Saturday we woke up early and left the sketchy hotel. Our destination that morning was the town where DH's and M.’s great-great grandfather was born. It was a tiny little town at a crossroad with a population of about ten. We talked to three of them. I use the term talk loosely. My Czech is definitely functional, not conversational, and it’s not all that good. The whole experience was very surreal. Think about a kid packing up and leaving his country, going across the ocean to a land where he wouldn’t know the language or the people, knowing he probably would never see his family again. It takes guts. I have a new respect for my ancestors.
We toured the Pilsner Urquell brewery that afternoon. Learned a lot of technical mumbo-jumbo about beer, sampled beer straight from the barrel. Mostly though, we watched this guy who we later found out was a brewmaster from Seattle. There was a section of the tour where they show you the barley, water, and hops that they use to make the beer. There is a bucket of barley out so visitors can touch it and smell it. They have about ten tours a day, probably of about ten to twenty people each, all touching the barley.
The guy ate the barley.
I shudder to think about it even now. He probably has the plague.
We assumed our car roles, and we headed back to Prague. It was a true test of my navigating capabilities and M.’s Czech driving. The drivers were crazy, the map was terrible, and the three of us were exhausted. We were doing okay until Prague decided to put a parking ramp in the middle of the road and have all the lanes exit into the parking garage. Luckily for us, they gave five hours of free parking on the weekends.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
The worst day
One day had to receive the honor of being the worst day of the trip. Thursday won. We woke up early, had breakfast, and toured the castle at Cesky Krumlov. The moat there is home to a huge brown bear. Learned that the answer to 'does a bear poop in the woods?' is no. He poops in a moat. We decided against photographic evidence.
We had developed set roles by this point in the trip. M. was not allowed to navigate as his attention was easily caught by tractors. Once while navigating, he looked up and asked why we were turning right. He hadn't noticed the signs. DH was not allowed to navigate or drive because he couldn't see out the windows. So M. drove, I navigated, and DH was in charge of snacks and naps.
We headed north to a spa town where we were going to get massages. We had been told it was full of Russians. I think this was code for overpriced, ugly, and not worth the trip. To quote M., "This town sucks." After trying five different hotels and finding them all full or WAY out of our budget or closed, we decided to head back to Plzen.
Now the map we were navigating with was not the most detailed of maps. It had major highways, bigger towns, and county lines. We had discovered that the term road was loosely applied. Some marked major highways were similarto our interstates back home. Some were more like our two lane highways. Then there were the roads that didn't make it to the map. A few had all three lines painted on them, but most did not. It seemed they took an asphalt truck and followed the cow trails. There were no shoulders. They planted trees next to the road- right next to the road. In a few places the road had been paved around the tree. Most of them could fit two cars side by side. This was not a concern for the drivers; they passed uphill-around a corner-in the rain with abandon. We call this "feeling Czech".
We drove around Plzen searching for a hotel or wireless signal. We were not successful. M. and I left DH at a cafe and went in search of a hotel. One place was kind enough to show us a room. We went to the fourth floor and a chambermaid met us. She said "room". We nodded. She took us to the door, pointed, and left. The door was locked. I don't know if this counts as showing us a room, but she was nowhere to be found. We had some trouble with the fire escape, but made it out mostly undetected.
We were cold, wet, tired, and cranky – always an excellent combination. M. and I decided that we were going to get in the car, drive north, and stay in the first hotel we came across that had a restraint nearby no matter how sketchy it seemed. That is how we ended up at Hotel Diana. It had a pool/large cement round bowl full of rain water and scum. It had communal bathrooms. It had a bathtub with a shower head laying in it. It had shower curtain rings with no shower curtain. It had beds/cushions on platforms. It was a Communist horror. It was clean and dry though, and the restaurant was across the driveway.
Have you ever had one of those moments when you walk into a room and everyone looks you up and down and knows you do not belong there? We have.
We had developed set roles by this point in the trip. M. was not allowed to navigate as his attention was easily caught by tractors. Once while navigating, he looked up and asked why we were turning right. He hadn't noticed the signs. DH was not allowed to navigate or drive because he couldn't see out the windows. So M. drove, I navigated, and DH was in charge of snacks and naps.
We headed north to a spa town where we were going to get massages. We had been told it was full of Russians. I think this was code for overpriced, ugly, and not worth the trip. To quote M., "This town sucks." After trying five different hotels and finding them all full or WAY out of our budget or closed, we decided to head back to Plzen.
Now the map we were navigating with was not the most detailed of maps. It had major highways, bigger towns, and county lines. We had discovered that the term road was loosely applied. Some marked major highways were similarto our interstates back home. Some were more like our two lane highways. Then there were the roads that didn't make it to the map. A few had all three lines painted on them, but most did not. It seemed they took an asphalt truck and followed the cow trails. There were no shoulders. They planted trees next to the road- right next to the road. In a few places the road had been paved around the tree. Most of them could fit two cars side by side. This was not a concern for the drivers; they passed uphill-around a corner-in the rain with abandon. We call this "feeling Czech".
We drove around Plzen searching for a hotel or wireless signal. We were not successful. M. and I left DH at a cafe and went in search of a hotel. One place was kind enough to show us a room. We went to the fourth floor and a chambermaid met us. She said "room". We nodded. She took us to the door, pointed, and left. The door was locked. I don't know if this counts as showing us a room, but she was nowhere to be found. We had some trouble with the fire escape, but made it out mostly undetected.
We were cold, wet, tired, and cranky – always an excellent combination. M. and I decided that we were going to get in the car, drive north, and stay in the first hotel we came across that had a restraint nearby no matter how sketchy it seemed. That is how we ended up at Hotel Diana. It had a pool/large cement round bowl full of rain water and scum. It had communal bathrooms. It had a bathtub with a shower head laying in it. It had shower curtain rings with no shower curtain. It had beds/cushions on platforms. It was a Communist horror. It was clean and dry though, and the restaurant was across the driveway.
