The Race

Mama said, “be careful with him.”

Daddy said, “c'mon, baby doll.”

I never understood why.

We grew up together, him being only a few months older than me. I remember being babies and running around outside, catching butterflies and grasshoppers.

I remember being seven. Sometimes, he'd sit in with me while I did my lessons. He'd ask me questions and I'd teach him what I just learned from my Nan. We practiced writing together, him on the left side of the board and me on the right. He liked the way the chalk sounded, liked how it got all over your fingers and hands. I didn't notice it as much as he did.

I remember being ten. We'd be sitting on the back porch steps eating a picnic. I'd wave to Ms. Nell in the garden, and she'd smile and shout out, “Hi sweetie. How's it going for ya on this beautiful day?” And I'd shout back “It's going real nice, Ms. Nell.” And she'd nod slowly with her hands on her hips and a smile on her face. And then she'd wipe her forehead with her apron and go back to tending the garden. And he'd finish the last of his part of our picnic and go help Ms. Nell.

Mama said, “why don't you go play with the little girls in the neighborhood?”

Daddy said, “c'mon, baby doll.”

I never understood why.

I remember being twelve. Mr. Henry opening the carriage door for me, saying, “Welcome home, Miss. I know you had a grand time with Auntie Jane, but we sure are glad to have ya back.” Mama coming out of the house in her big pretty dress. Daddy coming out in his work suit with his tie loose around his neck. And him, jumping down the steps with that big ole grin spread wide across his face. And me smiling happy at Mama and smiling happy at Daddy, and smiling big and real at him. Him picking up my bags for me and carrying them inside, and us talking all about what I'd done for three weeks at Auntie Jane's big house. And I remember seeing my parents look at each other, and remember seeing them stay back and talk to Mr. Henry. Mr. Henry looking anxious and shuffling his feet and nodding like grown ups do when there's something sad they're talking about.

Mama said, “you're getting too old for this.”

Daddy said, “c'mon, baby doll.”

I never understood why.

I remember being fifteen during that snowstorm. Ms. Nell being sick and Mama and me packing up food to take to their house. Walking in and her lying on her bed, underneath the covers with a rag on her forehead, sweating like she was on fire but talking about how cold, oh just how cold she was. And him standing by the fireplace, arms crossed, not moving, not taking his eyes off of her, trying to be her guardian angel. And Mr. Henry rocking back and forth, back and forth in the chair beside her bed. I remember his lips moving, praying to himself all quiet. Mama and me putting the food basket down on the table in the kitchen. Mama going and getting the rag from Ms. Nell's forehead and taking it to the water bucket to ring it out. And me going and standing next to him. “Hey,” I whispered. “Hey,” he whispered back. And him uncrossing his arms and shoving his left hand in his pocket and letting me hold his right hand. And Mama putting the rag back on Ms. Nell's head, saying soothing words to her, turning and seeing us holding hands, and just staring. And having this sad look on her face.

I got up that night to go to the kitchen and I heard them through the door.

Mama said, “we've got to talk to her.”

Nan said, “you're going to break her heart.”

Daddy said, “she's got to know.”

Nan said, “she's not going to listen.”

Mama and Daddy didn't say anything else.

Eighteen. Callers come calling, and I know how to play my part as a lady. And every time they finally leave and I wait for him to finish working and we go walk around the yard and make fun of their clothes or their hair or their big names and small fortunes. “They want my money,” I said one time. “They want what I can do for them, not me. They don't care about me.” He put his hand around mine. His hand was large and warm and rough. He did a lot more work ever since Ms. Nell passed away. He put his hand around mine and said, “They must be blind.” And I said, “I wish the world was.”

Mama said, “you know better.”

Daddy said, “be careful, baby doll.”

Nan said, “let 'em be while they can be.”

I hated understanding why.

Nineteen, and my parents tell me they think quite highly of Mr. Mason. He calls more than the others. He's nicer than the others and he holds conversations with me rather than only my father. He smiles when he looks at me, and sometimes I actually enjoy smiling back. I remember the night he called when my father asked me to leave the room after dinner. I knew what it meant. I remember sneaking out the door, down the back porch steps, and running to their house and knocking, knocking, knocking. Mr. Henry answering and saying surprised, “Well hi there, Miss. What's got you out here at this hour?” And then me looking at Mr. Henry and Mr. Henry seeing my face and my dress and looking outside at Mr. Mason's carriage, and saying “Oh. That's what's got you out here.” Mr. Henry stepping aside and me walking in and sitting down at the kitchen table. Mr. Henry sitting on my left side and him sitting on my right and holding my hand while Mr. Henry sighs and puts his hand on my back, and I cry. Me, crying at their kitchen table, feeling the minutes inch by until I hear Mr. Mason's carriage pull out of the yard. Mr. Henry sings an old hymn song and then turns my chin so I'm looking at him and says, “Now then, Miss, you keep that pretty head high, and you don't let em tell you what to do, ya hear? But this.” Mr. Henry looking at our hands. “This is bigger than you and them. This is you and the world. And you can't go fighting the world all by yourself. Miss, it's been an honor watching you grow up. And it's been an honor having you in our family. But you know we have to let you go.” I remember Mr. Henry crying one tear and standing me up and giving me a hug.

Then me and him walking around the yard for the last time. Holding hands for the last time. Enjoying being quiet together for the last time. Him saying, “Mr. Mason seems like he'll take good care of you.” And me saying, “He will.” And him saying, “Do you know where you'll be living?” And me saying “No.” And then him being quiet for a real long time. And saying, “Do you think you'll love him?” And me being quiet for a real long time. And saying, “I hope I learn to.”

It's a painful moment when your heart splits in two.

Twenty-one, and I'm grown up, and I'm moved away and in my own house with my own husband, beginning my own family. And my heart's not in two anymore, and I'm learning to love my husband more and more. But I still see him sometimes, when we visit my parents. And he nods his head and says “Sir,” and “Ma'am,” and he picks up our bags and carries them to our room. And I don't go with him. And in the morning we wake up, and he's tending the garden. And I don't go help him. And sometimes in the afternoon, I sit on the back porch, and he looks up and says, “How's it going for ya on this beautiful day, Ma'am?” And I say, “It's going real nice, Sir.” And he laughs and says “Don't call me Sir” and I say “Don't call me Ma'am.” And he's quiet for a long time. And then he says, “That's not how it works anymore.”

#likeaperson

If you asked my friends, "Is Catherine a feminist?" I feel pretty confident they'd mostly reply no. I don't post feminist articles. I don't post feminist statuses. I've actually on various occasions been known to say, "so I'm not a feminist, but..."

