Europhile: C'est ma vie!

Surprise! I still exist.

2007-12-02T18:22:00.001-05:00

Hi there. At the cafe again, having a coffee, hiding from the rain and the wind. It snowed yesterday, for a bit. I think it was pretty, but unfortunately I wasn't walking around in it, I was working. I think if I were walking around in it, though, I would have missed Prague. Old town square in the snow was something pretty spectacular.

I've been going to the gym when I have time--you know, that's about once a week. It's a good gym, the YMCA. The only thing I take exception to was the fact that I was doing bench press when the radio started playing "When a man loves a woman." I'm not sure how you can work out to Rod Stewart.

Kids say the darnedest things. The other day a student was hanging out in my office when it became apparent that she thought that bald men were bald because they chose to be; e.g. by shaving their heads. Don't ask how the conversation turned that way, because it was the end of a long, long week, and really I have no idea.

Only two weeks left in the semester, and there's still about 4 weeks of things I should teach the students. I'm not sure how that's going to go, but I suspect there will be protesting... the next time I write, I'm guessing, all that will be over. Hopefully, I will still exist!

An Afternoon Cafe

2007-11-18T18:03:00.000-05:00

I'm sitting in the Tully's Coffee on the corner of Tacoma Avenue-across the street from my flat. I'm having a coffee and writing some emails, since I recently remembered that I had an email account other than the one that gives me messages from students, parents and administrators. This weekend has been different from most, in that I haven't been to school even once. I graded exams, but I did it at home. This is an important milestone.

School goes well. I like being a teacher. It's not at all like I used to think when I was in high school, that teachers were the ones who couldn't make it in the "real world." It just shows you that high school kids don't always think. I can now attest to that fact as well. The teachers I work with are some of the most interesting people I've met, and what's particularly wonderful is the amazing diversity of talent. In most other professions, you're surrounded by people who do approximately the same thing as you, have similar educations to you, and dress more or less like you. Aside from the fact that we do, sometimes, dress alike, teaching is a refreshing change from that.

It's tough. I've made it through the first marking period and quarter grades. I've come through parent conferences with my skin intact. I've had "the meeting" with my boss, and came out with an even sunnier disposition than when I went in. And the frequency of students or parents calling me on the weekend has been relatively low. Thanks be to God. And I'm told it gets easier. (Secretly, that's what I'm banking on).

There are some things that catch you off-guard from time to time, however. Like just a few minutes ago when a couple of students from my school came in to the cafe. They aren't my students but I recognize them. And I wonder things like, do they recognize me as a teacher? Do they suppose I'm the same age as they? Do they notice that the t-shirt I'm wearing has a picture of a goat drinking a huge beer? Hm. And I think that's the eternal question.

The Calm.

2007-10-31T19:47:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow begins parent conferences. People say that the parents are just as scared as the teachers. We'll see. I don't have too many anxieties about it. At this point, grades (quarter grades) have gone home, and comments that I wrote have gone home. C'est fait. This will just be the aftermath, so there's nothing to do but live through it. :)

Today was an interesting day. Being a White Week, I had 3 long periods today, and 2 long breaks. I had a moment, about 12:52, just after lunch, where I wasn't sure what to do. It blew me away. After 2 months of not enough seconds in the day, I finally had several to spare and I hadn't any idea what to do with them!

Meet the Parents (Part I).

2007-10-04T16:10:00.000-05:00

Last night was "Back to School" Night, where parents come and sit through a mock "day at school," going to each of their son or daughter's classes for 10 minutes and listen to the teacher talk about the class. This had the potential for a number of tragedies, all of which I envisoned in my head before the thing started.

1) I show up to class late, forget my syllabus, and accidentally insult each parent in an unintentional yet grave manner.

2) The computer with my presentation crashes just before class.

3) The demos I'd planned go all wrong and something explodes.

4) I spill ketchup on my tie at dinner, and coffee on my slacks after it.

5) The parents ask me why the class failed my quiz.

6) Someone asks, "... and what did you teach before you were here?"

7) Someone presses me for qualifications.

8) Embedded in my chemistry audience is a real-life chemist, and embedded in my physics audience is a Doctorate in Physics.

Thankfully, aside from #5 (which actually went off OK), the thing went well. One student told me today that his Mom couldn't stop talking about how cool I was when she got home last night. Yes! (err, wait, was 'cool' what I was supposed to be going for???)

The Day "Billy" Came to Class

2007-09-27T18:21:00.000-05:00

It was a few days ago that I noticed a new face at the back of my C-Block Physics class. This wasn't necessarily shocking. Students do change classes, and I've had a few new faces appearing in certain classes. (Not counting Chemistry, where one day I marked "Jimmy" absent when, in fact, it turned out that he wasn't even in the class--hm). But around the second day of seeing Billy, and of accepting his homework and contributions in class, I introduced myself during lab and welcomed him to class. Here's how it went down:

(Mr. W) "So, I saw you were here yesterday and I don't have a new attendance list yet--what's your name?"

(Billy) "I'm Billy."

(Mr. W) "Did you transfer in from another Physics, Billy?"

(Billy laughs. Students in back row laugh. Billy looks a little guilty.)

Turns out that "Billy" (not his real name) has a free period during my class. He's a senior, and took Honors Physics two years ago, but, in his own words, "I have a free block, and I can either do homework out there, or in here, and my friends are in here!" I said it was cool with me. After all, he doesn't have to be here, and yet he not only comes to class, but pays attention, contributes, and does the homework? It kinda rocks. I mean, my class can't be all that bad if Billy is willing to sit through it when he doesn't have to, right? :)

Who'd have pensee'd it?

2007-09-17T14:59:00.000-05:00

It's Monday, and most of my students are out camping in the rain somewhere. Funny, I wish I could say that more often. :) No, just kidding. But they are. Really. And the rest of them are taking computer classes, learning how to type, not do drugs, important stuff like that.

Where does that leave me, you might wonder? Exactly here. In the middle school, sitting outside Room 101, typing on a laptop while I'm waiting for this period to be over. Why am I here? Why, you say, the middle school? The answer is because I will shortly be teaching French to 6th-graders. Eh, oui. Who'd have thought! I'm subbing 3 French classes a day thru Wednesday. It's a change, but ain't it cool?

For now... a plus tard tout le monde!

How Scattered Am I ?

2007-09-09T17:16:00.001-05:00

Well, the first real week is over. It was only four days, but I think it counts. Let me sum up the week's events in a series of short, scattered, grammatically-questionable statements.

