Mission: Exploration Praha...Success!

I woke up yesterday morning with every intention of being productive, so I put my lesson planning materials in my satchel and headed out the door in search of a place to focus on homework.  It had been three weeks since I had a sip of good ol' fashioned filtered coffee, and I decided that I had denied my American-ness long enough...this was the morning I would allow myself to go to Starbucks.  I opted not to take the metro the whole way over to Malostranska because I love, love, love to walk across (any of) the bridges; especially before they get super crowded.  Here's why:

Look at that!  Who wouldn't get off a metro stop early just to view the Charles Bridge like that?  Talk about a brilliant morning...and it just kept getting better!

Having successfully ordered, I sat down to enjoy my brewed coffee(!), and conveniently forgot about my lesson planning--pulling a book out of my bag instead.  Somewhere between my final sip of coffee and the arrival of friends it was decided that the day would be devoted, not to work (ugh), but to an exploration!  My two exploring buddies arrived, Meghan and Brian, and our goal became a spot of lunch, a bit of walking and then to rent a boat to take out on the Vltava.  Brian asked us which we would prefer, a paddle boat or a row boat?  We informed him that we wouldn't be participating in the physical effort of said adventure--would he rather paddle or row?  He opted for the paddle boat.

The weather couldn't have been more perfect for an afternoon out on the river; not too hot and a slight breeze chilled us in the shade.  Poor Brian paddled diligently out to the open area, and there we sat, soaking in the sun and making fun of other boats...or at least just the ones that were in the shape of giant swans.  Obviously the large feet resting comfortably in Chuck's are mine:

 

 We weren't far into the paddle boat portion of the adventure when it was decided that we would come back on Wednesday in order to create a relaxing atmosphere to study for our grammar test.  All we need are a few snacks, our workbooks, and we will have constructed an environment where we can focus on grammar with minimal distraction (hah!).  As long as there is no more than slight wind I feel as though this could be the greatest idea.  Ever.

When our hour was up (far too quickly, I might add) we decided to walk along the river to Vysehrad and besiege the old fortress on the hill...and besiege we did!  Ignoring the clearly paved road leading up to the gateway, we chose the dirt path where we hopped over the waist high wall--fortress taken!  (Please Note: One does not need an admission ticket to see said fortress; no charges were avoided)  And even more than just taking the fortress, we had successfully taken Prague by land, sea and air (kind of).  Take a gander at our view from just beyond the point of besieging:

I may have cursed about my procrastination of assignments already a few times today, but it was actually entirely worth it for the chance to randomly explore this city...again.  The more I walk around, the more I fall in love.

Happy Wednesday, Class!

Teaching today was, well, less than stellar--to put it mildly.  Knowing full well what my supervising teacher was going to say about my lesson, I walked into my review with confidence and said, "So, should I read you my list of everything that went wrong, or would you prefer to tell me yourself?"  He had quite a laugh about that, which lightened the mood a bit.  All of his feedback was done in a really positive way, and he was very kind about picking the mistakes from which I could learn best for my next lesson.  I left the room feeling better about the whole affair, but I needed to feel even better than that...I needed something to perk me up.

The first person I saw after exiting the reviewing room was a classmate who hails from Texas.  Last week we had been declaring our mutual love of Mexican food, and talking about how much we miss Chipotle.  I walked straight up to her, "My lesson was terrible; my review was alright.  What are you doing for dinner?  Because I need a fiesta."  We agreed to gather up the usual suspects (as usual as one can be after two and a half weeks), and meet at a designated spot in a half hour.

On the way to Las Adelitas--located, curiously enough, on Americka Street--we exited the Metro station at Namesti Miru and came upon this view:

The restaurant was a walk of a few blocks; the Texan and I had to hold back from breaking out into a sprint to the front door.  When I heard two men speaking Spanish on the patio I knew I was in a 'comfort zone'...it was (kind of) like I was home!  After much deliberation over which item on the menu I have missed the most since I've left California, I settled on the chicken floutas.  Despite the lack of authenticity I thought the Czech kitchen did very well (sorry for the slight blur):

 

It was everything I had hoped it would be...and more.  I closed this challenging Wednesday out with the company of five delightful people--four of them new friends, a lot of laughs and a basket of tortilla chips (complete with salsa).   Thus a mediocre day was successfully turned into a fiesta!