Have you ever had one of those moments when you walk into a room and everyone looks you up and down and knows you do not belong there? We have.
National Security
Thursday we rented a car and drove south toward Cesky Krumlov. We stopped off at an ammunition factory on the way. I don’t know how many of you have toured an ammunition factory, but let me give you a couple of tips.
One: if it is in a foreign country, do not send the guy who doesn’t speak any of the language to talk to the guards. The guards will then follow him to the car with their big guns and make the situation very uncomfortable.
Two: do not make jokes about national security or act too interested in which government defense contracts they have. It is not felt to be funny.
Three: bring your own safety gear. Even though the signs say that eye protection and ear plugs should be worn, they might not be given to you. Your ears might ring for an hour or so.
Four: do no stand too close to the belts, particularly if they are jerry-rigged.
Five: the bullets are hot when they come off the press and sticking your hand in the big box of them is a bad idea. That should cover it.
After the tour we continued south to Cesky Krumlov. It was by far the prettiest town I have seen the entire trip. It puts Prague to shame. It’s a medieval town on the World Heritage list or some such nonsense. Practically, this means that the roads are exactly wide enough for one economy car to get through. The charm more than made up for the narrow streets. We dubbed this ‘the pretty town’.
We stayed at my favorite hotel of the trip here. It was adorable. James had a little trouble with the doors trying to scalp him a few times, but that was the only flaw. The bathroom had a bidet – the first one M. had ever seen. There are a whole fleet of stories that go with that, but we have agreed to keep them between us.
After the tour we continued south to Cesky Krumlov. It was by far the prettiest town I have seen the entire trip. It puts Prague to shame. It’s a medieval town on the World Heritage list or some such nonsense. Practically, this means that the roads are exactly wide enough for one economy car to get through. The charm more than made up for the narrow streets. We dubbed this ‘the pretty town’.
We stayed at my favorite hotel of the trip here. It was adorable. James had a little trouble with the doors trying to scalp him a few times, but that was the only flaw. The bathroom had a bidet – the first one M. had ever seen. There are a whole fleet of stories that go with that, but we have agreed to keep them between us.
Beer is cheaper than water
Most of you know that I do not like beer. I have never cared for the taste or smell of it. Czech beer has changed my mind. There are multiple reasons for this. First, I am cheap. Beer is cheaper than water, Coke, juice, milk, and every other drink on the menu, so I drink beer.
There are several pubs where beer is all you can order to drink – sometimes only one kind of beer. The culture around beer drinking here is fascinating too. A specific toast ‘na zdravi’ is said, everyone clinks the mugs together, taps them on the table, and then drinks. It never fails.
My favorite beer here, Kozel, doesn’t taste at all like beer. It’s sweet, not bitter, not overly carbonated, dark, and delicious. It tastes more like bubbly water with chocolate and coffee flavors. I have no idea why they do not export this beer to the U.S., but James assures me it would be not nearly as good if they did. Thus, I have amended my dislike of beer to a dislike of American beer.
It is still crap.
Mining towns
Wednesday we made a day trip to Kutna Hora, a mining town east of Prague. We caught a bus and an hour or so later pulled up at the station. James had a whole trout for lunch. We offered 50 crowns for him to eat the eye, but he wouldn’t take it. I don’t blame him. I probably would have a put a piece of lettuce over it during the meal though. It freaks me out when my dinner is watching me.
We toured Saint Barbara’s cathedral, then went to the ossuary in Sedlec. It was decorated with the bones of over 40,000 plague victims and pilgrims. It was also seriously creepy. Grabbed some snacks at a local grocery store. They have onion, ham, steak, and paprika flavored potato chips. The steak ones are surprisingly good. We went back to the bus station and spent an inordinate amount of time figuring out which bus would take us back. We managed to pick the bus that took the scenic route. I think we went through every small town between Kutna Hora and Prague. I am quite aware that buses need to fill up occasionally. However, I have never been on a bus full of passengers that pulled off the road to fill up in the middle of the route until this trip.
Cleaned up at the hotel, then back to Wenceslas square to meet up with Dan, a guy we know from Prague that visited the U.S. last year. He took us to a pub near my first hotel that had decent food, large portions, and excellent beer. We went for a drink afterward at a pub up the road. He talked the waitress into selling us a couple of the Pilsner glasses. Walked back to the hotel and headed to bed - we had to get up early for our road trip.
We toured Saint Barbara’s cathedral, then went to the ossuary in Sedlec. It was decorated with the bones of over 40,000 plague victims and pilgrims. It was also seriously creepy. Grabbed some snacks at a local grocery store. They have onion, ham, steak, and paprika flavored potato chips. The steak ones are surprisingly good. We went back to the bus station and spent an inordinate amount of time figuring out which bus would take us back. We managed to pick the bus that took the scenic route. I think we went through every small town between Kutna Hora and Prague. I am quite aware that buses need to fill up occasionally. However, I have never been on a bus full of passengers that pulled off the road to fill up in the middle of the route until this trip.
Cleaned up at the hotel, then back to Wenceslas square to meet up with Dan, a guy we know from Prague that visited the U.S. last year. He took us to a pub near my first hotel that had decent food, large portions, and excellent beer. We went for a drink afterward at a pub up the road. He talked the waitress into selling us a couple of the Pilsner glasses. Walked back to the hotel and headed to bed - we had to get up early for our road trip.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
The Irish, part 1
For the loyal readers of my blog, I apologize. Last week was a touch trying and a smidge stressful and I was not able to blog. I will try my hardest to be extra charming and amusing the next few weeks to make up for my lapse in writing. There will be a surplus of entries today. Try not to gorge yourself all at once. For those unfaithful readers, I hope you contract a cyber-STD. Serves you right for straying.
