Too many bad photo ops!

5. It’s Saturday. It’s June. The sky is clear. I don’t have to work today. What am I going to do? I think it’s Brevnov Monastery this afternoon. And I’m bringing the tripod. Hotness.

And here’s a random image of my plush quarters here at Chez Andrea.

Note: this is where the magic is NOT happening

Yes, my desk is boring but this is where I spend most of my time. Imagine me sitting there now typing this.

Funny sidenote…. ok, the lowest window at the bottom behind the right door… there isn’t much visible. A while back I popped right up out of bed at 3am one night. I was wide awake. Of course I opened up my Mac and said hello the these here interwebs. Becuase my table/desk is situation just so, I can clearly see the windows of the flats across the street. In the aforementioned window I noticed a light on. And then I saw movement. I had a glimmer of hope that perhaps I could have been a bit of a voyeur that night and seen people having sex. Nope. Instead I saw something different. First, the normally closed curtains were wide open. There was a light on inside. At this point I’ll also mention that my street is one-way so it’s quite narrow and the buildings are closer than average. So, just inside the window and sitting in a chair was a man. A hot, sexy, strapping man, you ask? Ha, no. This was an old man. An old naked man. The chair was turned outward towards the street. This guy wasn’t doing anything sexual he was just sitting naked in his chair. Maybe he was smoking cigarettes or reading Newsweek. I don’t know how long he had been sitting there nor how long he continued to sit there but the curtains are now closed and the show is over.

As much as it sucks to have one, living on a budget is a bitch. If I could afford steak & crab legs & whiskey every night, believe me, I’d live it up big time. But, the pesky thing called reality bites us all in the ass and provides an anchor for which the budget-minded are required to subsist. That said, I thought I’d share some of my budget meals with my fellow budget-conscious cyber friends.

Everyone that knows me knows that I like to cook. For some the process of shopping, preparation, and the actual cooking is a tortuous concept. They just hate it. Hate everything about it. I’m not one of those people. Going to new and fancy grocery stores is something I like doing. I enjoy slowly cruising the aisles for good little edible treats. I enjoy mincing garlic and chopping onions and all that other stuff even if these things make my hands stinky or make me cry. I enjoy sauteeing random things in a pan and making sauces. It’s just fun. For me, it’s a good time.

Breakfast

A month or so ago I was craving some good American-style breakfast goodies. Other than Bohemia Bagel, it’s rather difficult (if not impossible) to find a place that serves hash browns, bacon (American style–and yes, there is a difference), bagels with cream cheese, omelettes, pancakes, etc. you get my point.

First, I love bacon. Yes, love it. There are really two camps when it comes to bacon: those from the school of ‘burn it’ and those from the school of ‘I’ll take it floppy and greasy, please.’ I am from the latter. Crispy burnt bacon, in my opinion, is a disservice to the bacon. Respect the meat. If it can disintegrate when picking it up, what’ the freaking point of that? The glorious streaks of fat in the bacon are what make it so damn good. Fat = flavor. Go ahead & deny it but it’s the truth. Any butcher will agree.

So, I really wanted some bacon on this particular day… I decided to go full out and make other stuff because I figure that if I want just one thing specifically and am required to go to the store to get it, why not go ahead and make all the other delicious breakfast accoutrements. Bread? Gotta have it. Carbs = life. I toasted up some fresh baked goodness and slapped cream cheese all over that bad boy. Huevos? Gotta have those, too. Scrambled with cheese. Check. Potatoes & onions? Ok, sounds good. Oh wait, let’s add some cherry tomatoes, too!

Lunch

I made some egg salad last week. I don’t eat egg salad regularly but I have to confess I think it’s great. Sometimes I’m pretty easy to please and egg salad is just one of those comfort food items that makes me a happy person. I don’t know about you but egg salad makes me think of picnics and the summer. You know what else makes me think of picnicking? Potato salad. Not being one who usually likes the cold side dishes associated with picnics, I felt a wild rash of potato love this morning and made some potato salad. This is an item that I had never made before but I quickly Googled a recipe and threw some things together. It actually worked and is quite tasty. It also helps that the potatoes were on sale at Albert. One kilo for 7.90Kc is pretty damn reasonable. When it’s on sale, you fucking buy it. It’s an unspoken rule to me.

