weather as a central figure

spring passed through our neighborhood sprinkling about a few beguiling days. it almost seemed the variations of a shade of white would soon be gladdened by the new prismatic flecks trying so earnestly to find a place before our frozen eyes. the snow vanished and with vague remembrances light-footed we went down the newly widened streets that had to reacquaint themselves with the sun... theirs and our long lost love.


i made sure to hug prague in thanksgiving.



unfortunately, after only six days the sun decided to take another brief holiday before making any formal commitments. hours before winter made her second appearance i took a diversion filled walk through the subdued landscape towards the bus from my lessons at Kosmas.

czech men part deux

exhibit B.

czech men part 1

there are two versions of the czech man... thanks to the meticulousness of this chart we can diagram the first type... the balding man (this type is not age specific).

30 seconds of Czech

Tonight I hurried like all the local penguins too proud to be seen taking a huge fall on the newly fallen snow that is so artfully decorating the inches of slippery ice beneath. I have learnt not to be fooled by the powdery artifice that so quickly makes us think we can hop around freely like little does. As I fumble for my keys with gloves and arms sticking out perfectly perpendicular thanks to 5 layers and 2 coats I watch the children whose dad own "Dobre Trafika" the little cafe and cigarette and wine shop below our building. Their dad reprimands them briefly in Czech as the small girl drops her glove and plows heedless of a small brother figure in her path. Within the course of 3 seconds I try to catch her attention about her lonesome green glove likely gone for good realize I reacted in English not Czech and before I could begin another sorry second attempt she snow shovels her brother straight into the front door and I decide to take the opened door offered to me rather than get involved in the sibling catastrophe. The Komwag man, or so I call our trash collectors simply because the word is written on all the canisters on the streets, holds the door for me so I hold my nose as normal in our building's entry and begin to run up the stairs trying to pass the flight that never has a functional light switch wanting to make it to the next switch with all the glory and convenience of tungsten. Somehow the light is switched off quicker than usual and I hear a deep and assertive "Dobry vecer!" coming from the direction of a rectangular figure at the top of the landing. It is only his extremely American ball cap that leads me to believe it is my landlord and not the crate greeting me "good evening!" In broken English he pants, "I go too!" and suddenly my aged landlord Lubomir makes it nearly as quickly up the stairs as me while holding what must be twice his weight even beating me to the next light switch and graciously keeping us from utter oblivion. As I fancy he is our little belfry's darling Quasimodo with a more right-angled impediment than the traditional hero I skip up the tiny little stairs to our attic flat which he shares the left half for his storage and marvel at this vivacious Czech and all the absurd poetry of the quickest seconds.

a brief farewell to our friend the Christmas Carp

The holidays are over in Czech Republic... but unlike the worn-out Christmas trees that now line the streets of Prague the Carp booths have vanished like a phantasm. Where once I slowly approached with girlish hesitation the crowded pisciform prisoners and the virile young carp executioners the corner holds nothing for me but pedestrians waiting for a light. Where once was a miasma of perspiration and fish innards is merely the crisp and apathetic January air.

It's true we never took home a carp of our own and the blanketing snow has covered any dreams we held of possessing the most distinguished one (with a little wry smile and an extra flip-flop in its tail). Alas, the old year just like the new year will hold a clean and vacant bath tub and for any absence of hygiene we will only have ourselves to blame.

counting the carps 'til Christmas... part 2

counting the carps 'til Christmas... part 1

As our students have assured us, it is not Christmas dinner in the Czech Republic without "a nice Christmas carp and potato salad." In the next few weeks the markets and squares will be abundant with huge barrels of carps a plenty. Part of the tradition is getting the freshest and best carp the season can offer so it's important to buy early. The fanciest way to go about it is to go around a week early and pick out the most glistening carp imaginable and take him home live. What do you do with the floundering little fellow? Why keep him in your bathtub of course!

The joke on the street is two men meet each other in town and say:

"Ahoj brother it has been a while! Is everything ok with you? You smell a bit worse than usual."

"Oh yes, everything's fine! It's just the Christmas carp! I haven't bathed all week."

I told my students I will not be indulging in this tradition. The sheer outrage I was met with shocked even the black cat that likes to wander into the classroom occasionally and learn an English word or two. I told them, I think carp is the least appetizing of fish not to mention that ugly mug of his. One of my students took a marker and traced the simple and universal symbol of fish and said, "it looks just like that...beautiful."

It seems I have been converted (at least in my respect towards others to observe in whatever manner they choose). To ease myself into the upcoming festivities, we did a trial run with carp-shaped chocolates from the market.