Last week while I was lurking on the stairs of my hotel trying to catch a wifi signal, I met a lovely group of Irish firemen. They were in town for a holiday and proclaimed Prague "brilliant". Upon hearing that my husband wasn't coming until next week and that I was spending the evening alone, they insisted I come out to celebrate St. Patrick's day with them.
We went to an Irish pub not far from the hotel. They ordered a round of doubles. Apparently one beer at a time is not enough. We sang Irish songs I didn't know at the top of our lungs. We cheered on Liverpool in a soccer match. I learned all about Gaelic football (my new favorite sport) and the finer points of shoulder tackles. We toasted every saint I have ever heard of and a few I hadn't. There was a drinking contest between the Irish patrons and the Czech regulars which devolved into an all out brawl. In the middle of swinging fists, one of the Irish guys nodded at me. "Could ye order another round love?"
Last week while I was lurking on the stairs of my hotel trying to catch a wifi signal, I met a lovely group of Irish firemen. They were in town for a holiday and proclaimed Prague "brilliant". Upon hearing that my husband wasn't coming until next week and that I was spending the evening alone, they insisted I come out to celebrate St. Patrick's day with them.
We went to an Irish pub not far from the hotel. They ordered a round of doubles. Apparently one beer at a time is not enough. We sang Irish songs I didn't know at the top of our lungs. We cheered on Liverpool in a soccer match. I learned all about Gaelic football (my new favorite sport) and the finer points of shoulder tackles. We toasted every saint I have ever heard of and a few I hadn't. There was a drinking contest between the Irish patrons and the Czech regulars which devolved into an all out brawl. In the middle of swinging fists, one of the Irish guys nodded at me. "Could ye order another round love?"
I loved them.
I was crushed when they had to go home. Luckily, the boys were coming on Saturday.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Another beautiful rainy day in Prague. It has been sunny one morning since I arrived. Spring will come soon, I'm sure.
Had a rather rough start to my day. Fell out of bed an hour before my alarm was supposed to go off. You're supposed to be mostly immobile during REM sleep, but I don't think my brain is aware of this fact.
Didn't pull the shower door all the way closed and caused a minor flood in the bathroom. Oops. Broke the top off of my mousse, so I now have fuzzy hair. Sigh.
Tripped and fell in a puddle on my way to the metro. Skinned my knee a bit.
Hospital was good today. Lecture about rheumatoid arthritis, clinic. Had a half liter in the hospital bar afterwards with the other students. Today is their last day - they have next week off to study for exams.
Went to St. James church this afternoon- couldn't get inside though because they are cleaning for Easter. It's the second longest church in Prague, historically linked with the city's butchers. More interestingly, it has a decomposed arm hanging inside above the door. The story is that a thief in the 16th century tried to take the jewels off the Madonna at the altar. The Madonna grabbed his arm and wouldn't let go. The butchers cut it off the next day. It's been hanging in the church since. It's an oddity now, but can you imagine the people that had to go to Mass when it was new? Ick.
I'm calling a mulligan for today. I'll give it another go tomorrow.
Didn't pull the shower door all the way closed and caused a minor flood in the bathroom. Oops. Broke the top off of my mousse, so I now have fuzzy hair. Sigh.
Tripped and fell in a puddle on my way to the metro. Skinned my knee a bit.
Hospital was good today. Lecture about rheumatoid arthritis, clinic. Had a half liter in the hospital bar afterwards with the other students. Today is their last day - they have next week off to study for exams.
Went to St. James church this afternoon- couldn't get inside though because they are cleaning for Easter. It's the second longest church in Prague, historically linked with the city's butchers. More interestingly, it has a decomposed arm hanging inside above the door. The story is that a thief in the 16th century tried to take the jewels off the Madonna at the altar. The Madonna grabbed his arm and wouldn't let go. The butchers cut it off the next day. It's been hanging in the church since. It's an oddity now, but can you imagine the people that had to go to Mass when it was new? Ick.
I'm calling a mulligan for today. I'll give it another go tomorrow.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
These Boots
Had an excellent lecture on pediatric orthopedics today. I feel my learning was enhanced by my outfit. Today I am wearing my tough-girl boots I picked up at one of the vintage stores here. I like to think the previous owner wore them in the revolution and resistance against Communism. They have kicked some KGB secret police butt in their past. Scoliosis doesn't stand a chance against these suckers.
After lecture, caught a bus to Melnik, home of one of the oldest wineries in Bohemia. (I like to call the Czech Republic Bohemia too. It sounds so earthy.) Toured the chateau and the wine cellars from the 1300's. It blows my mind sometimes the sheer age of this country. The first castle was built in the 900's. Isn't that incredible? This vineyard was established by Emperor Charles IV. I don't recall what he was emperor of exactly, but good call on the grapes Chuck.
The bus ride was an hour of fun. I spent ten minutes arguing with the lady about my student status for ticket discounts I know I'm getting old (Happy Birthday honey!!), but I think I can still pass for under thirty. Especially since I am under thirty! I won after pointing out that no professional adult would be wearing butt kicking boots in the middle of the work day. I also had a student ID card. Shared my aisle with a couple of chickens in a cage. Before I would have questioned this, but now I know about the egg thing.
I also finally understand why the Czech people immigrated to Nebraska. It looks exactly the same. Rolling hills, farm plots, strips of trees around houses, and a bar every mile and crossroad. I still don't get why people immigrated to Minnesota. You would think they would have veered left when the winter came. Lewis Black does a great bit on that. Google it.
Sampled some wine, had a fantastic early dinner of pit roasted venison, quail, and dumplings. Caught the bus back and am getting ready to go out with Russian Julia and crew. Finally talked them into taking a night off from studying. They take this being a doctor thing WAY too seriously. I will Americanize them one by one.
One more thing -
Happy Birthday DH!!