Since I didn’t want to eat the potato salad by itself, I also made a grilled cheese for the side. Well ok, I’ll be fancy and call this a croque monsieur because I piled some ham on this baby. There is no cheddar in this country. Actually, all the cheeses I’ve seen have been of the light yellow variety. They love their Edam here. It’s everywhere. But, I sprung for some kind of local bleu cheese so my grilled cheese was a variant on the traditional.

Dinner

Unless you live under a rock or a terrorist regime, you’ve probably had a roast chicken in your life. Roast chicken is certainly one of my favorite foods to eat and prepare. Why? Roasting a chicken is super easy and almost impossible to destroy. Whole birds are usually reasonably priced as it requires YOU the purchaser to do the work of skinning and boning the meat.

So, how does one prepare a roast chicken? Here’s what I do and I’m basing this on using a whole chicken…

Preheat your oven to 350 or 375F

Wash your bird and pat dry

Make a delicious compound butter–I typically like minced garlic, salt & pepper, butter, lemon juice, lemon zest, thyme
(You’ll be putting the compound butter underneath and on the skin so make sure you are using an adequate quantity)

Rub the butter all over the bird and separate the skin from the meat using your fingers–this is easy to do but be careful not to pierce the skin as the mixture will of course melt and run out from under the skin

Put the bird in a roasting pan and just let that baby go!

60-75 minutes is usually ample time for the bird to cook through

How to test if a chicken is done? Pierce the meat around the leg and if the juices run clear, you’re good…. also if the legs wiggle freely, that’s a good indicator that the meat is cooked

Of course this can be done with smaller portions of meat (breast, thigh, etc.) but your cooking time will be quite a bit less as your quantity has been reduced

Another tip is to cook the meat on a bed of potatoes, onions, etc. (of course your choice) Depending on how much chicken you are using, you might want to alter when you put in the vegetables as they won’t all necessarily require the same cooking times

The vegetables will also absorb the delicious juices/butter mixture that slowly drips from the chicken so essentially, you will have a pan of damn good eats. Crack open a beer or a bottle of wine and enjoy your meal!

p.s. Good girls like me make leftovers!

Voila!

I imagined purchasing a ticket and subsequent return here would be a big hassle and a pain in the ass. To my surprise, there was no line and the ticket agent spoke English. Hooray for me & my dumbass monolingual self. Like most modes of transport here, I can report that the trains are efficient (aka on time) and really very nice. The car I was in had approx 12 other people so it made me feel like I spent a bit more than 1176Kc. I’m not suggesting that they were plush accommodations with a complimentary foot massage and bottle of Moet but it wasn’t a sub-standard Eastern European shitty railcar filled with stinky people. Quite nice so color me impressed.

RANT:  I was up at 530am and for some GD reason the Finn and his girlfriend (who I NEVER saw and she was here for a WEEK) were both up at the asscrack of dawn, too. That never happened. Dude usually likes to sleep. Anyway, as per his usual messy ass, he promptly went into the kitchen to prepare some vegan breakfast extravaganza that included a gross kind of paste from a tube. Here’s a question: Ok, so vegans and vegetarians don’t eat meat but they eat ‘meat substitutes’ and stuff that kind of ‘looks’ like meat…why? Isn’t the point of being a vegan/vegetarian the AVOIDANCE of meat so why bother with foods that give the meat illusion. Own your fucking status.  So anyway, he was toiling away with the toaster (as he always did) and cut up some vegetables and, of course, left them all sitting out on the counter with the cutting board, knife, loaf of sliced bread and crumbs all over the fucking counter and floor. Let’s hear three cheers for cleanliness. WTF. Good thing he hauled his ass back to Scandinavia. 

Profiling? Racist? Never. Here’s an interesting observation–or at least I found it to be…

At the last stop in the C.R., the Czech police stroll through the train just looking at people and I suppose checking random papers/passports. Nobody on my car was checked. Then, the overhead p.a. system throws out the ‘thank you’ announcement and the train crew switches over to a German one. Once in Germany, the German police stroll through the cars going through the same process. Again, they walk right past me and everyone else. No wait, they randomly ask for the paper of the Indian family sitting a few rows back. Racial profiling? You decide. Good thing they didn’t find the 4 kilos of hash & heroin packed away in my laptop. 

I arrived in Dresden at 11 with 2.5 hrs to kill. What to do, what to do? As it turns out the Czech Consulate is super close to the Dresden-Neustadt station  so that was no problem.  The Brits bombed the shit out of Dresden in WWII. But, in recent years apparently many landmarks have been refurbished/reconstructed so Dresden is really nice. I walked around a bit and was a total tourist. 