The kids are great, they make me laugh. The physics classroom is my personal stage and I have a captive audience for all of my fabulous wit (read: terrible jokes). I've never been this tired. The week is more fun than the weekend. I'm (possibly) deathly allergic to something but I don't know what. Until I find out what it is, I'm walking around with an auto-injector of epinephrine in my pocket. I'm trying a new strategy in Chemistry: Really boring typed lecture notes on powerpoint. I'm having to figure out exactly how I'm going to grade (with points and stuff). The great thing about that is the more complicated my grading scheme, the more latitude I have to mess with it. I went and sat by the sea yesterday, it made a nice sound when the water drew back over the rocks. I like living by the sea, except I like it when there's stuff there. Open expanses of horizon and beaches aren't for me. No, I like my sea to be full of boats and bridges, islands and inlets. That's why I love the Pacific Northwest. I'm hungry and probably not eating enough. Going to the doctor informed me of my current weight, which, Grandma's urging aside, I must admit is a bit low. My car hasn't been stolen yet. I might get to sub for middle school french classes in a couple of weeks when most of my students are gone on their "Outdoor Education" week. I haven't had to deal with any parents yet. My favorite pub is no longer my favorite pub because they got rid of Pilsner Urquell and replaced it with Carlsburg. Ick.

Next post I'll try to eat lunch before sitting down to type!

Grading with an Epi-Pen

2007-09-03T16:14:00.000-05:00

Well, hello there.

I had a little adventure last night, though not really by preference. Apparently I'm allergic to something. It's either school, home, kitchen, some spice, gyros from "It's Greek to Me," apples, Columbia bread, cayenne pepper, cheap Trader Joe's Garbanzo Beans, a bad batch of basil, or, or ... I don't know.

Looking back, it was a bit scary, though I didn't necessarily feel it at the time. Over the course of an hour, my breathing became quite labored and my eyes puffed up to the point of looking simply awful. Thankfully, my friends Jon and Liz were coming over for dinner, but when they saw me, it was decided I should go to the hospital. I was epi-penned, benadryled, stuck with air tubes, and made to breathe funky stuff... man. I am fine now, a little puffy around the eyes still. But mostly apprehensive, since the offending substance may still be somewhere in my house, and I've yet to learn what it is.

Next post will be less of a downer, I promise! On the plus side, carrying an epi-pen around is neat, in an abstract kind of way. Knowing that I can always just stick myself in the leg, just like they do in movies with stars like Harrison Ford. Yeah.

After School.

2007-08-31T17:58:00.000-05:00

Well, the first week is over, I've just checked my pulse, and you'll be happy to know it's still there. It was a short week, just 3 days. And one of the days I only had 1 class, due to our block scheduling. But to be honest, it's been A LONG TIME since Wednesday. I think it's to do with special relativity.

It was a fun week, in many ways. I got to blow up a can, shoot miniature rockets in the classroom, and play with colorful chemicals. And I got to know my kids just a bit. And as annoying as I'm sure they're going to be from time to time, I still must say, that's why I'm here. The kids are great. But oh man am I tired. So so so tired.

After school is great. When in a span of ten minutes, the halls are suddenly empty, the classrooms are quiet, and I can sit down in my office to simply breathe.

Here We Go.

2007-08-28T18:33:00.000-05:00

This post would perhaps better be titled, "Here They Come," as that's the real kicker!

School starts tomorrow, and I can't help but reflect on this crazy journey I've taken to get here. Actually, I can. It can wait until this weekend. Right now I'm just praying that the paint can doesn't blow up before I want it to and no one gets injured in my classes. Ah, the life of a science teacher. :)

My cixelsyd Apartment

2007-08-21T12:39:00.000-05:00

I moved into a new flat in Tacoma recently, and it's been fantastic fun getting it outfitted. It's been a tremendous distraction from other things I ought to have been doing, and perhaps that's part of the reason it's been such an illicit pleasure. Of course, I noticed a couple of funny things after I'd been there for a couple of days. First, the bathroom light was burned out, probably because it had been left in the 'on' position for God knows how long. Not normally a problem but the ceilings in this place are enormously high (seriously, I was considering building a loft in my entryway). Second, the tap water in the kitchen NEVER got cold. That one was annoying.

But things seem to be working out. First I decided to turn 'off' the bathroom light, and discovered that it began giving off light. Hm, nice. Then I decided to wash dishes and the water was shockingly cold. If you haven't figured it out by now, the second word in the title is DYSLEXIC spelled backwards. And due to the abnormally hot temperature of the dryers downstairs, I inadvertently shrunk my new khakis to EXACTLY the length I wanted to attempt to hem them to. So things seem to be working out.

And what, you may ask, are my top ten favorite things about my new place? Since we're all so fond of top ten lists, let's try!

10) It's got picture rails. I'm a dork, but that's cool.
9) It's got cupboards so high up that I can barely reach them standing on a chair.
8) I can see Mount Rainier on a clear day.
7) I can see boats, yes BOATS. On the WATER. Every day.
6) My kitchen is the cutest kitchen you'll ever see.
5) It's walking distance to four of the most important places: the grocery store, the church, the pub, and the used book store. Note that those aren't in any particular order.
4) I have the fridge to myself. A whole huge fridge!
3) I have the most beautiful gray walls, perfect for hanging all of the art I'll have to spend a lot of money to have framed. Hmm, wait.
2) I can afford it on a teacher's salary.
1) It's got gas! I mean in the kitchen! No, not really, I'm joking. But it can't be PERFECT, after all. If it were perfect, I'd worry too much about losing it. :)

Here are some photos I took of the place and the view!

Top 10 New Teacher Preparation Tips, (from a new teacher with very little real experience).

2007-08-02T17:00:00.000-05:00

It's nearing August, and teachers who had all buggered off to the riviera or the peninsula begin to drift back. Anticipation starts to fill the halls of the school, as the expectation of the new life of a new school year builds. New teachers, like myself, sit back and try to take it all in, but what (you may ask) does a new teacher think about? How will the new teacher prepare his or herself for the coming chaos? Let it be known that through the accumulation of wisdom, acquired during daydreams, evening dreams, nightmares and hallucinations, I have prepared a list of important steps to take, before embarking on a new school year. Though I have yet to take all of the steps, I am fully confident in their immense utility.

10) Sweet-talk the IT department to get in points before asking them to fix your computer and help you print up your day's lessons at 7:59am come October.

9) Organize your classroom the way YOU like it. Stash snacks for yourself around the room, install electronic "shockers" in various students' chairs, and hang things from the ceiling for easy access.