Overwhelmingly, the definition of "feminist" I see presented is still what I believe to be the feminist stereotype: a woman who is driven by her desire to out-do men, to show them that she is just as smart and capable in the workplace as they, and to prove to herself and others that she doesn't need others' approval (ironic, no?).

Occasionally, I see a feminist article which re-explains that the idea of feminism is not about emasculating men but rather elevating women to an equal tier. I like this. I like this quite a lot. And if this were the first definition that came to the majority's mind when they heard "feminist," I would gladly identify as one. But I'm afraid that's not the case. To me, even the word "feminism" indicates an attitude that females should be superior, just as "masculism" indicates an attitude of male superiority. If a guy told me he was for masculism, I would assume he considered masculinity superior and that he looked down on women. So when a girl tells me she's for feminism, I interpret it as she looks down on men. Therefore, I would classify the aforementioned idea as one of an "equalist." No, I'm not creating that term, I have read it before. But only once. Maybe I'll start using it more.

Yeah. Call me an Equalist.**

So now that I have a nice little label, let me explain what it means to me.

It means that I should not receive special treatment in the workplace due to the fact that I am female, but rather that I should expect the same respect, the same requirements, and the same pay-level as a male working the same position at the same company.

It means that I will appreciate chivalry, because I'm from the South and Southern women teach their boys to open the door for a girl. I will not view it as a slight to my physical ability to open my own door. I will, however, not stand next to the door and wait for a man to open it for me (unless both of my hands are fully occupied and I am incapable, in which case I reserve the right to ask anyone to open it).

It means that I'm not going to hit my guy friend, my brother, my (imaginary) boyfriend, because if he hit me it'd be abuse, and just because I may be smaller doesn't mean I can't do damage.

It means that I recognize the fact that if I go to the gym and wear spandex shorts and a sports bra, I will likely draw attention to myself in the same way that a guy who works out without a shirt on draws attention to himself. If I don't want that attention, I will do the only thing I can do, which is take responsibility for myself, and wear shorts and a shirt (there may be a whole other post about the lack of responsibility I see everywhere. But that's for another day).

It means that when I see a commercial like this one, I will recognize its validity even though I don't quite agree with its solution or movement. This commercial has become incredibly popular in the past week. I understand why - it's a very accurate and effective demonstration of the negativity associated with "like a girl." Now, I never really received this insult when I was a kid, but rather was often complemented for "keeping up with the boys." This was due to the fact that I have two older brothers who, from a very young age, taught me how to fight and play and wrestle and get hurt and then tough it out. I spent lots of time with them and their guy friends. And I prided myself on being accepted in their group. But despite me escaping this specific insult, I understand the harm it can do. But I don't think #likeagirl is the solution.

Because my question is this: why do we have to specify by "like a girl" or "like a boy" anyway? If we're talking sports, isn't "like an athlete" more logical? If we're talking mentality, isn't "like a child" or "like an adult" more appropriate?

If a stranger approached you and asked, "What are you?" what would your response be? Mine would be, "Excuse me?" And if they repeated the question, I would reply with, "Uhh... a person..." Because duh.

And that's exactly it. If they asked for a list of ways I define myself, "female" would certainly be on there, but first and foremost I'm a person, and therefore I expect to be treated like one. So while I have a body #likeagirl, that will not be my identification.

I will laugh #likeachild and play #likeanathlete. And I will live #likeaperson.

------------------------------------------
**Today, a friend introduced me to the word "egalitarian." An Egalitarian, according to our friendly conversation and a speedy Google search, is one who "advocates or supports egalitarian principles," those principles including the belief that "all people are equal and deserve equal rights and opportunities." So there ya go. I'm an Egalitarian (thanks, Dustin).

Quite A Grand Adventure: The Conclusion

I miss Prague every day.

I've been stateside for almost six weeks now. I've been to Raleigh. I've been to Hayesville. I've gone back to work at Stone Summit. I've done some sewing projects. I've played piano. I've caught up with friends. I've been to a wedding. I've gotten lead climb certified. I've had a birthday.

I love being in Atlanta. I really do. But I miss Prague every day.

My last three weeks of classes flew by. After spring break, everything went into hyperspeed. One weekend we had a photo shoot for the costume and photography studios. The next weekend we went to Berlin. And the weekend after that we did the touristy things of Prague that we hadn't gotten around to yet (i.e. the castle, paddle-boating, parks, etc.). The next weekend our program ended, and suddenly people were America-bound.

My brother Michael came to visit for about two weeks. He spent four days in eastern Czech with a friend of his while I finished up exams and said goodbye to everyone. Then we flew to the Netherlands for three nights - two in Delft and one in Amsterdam, with a stop at Keukenhof Gardens (wow!). Our last days were spent with our friends Anna and Tereza in beautiful Praha. We even had sunny skies majority of the weekend.

Our final weekend there was Easter weekend. Tereza went with Michael and I to mass at the church of Our Lady of Victory, which houses the Infant Jesus of Prague. We went out to lunch afterwards and Tereza gave us both presents, including traditional Easter lamb cakes which her mom had made for us! Once we said bye to her, it was off to pick up our luggage and then head to the hotel at the airport.

The trip home was disorienting. I began traveling around four Monday morning, spent 25 hours in airports and on planes, and got picked up around eleven Monday night. By my third connection in Dallas, I had no idea what time zone I was in, I just knew I was early for my last flight.

Since then, things have been low-key. Transitioning back wasn't particularly difficult, just strange. Anna took me to breakfast that Tuesday morning and I felt like I could hear every conversation in the restaurant. It took me a week to turn on the radio, and I still find myself turning it off half the time, preferring to let my car be quiet. My watch is still set to Prague time, and I'm thankful that I'm six hours behind here because anything other than that would be too difficult to calculate every time I check it.

All in all, things are good here. It's nice to be home and I'm happy to be back. But I miss Prague every day.

Things You'll Only Understand If You're A Homo Sapiens

(Sorry, Grumpy Cat. This post is not for you.)

I've had a not so life-changing but nonetheless interesting revelation as of late: the more I use the internet, the more I hate using the internet.

It's not the internet itself so much as everything that it hosts (I've posted about technology before, and this may be similar in nature, but regardless, it's getting its own post). Now, I recognize the important functions of the web. I have a Facebook and enjoy using it to keep up with friends (especially while I've been abroad), display photos, share stories , make plans, and post witty statuses regarding whatever remarkable or semi-remarkable incident occurred that day (and actually, you probably wouldn't be reading this post if it weren't for Facebook). I have no shame in saying that I am dependent upon my email - communicating for group projects, getting information from companies, talking with professors, with advisers, etc. Email is so very useful. I've also been required to use the internet for various classes - either online classes or ones that post readings and links onto a group website. We check our grades through our school site, as well as register for classes. I'm partial to Netflix and YouTube (I'm listening to Human by Christina Perri on YouTube right now), and every now and then I find myself on Flickr checking out someone's photos of cities or people or ruins (check out this one of the ruins from Gary, Indiana, or this guy, who photographs all around New York but particularly the homeless and prostituted population. It gets real deep, real quick).