Consulate appointment at 1:30. There was an American college student trying to get a visa and I thought she was going to have some kind of mental breakdown. Apparently she didn’t have the right insurance papers and I was really sure the girl was going to flip the fuck out. Why? Not only did she not have the right papers but also if she did, they would be in English and since the foreign police are the ones who accept/deny/process your papers, the stuff needs to be in (big surprise!) Czech. She begged for permission to use a fax and the very patient woman behind the counter at the Consulate had to explain multiple times (and quite nicely) that it wouldn’t matter if she got a fax because of the ENGLISH on the document. Anyway, this dumbass girl went on her merry way and probably cried her way back to the train station. 

 The interview. First, the Consulate official asked the other people to leave the room as the interview was ‘private.’ There was a series of questions but none of these were terribly personal. She didn’t ask when I had my last period nor did she ask what color underwear I was wearing. Alas, the interview was over shortly and I GOT MY STAMP which is what I came to do. Of course, I’m still not here 100% legally but at least I am permitted to stay longer than the alotted 90-day run from my initial Schengen entry date. The Czech foreign police have 90 to 120 days to approve or deny my visa application so I’ll be here (at least) for a little while longer.

The train back to Prague was better than the first. All the cars on the return run were private (6 seater) compartments only. These are the ones you see in the movies. I didn’t even pay for an actual ’seat’ on either leg of the journey but this train was rather empty as was the dining car. The dining car was nice. Real nice. I promptly headed to the dining car and to my dismay there was no Capt. Steubing or ‘Julie Your Cruise Director’ waiting for me at a big table. But then I remembered that I wasn’t on the fucking Love Boat. Damn. Oh well, at least they served beer. Glorious beer. I love you. 

Dear Blog, 

I haven’t forgotten about you but I’ve been a bit busy this week. I will post some details about the ‘Dresden Run’ and some photos later today or tomorrow. I promise we are still BFFs.

 All my love,

Andrea

I went back to the SAPA market yesterday and ate some lunch that I still have no idea about the meat within the dish. That is, what it was or could have been. I suppose it could have been dog but let’s hope not. On normal circumstances, I don’t usually allow my mind to wander to such culturally different options but considering the odor and smell of what I ate, I’m not entirely sure there wasn’t a domesticated house pet in my lunch. My fear of being taken to the back somewhere and beaten by small Asian men prohibited me from snapping a quick pic of said meal.

I can’t even quite recollect what the dish was called so I’ll do my best to describe what it was. In appearance alone, it looked like Pho. A big steaming bowl of golden broth with noodles and ‘meat’ as well as a plate of herbs & things to mix in at my leisure. Of course, as per usual there were the condiments of Sriacha, hot chilis/oil and some hot garlic as well that was in a jar next to the other condiments. I also ordered a beer (25Kc) and it arrived unopened. The waiter brought me a glass afterwards as well as a bottle opener. The work was to be done by me I suppose. The food arrived in less than 5 minutes which was bonus. I like that. I was fully prepared to fiddle with my iCal on the iPod but alas, my plans of killing time were dashed by quick food arrival. The bowl of steaming ingredients had an odd odor. The ‘meat’ was all fried and doing the backstroke across the top of the piping hot liquid. Even 24 hours later, I’m still not sure on the meat part. At first I thought it was pork and then I thought it was fish. I know, one has hooves while the other has fins. Actually, I think ‘it’ was a mix of both but the ‘kind’ of fish it may have been was a mystery. All the little food markets at SAPA have tanks outside with barely fish (catfish, carp, not sure?). So, by using my powers of deduction, I’ll say that the fish was from one of those establishments. My lunch actually tasted better than it smelled which I think is perhaps a bit odd. Smells and tastes are usually associated with each other and one can usually ascertain a taste by how something smells.

The end result? Well, I’m not dead which is a bonus. And if it was dog, cat, or hamster, it was consumed. You make the call.

I’m headed to Dresden, Germany, in the morning. For those unfamiliar, I suggest you Google the Schengen Zone. As a current Schengen resident, I get to do all kinds of fun bullshitty stuff associated with making me ‘legal’ here. Although the process had already begun, I get to do a quickie day trip to the Czech consulate tomorrow to submit my visa application. If all goes according to plan, and this government decides not to evict me, I get to go back to Dresden at a later date and pick up my approved visa. Then…. I get to hit up the Foreign Police and ‘activate’ my visa. This is all AFTER I’ve obtained a zivnostensky list (trade license). The z-list (as they are abbreviated here) was only acquired following the acquisition of a notarized criminal record check, a signed affidavit from my landlord permitting me to set up ‘business’ at this address and also an additional document from the building owner. Hooray for diplomacy and bureaucratic redtape. Goody goody gumdrops!