After lecture, caught a bus to Melnik, home of one of the oldest wineries in Bohemia. (I like to call the Czech Republic Bohemia too. It sounds so earthy.) Toured the chateau and the wine cellars from the 1300's. It blows my mind sometimes the sheer age of this country. The first castle was built in the 900's. Isn't that incredible? This vineyard was established by Emperor Charles IV. I don't recall what he was emperor of exactly, but good call on the grapes Chuck.
The bus ride was an hour of fun. I spent ten minutes arguing with the lady about my student status for ticket discounts I know I'm getting old (Happy Birthday honey!!), but I think I can still pass for under thirty. Especially since I am under thirty! I won after pointing out that no professional adult would be wearing butt kicking boots in the middle of the work day. I also had a student ID card. Shared my aisle with a couple of chickens in a cage. Before I would have questioned this, but now I know about the egg thing.
I also finally understand why the Czech people immigrated to Nebraska. It looks exactly the same. Rolling hills, farm plots, strips of trees around houses, and a bar every mile and crossroad. I still don't get why people immigrated to Minnesota. You would think they would have veered left when the winter came. Lewis Black does a great bit on that. Google it.
Sampled some wine, had a fantastic early dinner of pit roasted venison, quail, and dumplings. Caught the bus back and am getting ready to go out with Russian Julia and crew. Finally talked them into taking a night off from studying. They take this being a doctor thing WAY too seriously. I will Americanize them one by one.
One more thing -
Happy Birthday DH!!
Monday, March 9, 2009
My Kingdom for an Egg
I like eggs. They're good scrambled, baked in cake, whipped up into a country omelet. They are a happy part of my unbalanced diet.
The Czech people on the other hand seem to LOVE eggs. They are everywhere. Boiled, scrambled, poached. Sliced and on bread with horseradish or tartar for sandwiches. Chopped and mixed with mayo (not Miracle Whip, but heavy real mayo) and spread with ham on toast. Sprinkled on pizza- not breakfast pizza, real pizza. On top of cheeseburgers. Fried and put in baguettes with sliced meat. Sliced, dehydrated, and premixed into your cereal like strawberries.
Well, the last one isn't true, but I'm betting it would be a huge hit here.
They sell wooden eggs, big and small. Each part of the country has a traditional way of decorating eggshells for Christmas and Easter decorations. These are quite beautiful, and are also for sale in some small traditional shops. Some are even jeweled. Garnet brooches are made in the shape of eggs.
They even have a story about eggs and the St. Charles bridge. They say that each village had to send money or goods to help build the bridge. One village sent eggs to help strengthen the bridge. The eggs were boiled and mixed into the mortar. They claim this is why the bridge has stood so long.
I pointed out to my British compatriots the love affair with the egg here. They hadn't noticed. I am not terribly surprised. Look at what they eat in England.
The Czech people on the other hand seem to LOVE eggs. They are everywhere. Boiled, scrambled, poached. Sliced and on bread with horseradish or tartar for sandwiches. Chopped and mixed with mayo (not Miracle Whip, but heavy real mayo) and spread with ham on toast. Sprinkled on pizza- not breakfast pizza, real pizza. On top of cheeseburgers. Fried and put in baguettes with sliced meat. Sliced, dehydrated, and premixed into your cereal like strawberries.
Well, the last one isn't true, but I'm betting it would be a huge hit here.
They sell wooden eggs, big and small. Each part of the country has a traditional way of decorating eggshells for Christmas and Easter decorations. These are quite beautiful, and are also for sale in some small traditional shops. Some are even jeweled. Garnet brooches are made in the shape of eggs.
They even have a story about eggs and the St. Charles bridge. They say that each village had to send money or goods to help build the bridge. One village sent eggs to help strengthen the bridge. The eggs were boiled and mixed into the mortar. They claim this is why the bridge has stood so long.
I pointed out to my British compatriots the love affair with the egg here. They hadn't noticed. I am not terribly surprised. Look at what they eat in England.
Another Day
I love the new hotel. I'm sure some of it is reactionary from the horror of the last place, but I don't care. I even have a bathtub! The breakfast is fantastic - cheeses, meats, cereal, kolacs, chocolate, rolls, yogurt. My husband obviously has great taste. I am becoming addicted to kolacs. This spells trouble for my clothes fitting.
Today, I loved Prague. It was partly sunny and snowing this morning when I left. Hospital was okay. I went to St. Vitus' Cathedral this afternoon. The sun coming through the stained glass windows was stunning. It was like being inside of a drafty kalidescope. Watched the changing of the guards, peeked through the arrow slots at the castle, strolled down St. Charles bridge. I was listening to my friend Brad's podcast and squeaked rather loudly when he mentioned James and I. It startled the people and pigeons around me a bit. They looked a little stuffy to begin with, so it probably did them good.
Found a cluttered little store stuffed with Art Deco statues, vases, farm tools, jewelry, coffee sets, watches, and oodles of other stuff. The owner and I had green tea in Bohemian crystal mugs and discussed what the world was coming to. Prayed in St. Nicholas' cathedral and saw the crypt of the astronomer who died of a bladder rupture. (He had one pilsner too many and didn't want to offend his host by leaving the table to go to the bathroom. I think he could have just wet his pants.)
Stopped at Starbucks to warm up - try not to judge me; they have free wifi. Caught a tram back to the hotel. It's cold now and snowing, so I think I'll stay in for the evening. Not an exciting day, by any means. It was lovely though.
Today, I loved Prague. It was partly sunny and snowing this morning when I left. Hospital was okay. I went to St. Vitus' Cathedral this afternoon. The sun coming through the stained glass windows was stunning. It was like being inside of a drafty kalidescope. Watched the changing of the guards, peeked through the arrow slots at the castle, strolled down St. Charles bridge. I was listening to my friend Brad's podcast and squeaked rather loudly when he mentioned James and I. It startled the people and pigeons around me a bit. They looked a little stuffy to begin with, so it probably did them good.