8) Build secret "whiskey drawer" in office desk.

7) Fill office drawer with easily-forgettables, like ties, extra shirts, socks, belt and superman cape.

6) Create extra "all-purpose" lesson plans. Great ideas are things that will stump students for a full hour, allowing you time to grade their homework. Check into Einstein's puzzle, special relativity, and translating The Iliad from the Greek in class.

5) Prepare emergency demonstrations, such as the explosive Thermite reaction, the ping-pong cannon, smoke generator, and liquid nitrogen ice cream maker. They will be handy when a student asks a question you don't know the answer to and you need to distract them.

4) Learn your way around the school with eyes closed. In case of a chemical emergency, this skill may be useful.

3) Install false wall in office, a la "The Hiding Place." Installation of a bed is ideal, but packing peanuts will do in a pinch.

2) Take lots of photos of excess of hair and lack of wrinkles. This will be good for posterity and will also help family and friends to recognize you after the school year is over.

1) Never forget that the classroom is not an exercise in democracy -- NO! It is an authoritarian regime, and not only that, it is YOUR authoritarian regime!

Look for a post around Christmas time of how these are working out for me. :)

Lapping up the Limelight.

2007-07-31T12:21:00.000-05:00

Last night I received a phone call from someone wanting to interview me, as a new teacher for ----------- Academy. Below are a few snippets of our conversation, and a few of my more eloquent lines.

INT: Where did you grow up?
D: Bothell.
...
INT: Would you consider yourself an easy or a hard teacher?
D: Umm, I would consider myself a reasonable teacher.
...
INT: What do you think about having an advisory group?
D: You mean like me being an advisor to some students?
INT: Yes.
D: ...well, I think... important... community... when I was in Switzerland... family groups... interaction on multiple levels... teachers may have some insight... well, probably not me ... that isn't, err, doesn't come out, or can't be accessed... in a classroom setting. Does that make sense?
INT: (Not in the slightest!!!) Uh... yeah. (Frantic scribbling).
...
INT: What's one thing you've done that people wouldn't guess about you?
D: Well, I jumped off a mountain with a parachute on my back. I guess that's one thing. (Nervous laughter).
...
INT: Did you teach both physics and chemistry in Switzerland, or just physics?
D: Um... haha, well, no, I taught English as a Second Language. (There goes my cred!).

You may assume that all of my other answers were less coherent. I did a lot of mumbling, a lot of hesitating, and occasionally used big words in order to make myself sound slightly smarter and older than the nervous schoolkid I felt like. The fact that I didn't know if I was talking to a student or a teacher was also a strange thing...

Well, that's it, "I'm out there, Jerry!" as Kramer might have said, in an entirely different context. Even if I did rather spill the limelight all over my shirt.

I Bet We're Beating You.

2007-03-24T17:54:00.000-05:00

Some people claim that weather isn't a race, that it's something natural and not something to compete about. That's only because they're losing. The fact of the matter is, here in the Pacific Northwest, we're done with winter. And spring. In fact, we're done with summer, too. I know because last week I was able to sit on the dock and have a beer and had to shield my eyes from a strange yellow brightness in the sky. But now it's winter again.

Neener-neener. Losers. :)

You Can Take The Europhile Out Of Europe ...

2007-03-14T20:01:00.000-05:00

As it turns out, you can take me out of Europe, plop me down, let me sit for approximately five months, come back, and discover that I am, surprisingly, still breathing. :)

I may be complaining, however. But before I begin on what might amount to a Trader Joe's shopping list of culture shock issues I've been experiencing, or feel I ought to have been experiencing... it is true. I exist, even live, in the USA again. Yes, I am slowly adjusting to everyone around me speaking English, and the fact that if I want to live here, I'll have to work. I would recommend monitoring your child's school teachers, particularly if they happen to be taking a physics class next year. Consider it a friendly warning.

Look for more. I have internet access and keyboards without craziness like 'ř', 'ů', and 'ç'. I'll be unstoppable, immune to every obstacle but distraction, impatience, laziness, homework, working, ill-temper, and beer. Unstoppable, I say!

God Bless the Pacific Northwest.

2006-11-16T16:40:00.000-05:00

I realized that I was no longer in Prague the other day. The first clue was that I was watching television, the second was that I was understanding it.

But it really hit home that I'd come back to the Pacific Northwest when I saw the weather report, and they said (and I quote):

"...and tomorrow, in between the showers, we might see some blue sky. If you see it, don't be alarmed, don't call the station, just enjoy it."

The Potato Post - coming to a blog site near you!

2006-11-14T19:35:00.000-05:00

I began working on a post when I first moved to Prague. It was going to be great. It was going to be about potatoes. It took me a long time to finish it; after all, it involved a great deal of (occasionally) painstaking research and experimentation. But I am happy to report, at long last, c'est fini.

Without further ado, read on: The Potato Post.

15 Unhealthy Ways to Cook Potatoes – Czech Cuisine.

2006-11-14T19:29:00.000-05:00

1) Bramboračky: The world-famous potato-pancakes. A mass of shredded potatoes, onion, and mystery ingredients fried to an oil-soaked squishily delicious consistency. Wonderful for the first 3 bites.

2) Bramborové knedlíky: Potato dumplings. A soft consistency a little like gnocchi. Wonderful. They must be terrible for you.

3) Bramborové knedlíky s masem vepřovou a zeli: Potato dumplings filled with pieces of pork and sauerkraut. Delicious for the first 5 bites, after which you discover an unbelievable craving for fruit, vegetables, or really anything that hasn’t seen a frying pan.

4) Krokety: Little balls of potato-joy, fried to a crisp on the outside. They’re like potato-ey-candy-goodness. Bet you can’t eat just one. And bet that when you’re done you wish you had.

5) Hranolky: Your basic french fries. Undoubtedly served with kečup, beloved by Czechs. You can ask for mayonaise, but let me warn you that you’ll get tartar sauce every time.

6) Vařené brambor‎ý: Boiled potatoes. Sounds healthy, right? Okay, now add butter, salt, a little milk. Better. Oh, and add a sprig of something green to give it that nice garnished look. If parsley is too expensive, feel free to use celery.

7) Bramborové palačinky: A potato version of czech crepes, only not at all similar to crepes. More like an omelette made with potatoes, filled with other unhealthy ingredients. DO NOT attempt to eat the entire thing.

8) Škubánky: Potato pasta balls made with potato, flour, lard, and gingerbread. They are subsequently fried, and if you can still feel your blood flowing, you may top them with bacon and onion.