Perhaps I’ll blog again from the train to Dresden. Photos and videos of my journey to Deutschland to come at a later date.

Here’s just something that cracked me up. I saw a link for a foam creation light fixture. Yes, really. Anyway, some guy made the following light fixture from foam pieces that are shipped with Apple computers. In the actual instructions, he mentioned that he used low-wattage bulbs so I supposed that reduces/eliminates the pesky worry of safety and fire. Anyway, when I was looking at the pic of the fixture in the office, I noticed that the office has some of the most hilarious framed ‘art’ I’ve seen. I love it and I want to work there. Where can I buy these?

**Oh also, I went to the Prague Zombie Walk on Saturday. In short, a very cool event. Lots of blood, and moaning through the Old Town area. Good times. Stay tuned.

The Beer Gods

In Czech, when a sign reads AKCE, you should follow said sign. My Czech vocabulary is limited but this is a good thing. I’ll explain why.

There is a beer God and he exists in the form of 3.90Kc per beer. Yes, we have a winner! Bargain! While the currency exchange rate fluctuates, I keep a standard 20Kc per 1USD in my head when I’m doing the conversion. So, if you include a 3Kc/bottle return rate, the beer is 7.90Kc each. That said, there is no unit of currency here smaller than 1Kc so when anything is listed as say X.90 or X.50Kc, the store (or the magic money Gods) keeps the difference. I can’t figure why stuff just isn’t listed at whole Kc units. Rounding up the amount is the only way to go. Moral of the story? A half liter of Czech-made brew for 8Kc each. See, I bought six!

Branik isn’t the best beer by any stretch. But, it’s certainly not the Czech equivalent to Milwaukee’s Best and it’s far from being as catastrophic as hexavalent chromium. (Was that reference too vague?) Alas, when the beer is practically FREE and the store wants you just to take it off their premises, you must do your duty as a human and bring the stuff home, chill it and then bask in the bubbly golden glory that is pivo.

Here’s something about the beer here that I don’t think I’ve mentioned….beer is on draft here. It’s everywhere. That’s a given. However, when the guy is pulling your beer from the tap (or tank–but I’ll cover that in a later post), he does something wonderful and magical. All the beer here (best to the worst included) is served with a thick foamy head. No, this isn’t like the head you get off a beer from a bottle and certainly not like the head you get off a US domestic draft. This is different. Other than actually seeing it for yourself, I can say the apparent difference is immediate. This famed foamy head that rests atop your beverage does not dissipate quickly nor acquiesces quietly into submission. No, this stuff lingers. Of course, the more you consume your beverage, the head will decrease but little foamy bubble rings will slowly creep down the sides of your glass as the amber hued nectar backstrokes through your digestive system, becomes incorporated and welcomed friend into your evening and more importantly, incorporates into your soul.

Flea Markets

If you haven’t been to one, go find one. Flea markets are great people watching locations as well as being hubs of activity for the dirty, the unwashed, the perverted, and for many varieties of the species known as mullet. That said, there really isn’t much difference between American flea markets and the flea market at Kolbenova. I’m calling it that because I don’t know the real name; it’s across the street from the Kolbenova metro stop so thus my assumption. I have a 90-day metro/tram pass that permits me to go anywhere and since I’m on a rather ’shoestring’ budget, I figured I’d go maximize what I can do for the least amount of money. (Plus, this allowed me to work in my new nerdy hobby of metro/tram/bus riding. Yes, I know, it sounds like an activity for an indigent individual who just wants a quick thaw from a cold and blustery winter evening.)

There is an entrance fee to the flea market at Kolbenova. Twenty Kc isn’t ridiculous but I was expecting the place to be free. First off, I’ll say that the flea market is located in/around/behind a worn-down industrial swath of buildings. Well, its basically a big parking lot behind some shithole asbestos landmines.

Upon entry, there is an immediate food and beer vendor. Nice. But then the place opens up. This dusty parking lot is huge. Vendors set up their wares either on blankets on the ground or on tables or even on the hoods of their cars. There was actually quite a lot of stuff I wasn’t expecting to see there: washing machines, refrigerators, satellite dishes, windshields and bumpers, bras, guns, and super cheap porn. I almost considered buying some cheap Eastern European amateur porn just so I could mark the stuff up 3,000% and sell it on EBay. I could make a killing. And to clarify…how cheap is ’super cheap’ porn? Well, is 20Kc cheap enough for you? That’s less than 3 of the cheapie Braniks from Albert.