Found a cluttered little store stuffed with Art Deco statues, vases, farm tools, jewelry, coffee sets, watches, and oodles of other stuff. The owner and I had green tea in Bohemian crystal mugs and discussed what the world was coming to. Prayed in St. Nicholas' cathedral and saw the crypt of the astronomer who died of a bladder rupture. (He had one pilsner too many and didn't want to offend his host by leaving the table to go to the bathroom. I think he could have just wet his pants.)
Stopped at Starbucks to warm up - try not to judge me; they have free wifi. Caught a tram back to the hotel. It's cold now and snowing, so I think I'll stay in for the evening. Not an exciting day, by any means. It was lovely though.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Moving
Woke up early Saturday and the hotel lady had made fresh kolacs with 'chocolate' (bitter hot cocoa). I packed up my suitcase and checked out of the hotel. I decided to book hotels a week at a time. This would give me an opportunity to see different parts of the city and ensure I was never stuck at a terrible place for more than a week. It was like a safety net. Turns out it was a net with large holes.
The new hotel had pictures online of clean rooms with white linens and happy guests. It had a list of amenities including smoke free rooms, wireless Internet, and breakfast. It reported it was close to the tram. It was pure propaganda y'all. Stalin should have bulldozed this place when he had the chance.
The lobby was clean but old. I could live with that. They insisted on payment with a credit card. I could live with that. They gave me a real key with a keychain as big as my palm attached. This was my first clue that things might be taking a turn. They assured me that the key worked on both the bathroom and bedroom locks.
I beg your pardon?
Yes, they had seperate locks - for safety reasons. We have already discussed my imagination, so I won't bore you with the 'safety reasons' I came up with in the next few seconds.
The wireless Internet was twenty Euro for thirty minutes.
They pointed me in the direction of the lift, and said that it had been working most of the day. I thought about taking the stairs, but they put me on the 8th floor and my suitcase is heavy. The elevator came, and there was room for me OR my suitcase. It wasn't full of people or cleaning supplies. It was just that small. I didn't feel I could put the suitcase inside, push the button, and then race up the stairs to meet it for 'safety reasons', so I started up the stairs with suitcase in tow.
The cigarette smoke was choking me. It was like a jazz club in a movie with clouds of tar swirling around as you walked through. I swear it had all risen to the eighth floor. The walls were dark yellow except where the pictures used to hang. There, it was white. The carpet was....industrial.
I unlocked the door to the bedroom. There was one light overhead. There were no power outlets. The window had bars. (I'm on the eighth floor! Why do I need bars? Is Spiderman coming to murder me in my sleep? Who are these people? )
The beds, for there were two, did not have mattresses. Instead, they had four inch thick pieces of foam much like that used for seat cushions which was upholstered in what I can only assume were carpet remnants. There were no sheets. The blankets were wrapped in a slightly less than pristine white duvet cover that was mostly transparent. In their favor, the pillow (singular) seemed nice.
There was a rotary phone. I did not unlock the bathroom. I didn't have the courage.
DH booked me another hotel, and I canceled the rest of the week. Call me a snob, but do it while you're calling me a taxi, please.
The new hotel had pictures online of clean rooms with white linens and happy guests. It had a list of amenities including smoke free rooms, wireless Internet, and breakfast. It reported it was close to the tram. It was pure propaganda y'all. Stalin should have bulldozed this place when he had the chance.
The lobby was clean but old. I could live with that. They insisted on payment with a credit card. I could live with that. They gave me a real key with a keychain as big as my palm attached. This was my first clue that things might be taking a turn. They assured me that the key worked on both the bathroom and bedroom locks.
I beg your pardon?
Yes, they had seperate locks - for safety reasons. We have already discussed my imagination, so I won't bore you with the 'safety reasons' I came up with in the next few seconds.
The wireless Internet was twenty Euro for thirty minutes.
They pointed me in the direction of the lift, and said that it had been working most of the day. I thought about taking the stairs, but they put me on the 8th floor and my suitcase is heavy. The elevator came, and there was room for me OR my suitcase. It wasn't full of people or cleaning supplies. It was just that small. I didn't feel I could put the suitcase inside, push the button, and then race up the stairs to meet it for 'safety reasons', so I started up the stairs with suitcase in tow.
The cigarette smoke was choking me. It was like a jazz club in a movie with clouds of tar swirling around as you walked through. I swear it had all risen to the eighth floor. The walls were dark yellow except where the pictures used to hang. There, it was white. The carpet was....industrial.
I unlocked the door to the bedroom. There was one light overhead. There were no power outlets. The window had bars. (I'm on the eighth floor! Why do I need bars? Is Spiderman coming to murder me in my sleep? Who are these people? )
The beds, for there were two, did not have mattresses. Instead, they had four inch thick pieces of foam much like that used for seat cushions which was upholstered in what I can only assume were carpet remnants. There were no sheets. The blankets were wrapped in a slightly less than pristine white duvet cover that was mostly transparent. In their favor, the pillow (singular) seemed nice.
There was a rotary phone. I did not unlock the bathroom. I didn't have the courage.
DH booked me another hotel, and I canceled the rest of the week. Call me a snob, but do it while you're calling me a taxi, please.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Should I stay or should I go
For those of you wondering, I won The Battle of The Sheets. The final skirmish involved some tactics not covered under the Geneva Convention. My lawyer advises I not discuss it further.
It was my turn to get grilled in lecture today. I have found that it's much easier to remain calm when one is focused on translating instead of the actual question being posed. He had me describe some hardware and its uses. I nailed it (pardon the pun). I also learned a lot about their techniques for repair of intertrochanteric fractures today. It was a really interesting morning. I am still having trouble with the non-antiseptic style. Doubt that I will get used to that.