Welcome to the Post Office: Please Choose from One of the Following 500 Options...

Thirteen days.  That is how long I was in Prague before I found a post office.  Thirteen days.

I had a half day at school yesterday, so naturally I decided to explore!  My main objective was to find the English bookstore I had read about online...it was an immediate success.  I hadn't planned on purchasing anything because I have my Nook, but when the attractive clerk with a Spanish accent began talking about history in such an enthusiastic manner I decided it would have been rude to walk out of the store without accepting his recommendation.  And so, with a new history book in hand I turned right out of the shop and continued on my way.

It felt as though I had walked across town when I looked up and saw a sign with one of the many vocabulary words I had learned that day 'posta'!  (I realize that this sounds like an obvious word, but this language can be so ridiculous that you never can tell.)  This was the place!  This was the place where I could rid myself of the postcards I had been carrying around for two weeks!  I performed my usual tricks and hung back in order to watch someone else go through the motions.  I saw my leader stop at a small kiosk and press a button, a slip of paper was dispensed and she went through the sliding doors.  Easy enough.  I continued to said kiosk.  Thank goodness for the English options.

After having received my number I entered the arena.  It looked like a train station!  It was the most intense post office I've ever seen, and evidently it doubles as a bank.  Who knew?

The numbers flashing above the twenty-five(!) service desks appeared to be random, and a lot higher than my number.  Surely it couldn't be this confusing for a few postcards?!  I caught the attention of a security guard, probably because of my suspicious behavior (pacing, bulky packaging, slight smirks, taking photos, etc.) and he came over towards me.  I said the first three simple words that came to mind and shrugged, "I don't understand."  He said, "No Anglicky."  Instead pointing me in the direction of the Information Office.  I waited outside the office until it was my turn, and the information/help that was provided was as follows: "Wait until you see your number above the desk."  And then he walked away.  Don't judge me people, but this was a far more intense experience than anything I'd ever thought it would be.  All I wanted was some stamps.  Sure, it seems logical to wait until your number shows...it just seemed to be far more official than the status my postcards warranted.

I took a seat on one of the train station-type benches and waited.  Waited.  Waited.  My number must have flashed when I was waiting for the Info Office.  Engaging in even more suspicious activity I left the forum to get a new number, and then entered again--gluing my eyes to the board.  #279!  I headed over to the seemingly friendly man behind the bulletproof glass.  I was wrong.  He was not friendly.

I put my stuff through the slot to hand to him, he in turn handed me a slip of paper and pointed to the directions--the directions that were in Czech.  "What is it?"  He asked, pointing at the small package I wanted to mail.  I told him, and he shrugged and nodded.  "I'm sorry, do I write that?"  I leaned in, pointing to the paper.  He spoke again, "What is it?"  Again I told him, causing him to shrug and nod a second time.  I looked around, still confused, "Do I write that?"  The look he gave me couldn't have conveyed how badly he wanted to slap me across the face any clearer.  He tapped harshly on the package, and then equally as harshly on the slip of paper.  "What...is...it?"  Again I told him, making sure to insert the same amount of stern pauses he had.  "Do...I...write...that?"  I had decided that if he was going to shrug again in response to the question I was going to have to abandon all hope of posting anything.  Instead he pointed at the blank space on the paper.  "Ok.  Thank you."  I wrote the description on the slip.  "Sign."  He demanded.  So I did, but I guess I wasn't supposed to have signed in the place where there was ample space because he took on that look of hatred again.  I altered it to suit his fancy.  Now that the description and signature was finished he passed me a glue stick and pointed from the note to the package over and over.  It seemed a little weird, but I can get down with arts and crafts--so I glued.  So much for the element of surprise when the mail comes, but whatever.