Aside from the flesh and ammo peddlers, there was also a fair amount of stuff that looked like it was scavenged right from the the attic of a dead of Czech lady. In fact, I think her crusty, rotting, and partly dessicated heart still beats the heartbeat of Communism. From her Communist regime decorated home, the vendors scavenged and fought their way to plenty of Cold War era boots and helmets to make available for purchase. The most interesting thing I saw at the flea market was actually a collection of old (and rather artistic) post cards. Some had been written on and posted and some were still blank. Most had scenes of a tranquil Czechoslovakian countryside while others were from local pubs and miscellaneous points of interest. This was another mental note I made that if I bought this stuff, I could totally sell it on EBay. There is always something oddly personal and fascinating about not only reading someone else’s mail but also getting a unique perspective of history. I don’t know, maybe it could be called a written snapshot. A moment frozen in time now available for sale for only 100Kc!

Although I mentioned that the flea market is quite large (which it is), a few of these were snapped in the ‘empty’ part of the lot so it appears more bleak than reality.

Flatmate Rant

One of my flatmates is incapable of doing his dishes. I understand he is from a foreign county as am I, however, in my native language there is a little word called CLEANING. I’m fairly sure it has a linguistic counterpart in every and all parts of the world. However, somehow I think the Finnish version of this word was not taught to my flatmate. I do his dishes everyday. Not a joke. The fact that he’s a vegan is cool with me but he makes some real funky vegan food. For example… for a while he was concocting some stuff and putting it in a plastic container in the fridge. It is/was a warm yellow (I’ll call Yukon Gold potato yellow) paste-like substance but it was not potatoes. I peeled the lid back once and I couldn’t determine what the fuck it was or could possibly have been. The vegan diet eliminates any and all animal meats and animal derived products so I’m at a loss to how he prepared this stuff and/or consumed it with glee and fervor. So anyway, he (to be named later) likes to cook pasta and tofu and sauce. He does this a lot. A couple times a week, actually. But, I think something happens to him physiologically when he’s stirring the pasta in the pot as his arms are rendered useless. What? ‘That doesn’t make sense,’ is what you are thinking. Well to my expertly trained eye, I gather that the excited motions of constant stirring send his muscles into a post-stirring shock. His arms lock up and dangerous chemicals are released into his bloodstream. He is only barely able to finish the intensive process by plating his meal and leaving the dishes for the god damn dish gnome (me!) to wash. Oh glorious day! I love it when I get to wash the dishes of a grown ass man that I haven’t even seen naked.

So, I came home the other day and as per usual, there were dirty dishes to be cleaned. Oh joy. (Now wait, you might be thinking I’m some kind of neurotic germ-o-phobe or just a super anal bitch. I can certainly be bitchy but I’m by no means anal. I do, however, have (and know) the concept of what it is to live with others. I have also lived alone and I am aware that I have to do my OWN cleaning. Why? Because unless you live with your Mother, nobody else is going to do it for you. And before you tell me what an idiot I am for doing his dishes, I should tell you that the supplies in this flat at LIMITED. There isn’t enough to go around for multiple meals so if you want to use a piece of cookware or a plate, it has to be clean to use it. We ain’t go no backups, yo.) Back to my story…. I came home the other day and as per usual there were dirty dishes on the stove and in the sink. Great, awesome, fun, I love this job! My flatmate was gone but he left his creation sitting in a container (no lid) on the counter. I don’t think he did this inadvertently, he just doesn’t give a shit. The ketchup was also mysteriously out on the counter. I hadn’t used it that day and the 3rd flatmate is out of the country so by my amazing skills of deduction, I knew that HE was the guilty party. My conclusion was that this guy squeezed a big mound of generic Euro ketchup upon his vegan pasta nightmare. Dude that’s not vegan, that’s just gross. He usually uses bottled pasta sauce and he loves to keep the jars. Keep the jars everywhere, I mean. Most of Europe is recycle friendly but HE just lets these jars pile up all over. He doesn’t DO anything with them just like he doesn’t DO anything with the pile up of empty wine bottles. (Note: I finally threw the wine bottles away last week because I was tired of looking at them.) On another note, he also likes to leave out random half eaten vegetables. For example, there is a sliced lemon on a plate that has been sitting out for 3 days. But, with greater frequency there is usually either a tomato, cucumber, or a random pepper sitting out waiting for bugs to spread their diseased legs on for which to spew forth their vile offspring.

