honest Brits

Friday morning I woke up to Jackie and Miranda talking obnoxiously loud a little before 8am. They were leaving, Blake had already left, and Kate and Maureen were on a day trip outside of Prague. So I was going to spend Friday alone, but it seemed slightly less depressing because of those few hours of solid human interaction the night before.

This was the first trip I brought an umbrella on, and it’s really good I did because it rained most of the day Friday and I didn’t have Isa to lend me her umbrella, or Laura to sit in gelato shops with.

My first stop was an old Jewish synagogue that is now a monument to the 77,297 Czech Jews who were sent to the concentration camp at Terezin (near Prague) and later exported to death camps. There were three or four separate rooms with all the victims’ names, cities and the years of their births and deaths written on the walls. It was really powerful, especially sad were all the names followed by years like, for instance, 1935-1942. I had to suppress tears multiple times, which seemed strange, because I’ve known about the Holocaust for a long time, I’ve known that millions of people, including young children, died, but something about seeing those names on the wall just got to me. The other interesting part of the synagogue was an exhibition of a bunch of drawings made by children in the Terezin camp. Then just outside the synagogue was a Jewish cemetery where, due to lack of space, bodies were buried on top of each other until there were 12 bodies in each grave. The cemetery had about 12,000 gravestones and more than 100,000 people buried there.

The synagogue and cemetery were a bit of a reality check, made me feel pretty ridiculous for being sad because I was alone in Prague for two and a half days.

My next stop was the Prague castle, the old part of which I didn’t get to go inside because of some jewel exhibition that was free to the public (i.e. a 2 or 3 hour line). But I did see this church and street, called Golden Lane

and this house, where Kafka lived a couple years
and this statue
and a medieval prison that I forgot to take pictures of. And the changing of the guard.

That night at the hostel I was in pjs ready to call it a day when Ashley, Jon and Lynne checked into the adjoining room. Ashley (Canada) and Lynne (Bejing) are working in Vienna as UN interns. Jon (Los Angeles) is a firefighter/musician who met them on the bus and didn’t have a hostel arranged in Prague yet, so followed them to the Midtown. We talked a while in the hostel, then went out to a bar, where the first person we saw upon entering was Ben:

I wish I had gotten a full body picture, because his red skirt and red fishnet hose really made the outfit. He’s getting married in September, so he and his friends from Manchester were in Prague for the bachelor party. Oddly enough, he kind of reminded me of my brother-in-law Ryan. He resembled him in the face a little, but also because he seemed like he was probably a conservative, a “man’s man” as Berk would say, a wild partier, and a genuinely good person. (but yes, I know, Ryan Branam would never dress up like a woman). He’d served a couple years in Iraq and his left shoulder was covered with the same tattoo Duane Johnson (aka “The Rock”) has on his shoulder. He was telling me and Ashley of Duane’s new tattoo, and how he plans on copying it also. I asked why he would want to have the exact same tattoo as someone else, and his response was really honest. “Because I like it.”

We talked to some other guys in the bachelor party group, two of them had accents so thick I could hardly understand them. The third guy bought me a drink, admitted he was “chatting me up”, but did a fairly bad job of it. He kept talking about how he’s scared of women because women black widows eat their mate after sex, then told me I look like a female Harry Potter, and also that I am very intelligent but lack common sense. I asked why he thought I’m intelligent and he said because of the look, I apparently look nerdy.

Budweiser and Kofi

Regardless of how hard I tried to think positively, during my nine hour journey to Prague on Thursday I found myself not really looking forward to the trip, (almost dreading it actually) and filled with regret that I hadn’t gone to Turkey with Janet or to Slovakia to meet Krisitina (old roomie from Bath). I’d been feeling pretty lonely last weekend/last week, and wasn’t really sure I’d be able to handle two and a half days of solitary tourism.

I tried to be optimistic and tell myself that maybe I’d meet some cool people at the hostel. But when I arrived, those hopes faded fast. Aside from me and the middle aged receptionist who said “yeah” way too much, there was not a soul to be seen on either the second floor, where the reception desk was, or the third floor, where my bed was. The place was modern, clean, quiet and the last place I would ever be able to meet other fellow travelers to hang out with.

After checking in I walked the streets of Prague. It was 5:30, too late to go to any sites, but I did see the Charles bridge and the Old Town Square (which I later learned is in a book of 1,000 places to see before you die). I tried to take a lot of pictures of all the beautiful buildings (because I knew it would rain the next day) and to not feel sad about being alone, but failed at the latter.