BUT, (you knew it was coming soon) despite the few things I enjoy, need, or even love, I'm pretty much over everything else. When I scroll my Facebook newsfeed, it seems that every other post is a link to some site. Generally, some quiz I need to take, or a list of things that will give me some insight into my life (Buzzfeed.com). I'll indulge every now and again - I believe this past week I took a quiz to find out that Jennifer Lawrence would play me in a movie version of my life, and I reposted a list of things that "only" Atlanta-natives understand (what can I say, it made me laugh). But aside from the occasional genuinely entertaining quizlet or list of inside jokes, there's nothing good (holy smokes, 99 channels and nothing's on). And yet I find myself wasting hours every day... where? On the internet.

So let's get serious, shall we? I think the onslaught of postings, quizzes, and general information stems from the natural human desire for affirmation (note: I forgot about merriam-webster.com. I definitely just used it to make sure I had the correct definition of "affirmation"). While this ties into a whole other topic of self-worth and self-image, I'm going to throw up an umbrella statement: people obtain positive affirmation through other people. Now, without internet, what does that mean? It actually forces conversation. A face-to-face chat. A phone call. Heck, a letter - those take time and effort. What does it mean with internet? It means one status update or photo post and then waiting for the likes to roll in.

It makes me sad. Partly, because it's transitioning people from relying on their close friends and family to relying on their large circle of acquaintances (I forego the word "friends" due to the number of people I know who have 1000+ Facebook friends. The absurdity that is the Facebook friending process is a topic for another day). And partly because even though I recognize it and hate it, I can more and more feel it affecting me. Things happen during the day and I find myself thinking "what's the most clever way to post this on Facebook?" Not so that it will be the most descriptive or informative, no, but so that it will obtain a respectable number of likes. Same with photos. I debate which one to set as a new profile picture and find these thoughts running through my mind: "How many likes did my last one get? What has been my most popular picture in the past few months? Should I use one that's more dramatic or candid?"

It's pathetic. I can own up to it. It's pathetic.

I think it's the same with all these quizlets and lists of things that "only xyz people will understand." It's the desire to be set apart from others, preferably in a favorable and likable manner (for the sake of not insulting anyone who reads this, I'll make fun of myself here):

You got Jennifer Lawrence for your movie alter-ego? Ohmigosh, I love Jennifer Lawrence!
You grew up in Atlanta? You understand the ridiculous number of streets named 'Peachtree'? Ohmigosh, I'm from Atlanta and get so confused by all of those!
You were a theater kid in high school? Isn't it just so funny how only theater kids understand theater kid life? Let's list all the reasons.
You have siblings? I have siblings! Here are all the things that kids without siblings will never understand about having siblings.

It's like a ridiculously expansive and intertwining but simultaneously exclusive mass of cliques. I can be in the Has Siblings clique, but not in the Has Sisters clique. I can be in the Climbing clique, but not the Lead Climbing clique. I can be in the College clique, but only the Textiles clique (although this semester I've actually wormed my way into the Design clique, and it's a pretty fun place to be. But even with my honorary design kid status, I still get left behind in conversations about classes and professors).

I think that little by little, people are learning to use these lists and quizzes to define themselves. And it makes me uncomfortable. If someone asked me to describe myself, I wouldn't say "well, I took a quiz on Buzzfeed and found out that if I were a Little Mermaid character I'd be Ursula" (which happened). I wouldn't say "well, my statuses always get a lot of likes and 'lol' comments, so I'd say I'm funny." And (unless I were a super hippy myself or talking to a super hippy) I wouldn't say "well my spirit animal is an eagle, so I'm independent and strong. And majestic."

No, I can think of much better ways to summarize myself, and I don't need a quiz to tell me if I'm doing it right or not, or in a way that "only people who really know Catherine will understand."

I think I'm just finally realizing how stupid all of these things are. They definitely possess an addictive quality, but as we all know, addictive substances are generally bad for you. So I'm going to try to get clean. More time doing productive things. Less time on Facebook. No time taking quizzes to find out what my favorite type of cheese says about my personality (btw, it's pepperjack and it wasn't even an option on that quiz).

And Jennifer, if my life ever does become a movie, I'll be cast as myself. The end.

Quite A Grand Adventure: The Italy Tour

My apologies for the recent lack of postings. Things have been a bit crazy. So let's talk Italy!!

Spring break was the first full week of March. Our whirlwind tour took 6 of us to 6 different Italian cities in 10 days/9 nights. After 2 planes, 3 boats, 6 trains, 7 buses, 4 hostels, approximately 13 servings of gelato (possibly more), and an insane amount of planning and preparation, we made it back to Prague with only one pickpocketing casualty (sorry about your travel pass, Will).

Here's the overview:

Venice - (Friday the 7th and Saturday the 8th) lots of gelato, pizza, and wine. And lots of walking to counteract the effects of those three (especially in combination). San Marco square, St. Mark's Basilica, Peggy Guggenheim collection, gondola ride at sunset. So many beautiful buildings. A bit difficult to be out after dark because the whole city has an early bedtime - when the sun goes down, the shops close up. It was both eerie and peaceful to walk the alleys and see so few other people. Highlights: I just really loved the whole thing. At the risk of sounding cliché, it was quite magical.

Florence - (Sunday the 9th thru Tuesday the 11th) lots more exploring. And food. Really, those two are a given, so I'm going to stop listing them. Moving on... gypsies, outdoor galleries, the Duomo, St. Croce Opera, Palazzo Pitti exhibitions and gardens, view point after dark, the Ufizzi and the Academia (highlights: Birth of Venus at Ufizzi and the David at Academia), leather shops. While I enjoyed all the things we did in Florence, I did not particularly enjoy the city itself. Can't explain why. It just didn't feel good to me.

Rome - (Wednesday the 12th and Thursday the 13th) Vatican City, including visits inside St. Peter's Basilica, the Dome, and the Vatican museum (highlights: seeing Michelangelo's Pieta and praying inside the side room at the Basilica). Sistine chapel. (I can safely say that the Creation of Adam was something I never expected to see in person. And now I have not only seen it, but I have stood in the middle of the Sistine chapel and smelled it...) Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps - the fountain was very cool, the steps were rather disappointing. Our first "true" Italian dinner - appetizer, first course, main course, and dessert. The Colosseum, the Forum, and Palatine Hill. The Pantheon. The greatest tiramisu I am quite sure I will ever have in my life. As well as some of the greatest gelato I am quite sure I will ever have in my life. And I had a lot of gelato that week...