9) Potato Flatcakes: Yet another way to make potato pancakes, these are more doughy than bramboračky, thanks to the added butter. Serve with cheese. Of course.

10) Brambor‎ý Amerícky: It’s the mystery meat of potato sides – you never know exactly what you’re going to get. But typically these American Potatoes are potato wedges. Served with kečup and beer. Oh my, are they good.

11) Bramborové Salát: Potato salad. The key to this salad is pickled vegetables. And majoneza. Try it at home, but keep a tub on hand from your local potraviny. Who knows how to pickle vegetables, anyway?

12) Lupinky: Prague is called the city of 100 spires, but there are a lot more than that if you consider these cute little spire-shaped krokety. Delicious, but it’s something like eating art.

13) Tliapky Kocoura Mikeše: As near as I can translate, this dish has nothing to do with potatoes, and I’m not even positive it has anything to do with food. However, according to the brewery restaurant in Velké Popovice, these are roasted potato cakes with garlic. Mmmmm.

14) Brambory Opečené: Roasted new potatoes, cut in half and left in the oven for perhaps 17 hours until they achieve a crusty skin and steamy insides. You might think you could live without them, and you might be able to, but it wouldn’t be as happily.

15) Smiškové: Just your basic, run-of-the-mill fried potatoes that look like smiley faces. Nothing special here. ;)

But as much as we poke fun, Czech potatoes in all their forms might be the best potatoes in the world. They’re easy to disparage, but hard to live without.

Another Stunning Day. Had we any doubt?

2006-08-22T14:40:00.000-05:00

Today has been another good day. It started by raining.

And, over my cafe and croissants, I decided to change my plans of biking through the Cote d'Or, and go to Beaune instead. I went to Beaune. It was beautiful. When it rained I went in and drank burgundy, and when it was sunny again I walked around. I bought wine. And in the afternoon I decided to hitch back to Nuits-Saint-Georges for a little bike ride. Instead I ended up tasting wine from the barrels from one of the top producers in Vosne-Romanee, thanks to the people I hitch-hiked with (a french guy who worked in the industry was giving a friendly tour to two brothers from the Beaux-Freres winery in Oregon). That was cool.

Then I took my bike ride around the vineyards of the Cote-d'Or.

Rack up another little adventure. Not a bad day.

Hitch-hiking around Eden.

2006-08-21T13:17:00.000-05:00

So, as you've likely guessed from the title, I'm in Burgundy. Yep, that's in France. Yep, that's where Burgundy wine comes from. Yep, I'm happy as a clam.

My mode of transportation is a good one. I've managed to hitch from Leysin to Geneva (with friend), from Geneva to Bellegarde (with Miraslav), from Bellegarde to Macon (with Christophe, the Annecy men's basketball coach), from Macon to Cluny, from Cluny to Cormatin, Cormatin to Buxy, Buxy to Givry, ad infinitum. It's been great. And I've met some fantastic people.

What have I done? Well, I've seen Cluny and its famous abbey. I've cycled around the Cote Maconnais, up to the Cote Chalonnaise and the beautiful hilltop town of Buxy. I've been in Givry, and stopped in the lovely (and tiny) Rully for a glass for the famous white wine which I adore. I met some cool people, and stayed with them in Dijon for a night, and now I'm in Nuits-Saint-Georges, in the cafe adjoining my hotel, after having a wonderful Burgundian dinner of escargots, boeuf bourgingnon, and fromage. Alors. C'etait merveilleux. The wines are superb, the weather is good (knock on wood), everything is great. I'm headed to Dijon on Wednesday for a couple of days, and then perhaps Alsace, or perhaps I"ll stay in Burgundy a few more days before heading back to Switzerland on the 29th.

Just wanted to let y'all know I'm alive and happy. I'm surrounded by burgundy wine, the french language, and baguettes. I'm pretty much in Eden.

Packing up the classroom.

2006-08-10T08:16:00.000-05:00

Well, another turn has come and the school "year" is over. Even after only an 8-week run, it's a strange thing to pack up your classroom. The place you've spent more time than your home is empty of children, empty of trash, and the chairs and desks are - for once - in good order and not scattered higgledy-piggledy about the room. It's sad, actually. The boxes come out, and the decorations go into them - those that aren't thrown away, anyhow. The students' homework assignments are added to the pile, and the exercises and games, pictures and activities find their way back into the box to be opened in just over 10 months. By me, if I'm fortunate enough to be invited (and able) to come back.

It was a good run. They were good kids. Even the bad ones were good, it's easy to say that when you reach the end. It was fun. Fun for them, and fun for me.

And now comes that boarding school marathon of packing up the rooms, giving the students a he** of a great last night, and packing them off to the airport so we can all go back to sleep for a few hours. :)

Oh, go jump off a mountain.

2006-08-09T11:20:00.000-05:00

My life wasn't exciting enough, so I decided to throw some spice in there. By, ahem, yes. Jumping off a mountain. Well, with a parachute. ;)

It's called "Parapenting" - at least, here, and it was (as they say in french) super!

Dan: ready to go and a little nervous! It was, after all, a Swiss alp, slightly more than a hill. :)

But the view was tout a fait extraordinaire!

Oh, and that's my town - Leysin. And, that's my knee in front of it. ;)

What are the Top 5 things about Italy?

2006-07-20T12:29:00.000-05:00

Number 1: The coast, the big blue, Il Mare Mediterraneo ...

The cool thing about this picture is that if you look closely at the buildings facing the sea, you can see where we stayed and what we woke up to!

Number 2: Il cibo, the food, oh, the cheese, the olives, the oil, Mama mia!!!

Yeah, we had our own private balcony. Mmm, hmm.

Il Numbero 3: What else could it be? The vino!

I encountered these babies on my hike, not quite ready yet ...

Quattro: The hiking was excellent, and when you live at altitude, molto facile!

Dan and the vineyards, il migliore combinazione!

Number 5: Les amicos!

We've got Josh, Brie, and Kat, looking like they're having fun while we're waiting for our takeaway picnic dinner!

So, that was Cinque Terre and the Italian riviera for a few days - absolutely lovely. My Italian wasn't so lovely, but I tried to make up for it by spending euro and drinking wine and swimming in the sea. It didn't help my speaking abilities but it sure did make me feel better! :)

The danger of combining wine and scissors.

2006-06-29T12:22:00.000-05:00

There's a bar here called "The Yeti". I don't think they actually want their patrons to LOOK like yetis ... :)

Ah, me and Lake Geneva, a match made in heaven.