Aside from his genetic predisposition at being incapable of cleaning (maybe it’s an allergy? his body is rejecting the geographic relocation away from his Nordic homeland?), he also contributes nothing to this flat. No wait, sorry, he pays rent. Now of course I’m not expecting some kumbaya circle-of-friends dynamic and hand-holding and for us to all be the best of friends. However, it would be nice if a) he bought some fucking toilet paper b) bought some soap c) thanked me for doing A and B. Ok, I realize the buying soap might be a stretch because then that would be an admission that he knew what it was for….WASHING THE DISHES. Smart move on his part? Perhaps.

Count the jars. There are more unseen. They’re like ghosts.

Also, please note the random tomato and pepper. The pepper was only in the refrigerator because I put it there. True story.

OK, end rant.

Nerd Hobby

Going back to the random fun hobby I have of riding the metro/tram/bus….I took a journey to the SW part of town on Friday. I like to check out mapy.cz and find someplace with an old building or church and figure out the directions and go from there. Anyway, seeing this car cracked me up so ladies, if you are available, call Jaroslav!!

Food Budget

That shoestring budget I mentioned earlier? If you look for and purchase the right things here, groceries can actually be relatively inexpensive. Namely, potatoes, onions, and pork are super cheap and you can easily buy a fair amount of all three for a total less than 5USD. This is good for me as thankfully, I love some roasted potatoes and onions and well, according to Anthony Bourdain, porky goodness is just that. Tonight, I bought some random red curry paste (with the English directions conveniently covered over with a sticker), vegetables and rice. Cheap veggies and rice combinations can make your food dollar really stretch. One doesn’t have to be a coupon-cuttin’ Momma to know how to make the most of your food dollar. Ok, so I had a bag of frozen peas and frozen cauliflower. Both delicious and nutritious. The refrigerator in this flat is half-sized. Boo, I know. But, due to the size of this horribly small freezer, I was trying to maximize what little space there is by consolidating said vegetables. BRAINSTORM! ‘I’ll just marry the contents of the bags–it will save space! I’m a genius!’ Ah well, therein was my problem. Because I decided to marry the peas into the cauliflower rather than vice versa, I had a rather comical moment. And also, because the openings on the bags were both too small, this compounded the issue. Let’s just say that the sound of PLINK PLINK PLINK echoed throughout the kitchen as the little green balls from hell went everywhere. I think perhaps the top of the cabinets and the walls were the only surfaces unscathed by pea madness ‘09. These little frolicking bastards even got INSIDE the refrigerator. Jumpy little fuckers. Good times.

Just a quick post as I’m sitting in the Glossa teacher’s room but I have some time to kill and I have yet a few more random things on my desktop that I’ve saved just for the sole purpose of mentioning here.

While skimming Prague.tv the other day, I found this.

Good to know they just require someone who is pleasant and sane. Do people want the crazy? Why yes, yes they do.

I can honestly say I don’t think I’ve ever seen the word facesitting in print before. First time for everything, I guess.

On another note, I love eggs. That’s a completely random statement and has nothing to do with anything but it still doesn’t change the fact that I do enjoy my eggs. Not unlike Bubba Blue and his love of shrimp and all ways they can be prepared, the huevos are tasty treats. A few of the ways I enjoy eating them include: poached, scrambled, in quiche, omelette, egg salad, hard boiled…eggs are also most excellent when making mayonnaise, bearnaise and how could I forget ICE CREAM? Ice cream is one of the greatest things ever made on this planet. There is no discussion on that point. I could like ice cream off some really dirty things. Yes, that was meant to be naughty.

But that said, I think someone/something might like eggs more than I do. In fact, I’ll go ahead and say they love eggs to a degree that I can’t even contemplate. They made a song about it. It’s strange, funny, cute and bizarre–not a typical combination but it might make you want to go fix an egg sandwich.

Speaking of sandwiches, I was a bit creative with some eggs a few days ago. 

No, that’s not your typical sunny side up egg.Let’s look closer.

Why yes, that’s an egg on TOP of a grilled cheese sandwich. I’m a genius. I have to say the toast + gooey cheese + runny yolk combo is a nice treat. Anything with melty goodness is alright by me.