Naples - okay, including Naples is kind of a lie. We used it as a home base for Pompeii and Capri. So aside from eating breakfast and dinner in the city, we didn't do much. Except get pickpocketed (again, Will, sorry about your travel pass). I guess I should include that story here, because it was right when we arrived. These guys watched us buy our bus tickets (to get to our hostel) and got on the bus when we did. I made it on fast and through the crowd and found a safe spot standing by the window. These guys (three or four of them) got on and then, as other passengers were getting off, boxed in three of our group right when they stepped through the doors. They kept pushing as if they were trying to get off, and it was a shoving war - the doors tried to close on Will two or three times. I realized the aisles had cleared out completely but these people were still shoving, and just as I understood what was going on I saw one of the guys smile and heard Amanda say "hey!" and then they all bolted off the bus. She emerged with her purse (which clips shut) shoved open and her wallet in her hand. Yeah, the guy got it and she saw it and took it back from him. NBD. She's just my hero. One of them got into Will's jeans pocket and took the travel pass we use in Prague (it's about the size of a credit card). That was the only loss sustained. Which was actually quite a loss considering the mustache he's sporting in that photo. Will actually looked for it a few days later when we were leaving, but the entire bus stop was so dirty that there was no chance of finding it. So as for Naples, I can't really gauge it. We did have dinner at a really amazing restaurant. I ate a deep-fried calzone. Mmhmm, that's a thing.
**Note** William was so kind as to remind me that after a grueling battle with some samurai who had taken possession of his pass, and after summoning the power of a hurricane-force lightning storm, he did, in fact, recover his card.

Pompeii - (Friday the 14th) the bus to Pompeii dropped off in the current portion of the city. So there was lots of wandering to find the historical portion. But once found, some amazing exploring and photos. I really enjoyed Pompeii.

Capri - (Saturday the 15th) hydrofoil to Capri. I could talk for miles (yes, I meant to say that) about Capri in regards to what we did and saw and the cool shops and souvenirs, but it's beyond words as far as how it felt. It's a mountain island off the coast of Naples. It's famous for its lemons and oranges. It has the clearest water I've ever seen. We took a boat ride around the island and climbed up the tiny ally roads past brightly painted doors and wrought-iron fences to lookouts with the most gorgeous views I've ever experienced. I sat for ten minutes in a tree high above sea level and just stared at the water and the sky and the cliffs. It was the most peaceful I can recall feeling. Ever. In my life. I want to go back. I need to go back. Capri, call me home.

That about summarizes the week. Sunday was our travel day. We walked from our hostel to the train station, took a train from Naples to Rome, a bus from the train station to the airport, flew into Prague, took another bus from the airport to the metro, rode the metro back to our section of the city (that Jiřího z Podĕbrad, am I right?) and then walked back to the pension. And as amazing as our week was, it was so lovely to be back in my home away from home away from home.

Oh, Sunday afternoon, before we left Naples, was also the first and only time we heard a native Italian exclaim "mama mia!" in frustration. So that actually happens...

Venezia

Firenze

Roma - Pieta at St. Peter's Basilica

Roma - Colosseum

Roma - inside the Forum

Napoli - this is literally the only photo I have from Naples.
That fried calzone, though...

Pompei

Pompei

Pompei

Capri

Capri

Capri

Capri

Capri

Capri

Capri, call me home...

Quite A Grand Adventure: Kutná Hora

Kutná Hora is a small city about an hour's train ride from Praha. One of the main attractions - I may dare to even say the main attraction - is the ossuary.

The ossuary is an old church building surrounded by a cemetery. The chapel in the basement of the church has been decorated (yes, decorated) with almost or over or around 40,000 bones. Human bones. Real ones. Yeah. The cemetery, which used to belong to an abbey, has been around since the 1200's. It was enlarged in the 1300's and again in the 1400's in order to accompany more burials (courtesy of the Black Death and Hussite Wars, respectively). The church was built around 1400, with upper and lower levels, the lower one intended to serve as an ossuary for the bodies disturbed and excavated during construction of the church. Sometime in the early 1500's, a half-blind monk was tasked with exhuming the bones and stacking them inside the chapel. In 1870, a woodcarver was hired to organize the heaps.

So that's the history of it. Pictures don't do it justice, but here's a shot:

base of a mound

pattern in the mound

crest

so, this is how tall the mounds are, and there are four of them

presumably the woodcarver

I don't think I've ever been so close to bones, much less human ones

tower

I didn't find out what the tradition behind or significance of leaving a coin is

chandelier. 

Oh, and local legend says that the half-blind monk who dug up and arranged the bones had his sight fully restored once he completed the task. But that's just the local legend...

Quite A Grand Adventure: Masopust

This past Saturday, we ventured out to an annual celebration known as "Masopust." It's a Czech carnival that takes place in various cities, including Prague and our very dear Český Krumlov. We took the train to Raztoky and wandered around a small complex (for free!) for an hour or two, eating delicious food (not free), drinking beer (also not free), and taking in the sights - costumes, make up, masks, etc.

"Masopust" literally translates to "meat fast." While historically it has been related to various pagan - and then later, Christian - festivities, it symbolically serves as a celebration to say goodbye to winter and hello to the warmer seasons.

But really it's just a time for everyone to dress up and be noisy and eat good cheap food and drink good cheap beer and watch various performers - we mostly saw dancers and jugglers.

That's about it. Considering our round-trip train ticket was $1 and lunch/dessert was $3.50, I'd say it was an afternoon well spent. It was definitely an experience I don't expect to ever be able to duplicate.

Here's a guy on stilts. There were a lot of them.
This particular one was working with three other guys, running (hobbling) around
the crowd and proposing to girls.
I don't think he was ever successful.
Poor stilted man.

The Accidental Bias

Earlier today, I was watching a Youtube video that a friend of mine posted. It's short, cute, sweet - definitely an entertaining 2 minutes and 30 seconds. In addition to knowing the people in it, I also know the back story (because I was there when it happened!). This made it a little more interesting when I scrolled down and read the comments.

The few comments posted came from random people who happened to stumble across this clip online - no one who actually knows the people in it. Nobody wrote anything rude or crude, but the simple observations that were posted bothered me a bit. I caught myself thinking, "what do they know? They weren't there." Until I realized that, had I not known the full story, I would have been thinking the same things. Maybe not posting them, but thinking them nonetheless.