Huw and Faris (I apparently spelled their names wrong before) showed me a new way home from the hospital. They are both just darling. Anyway, it turns out I can ride one of the trams most of the way there. This is very exciting as it cuts my commute way down. So I bid them goodbye and was cheerfully riding the tram back to the hotel and listening to NPR.
Suddenly, a screeching noise came from up ahead. Everyone was thrown forward. I pulled my earphones out and looked around. All around people were grumbling and picking up their bags. The doors remained shut; the tram wasn't moving. Interesting.
We sat there for five minutes. The grumbling increased. The conductor came stalking through and made a rapid announcement in Czech. Half of the people wordlessly moved to the front of the tram and disembarked. The other half didn't move.
I feel compelled to point out that my Czech at this point consists of about ten phrases, none of which are appropriate to ask what is going on. I futilely try English. Spanish. Nothing. I should point out that the two halves were about equal- genderwise, weightwise, agewise, package holding-wise. My imagination took flight, as it is wont.
Are we too heavy for the track? Were the heavy people supposed to get off? Did all the Czechs get off and now the train of evil foreigners will be blown up? Was there a selection process for who left? What if I met the criteria and now everyone is stuck because I didn't get off? Is this like a movie and we're teetering on a cliff and one wrong weight imbalance sends us over? Am I in Speed 5?
I decide that I will be better off outside of this death trap. None of my scenarios had anything pleasant for the people left on the train. Alone, I head up the aisle to disembark. The passengers eye me as I go by. I am sure that I am about to be lynched.
I made it! Freedom!
Now as it turns out, one tram had broken down and then been rear ended by another causing a jam. This is much more logical than any of my explanations. However, my imagination did not go to the most logical explanation. Instead, it went to the most absurd. I'm sure this says something deep about my personality, thus my plan is to ignore whatever it is saying.
It was my turn to get grilled in lecture today. I have found that it's much easier to remain calm when one is focused on translating instead of the actual question being posed. He had me describe some hardware and its uses. I nailed it (pardon the pun). I also learned a lot about their techniques for repair of intertrochanteric fractures today. It was a really interesting morning. I am still having trouble with the non-antiseptic style. Doubt that I will get used to that.
Huw and Faris (I apparently spelled their names wrong before) showed me a new way home from the hospital. They are both just darling. Anyway, it turns out I can ride one of the trams most of the way there. This is very exciting as it cuts my commute way down. So I bid them goodbye and was cheerfully riding the tram back to the hotel and listening to NPR.
Suddenly, a screeching noise came from up ahead. Everyone was thrown forward. I pulled my earphones out and looked around. All around people were grumbling and picking up their bags. The doors remained shut; the tram wasn't moving. Interesting.
We sat there for five minutes. The grumbling increased. The conductor came stalking through and made a rapid announcement in Czech. Half of the people wordlessly moved to the front of the tram and disembarked. The other half didn't move.
I feel compelled to point out that my Czech at this point consists of about ten phrases, none of which are appropriate to ask what is going on. I futilely try English. Spanish. Nothing. I should point out that the two halves were about equal- genderwise, weightwise, agewise, package holding-wise. My imagination took flight, as it is wont.
Are we too heavy for the track? Were the heavy people supposed to get off? Did all the Czechs get off and now the train of evil foreigners will be blown up? Was there a selection process for who left? What if I met the criteria and now everyone is stuck because I didn't get off? Is this like a movie and we're teetering on a cliff and one wrong weight imbalance sends us over? Am I in Speed 5?
I decide that I will be better off outside of this death trap. None of my scenarios had anything pleasant for the people left on the train. Alone, I head up the aisle to disembark. The passengers eye me as I go by. I am sure that I am about to be lynched.
I made it! Freedom!
Now as it turns out, one tram had broken down and then been rear ended by another causing a jam. This is much more logical than any of my explanations. However, my imagination did not go to the most logical explanation. Instead, it went to the most absurd. I'm sure this says something deep about my personality, thus my plan is to ignore whatever it is saying.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Festival of Europe
I was in a funk today. I think it was a combination of not hearing my husband's voice for a few days, struggling with a new language, caraway bread, and general stick-in-the-mud-itis.
It was raining, but I decided the funk would only get worse if I moped around my hotel room. I bundled up in my North Face (which might as well be an American flag wrapped around my torso) and trudged off to the metro.
I was looking for a vintage shop that I had heard was filled with couture. I instead found "Festival of Europe". It was a huge outdoor concert in the middle of Wenceslas Square surrounded by little carts with food from countries across Europe. I tried cheeses and pastries and hot grog and some weird sausage thing and schnitzel with cream. It was fantastic. The folk dancers swirling around in the rain were working so hard that steam came off of them.
I was drenched by the time I finally found the shop- Retro. It had some really great stuff (Marc Jacob shifts, Chloe capes), but alas I am not built like a European woman. The clothes are still looking for a new home.
I made it back to my hotel, sodden, full, and content. I think sometimes you just have to work yourself out of a funk. Food and beautiful clothes help.
It was raining, but I decided the funk would only get worse if I moped around my hotel room. I bundled up in my North Face (which might as well be an American flag wrapped around my torso) and trudged off to the metro.
I was looking for a vintage shop that I had heard was filled with couture. I instead found "Festival of Europe". It was a huge outdoor concert in the middle of Wenceslas Square surrounded by little carts with food from countries across Europe. I tried cheeses and pastries and hot grog and some weird sausage thing and schnitzel with cream. It was fantastic. The folk dancers swirling around in the rain were working so hard that steam came off of them.
I was drenched by the time I finally found the shop- Retro. It had some really great stuff (Marc Jacob shifts, Chloe capes), but alas I am not built like a European woman. The clothes are still looking for a new home.
I made it back to my hotel, sodden, full, and content. I think sometimes you just have to work yourself out of a funk. Food and beautiful clothes help.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
The Short-Sheeter
My hotel bed is short. Not overly short, but I have to sleep with my head against the headboard so that my toes don't hang off. I don't personally consider this a big deal, especially since my poor husband's feet hang off of practically every bed in which he has slept.