And a little confession... no, I am not talented enough to cut my own hair, and neither did this venture involve alcohol (thank God). And I escaped with only minor injuries. :)

The Neighborhood.

2006-06-18T05:02:00.000-05:00

C'est pas mal, the view from my new flat. :)

The "Washington State" of Europe.

2006-06-13T05:14:00.000-05:00

Ladies and Gentlemen,

It's time for a change. Winter is over, the tourists have arrived, the sun is shining, and it's time for Dan to hang up his whiteboard markers and red pens in Prague, say goodbyes to a wonderful group of students and head for the Alpine reaches of Switzerland - where he'll do it all over again!

Well, to be completely accurate, do it all over again on a smaller scale. I'll be in the town of Leysin, just southeast of Geneva near the French (oh!) border, teaching at the Leysin American School for the summer! That's right, British English can bugger off, werr talkin' Amurican now! We all want to learn how to talk as good as George Bush, right???

Thursday will be my last day teaching Pomaturitní at Presto, and I have to say, I'm feeling a bit nostalgic. It's been a long year. It's had its ups and downs. The girls have been alternately trying and milá (dear), but it's hard to leave.

(And I have to admit, after a weekend of parties, swimming in our pool, and sunning myself on the terrace, it's kind of hard to leave the flat, too.)

p.s. Visitors be warned that Dan's room will NOT be serving as a guest house during his absence (without his and Richard's approval!), but that upon his return, provided he is both local and available, visitors will be more than welcome...

Have a "Nice" day.

2006-05-29T07:30:00.000-05:00

When Erica and I flew into Nice, one beautiful French morning about a month ago, I figured we'd run into some number of the following things: french cafe, fresh baguettes, olives, fantastic cheese, stunning views, a (rocky) beach, great sunsets, short hikes, hand-made pasta, excellent rose wine, friendly people, undercooked meat (I'm OK!!!), immodest bathers, pink buildings, outdoor markets, a cold Mediterranean Sea, rugged coastline, cute seaside villages, terrace restaurants, pastis, gelato, and of course, Monte Carlo.

But I really wasn't expecting to run into Vincent!

Vincent was one of my flatmates when I lived in Ireland! In the five years since I'd seen him, he'd apparently got married, moved to Nice, and had a new baby, Maia (seen here with Erica).

The old port in Nice and monument to the fallen soldiers.

Yes, it was cold. Very, very cold.

The casino in Monte Carlo. The Principality wasn't really that cool. But I DID eat poulet roti (read: roasted chicken) with my fingers on a park bench several meters from some of the most moneyed gamblers in all of Europe. And that was pretty cool.

Nice was nice. And that's an understatement.

A Scavenger Hunt !

2006-05-29T05:37:00.000-05:00

Are you ready for a game? Are ya? Okay, here we go! Help Waldo (aka Dan) to find the herbs and flowers in these pictures! (Remember, no points for weeds!)

What the heck am I ???

Can YOU spot the basil?

Is there any basil hiding in here ???

Hmm, does lavender ever resemble, well, grass?

Thanks for playing! Submit your answers by hitting the "respond" key at the bottom of the page, or by emailing your host. I will respond with, well, I might - nay, I could - respond with the answers next week. Really, I just need help. :)

Amsterdam - Land of old-school bicycles and hash.

2006-04-24T08:52:00.000-05:00

People go to Amsterdam for many reasons. Many involve something that grows. Mine involved the tulip fields that exist in Noord-Holland, which are famous throughout the horticulturalist world (I think).

The tulips weren’t in bloom yet. It was bloody freezing. Surprisingly expensive. And the beer came in little tiny glasses.

I had a fabulous time. Despite problems, the city has an amazing ability to charm. Maybe it’s the thousands of old-school bicycles, ridden around the whole city in a constant swirl of 1920s-esque innocence. Or the fact that they rule the road and I nearly was run over more times than I care to count. Maybe it’s the canals and all the old classic boats moored alongside squat stone bridges. Perhaps it’s the café culture, and the hundreds of people who appear on the restaurant terraces when the sun peeks out. Or the Saturday market in Haarlem, selling everything from batteries and underwear to tulips, kebaps and fresh Dutch cheeses from the nearby towns of Gouda and Edam. Or the genuine kindness and friendliness of the Dutch people. Maybe it was the cool windmills.

Or maybe it was the cute little beer glasses. Whatever the reason – it was cool.

Easter Whip Enabled.

2006-04-19T08:46:00.000-05:00

Easter is a time for traditions. In some cultures they search the yard for dairy products, in others they bite the heads of chocolate bunnies and in others (like Ireland) they just go to Mass and drink copious amouns of alcohol.

Easter in the Czech Republic is a little different...

1. Exercise. Multiple Matching. Choose from the list of traditions the words that you think have something to do with Czech Easter. (10 points)

Coloured eggs
Fried fish
Ham
Various distilled spirits
Ducks
Bunnies
Whips
Pussy-willows
Water splashing
Cake shaped like a lamb

See below for the answers ...

If you said "fried fish" you get a C for a valiant attempt. That's Christmas. No, Czech Easter involves colouring eggs. In fact, this is one of the most beautiful traditions here - the eggs are simply stunning. They start by punching holes in the top and bottom of the egg - they blow out the insides to leave a shell. The shell is then painted and decorated, attached to a ribbon and tied to a tree. Yes, they have an Easter Tree (a bare tree with coloured ribbons and eggs hanging from it).

Often, the eggs are decorated by boiling in water with onion skins. Intricate patterns are achieved by wrapping flowers and leaves around the egg, then placing the egg in a stocking before boiling. This imprints the flower onto the egg - an impressive result!

Of course, like many Czechs, we just bought an egg-dying kit at Carrefour. :)

The next tradition is my personal favorite. You see, pussy-willow branches are woven together to make ... yes! A whip! The whip is used by boys, who go around whipping the legs of girls. They also sing some kind of silly song, and the girls are supposed to give them coloured eggs in return. Now, before you women start to complain that it's unfair, I should say that being whipped on the legs is not a negative thing! No, on the contrary, it ensures youth and beauty in the coming year. And... if you're whipped too many times, I believe you're allowed to splash the boys with water, to wish them the same.

So colour your eggs ladies, and weave (or buy) your whips gentlemen, and get ready to wish each other a Happy Easter!

(Of course, as with all traditions aimed at youngsters, they are often adapted by the older generations ... some things stay the same, whips get longer, transport gets easier, and somehow, coloured eggs turn into shots of alcohol...)

Easter whip, as seen in the vase on the right hand side.