While all the arguing and gluing was going on, he had gone through and put a 'priority' sticker on all of my items, but no stamp.  As I passed the package back to him he asked if that was all, and I told him it was.  He finished up his portion of the crafts and looked at me with a different look; this one showed how bored he was of my face.  "Is that it?"  I asked, hesitantly.  "Ano.  Nashledanou!"  It was an abrupt ending to a hectic ten minutes.  Almost too abrupt.  This is a city that has given me a receipt for everything.  I got a receipt for the pack of gum I bought to make change for the metro.  They waved it at me when I tried to walk away without it after paying for a coffee that morning in cash; they never let you walk away without it!  It seemed strange that the man at counter 24 wasn't offering me any proof that I had given him something to ship across half of Europe, continuing over the whole Atlantic.  When I asked if I get anything, he shook his head, "Nashledanou!"  Resigned, I walked away laughing to myself the whole time.

I really, really hope my postcards and other things make it to their final destinations...

The Secret Rules of 'Teacher Language'

Yesterday was the first teaching lesson where I was 'monitored', or more accurately 'judged'.  Fortunately for me (and the rest of my teaching group) it was the more approachable of the two 'monitors', and we were teaching the intermediate class...though it easily got tricky.  The unique teacher-class relationship with the intermediate students revolves around the fact that the students speak well enough to fool you into abandoning all 'teacher language' and diving into regular language.  It's a very delicate situation.  I often fell into this trap with "pairing you guys off" and telling them to "go ahead and handle that".  They had me with their silly tom-foolery by rolling their eyes when I gave my thorough instructions too slow, but then I lost them when I resorted to 'Lindsay-lingo'.  It was a fine line, but I walked it like a pro and had my lesson deemed "successful overall".

There were two instances that my 'monitor' brought up in our in-depth recap, and I'd like to share them with you now:

1.  With confidence, a teacher can get away with anything.

This I have found to be true in my past classroom experiences, albeit on the opposite side of the desk, but I never thought I would be able to perform such trickery, such mind games!  And all without even realizing that I did it!  It was brought to my attention that I gave the correct answer, but used the wrong reason.  I would like to state here, for the record, that it was a grammar question.  "Judge not, lest ye be judged!"  (I think that quote originally was said about someone who was teaching grammar, but wasn't comfortable themselves with said grammar--I'm fairly certain I'm accurate on that.)  My 'monitor' brought it up to show me what the correct answer would be, and to tell me that it didn't matter because I said it with confidence.  They didn't press me about what the reasoning was, just how the sentence would be structured.  This is how I saved myself.  I said the bogus reasoning with such confidence that they didn't dare question me (granted, I thought it was a real reason, but still).

2.  Challenge the students, just as they challenge you.

I had asked the students to write down five questions that they might ask the main character of the story they had read.  I walked around the table, 'monitoring' the students--making myself available to answer any questions they might have, and hopefully answering them correctly.  I saw one woman put her pen down very decisively, and sit back in her chair; I went over to see if I could offer any of my teaching services and saw that she had only written two sentences.  I said, "Hey now, you're not done, are you?  You've got three more to do."  She shook her head and put her hand firmly on the desk, "No.  Two is enough."  I playfully nudged her on the arm and declared, "I disagree.  Three more!"  I could hear my teacher audibly laugh from the back of the room--he brought it up as a positive aspect of my rapport with the class.

Those intermediates are a tricky bunch; almost forcing me to abandon my carefully planned teacher language, and trying to waste the time away by telling of their escapes from the clutches of Communist Russia.  It is a slippery slope, and before you know it you could find yourself eliciting answers about your favorite slang phrases.  ("Guys, listen up.  Now this is what I would say to a dude if he had some sweet dance moves.  'Sick' is the right answer.  Awesome.")  The trick is to hang in there.  If you know something is right but you're not sure why, just say it with confidence.  They probably won't question it if you do...which is perfect, because who understands English grammar anyway?

On an entirely different note: look what Meghan and I found in Old Town Square!  How cool is this?!

My name is Lindsay, and I have a problem.