The digital era has given us the opportunity to create biases without even intending to do so. Snapchats, Vines, Youtube videos, music videos, movies. Everything the director/producer/whoever wants to keep stays in. Everything the d/p/w doesn't want gets cut. Whether the clip is capturing real life or staged, the fact remains that the "production team," if you will, ultimately controls how it turns out. This can mean a couple of things:

1. We (the viewers) fail to understand the amount of work and time represented in what we watch, and
B. We (the viewers) form opinions when facts are still missing.

Let's expand.

1. I'd be interested to know what percentage of filmed material actually makes it into a 2.5 hour movie. How many times did the actors run that fourth scene? How many different times did the director call "cut" when that guy missed his entrance? When that girl forgot her line? How long did it take to re-film the final scene because one of the actors wore the wrong costume piece (Sean Astin, the Grey Havens scene at the end of the LOTR trilogy)? Because so many errors in the digital world may be removed or resolved with a simple cut, delete, or copy/paste, we have very little understanding of everything that goes into the project.

B. Due to the above, we also form opinions based upon a fraction of the information. Since the final product appears complete when we view it, we are generally unaware of other potentially important information which is lacking. We decide that we feel some way about the character or actor due to what we are shown, which is only a fragment of the story.

Regarding the video I mentioned in the opening: I can recall the surrounding circumstances - everything leading up to and following the bits shown in the clip. Therefore, I have my own, fully-informed opinion about it. It required me reading the comments to realize that other people who have watched this video - the general public - seem to pick up on very different points than I do, and therefore form different opinions regarding the people featured. I wanted to comment and tell them the details which got left out, thinking that surely they would change their opinion if they knew the full story... I didn't though, because A) I'm not trying to start a Youtube comments fight, and 2) it really doesn't matter enough. I know what happened and anyone else who was there knows what happened. The whole purpose of posting it was so that we could watch it. It's just by chance that others have seen it now.

So as much as those comments may irk me, it's not my job to set those people straight. Do I wish that a little more had been included in the video? That maybe we could make a montage of other photos and clips so that the full story is better represented? So that the other viewers don't assume an accidental bias? Perhaps. But then again, personally, I know this will serve to remind me to be conscious of what I watch in the future. Viewing a clip myself doesn't make it true, and it definitely doesn't make me an expert.

Is This American Culture?

Few things make me want to pull my hair out more than a child who is selfish and ungrateful, kids who are uncontrolled and disrespectful. We see kids like that and think, "wow, what great parenting. They are going to be miserable teenagers." Which they are.

But maybe these kids aren't actually too far off point.

I think American society does an incredible job of creating two very different worlds for children and adults. As kids, we are taught to share belongings, be kind to everyone, put other people before ourselves, respect those in authority, say "please" and "thank you," and that you can't always get what you want just because you want it. The children that we enjoy babysitting are the ones who listen when we are talking, who follow our instructions, who go to bed on time and without a fight, who share toys with their siblings. Children's TV shows teach the same kinds of things - going out of your way to help someone, apologizing when you've done something wrong, etc. 

I've learned very different lessons in the adult world.

I've learned to be selfish: if I want something, I should get it, regardless of the methods necessary to obtain it (because the end justifies the means).

To be ungrateful: what I currently have isn't good enough, because having the best car, phone, clothes, etc. gives me status.

To be uncontrolled and impulsive: I should get what I want right when I want it. 

To focus on myself: I should say what I think, regardless of how kind of unkind it is; if people can't handle it, obviously they're too sensitive, so they just have to figure out how to deal. If other people are blocking my way to success, I should step on them, climb over them, throw them under the bus (people will vote me for prom queen then, right?).

To bend or break the rules: if I think they're stupid, they shouldn't apply to me. I should get around them however I want.

To blame someone else: if passing blame, or simply not owning up, gets me further, do it. Honestly isn't important when being honest could affect me negatively in the short-run.

To hold a grudge: if I'm hurt by someone I shouldn't forgive and forget, I should hold onto it and use it to hurt the person back.

To measure my success by money or relationship status: If I want to be successful, I'll have money. And if I don't have money but want to be happy, I'll be in a relationship. 

I can't say that this is purely American culture, I can only know how often I see this exhibited in the culture at home. I look at these themes, which are always evident in films, books, shows, etc., and can't help but think that if this is the adult I'm told to become in order to be "successful," - if growing up means being selfish, blaming my peers, being bitter - I'd rather keep acting like a kid. I'd rather forgive readily and forget quickly, love easily, and share freely. 

Quite A Grand Adventure: Karlovy Vary

Karlovy Vary is a spa town located about two hours west of Prague. We went for a day-long excursion this past Friday. Established in 1350, the small town has served as a getaway for celebrities and royalty, and since 1946 has hosted the Karlovy Vary International Film Festival every summer, making it one of the oldest film festivals in the world.

We began our adventure by waking up at 6 on a Friday... I've done more fun things in my life, but it was worth it. After an early breakfast and throwing things together, we boarded the double-decker bus waiting for us outside the pension. Gotta say, the view from the upper level of a bus is pretty cool, especially when driving through Prague and Czech countryside. Too bad I slept through most of the great views.

We parked in the bus station and began walking up to our meeting place, making a bathroom stop in the bus station where you have to pay the bathroom attendant 10 Kc ($0.50) for the bathroom key. We've seen that a lot here. Many public restrooms require payment, and cafes or fast food chains often guard their bathrooms somehow, either by requiring payment (and then issuing a coupon to use should you buy something from them) or printing an access code on your receipt (if they lock with an electronic keypad).

The exciting part of our morning began at Spa 5. We divided into two groups – swimming and non-swimming. I went with the swimming group back to the pool. We were issued locker keys and towels, and once we'd gone into the locker rooms and put on our suits we had an hour to use the pool and hot tubs. They employees explained that we also had access to the saunas and that bathing suits were not allowed, but not to worry because they were separated by gender and could only be accessed through the locker rooms None of us took them up on that offer.

After swimming we got a tour of the facilities. The use of mineral water is what makes Karlovy Vary a big deal in the spa world – they are one of only twelve (I believe that's what she said...) spa facilities that are verified as using mineral water. They have all sorts of different water, mud and massage treatments for a variety of maladies. My personal favorite is what I'm going to affectionately dub The Freezer Box. It's a unit that cools to -160 degrees Celsius. You strip down except for little woolen booties and stand inside, and the technician makes sure your head is poking out the top, then it freezes your body for a maximum of three minutes. It's only available via doctor's recommendation, and it (supposedly) helps to relieve chronic headaches, lessen skin diseases, and increase sex drive in men. One of our Czech group members told us that he's received the treatment before, and that after a minute of being frozen you can breathe out snowflakes (or “snowdrops,” as he called them.) He also said that when he got out, his skin looked to him like that of a raw, frozen chicken.