Finally, how cute is this, photo of the weeklong spectacle down on Old Town Square, smack in the middle of the Easter Market ...

And so, I wish you all a belated, if whip-less, Veselé Velikonoce!

Grill-Enabled.

2006-04-13T08:40:00.000-05:00

It isn’t really summer until you can grill. Usually, it isn’t really summer until it stops snowing, either, but I decided to make an exception and buy a grill anyway – Thanks, J.

Choosing the grill was the first key step. There were many to choose from and I chose the heaviest and cheapest one. I wish other things in life were so simple.

After being foiled a few times by the weather, a few times by the work, and a few minutes by czech charcoal and funny lighter gel, we were in business and the pork steaks were thrown on.

And it was summer that afternoon.

Ještě Jedno.

2006-04-06T04:36:00.000-05:00

That's Czech for one more. Try, that is, to go to Amsterdam. Tomorrow morning, I fully intend to be on a plane bound for Amsterdam's Schipol Airport.

If I don't make it, look for me in Ukraine.

The Graffiti in Krakow.

2006-04-06T04:25:00.000-05:00

In many places around the world, you might see the words "Elvis Lives!" in one or another languages.

But in Krakow, you might also see "Jesus Lives!" spattered across an old concrete wall.

It was surprising, at first, that so many of the hotels were booked. Later, we found it surprising that every time we walked into a beautiful church (see below!), it was having a service.

And, coming around a corner, finally, we were presented with the solution to this mystery.

We'd arrived in Krakow, the birthplace of Pope John Paul II, exactly one year after his death. The Polish were out in droves, centered around one particular building (either his home or his birthplace, we don't know), where was hung this mural made of of thousands upon thousands of photos of different people. There were candles set up on the field opposite, and all day people brought candles, lit candles, and bought more until there were too many and they began to spill onto the street and everywhere. There was an exhibit of photos from his life as well.

It was very moving. We didn't mind that all the hotels were booked.

How much is a ... wait, what is the currency here?

2006-04-04T05:53:00.000-05:00

The funny thing about travelling on impulse in a place like Europe is the potential to arrive somewhere, at night, with no money, no place to stay, and now idea how to speak the language. Maybe funny is the wrong word. If you ever find yourself in this situation, try these steps. They worked for me!

1. Find out when the trains leave. After all, you got yourself there, but that doesn't get you too far if you can't get ourself out of there as well!

2. Ask the nice people at the train station (a-hem) how many euro are in a ... what is the currency again? When English doesn't work, try any combination of languages such as french, italian, and czech.

3. Get money. This step is key.

4. Find an internet cafe to look up places to stay for the city that you find yourself in. A bookstore will also work, but this might entail the tedious steps of finding an internet cafe to look up where to find a book store to look for an English-language guide book to look up where to sleep. By that time, you might not need a place to sleep!

5. By any means possible, phone said hotels/hostels/pensions. Again with the languages, try them all. In Poland, Czech is often understood. At least, it seemed that way.

6. Decide how to get to said hotel/hostel/pension. You can stop for beer along the way because it might help you relax a little.

7. Check in to your fabulously cheap, fantastically situated, perfectly decorated, quiet room with embroidered towels.

8. See the world, baby!

Oh yeah, and the currency is Zloty. Apparently, one is about 3.90 euro.

How I packed my bags for Amsterdam, and ended up in Poland.

2006-04-04T05:25:00.000-05:00

Like many adventures, I'm certain, this one started with the lemur. It was a bad sign, she said, that we'd left the lemur at home. Shortly thereafter, we were looking frantically for someone to explain why our flight was listed as having left at 8.10 when our tickets clearly stated 10.10. The time was 8.41.

So we didn't make the flight. They rebooked us for the following weekend.

But we did make the train. The time was 11.04, and the trains to Salzburg left at 13.23, and 15.57. The trains to Krakow left at 11.18, and 13.35. It was a close shave and we might have run a little, but 14 minutes later we began rolling our way to Krakow, Poland. And 7 hours, and 41 minutes, one adventure of nearly getting off at the wrong stop, one rude border control officer, and great conversation with a group of Mexicans we found sitting near us later, we arrived in Krakow.

We Interrupt This Series to Bring You Updates from the Life of Daniel.

2006-04-03T08:46:00.000-05:00

Here is a refreshingly simple multiple-choice quiz to help you determine what the heck Dan has been doing lately!

Dan is excited because ...
(a) The flat is now "grill-enabled".
(b) He's going to Amsterdam this weekend, or at least has every intention of doing so.
(c) The weather has been holding steady above snow temperatures for at least a week.

Dan has had some interesting adventures recently, which include some or all of the following ...
(a) Running into and subsequently running away from the landlords at the grocery store.
(b) Packing his bags for Amsterdam in the morning, yet finding himself Zloty-less in Krakow, Poland in the evening.
(c) Coming home to a flat without hot water.

In other news, Dan's ability to communicate effectively (in any language) has begun it's inevitable downhill spiral. Erica has decided to work on her French, which Dan is of course thrilled about. However, this means that whenever Dan wants to find a Czech word, suddenly, voila, c'est le francais. His English skills are hovering somewhere around the "B1 - Pre-intermediate" level on the EU language rating scale. He hopes to acheive native-speaker-fluency in the next decade.

Ssssh. Don't tell my students. I think they already suspect it.

Commie Cafes in Lisbon.

2006-03-27T08:54:00.000-05:00

When you leave Prague in the middle of winter to come to Portugal, there are a few things you plan on leaving behind. One is the snow. Another is good beer. I’m not sure what the third thing is, but it’s not commie cafés, because these don’t really exist in Prague.

Let me tell you, like things that just seem to crop up in strange places for no reason – like Boston’s ‘r’s end up in Texas and the left pair of most of my pairs of socks ends up somewhere I’ve not yet located – Lisbon has an inordinate number of the most plain-looking, cafeteria style, characterless cafés I’ve ever seen.

Portugal – Land of Parakeets and Gigantic Panties.

2006-03-27T08:53:00.000-05:00

Have you ever wondered what you would hang outside of your window if the weather was sunny all the time and you wanted to take advantage of it? I have. I’ve always thought I’d hang a flag, or maybe something nice like a flower arrangement, but more likely is my camping equipment. But if Portugal is any indication, then outside is the proper place to hang only your extra-extra large undergarmets. And your parakeet.

Poor birds.

Lisbon. Another day, another hill.