However, I do take exception to the fact that my hotel cleaning woman is short sheeting my short bed. It's kicking me when I'm down, adding insult to injury, rubbing salt in a wound, and all those other cliches.
My first night in the hotel, I pulled back the coverlet, slid my legs into bed, and couldn't straighten my knees. I couldn't find the light switch by my bed, and refused to get out of bed to walk across the room to turn on the overhead light because I was cold. I remained calm for about two seconds, then started furiously kicking at whatever was holding back my legs. It gave way. My feet weren't covered, but I was stretched out, so I drifted off to sleep.
The next morning my sheets were snarled around me. I noted that the sheet AND comforter in the other bed were folded in half then tucked snugly under the mattress. Odd. I made my bed and headed out for my day.
Later that day the cleaning woman remade my bed - linens folded in half and tucked under the mattress. I started tugging on them, but she had nail gunned these puppies down. I puuullllllled and fell back against the wall, a corner of the coverlet clutched in my hand. Not really having a temper myself, I serenely grabbed the bottom edge of the mattress and dumped the whole thing over. The sheets came out. I remade the bed.
I found the lady in the hallway. I explained in English and sign language that I do not want her to make my bed. I will do it myself. She agreed. She remade my bed.
We have had this conversation three times now. She continues to short sheet me. Yesterday I put my suitcase and loose bobby pins and papers on top of the bed after I made it. I came back from the hospital, and she had carefully removed everything, stacked it neatly on the ground, and short sheeted my bed.
She put a carmel on my pillow.
I admire her determination. Today I am hiding the sheets.
However, I do take exception to the fact that my hotel cleaning woman is short sheeting my short bed. It's kicking me when I'm down, adding insult to injury, rubbing salt in a wound, and all those other cliches.
My first night in the hotel, I pulled back the coverlet, slid my legs into bed, and couldn't straighten my knees. I couldn't find the light switch by my bed, and refused to get out of bed to walk across the room to turn on the overhead light because I was cold. I remained calm for about two seconds, then started furiously kicking at whatever was holding back my legs. It gave way. My feet weren't covered, but I was stretched out, so I drifted off to sleep.
The next morning my sheets were snarled around me. I noted that the sheet AND comforter in the other bed were folded in half then tucked snugly under the mattress. Odd. I made my bed and headed out for my day.
Later that day the cleaning woman remade my bed - linens folded in half and tucked under the mattress. I started tugging on them, but she had nail gunned these puppies down. I puuullllllled and fell back against the wall, a corner of the coverlet clutched in my hand. Not really having a temper myself, I serenely grabbed the bottom edge of the mattress and dumped the whole thing over. The sheets came out. I remade the bed.
I found the lady in the hallway. I explained in English and sign language that I do not want her to make my bed. I will do it myself. She agreed. She remade my bed.
We have had this conversation three times now. She continues to short sheet me. Yesterday I put my suitcase and loose bobby pins and papers on top of the bed after I made it. I came back from the hospital, and she had carefully removed everything, stacked it neatly on the ground, and short sheeted my bed.
She put a carmel on my pillow.
I admire her determination. Today I am hiding the sheets.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Day 2 in the hospital
Julia took me to get a metro pass for the month today. I attempted this on my own yesterday, but got nowhere with the lady behind the counter. Julia, with her alternating cajoling and demanding Czech got much further. There was one small snag in the plan. They needed a passport size photo to put on the pass. Now while I am undoubtedly vain, I don't regularly carry around wallet size photos of just myself. I do carry around wallet size photos of my family.
Hip replacements are a little different here too. The implants are essentially the same with the cups being slightly different. Also, they are doing elbow replacements - they only work for 3-5 years before failing due to fracture, so I'm not sure of the indication, but there they are.
Clinic is different too. Washing hands is a rarity, hand sanitizers are seen as often as leprechauns (note: they do not celebrate St. Patrick's Day here), and they spend two to five minutes with each patient. On the positive side, I'm at the nicer hospital, all patients strip down upon entering the room (gownless! Drapeless! Take that PAS and OSCE's!), and no one complains about the wait.
I'm looking for vintage shops this afternoon. Wish me happy hunting!
M., thanks for sharing my genes.
Lecture this morning was in Czech, but I followed a great deal of it. They work much more on the "pulling student in front of class and drilling until embarassed" theory of education here. It went pretty well for me.
Hip replacements are a little different here too. The implants are essentially the same with the cups being slightly different. Also, they are doing elbow replacements - they only work for 3-5 years before failing due to fracture, so I'm not sure of the indication, but there they are.
Clinic is different too. Washing hands is a rarity, hand sanitizers are seen as often as leprechauns (note: they do not celebrate St. Patrick's Day here), and they spend two to five minutes with each patient. On the positive side, I'm at the nicer hospital, all patients strip down upon entering the room (gownless! Drapeless! Take that PAS and OSCE's!), and no one complains about the wait.
I'm looking for vintage shops this afternoon. Wish me happy hunting!
Monday, March 2, 2009
Hablas Cesky?
Lost seems to be a permanent condition of mine. Big surprise to those of you who know me well, I'm sure. Woke up late this morning, threw on my doctor clothes, ran downstairs, grabbed a kolac (poppyseed, blech), and hopped on the tram.
Going the wrong way.
Shoot. Hopped off the tram, got on another, made it to the metro, got on the green line. This would have been fabulous had I needed the green line. I needed yellow. Finally got on the right metro and made it to the hospital. I was an hour late.
Now I have seen some big medical centers- Baylor comes to mind. This place could have eaten them for a mid-morning snack. My instructions were "go to the orthopedics department".