After our tour we had time to eat lunch and wander around the city. Six of us (two of whom are Czech) went to a local restaurant which had been recommended to him by a friend. It was cheap, authentic, and delicious. Four of us got the lunch special, which consisted of a bowl of soup, beef goulash with bread dumplings, and a small beer, all for 99 Kc (about $5). After lunch we split up and Amanda and I walked down towards the middle of the town.

Every so often we passed special fountains that continually pump the mineral water from underground. It's supposed to be incredibly healthy for you. It's warm (you can see the steam rising from the basins). We heard it tasted like sulfur. The street vendors and souvenir shops sell small cups which people carry around and fill with the water. The handles are hollow and serve as straws. Maybe it doesn't taste so bad when you sip it through a porcelain straw. Anyway, neither of us tried it.

Mmm, warm mineral water. Tasty.

We eventually headed back towards our meeting place and stopped to get crepes along the way from a little hole in the wall crepes place. We watched the woman pour the batter onto the griddle and rake it perfectly thin and smooth, let it cook, then drown it in chocolate or Nutella or fruit or whatever topping we requested (I opted for Nutella and peaches). She folded it up and set it on a paper plate and then covered it in powdered sugar. Not that I'm incredibly experienced in the world of crepes, but it was the greatest one I've ever had.

Our final adventure was a liquor tour in the Becherovka museum. We heard a little bit about the company history, wandered through their displays in the cellar, then sat for a few minutes and watched an informational movie while the staff brought us samples (half shots) of three of their products – Lemond, Original, and Cordial. The liquors were fine. The cups were really cool. The whole thing took about fifteen or twenty minutes, so we got gelato and cheesecake at the cafe outside the museum and killed time until we left at 5.

And that was Karlovy Vary. Great food, cheap prices, spas. And really beautiful architecture. Definitely worth a visit if you ever find yourself in Czech.  

Church of St. Mary Magdalene

Cool buildings. All of them. 

Quite A Grand Adventure: Swan Lake and the Národní Divadlo

Theater is a significant part of Czech culture. The Národní Divadlo (National Theater) consists of five different venues that host a variety of ballets, operas, concerts, and plays every night. Within the past eleven days, I have gotten to visit three of the five stages and have seen three different performances: Americana II at the State Opera, Cosi fan Tutte at the Estates Theater, and Swan Lake at the National Theater.

Americana III – the State Opera: opened January 5, 1888, the State Opera was originally created as a Prague German stage. It only took a few years before the Prague Germans and Czech companies desired separate stages, so in 1883 negotiations began for the German Theater Association to construct their own building. The State Opera became part of the National Theater in 2012 and hosts performances for the Opera and Ballet. 

Americana III is a three-part ballet by American choreographers George Balanchine, Jerome Robbins and William Forsythe. We went as part of an excursion with our costume studio. While the entire performance was a ballet, each part focused on a different style. The first was classical, complete with bouncing tutus, men in tights, and all the graceful footwork and movements associated with ballet. The second was edgy and modern, very different from anything I've seen under the title “ballet.” Each performer wore a green leotard and tights, thought different cuts and styles. The stage was dimly lit with a spotlight in the center, so any performers on the outskirts of the stage were shadows rather than dancers. The music was less musical and more rhythmic, using percussive instruments and a few stringed instruments to create an eerie and intense sound. The dancing, while still maintaining the grace of traditional ballet, incorporated more rigid and almost robotic movements and focused on smaller, very precise hand and foot movements rather than full body motions. The final part took a theatrical approach – when the curtain pulled back a set was revealed, and the performers came out in costumes rather than leotards. The comedic story was one of three sailors attempting to pick up two girls at a bar, fighting with each other for their affections, showing off their various dance skills, and eventually losing the girls and resolving their differences over a final drink. That is, until they exit the bar and meet another attractive lady, where the curtain closes and leaves the audience to imagine the entire fiasco taking place once again.

Cosi fan Tutte – the Estates Theater: opened in 1783 and joining the National Theater in 1920, the Estates Theater is the oldest of the five stages. The first of many infrequent Czech performances took place in 1785. In 1812, the theater began hosting regular Sunday and holiday matinees. This venue was used for the world premiers of two operas by Mozart: Don Giovanni in 1787 and La clemenza di Tito in 1791. The Opera, Drama, and Ballet ensembles perform at this venue. 

Cosi fan Tutte (“All Women Are The Same”) is an Italian opera written by Mozart.

Plot: Two men are bet by a friend that their women are not faithful. They accept the bet, knowing that the ladies' hearts belong only to them. They tell their girlfriends that they are being called away to war, and once they have “left,” adopt disguises and attempt to woo the others' woman. As one might assume, the ladies reject the advances a few times but eventually give in. The friend wins his bet and his comrades rage in disbelief at the unfaithfulness of their girlfriends, debating how to punish them, until he says that the only logical course of action is to marry them. In the end, (spoiler alert) they reveal their identities and get married to their original sweethearts.

Opinion: The story was stupid, but the performers were incredible, both as singers and as actors. Because the songs were in Italian, there were translations in English and Czech projected above the stage, but even without reading the words of each song it was still possible to understand the plot through the emotions displayed by the cast. I would gladly see those performers again, though I would prefer to see them in a different show. Again, the story was stupid.

Swan Lake – Národní Divadlo: the National Theater was finished in 1883, fifteen years after the foundation stone was laid in May of 1868. Initial construction was funded by donations collected from the public. The theater opened before completion in June of 1881 in honor of the Austrian prince's visit to Prague. It hosted a total of twelve performances before it was closed to allow for the finishing touches to be made. Two months later, August 12, a fire broke out in the building, destroying the dome, auditorium, and stage. It was reopened in November of 1883 with a performance of Smetana's opera Libuše, composed specially for the occasion. In April of 1977, it was closed for six years while undergoing redevelopment, opening once again in November of 1983 with a performance of  Libuše. Now, the building serves as the main stage, hosting performances for the Drama, Opera, and Ballet. 

Swan Lake. Oh, Swan Lake. The story, the dancing, the costumes, the orchestra, the set. Everything was incredible. I don't know how much I can even say about it because it was so beyond words. We (Sarah, Will and I) sat in the middle row of the top balcony and still had a magnificent view. Everything, from the dramatic solos and duets to the ensemble scenes, was perfection. I love dancing, I miss dancing, and this ballet made me wish I still did it regularly. During intermission, we sat in our seats and absorbed the surroundings – the architecture, the ceiling, the chandelier – and talked about how incredible the dancers were. They were truly mind blowing.