2006-02-26T09:56:00.000-05:00

Conventional wisdom holds that you should build your city - or your house - on top of a hill. This is poor advice, and Lisbon taught me why. Our first hostel was on top of a hill. A rather large one. Thus, to get anywhere, we had to walk DOWN the big hill, which wasn't really a big deal. But the Portuguese being who they are, every other locale of note is also on a hill - A DIFFERENT HILL - so, this entailed going down the first hill, up the second hill to discover you'd chosen the wrong hill, back down the second hill, up a third hill to see a sight you were then too exhausted to enjoy, back down the third hill, and just when you're about to fall over from fatigue, you go back up the first hill to your bed.

They do make for awfully pretty scenery though!

A view of "Alfama", the old Moorish district of Lisbon, full of tangled, cobbled streets that go everywhere but where you think they'll go. :)

The main gateway to this city that has seen millions of sailors, mercenaries, armies, immigrants, and more faded glory than most. It has a gritty charm. Not to mention a lot of yellow.

When 'no' means 'yes', and other language problems for Czechs.

2006-02-26T09:55:00.001-05:00

It took me about 6-½ months to get used to saying “no” when I meant yes. You see, in Czech, “yes” is “ano”. Shortened in informal situations to either “no” or “jo” (yo).

It took a few days of ordering more coffees and beers than I wanted to get my “no’s” straight!

Those nice old men at train stations.

2006-02-26T09:55:00.000-05:00

Enter a new travelling guideline. Better yet, make it a rule. When nice old men at train stations offer to take you to their pension and assure you that you can do no better price or quality-wise, be assured that you can do better. Both price-wise and quality-wise.

Not that he wasn’t nice. And not that we paid too much. And we did get a free ride from the airport to the city. But the supposed 10-minute walk to the center took 35 minutes. And 1200 feet of elevation change.

We found a new hostel in Lisbon the next day. It was cute, in the center, and the same price.

A year of misunderstanding menus, or, how poor people can't afford to eat in places with English-language menus.

2006-02-26T09:49:00.000-05:00

Clark Kent spoke English, and was able to explain that the dish we were about to order was squid. He didn’t explain that it was whole squid, but that was okay.

Yet it occurs to me, after 8 months of ordering food that I don’t exactly understand on the menu, that even eating is something of an adventure. And frankly, even when you can read the menu, you don’t know what you’re going to get. You might as well close your eyes and point.

It also occurs to me that this is probably safer, if not nearly as interesting, in America, where you’re unlikely to end up with things on your plate that look back at you.

When it's snowing in Lisbon, go to Faro

2006-02-26T09:40:00.000-05:00

"Sim, sim," said the man excitedly, trying to restrain his dog from eating the remnants of our bread and cheese picnic on the battlements of old town Faro.

"It is first time snow for 52 years," he continued. He looked up. "Tonight, maybe here," he said ominously.

Brilliant, we thought. We'd left Prague only 3 days before, enduring torrential rain in Sevilla, one day of moderately windy sunshine, and now this. Perfect.

But this wasn't Lisbon. It wasn't even Porto, where it snowed on the beach. It was Faro, the south of the country. We didn't see any snow, nor did we feel any snow. Beautiful hills, a predilection for yellow buildings, and a superb little pension were all that awaited us in this charming little town on the Algarve. It may not have been balmy, but we did eat great squid, drink delicious wine, and have both of them brought to us by the Portuguese version of Clark Kent.

Is anyone here a sommelier?

2006-02-22T10:05:00.000-05:00

It was thrilling to find that Navarra red wine for E1.49 (1.49 Euro). And it only took us 2 hours and 31 minutes, 4 stores and one café to find a corkscrew to open it with.

But the picnic it helped make, down by the river, in the sun, with spanish guitar music playing in the background, made it all worthwhile. And when the wind picked up, that bottle came in mighty handy!

Our first fantastic picnic locale.

Day 2 - Can I eat the oranges?

2006-02-22T09:44:00.000-05:00

My first favorite thing about Sevilla was the orange trees. EVERYWHERE. And full of delicious-looking, brightly-colored oranges.

After having survived our night in the "hanger" hostal, things were looking up. The sun was out, we saw a rooster just walking around, and found a new hostal about 50m from the old one. We proceeded to have a fantastic time in this city that is far more befitted to sun than rain. Palm trees were everywhere, we had to watch our step so as not to step on the freshly-fallen oranges, the sun was bright, the air cool, and the buildings pretty and unlike anything I'd ever seen. We saw a proper castle, drank cafe con leche and ate seafood tapas, and I thought that was pretty fantastic.

The "proper castle", actually the cathedral in Sevilla! And a few of those delicous-looking oranges.

A little of that incredible architecture, not to mention fashionable colors!

Later on we tried the oranges, fresh from the tree. They were awful.

Day 1 - The Rain in Spain

2006-02-17T05:09:00.000-05:00

Apparently it also falls in the south of Spain, as our first night in Sevilla was completely sopping. Dropped off near a roundabout with at least 17 streets pinwheeling out from it, our tattered paper map seemed to indicate we were approximately nowhere near our hostal. The hostal which we found, an hour later, only to wish we had given up earlier and stayed somewhere nicer...

There's a reason it's a "Lonely Planet" here - and it’s because people who listen to this guide book end up lost in residencial districts of cities, staying in awful hostals where no one speaks English! Ahh…. Our first night in Sevilla. The “Hanger” hostal. Why “Hanger”? The only thing good about this hostal was that it did have hangers for our clothes. No, thank YOU, Lonely Planet!

Don't worry. It gets better!

Spain and Portugal - Warning Labels

2006-02-17T05:06:00.000-05:00

The sunburn on my face has mostly faded now, sadly, but I’m proud to say I had one, after returning from two weeks travelling in Spain and Portugal! Erica and I took the trip because I was on term break from school, and well, she quit her job before we left. So it was a fantastic, relatively stress-free journey.

Instead of rambling on about where we went on the second day, and what we ate for dinner, I’m going to blog a series of sketches … short blogs about funny or interesting (at least, to me) things about our holiday. I’ll try to post at least one a day, maybe more. And at the end, if you’re lucky, I might be induced to make a city ranking (for those who remember the old road-trip blogs). So, let’s begin!

Read to the music of “The Empire Strikes Back”

2006-02-17T05:04:00.000-05:00

Time to play a little catchup.

Vienna is an impressive city. Perhaps Michael, my fellow teacher, said it best when he summed up the city as “imperial”. It reeks of history, of grandeur, of not-quite-faded glory and a past that imposes itself upon the present with a subtle arrogance. Actually, it’s pretty cool.