When it got dark I went back to the hostel and was pleasantly surprised to hear English speaking voices in the kitchen. I went in and met Blake, a less attractive version of Kevin Wood who was taking a gap year and on the wait list at four med schools, and Jackie and Miranda, two fashion school students from Ohio who were traveling Europe as part of their studies, gathering inspiration from architecture etc. After about ten minutes Blake left to get more beer for everyone (they’d been drinking before I got there). And so I spent the night drinking Budweiser (the Czech kind) in the kitchen of the hostel where I thought I wouldn’t meet anybody.

Blake was pretty intelligent, and a bit of a talker when it came to medical stuff. He went on and on about nationalized health care, HIV and medical school admissions, which I didn’t mind because it was interesting and educational. Unfortunately he could be a bit condescending. For example, at one point I found myself listening to him explain that ethos, pathos and logos are three means of persuasion, and then went on to explain that “logos” is “logic” and even gave a short example of a logical argument. I should’ve told him I knew what logic meant and he could continue with his story, but didn’t. But in general a nice guy, he gave me one of his Tide white out pens and his allegedly broken cell phone.

He had an obvious crush on Jackie, and at midnight Jackie turned 23 so he sang her a serenade that he began writing shortly after I met them. I was expecting it to be a goofy, Keith Schnakenberg-esque spoof, thinking, “they’ve known each other a day…what could he possibly write about?” But I was shocked to hear the beating-on-the-table/humming intro followed by some really intense and well-sung lyrics. I think Jackie was surprised as well, but at the end she clapped and called it “fantastic,” which I noticed was also her response to virtually every joke he made, regardless of whether it was funny.

Shortly before the birthday serenade Maroc, a Polish actor, joined the group and a little later Kate and Maureen came in. They were from American University but studying at the Sorbonne. Kate spent a semester working in Kenya, helping musicians there get established or something along those lines. Maureen and Kate were also really intelligent and politically plugged-in. Kofi Annan even got brought up again. Here’s our group picture. (From left to right me, Maroc, Jackie, Kate, Maureen, Blake, Miranda).

a relief

I got a job! I had a phone interview with the Adaptive Recreation and Inclusion Services department of Topeka Parks and Rec today. At the end she offered me the job. "Program Aide.'' I'm really excited!

Mom, here's a picture I took in Morocco just for you and have been meaning to post for a while now. This was in Fez, right on the edge of the Medina (the old part of town).

tos saga continued...

The day after I was in Paris, I went to Nantes to see Janet. Despite my hacking cough we had a nice picnic next to the Nantes chateau, walked through the history of Nantes museum and hung out with Aurelian and his girlfriend in some sort of fair trade bar where Aurelian´s friend´s band played that night. Thank god for no smoking in French public places.

The next morning I woke up with a fairly sharp pain in the left side of my mid-back that hurt all the time, but especially when I coughed/laughed/breathed deeply. On the tram into Nantes I had a particularly strong coughing fit and felt a burst of pain in the same area, as if I´d fractured a rib or torn a muscle. Things went downhill quickly after that, as I kept having urges to cough but it was extremely painful to do so. I started crying, and concerned people on the tram began asking if I was alright.


I was pretty freaked out, not knowing if I had pnemonia, if my Spanish insurance would cover me in France, if I should go to the hospital/doctor there or try to hop on the first available train back to Spain. I also kept thinking about an article my older sister had sent me only a couple weeks earlier about a friend of hers who had died of the flu. The article described how one of her lungs had already filled with fluid by the time she reached the hospital, and at the time I could feel and hear (Janet could hear it also) a lot of crap floating around in my lungs.

I got a hold of Isa, who told me that I could go to the doctor there, keep the receipts, and my Spanish insurance would reimburse me. So Janet and I went to the ER in Nantes. It was quite disorganized, we waited for about 20 minutes on some chairs in a room/hallway area that also held three very elderly patients who seemingly did not have rooms (ironic given that there was a line on the floor in front of the reception desk that you weren´t supposed to cross for reasons of confidentiality). The woman waiting in front of us had been there 45 minutes and told Janet that there was only one nurse working that day because it was a Saturday. Janet, my translator and savior for the day, made a lot of expensive phone calls while we waited and ended up getting me an appointment with an on-call doctor in Carquefou, the suburb of Nantes where she lives and teaches. The on-call doctor diagnosed me with some type of lung infection (maybe bronchitis....there were some things lost in translation) and prescribed four different medications.