We've officially decided that we're going to attempt to make theater visits a regular thing. The whole experience is so unlike anything else I've done, and seats are so affordable (our Swan Lake tickets were each 180 Kc, about $9) that I, for one, would regret not going as frequently as possible. We have multiple scheduled opera visits for my opera class, as well as a group excursion with the Institute, but I will be scouting out ballets as well. I've made it a goal to see performances at the two other venues – New Stage and Kolowrat Theater – while I'm here, just so I can say I've been to all of them. Because why not?

The Introvert Life

Today was a productive day. I slept in, finished a book, went to school but had no classes, made pasta, Skyped my family, watched way too many episodes of Parks and Recreation, and snacked on Mlsouni (essentially the Czech version of Cinnamon Toast Crunch). I had very little homework and I did none of it. Today was a productive day. Why? Because an introverted person needs an afternoon of nonsense to recharge the batteries.

I feel like introverts are trending right now. People enjoy taking "Are You An Introvert Or An Extrovert?" quizzes that pop up on Facebook. I see little memes and comics depicting life as an introvert or guides on how to safely interact with someone who is introverted (careful, we may attack. Or more likely run very, very far away). This one is my personal favorite. I think it's hilarious because I find it so accurate. I literally laugh every time I read it. Here's why:

1) The Hamster Ball. If I could actually walk around in a human-sized hamster ball, I would. I'd hope for it to be a bit rubbery so that unwanted people and things could actually bounce off. But maybe I'm dreaming too big. Point is, while everybody has one, the introvert's hamster ball of personal space is less prone to accepting outsiders than the extrovert's. It takes quite a bit of time for something or someone new to be welcome into the safe zone (see doodle of introvert hissing at outsider). However, once this person/thing is granted access (NOTE: "is granted," meaning permission is given from the introvert), it is welcome at any time. But this outside party does have a duty to respect the fact that the ball is still present. Example: any time my roommates have literally sat on top of me on the couch in our apartment. My roommates understand my need for space and down time, but after living together/being friends for multiple years they also understand that they are welcome to encroach upon my bubble. Because after living together/being friends for multiple years, I also feel no shame in kicking them out of said bubble.

B) Company and the Energy Supply. "Just because someone is introverted doesn't mean they don't like company." How true, how very true. I love people. I love company. I love hanging out with friends. That doesn't mean it's not exhausting. Going out, hanging out, meeting up - they all translate to "using up" when it comes to the energy supply. I will be happy to go to dinner with you Friday night, but that might mean I need to spend the afternoon sitting on my couch reading a book in order to save up enough energy to be enjoyable for the evening. It also probably means that I don't want to go out again on Saturday. It's not you, it's me... The energy tank gets replenished through downtime. It's just like sleep. The human body recharges while the conscious body sleeps. The introvert body recharges when the Hamster Ball Defense Mechanism sleeps. Oh, what's the HBDM? That sweet little barrier that fends off unwanted outsiders. Personal space isn't a permanent force field. It must be maintained. And force field maintenance requires energy. This is why recharging often requires a perimeter establishing an outsider-free zone. A quiet room, cozy cafe (with your own table), or open expanse of outdoor space are some of the greatest havens for an introverted soul.

Three) Silence is golden, and who doesn't like gold? (Midas, perhaps) I am perfectly comfortable with silence. Silent car rides. Silent reading time. Even sitting with a group of friends and just watching and listening to their conversations. As an introvert, spectating is often less exhausting than (and just as rewarding as) participating. I can learn everything I need to learn without having to expend the energy normally required for social interaction. It's beautiful. The main thing of which extroverts need to be aware is that introverted silence is good. When I do not contribute to a group discussion, it is rarely because I feel unwelcome in some way, but rather that I am enjoying spectating. If I do not initiate conversation, it is not necessarily due to the fact that I do not wish to converse with someone (although it may be, so if you do tread, tread carefully). I just enjoy sitting. I never meet people in classes unless they initiate conversation because I'm perfectly content to sit quietly and take notes. I'm always happy to meet new people, I just don't feel the need to start talking to whoever takes the desk next to mine.

So there's some insight from a person who tends to be introverted. A full day alone in studio is beautiful, and it means that by tomorrow I'll be ready to tackle whatever social interactions this weekend (and week!) throws my way. Let's do this. Come at me, February!

The Creativity of Writing

So here's my thing about writing. I love coming up with characters and scenarios, and I really enjoy setting up a scene to illustrate a moment or emotion. I just don't have the attention span to follow through with an entire story. I think that's why I come up with songs more than anything.

I go through phases where I try to write again. I'll think of a great character or interesting setting or crazy plot twist, and I'll sit down and begin, but I just don't seem to stay inspired for very long. I've finally accepted that I won't come up with a brilliant novel of any sorts. Oh, I'm sure I could write a piece that lies infinite levels above Stephanie Meyer's quality, but I also have no desire to write fluff. But Twilight's not even fluff. It's like, sad little dust that gets caught inside fluff. Fluff dust.

I don't want to write fluff dust.

So my laptop is full of scenes. That's what I usually end up writing. If I don't feel like doing a song, I'll just pick an emotion or event and illustrate it as best as I can. It's pretty fun. Especially illustrating emotions. I enjoy showing the reader how a character is feeling, because when you show the reader instead of tell them, they can feel the emotion too. 

There doesn't always have to be a goal, though. Sometimes it's fun to begin writing and see what happens. Here's a sampling (what a great word). I don't remember when I wrote it, but I remember that I didn't have anything in mind. I had been daydreaming about the beach. That was the inspiration. This is actually one of my favorite pieces. I don't exactly know why. But maybe you will enjoy it too!

The moon glowed orange and bounced off the waves and landed comfortably on the shore, nestling in among the grains of sand, seeping down into them. And the ocean breathed sharp salty breaths all around her. And the stars had fled from the moon and situated themselves out over the horizon, watching her now with small faded eyes from behind disguises of pale light. The water slid past her feet, swirling and dancing between her toes, tugging the sand out from under them and running off with it, back to its refuge beneath the sea. And she stood in the light chill of the lazy wind, the cool wind that tickled her skin into goosebumps.  

So there's mine. No plot, no point, just words that seem content to sit together on a page (or screen).

Your turn. Go. Write something.

Quite A Grand Adventure: Cesky Krumlov

Wandering around is so interesting. Gazing down from the castle, this little town appears to be trapped in time. Apart from the people wearing modern clothes and the occasional car that can be spotted in a parking lot, there is little to prove that Český time did not cease to move forward a number of centuries ago. The colorful and snowy rooftops look like the type of scene one would find printed on a puzzle. At night, the outer walls of the castle glow, partly due to its own lights and partly from the town lights reflecting off the river that flows through the town.