It was a long Friday night filled with socializing amongst new friends, explorations and a two hour misunderstanding on which was the correct direction to take on the night tram; can anyone else say they know the scenery of 'Linka 54' as well as Meghan and me?  I would seriously doubt it.  After all of this and a short, but deep night's sleep, I woke up needing a relaxing activity that would also include seeing the city.  Naturally two things came to mind: coffee and books!  The most logical thing that someone could think right now would be, 'Lindsay, you're in the Czech Republic; all the literature will be in a language that you cannot even imagine getting the hang of.'  Fret not, friends.  This was not a concern of mine and shouldn't be one for you either.  It's no coincidence that the first word I recognized on a store front was 'knihy'.  My name is Lindsay, and I am addicted to bookstores.

I exited the metro station, turned left for no particular reason, crossed the street because traffic was clear and found myself in front of a bookstore...exploration successful.  The overhead signs were in Czech.  The shelf labels were in Czech.  The employees were speaking Czech.  And yet I could still tell that the back half of the store was used, and the front new.  I could still tell that the section I was browsing was history of 'Praha' and to my left was fiction.  Bottom line: I could still find something I wanted.

Having completed the literary side of my mission the second portion was clear...coffee.  What's that?  A 'Costa Kavarny' stood across the street?!  One latte please!  I found a quiet table in the corner and pulled out my 'nook'.  There I sat for sixty pages.  Perfectly serene.

It's amazing that I was in a Czech bookstore for forty-five minutes and I don't believe I spent more than four minutes at the 'Anglicke' wall.  It just goes to show that it doesn't matter where I am in the world, my Saturday morning routine is the same.  And it's still as difficult as ever to walk away empty-handed.

I have a feeling I'm going to need another suitcase someday in the future...and it might test the airline's weight limit.

Facebook: The Universal Language

The news is in.  I can use humor as a coping mechanism in teaching, but it doesn't translate into Czech.  I learned this three days ago, when I taught my first English lesson to six elementary level learners.  Other things I learned: I speak fast, I babble, I don't remember much about English.  Today, feeling two days more experienced and not terribly under prepared, I stood in front of four students with a smile.  "On Tuesday you said I spoke too fast," I wrote 'slow down' on the whiteboard.  "Today, if I am talking too fast, please tell me to 'slow down'.  Be mean if you have to."  Saying this in the slowest way I possibly could, I smiled at the class.  The young man smiled and nodded his head, one woman stared at me blankly and the last woman explained what I had just said to the young man's mother--in Czech.  Not exactly what I wanted, but I figured that now everyone will understand for certain.  Let's begin.

Twelve minutes into my forty-five minute lesson it was discovered that everything I had included in my lesson plan was already common knowledge among the group.  This means that the eight minutes I had carefully and thoughtfully factored out for a short writing assignment dwindled down to only take approximately three minutes.  Before I could patch up my brain-fart my lesson plan's internal clock was being shaved down in five minute increments!  A half an hour to stretch two activities--one of them being my only backup plan!  I realized that I had one choice; one 'Hail Mary' pass before I lost them to their uncontrollable conversation in Czech that they were slowly beginning...I had to banter with them.  Under normal (*cough*English*cough*) circumstances I would not have found this in the least bit difficult, but this involved my sense of humor having to scale a large wall--built up over years of language, cultural difficulties and mutual misunderstanding.  I had to be up to the challenge...I hadn't another choice.

I took the workbook's suggestion and told them to write five sentences, three true, two false; we were going to guess which was the true statement.  I started out lame, "My brother plays sports.  True or false?"  But I think my fifth sentence was my crown and glory, "I have big feet.  True or false?"  They smiled.  They said they didn't know.  So I put my foot on the desk, resting comfortably in it's Chuck Taylor, and I wiggled my toes.  "You tell me.  Doesn't that look big to you?"  And then they laughed!  The humor was breaking through, and I was on the winning side!  Tally one, for Lindsay.