That was April 5th. This week, after 6 doctors visits to 3 different doctors in 2 different countries, I´m feeling health again. (The cough is still around, but not nearly as strong...it´s possible I might be allergic to something here). Por fin!

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2065662&l=c9396&id=36106375

pictures from france and a field trip

expensive cats

Paris - Thursday, April 3 (continued)

I stopped for quiche and coffee at a sidewalk café and got to witness some sort of demonstration. About a hundred seventeen year olds with one small banner walked through the middle of the street chanting (with varying degrees of passion) something.

On my way to the Louvre I stopped in some pet stores. 980 euro seemed to be the going rate for Labrador pups, I saw a 1600 euro Chihuahua, and a 3200 euro (that’s $4800) Siamese cat.

Back to the Louvre. I spent the first 2 ½ hours in the Egyptian section which was even cooler than I’d expected. Sarcophaguses, jewelry, furniture, a tomb, a mummy, a crocodile mummy and several cat mummies were the highlights for me. The last hour I walked around somewhat aimlessly, but did manage to find the Mona Lisa and Venus de Milo before leaving. After a night of airport sleeping you can only spend so much time in a museum.

I started to walk towards the Eiffel Tower, but it was further than I’d reckoned so I went to the Arc de Tromp instead. I felt kind of weird about being in Paris and not seeing the ET up close and personal, but I also feel confident that, barring any unfortunate accidents, I will be back to Paris in my lifetime. (I also have a lot left to see of the Louvre).

That evening I went to an internet café near the hostel. I asked (in English) about using a computer, and the guy behind the counter started spouting off some really sassy sounding French. I should have said “hey I don’t speak French so if that’s a problem I can go elsewhere.” But instead I stood there looking dumbfounded until the guy said “you want to use a computer? Ok.” and pointed. I don’t know if he was anti-american, or just anti-anyone who doesn’t speak French in France, but either way he was one of the biggest jerks I’ve encountered in a while.

Ate dinner on the steps of Sacre Couer that night and got to see a much better view of the city. There were a bunch of people hanging out, a guy on an amped guitar singing “Yesterday,” and a kid at the bottom of the steps doing cool soccer ball tricks by himself. I finished my dinner in the courtyard of the hostel, where I met a bunch of guys who were staying there, including Arthur, a 40 year old New Yorker. One of the first things he told me was that I looked too sophisticated to be from Kansas. Then he asked if I was born in February or November. Then he guessed July 14, and when I told him he was close he said he always made that mistake with his ex-girlfriend (who looked just like me). Her birthday was July 15 and he always sent cards on the 14^th. He ended by inviting me to a party with him and four friends in Paris, then giving me his address in NY and a drunkenly tearful goodbye hug.

Paris

Got to Paris yesterday morning, figured out the tickets to get from the airport into the city, found the hostel without trouble. Climbed the hill to Sacre Couer, a church near the hostel where there is a good view of Paris. It was foggy so couldn't see much, but there was a really good violinist on the steps, which made for a nice atmosphere. Afterwards headed south towards the Louvre and Notre Dame. Saw a bunch of people on silver/brownish bikes that I quickly realized are part of a Paris bike program (Janet told me today that the first half hour is free!). Found the Louvre, which is ENORMOUS and very impressive, but almost makes you not want to go inside, because you know you're not even going to be able to see 10% of what's inside it's just so overwhelming.

I ended up walking to Notre Dame and doing that first. As I approached the entrance a woman asked if I spoke English, I said yes, she held up a card for me to read. "I am from Bosnia, living in Paris with my mother who has leukemia. My husband is back home with our sons and lost a leg in an accident. Please give me something for my family." I asked her a question about her mother, but she replied that she spoke ''little english.'' Maybe I'm a heartless person, but I didn't give her anything. I went into Notre Dame, which had very cool stained glass windows but otherwise wasn't overly impressive. On the way out another woman asked if I spoke English and held up another card. I didn't read the story, but the handwriting was remarkably similar to the first. The third time a woman asked if I spoke English I just said no. Part of me feels really guilty when I'm taking pictures of the outside of Notre Dame with my really expensive digital camera but don't give anything to a woman begging outside, but the other part of me rationalizes by saying that a couple euros aren't going to lift them from poverty, and that we're also in France, which has a ton of government aid for the poor.