The town center looks like the setting for a video game or a short story. Everything is stone. Everything is crowded. Everything is beautiful. A large statue and water feature stand slightly off-center in the square, commanding attention as soon as one turns the corner into the square.

Everything you see while walking down the cobblestone streets is a collision of old meets new. Cafes, souvenir shops, galleries, bookstores – all crammed into tiny stone spaces that used to be houses, apartments, etc. There are so many things packed into not enough space. I stepped into a souvenir store that was only one hallway. There was barely room to pass by if someone else were inside looking around.

Czech weather is finally behaving like proper Czech winter, and the cold is bitter. Český Krumlov is just a few degrees cooler than Prague but the difference is noticeable. It's snowing a little harder. It's impossible to go out without gloves, or a hat, or a scarf. While outside, you dream of a warm restaurant and something hot to drink, and once inside you do everything to avoid heading out again. But despite the frigid temperature and intense wind, everything is beautiful, and it's a different kind of beautiful in the winter chill. Any shop with heating suddenly becomes a haven rather than just another store. People are so bundled up that their faces are hardly visible. The snow-gray sky makes you appreciate the pink, yellow, red, blue, and green houses and roofs.

I stake out the MLS Crêperie for lunch. After exploring the castle and wandering the small streets, hot chocolate and food is all I really want. With a full stomach and warm body, the only thing I want to do is stroll back to the hostel and go to sleep. Yes, stroll. I don't mind the cold, even if it requires a half hour of thaw time for every few minutes spent outside. The snow makes things magical, especially in a tiny town that was built in the late 1200's.

Quite A Grand Adventure: The Magic of Snow

*grunt*

"Good morning."

*pulling back curtain corner, looking at gray sky* "Anna, it's so gross outside."

"Eh."

*sitting up, actually looking outside* "Anna, Anna, it's not gross, it's snow."

That's how this morning began. Awake at 7:45 for class, up at 7:46 for snow. Priorities, right?

Today is our first snow day v Praze ("in Prague" - I had my language class today. More on that later.) and it's fantastic. We've all had our fingers crossed for snow. Yesterday it rained all afternoon, which is just mean when it's in the thirties outside. Today we awoke to a nice layer of white fluff outside our windows at Domov (the pension). Now it's 14:48, and it's been steadily descending all afternoon. This is good. This is quite good indeed.

First class today was studio. We've all got our different studios from 9-12 on Tuesdays. Costume studio meets on the second floor of the Institute. This morning was rough, no lies. I've had studios almost every semester at State, so I'm used to the sketching and designing process that accompanies the beginning of new projects. I'm generally pretty good at it. But I've never done costuming before, and this is turning out to be much farther outside my comfort zone than I expected. 

Our teachers began looking at our sketches yesterday and making suggestions, giving direction. Yesterday, I was told everything I'd sketched wasn't "costume" enough and that I wasn't thinking extravagantly enough, that I wasn't utilizing the shapes in the flower. So I made a bunch of new sketches last night after class ended. Today our teachers came around twice. The first time they told me my new designs were too detailed and that I was using the wrong parts of the flower, that I should focus on the overall shape rather than the specific sections I'd chosen because my new sketches didn't "embody the character" of the flower. Okay, fair, I understand that part about the character, but going from "not enough" to "too detailed" was kind of frustrating. They suggested doing a basic silhouette and then considering how to add to it. So I sat and brainstormed and wrote key words and key themes and grabbed some fabric swatches and got new paper and started fresh. The second time they came around I had three new concepts and an updated inspiration board and a new approach to the designs. Simple silhouette, new design aspects that (I thought) mimicked the flower, new ideas to guide fabric selection and feel, etc. They liked my brainstorm list. They didn't like anything else. They told me, as nicely as possible, to throw away everything and start clean. Literally, "take those drawings out, get new papers, and start with brand new." I've literally never been told that before, aside from yesterday and this morning when they basically said the same thing. It sucks. 

They keep saying "costume" and I keep thinking ballerina (my flower is tiny and white, and I can think of a million tutu and dress designs that would be perfect), but that's not costume enough. I've been trying to avoid doing something runway-esque, with ridiculous additions and things branching off from everywhere - I hate that kind of fashion. I've never been interested in runway because I've never wanted to make something that the general public sees and laughs at. But I think this class is going to require it...

So that was the start this morning. It got to 12:15 and I was hating life and then realized I'd left my phone at Domov. My Czech class wasn't until 13:00, so I decided to go back and get it. I got down into the Mustek station and did quick math and realized I'd be cutting it really close. I also realized I'd have to skip food. I like food. More than my phone. So I walked back out of the station and ended up camping out in Costa Coffee (again). I ordered and then went around the corner to wait for my drink and "unique lemon" (lemon poppyseed) muffin. The lady who made it asked in English if I'd like cocoa sprinkled on the top. When I said "prosim," she added it and then began telling me things in Czech. I have no idea what she said, but she was motioning to the drink and the muffin, so I just smiled and said "dekuji" and she said "prosim" and everything appeared to be in order. So that made me feel a little better about life. I really do enjoy being mistaken for local.

The upstairs of Costa is just comfy - nice music, nice decor. I grabbed a tiny table that had four chairs (around which four college kids would definitely not fit - I was thankful it was only me) and just sat in the warm and the familiar for almost a half hour, drinking my mocha and eating my muffin and flipping through the paper and watching the snow fall. It was awesome. Hunter (a State guy who's getting ready to go to Sharjah but has been spending a week with us) walked in when I was on my last sip. I was spacing out pretty hard. I'm pretty sure he stood there for a decent number of seconds before I spaced in and said hey. He picked his own table and I finished up and got my coat on and then went to say bye. He let me complain to him about my morning. Then he reminded me that it was snowing: "it's supposed to be magical." Fair point, Hunter. I confessed that the snow was helping. 

It really must be magical, because everything's gotten better since then. When I was walking back to the Institute I passed the street market. There was an old man standing under an umbrella, holding his hand out and watching as the snowflakes settled onto it. We made eye contact and I couldn't help but smile. He actually smiled back. I'm pretty sure we shared a moment of mutual snow love (the returned smile and the active interest in snow make me suspicious that he was not Czech...). I made it into my language class a minute late but was still not the last person in. Our teacher is absolutely hilarious. She's Czech and her husband is American and she's been to the States, so she actually understands where the American and Czech cultures differ and can give good advice accordingly. It's going to be a great semester in her class.

So now I'm back in studio. I should be working on sketches, but the motivation to do so diminishes slightly every time I remember how much they haven't liked what I've come up with. Ugh. Wish me luck.

But hey, at least it's still snowing.