One woman in this elementary class, Irina, is from right outside of Moscow.  We found out today that she is a doctor, and from her appearance she is quite well off.  Irina is very sweet, and she understands everything we say.  The others look to Irina when we finish explaining something, and she always relays the directions to the others--in Czech.  She doesn't explain anything in English, because she can only speak a few words...but she understands everything!  Finally today, after listening to the Czech whispers and relays of directions I leaned over the table with a smile, "I want to know what she says too, but I don't speak Czech.  You are leaving me out.  If you say it in English I can listen too."  They laughed again...tally up the second point!

As it turns out, it really 'isn't what you say, but how you say it'.  My teaching group said that I was the most approachable of the three of us; the students like when I'm up there and seem at ease talking with me.  Bottom line: my humor may come out on the Czech side slightly fragmented from having climbed the wall, but even in the Czech Republic it is my saving grace.  New lesson plan implemented: banter with the class.

When it was time for the students' break I sat back down in my chair and breathed a sigh of relief that (one) I made it to the minimal required time, and (two) we weren't being monitored by my teacher today.  I looked up and the young man of the group, Petr, was sitting next to me.  "Do you have a 'Facebook'?" He asked.

Metro System

Besides language, I find the most daunting thing about a foreign city to be the transit system.  It is the key to getting around cheaply.  It is the way to experience the city in the shoes of a native.  It is the most frustrating thing one is introduced to--especially when there's the foreign language factor--but the reward for figuring it out is to walk with your head held high, for you are now able to trick people into thinking you belong.  This is not the case in Prague.  The hardest thing about the transit system in Prague is not getting queasy on the escalators.  Heading up and down, into and out of, the depths of the city's core to catch the metro involves a long, long escalator ride at a speed one might consider harmful the safety of humans beings.

Imagine this is what you see when you look up at the exit:

Now imagine that a stutter-step is required to embark on such a ride.  One might say it's like hopping into a game of double-dutch; you've got to time the spin, gauge the rope, and make eye-contact with the twirler to ensure they're not out to make you look like a fool--only then is it the time to begin to even think about jumping in.  Much like the metro escalators.  Look at the photo again.  Closely.  Do you see an end point?  Do you see anyone walking smoothly off the escalator to continue on with their day?  No; it's too high.  Now close your eyes.  What you see is me, pretending to be a Praguer; leaving the map in my satchel; attempting to mimic the stoic face of a Czech.  The dismount gives me away most; the escalator slings me off, out of it's metro lair, out onto the normal world level.  I'm almost encouraged to continue at the escalator's suggested speed into a jog all the way out to street level, like it seems to suggest you to do.  There would be no blending after that.

Point being: Much like the double-dutch twirlers, the metro escalators laugh when tourists sway.  They use efficiency as their disguise, but I feel confident that the speeds were chosen for a reason.  I could be exhibit 'a'.  Here is a suggested checklist from someone who has learned quickly: check individual spacing, gauge time, set feet, stutter-step, go!  When aboard, study the posters along the long, but windy ride; the creepy, confusing and humorous images are sure to take your mind off your impending sling-shot.

Dinner in Wenceslas Square

I have been busy working on lesson plans (yes, we are already that official), so I'll leave you with this photo:

Day Two: When the Gang Turns Rebellious

The "mystery" of the 'Beer Gardens' was solved after a metro ride, a transfer, and a long trek uphill with a bunch of people whose names I continually failed to remember.  Just when I was about to make a sarcastic comment about the incline to a place I was told didn't serve food we rounded the corner and came upon this:

 Yes, that is Prague Castle in the background.  Needless to say, the hike was totally worth it.  And for the record, the 'Beer Gardens' did serve some sort of kielbasa--but I had to pay five extra crowns for a plastic fork...which I then lost three prongs of in the remainder of my sausage.  I extracted said prongs inconspicuously, so as not to confuse these new acquaintances and gave the remainder of the sausage to a dog that was stalking me.  He continued to stare at me until his owner left, hugging and kissing each tree as he exited the 'garden'--the owner, that is, not the dog.