There were seven orthopedic departments. NO ONE spoke English. Heck, I even broke out Spanish and a smattering of sign language. No go. I see a sign for Foreign vsitors ( that is not a typo). "Hooray," I think,"someone will speak English." Ah, optimism. You get me every time.
They did not speak English. Ricky Ricardo had a better handle on it. I made it through three of the departments before I found a friendly face.
Her name is Julia. (She's blonde and nice just like my other Julia at home). She's a fourth year medical student here, which is the same as a first or second year in the U.S. She's Russian and thus gorgeous. I also met two guys from London, Farris and Hugh, also in her year.
We have decided to trade talents. They don't know anything about physical exam, diagnosis, or reading xrays, and I know nothing about getting around here. I think I'm getting the better end of the deal frankly.
Another positive about this place - the students only work from 8 until noon. Seems like a much more civilzed arrangement than we have at home. The students all wear jeans and long white coats. I was overdresses in my slacks and sweater. Better luck tomorrow.
Going the wrong way.
Shoot. Hopped off the tram, got on another, made it to the metro, got on the green line. This would have been fabulous had I needed the green line. I needed yellow. Finally got on the right metro and made it to the hospital. I was an hour late.
Now I have seen some big medical centers- Baylor comes to mind. This place could have eaten them for a mid-morning snack. My instructions were "go to the orthopedics department".
There were seven orthopedic departments. NO ONE spoke English. Heck, I even broke out Spanish and a smattering of sign language. No go. I see a sign for Foreign vsitors ( that is not a typo). "Hooray," I think,"someone will speak English." Ah, optimism. You get me every time.
They did not speak English. Ricky Ricardo had a better handle on it. I made it through three of the departments before I found a friendly face.
Her name is Julia. (She's blonde and nice just like my other Julia at home). She's a fourth year medical student here, which is the same as a first or second year in the U.S. She's Russian and thus gorgeous. I also met two guys from London, Farris and Hugh, also in her year.
We have decided to trade talents. They don't know anything about physical exam, diagnosis, or reading xrays, and I know nothing about getting around here. I think I'm getting the better end of the deal frankly.
Another positive about this place - the students only work from 8 until noon. Seems like a much more civilzed arrangement than we have at home. The students all wear jeans and long white coats. I was overdresses in my slacks and sweater. Better luck tomorrow.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Lost, International
Slept in this morning until 9, which I think is 2 am back home. I'm convinced that thinking about the time difference will drive me crazy, so no more of that. Breakfast was kolacs and cream- very good.
Headed out to buy my month metro pass, got lost, found out nothing was open on Sunday including metro pass selling kiosks, got more lost, wound up in Stare Mesto. Saw the astronomical clock put on its show. I think it says a lot about the history of Praha that one of the evil people on the clock is a Jew (now beardless to be more culturally sensitive). The clock is beautiful though, and the buildings here are amazing.
The manners still leave a bit to be desired, but I have no doubt I will eventually win someone over. It will be a domino effect - bringing down grumpiness one Central European country at a time!
On another note, all of the websites are in Czech- including Gmail, Facebook, and Google. This posed a bit of a challenge when I was attempting to chat with DH.
Tomorrow is my first day in the hospital. Wish me luck...and a spare Babel fish if anyone has one. Habla ingles anyone?
Headed out to buy my month metro pass, got lost, found out nothing was open on Sunday including metro pass selling kiosks, got more lost, wound up in Stare Mesto. Saw the astronomical clock put on its show. I think it says a lot about the history of Praha that one of the evil people on the clock is a Jew (now beardless to be more culturally sensitive). The clock is beautiful though, and the buildings here are amazing.
The manners still leave a bit to be desired, but I have no doubt I will eventually win someone over. It will be a domino effect - bringing down grumpiness one Central European country at a time!
On another note, all of the websites are in Czech- including Gmail, Facebook, and Google. This posed a bit of a challenge when I was attempting to chat with DH.
Tomorrow is my first day in the hospital. Wish me luck...and a spare Babel fish if anyone has one. Habla ingles anyone?
Well, I made it to Amsterdam.
Well, I made it to Amsterdam. To the amazement of my flight neighbor and stewardess, I slept through the whole flight. Apparently they tried to awaken me a few times, but I was having none of that. Benadryl is awesome. Woke up fifteen minutes before landing. Thank goodness - I awoke to rows of over caffeinated teenagers bound to Africa on a mission trip.
"I hope they speak English b/c otherwise they won't know what we're saying." "Do you think they have iPods?" My personal favorites though "Your passport is red- did you dye it? Oh, it's cause you're from Holland?......pause..... Do you wear wooden shoes?"
I found myself in an Ikea upon disembarking or a reasonable facsimile thereof. Who knew they designed the airport AND the stores? No jet lag yet though I'm sure it's coming.
Getting to the hotel was a nightmare. The metro system seems very effective, but incredibly confusing at first. Also there seems to be a lot of residual Communist anger... No one has yet to be friendly, no one smiles, and all service is given begrudgingly.
My jeans are about three sizes too big for me in this part of Europe, I wear far too little eye makeup, and I smile too much. It's like I have American tatooed on my forehead- I stick out something fierce.
"I hope they speak English b/c otherwise they won't know what we're saying." "Do you think they have iPods?" My personal favorites though "Your passport is red- did you dye it? Oh, it's cause you're from Holland?......pause..... Do you wear wooden shoes?"
I found myself in an Ikea upon disembarking or a reasonable facsimile thereof. Who knew they designed the airport AND the stores? No jet lag yet though I'm sure it's coming.
Getting to the hotel was a nightmare. The metro system seems very effective, but incredibly confusing at first. Also there seems to be a lot of residual Communist anger... No one has yet to be friendly, no one smiles, and all service is given begrudgingly.
My jeans are about three sizes too big for me in this part of Europe, I wear far too little eye makeup, and I smile too much. It's like I have American tatooed on my forehead- I stick out something fierce.
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