Thus comes the second day, when we got rebellious.  Showing up for a tour with an indefinite time limit on an empty stomach is not recommended--problem number one.  Problem number two was the guides; though knowledgeable, they couldn't have been more disinterested.  I'm not sure how they were affiliated with the school, but they did their main task as far as I am concerned--I now know where the post office is and how to use the tram (which is different from the metro we mastered the night before).  It was at Prague Castle when ten of us lost the guide and decided to take this as an omen to get food.  Beef goulash and bread dumplings smothered in gravy.  I love Prague.

(Side note: I'm slightly concerned that meals like the one previously mentioned, and the fried cheese 'burger' with curry-ketchup the night before--after the kielbasa--will conflict with the new svelt, Czech-model Lindsay you've all been expecting to emerge...but these concerns arise only when food is not in front of me)

Our view from lunch

Another interesting tidbit about lunch is that our waitress looked like Victoria Beckham, something that Maddie, from Wisconsin, was equally as thrilled about.

The rest of the day was taken up with a jaunt across the Charles Bridge, a Czech supermarket (where they have small carts in the form of rolling backpacks), and me taking the metro back with a twelve-pack of toilet paper--which the checker wouldn't give me a bag for.

Day One on Sadska Street

For trivial purposes I'll tell you that on the plane I watched 'the Adjustment Bureau' and 'Country Strong', because I know that at least one of you was wondering aloud which movies I would watch at some point during the day.  When I wasn't watching these films I was sleeping, or pretending to sleep so that the man next to me wouldn't commence conversation one hour into a eight hour flight--my intuition warned me that he really wanted to chat.  Moving on...

The second round of customs was much ado about nothing, because the minute I whipped out my American passport they waved me through without threatening in any way, shape or form my stash of fruit snacks that I've saved for a time when they were much needed.  When I entered the arrival area I immediately spotted a large man waving a sign with my name on it...swoon?  I dare say I did!  And though he didn't say it, I could tell he wanted to make fun of the amount of luggage I was charging out of the terminal with.  When a great humidity blasted me when I stepped outside and the puzzle pieces came together--not wonder he looked at my jacket with confusion, and slight disgust.  I tried to make a silly quip, but the language barrier immediately got in my way...I intend to change this!  After quite a long drive, we arrived at the hotel positioned right around the corner from the school and the large flight of stairs that came with said hotel.  The driver helped me lug my exactly fifty pound suitcase to the top, and after we caught our breath I was informed that I would not, in fact, be staying at this particular hotel but at a flat a five minute metro stop away.  A new character, Martina, entered to help me find said flat and lug my bags back down the daunting staircase.  When I asked if I was the only one staying at said flat, I was informed that Martina would be picking up my flatmate tomorrow morning; her name is Meghan.  I believe I confused Martina with my smile, and shocked her quite a bit when I guessed my flat mate's last name correctly.  Onward to my new flat!

Martina only had one key, so I didn't get to choose my room...this is upsetting because Meghan's is substantially bigger than mine.  I'm not kidding--she could double-dutch in her room, whereas it would be absurd to try it in my room.  I do believe Martina felt badly about leaving me on my own, because she was very concerned that I wouldn't be able to figure out the key system in the doors.  Fun fact: Czech keys are used upside down.  Perhaps I am not the first American to be caught off-guard over this.  After the key discovery, Martina walked me down to the Metro station to show me how it worked and what it looked like; I was duly impressed with how simple both of these features were.  I plan on mastering it, much like we did the bus system in London.  Owned.

That leads me to this point.  I plan on relaxing for a short amount of time, and then heading out on a walk (I seem to have impressed Martina by declaring that I love to walk in foreign countries--she said I was not of like-mind with other Americans she had given the short tour to).  There's also talk on facebook about a visit to an alleged 'beer garden' later this evening with people from class--I find this perplexing.  I'm not sure what this entails; a garden watered with beer, a garden made of beer, drinking beer in a garden, a garden where the only thing one is allowed to do is drink beer...the possibilities are endless.  I plan on tagging along, but we'll see how it goes.  Evidently the person who proposed this adventure is one of the few who studied here in college...perhaps the 'beer garden' is a Czech frat party.  Sober updates to follow.