And for all the impressive buildings, beautifully framed by the 6 inches of snow that fell while we were there, there were also cute cafés selling fancy pastries and fashionable coffee, quiet corner pubs with friendly, chatty staff, and enough wiener schnitzel to feed the German army. Believe it or not, wiener schnitzel has nothing to do with weiners (or, as you may say, hot dogs or sausages). This is something we Americans have made a gross and frankly embarrassing error about. Wiener, from Wien, means something from Vienna. Think of it like Viennese Schnitzel. Then you won’t be so surprised when you order it and end up with a large, breaded and fried slab of pork.

Vienna was quite a change from Prague. Some people would dare to compare the two cities, but I think it’s something like comparing your grandfather to your older brother. They just aren’t the same. But both will impress you.

More Evidence.

2006-02-15T05:24:00.000-05:00

Some posts just are not the same without a few pictures to back up the stories.

told you so.

The best trips always end with breakfast beer.

2006-01-23T04:58:00.000-05:00

When I awoke, I was in a strange hotel, looking out on a field of snow with a farmhouse in the distance. On my wrist, a tattoo read “Ja ♥ Kravín”. I knew how I got there, but it was some time before I believed it. But before I begin my tale, allow me my defense. It was all the goat’s fault.

This is the story of a beer. It is a true story. There have been no additions, modifications, or other tye of censorship. Names have not been changed to protect identities or reputations.

Kozel means goat, in Czech. It is also the name of a popular beer, one that I, along with Erica, immediately took a liking to. It has a goat holding a beer on the front, how could we resist? Especially since goats don’t have hands, so holding a beer is no small feat for them. Anyway, I digress. We knew we had to see the brewery. And perhaps more importantly, the brewery’s live mascot, Olda.

If the best trips often end with breakfast beer, I must say that this one began with Dan forgetting the train timetables. This fact won’t really come into play for another several paragraphs, so just stay with me. For the trip out, it didn’t matter as we found the train and the bus and very nearly got off at the right stop. But a walk was good for us, and the brewery was in sight. I dropped off my water bottle in the snow near the car park, and we walked up to the gate full of expectation.

I believe we followed the beer truck right up to the gates, at which point we realized we hadn’t a clue where to go. Nor did we know who to ask, what to ask, or in any case, how to ask. So we just walked in. We were in the midst of taking funny pictures in front of a “Goat crossing” sign when the angry yelling in Czech started. Apparently taking photos inside a working brewery is somewhat taboo. One thing in Czech led to another thing in Czech and it soon was apparent that the guard was no longer angry but trying to inform us that there weren’t any more tours. A passerby with a Kozel bag helped explain this to us. We were a little sad, and here I must admit to asking – a little plaintively – if we couldn’t perhaps just see the mascot? Coffee, half-hour, meeting, café, wait. These were the words I caught from the ensuing barrage of Czech. They seemed promising, however, so we followed this very nice lady into the restaurant, where we sat and didn’t have coffee until she returned from her meeting. We were midway through our second pints of delicious pivo when she returned and sat to have a coffee with us. It was at this point we learned our true fortune, when she revealed that her name was Iva, she was the head of advertising for the brewery, and she was about to give us a private tour!

She gave us a miniature chess set and explained the brewery to us. We saw the tanks and vats and I thought I was in Strange Brew for a moment when we saw the bottling floor. Fascinating. Sadly my incredibly funny quote from the movie was lost on both of my companions, but it really didn’t matter because I laughed and sometimes that is all that’s really necessary. I was grinning like an idiot, if I didn’t sound like one as well. Then she took us to see the goat. And then we went to see the second goat. They were precious. And I never use that word. In fact, I don’t really like it much, but there wasn’t any other way to describe these goats.

After our fantastic private tour, we adjourned back to the restaurant for some more pivo and dinner. The food was delicous and the beer was fabulous, and I was introduced to a new kind of potato side dish known as smíškové. They looked something like this: :)

[Enter the fact that Dan had forgotten the train timetables.] We were nearly ready to leave. We would catch the bus back to Prague or Strančiče or wherever, and catch a train back home. We weren’t too concerned, we were sure we’d make it. We’d had a banner day and there was no way something like a bus was going to ruin it. It was 18.51 when the beer showed up in front of me. Ne, ne, I protested, I didn’t order another beer. But our waitress smiled and pointed to the table next to us, a group of Czech guys. We don’t know why they started buying us drinks, but we started talking. Talking may be an overstatement, considering the state of my Czech and the fact that none of them spoke English well. Let us say that we communicated. Anyhow, we communicated our way through several more rounds, communicated our way to a bigger table, and eventually we even communicated our way to a diskoteka. On the way, of course, the small fact of our getting home cropped up and we were given the sad shake of the head – that was to say, that we weren’t going to make it back to Prague that night. Thus the strange hotel looking out on a field of snow. And I can only hope that Kravín was the name of the diskoteka.

The story ends, as promised, with breakfast beer. After waking up in the strange hotel looking out on a field of snow, it was decided that breakfast was in order. I could almost smell the strong black tea with milk, fried sausages and bacon with eggs. The Kozel restaurant was nearly empty when we walked in and sat down at a long table. I was about to order my tea when I looked down. I looked up at Erica and we both stared for a moment at the huge, foamy mugs of beer set in front of us. We felt certain they were laughing at us. But that was okay. We were laughing, too.

On the way out, I picked up my water bottle from the snow where I’d dropped it, and we brought the adventure to a close. A welcoming, homecoming sort of close. The end of an Odyssey.

The Evidence.

2006-01-19T08:36:00.000-05:00

Otherwise known as photos!

The tree on Xmas morning.

The Prague a few days before Xmas ("the" Prague??? Wait a tic ...).

And of course, so you would believe me, the Christmas socks.

Čau čau!

Answer Key to the Christmas Quiz.

2006-01-17T04:41:00.000-05:00

1. Though Festivus jokes abounded, we did in fact celebrate Christmas around the tree. Although, were we slightly more daring, we could have sat around the bathtub, watching our Christmas dinner swim back and forth. You could say this is a Czech tradition.

2. The answers are (a), and (d). Mayonnaise, because the traditional side dish is potato salad. Oh yes, we had fish for Christmas!

3. Though (c) and (d) may have taken place in traditional Czech households, we did in fact sit around Erica’s laptop computer.

4. Ha! Trick question. You thought it was (d), didn’t you? Father Ted? Yes, well, I was not queried about the Christmas day entertainment, apparently. But Seinfeld was an admirable substitute!

5. Oh, come on, this is the giveaway. If you don't know the answer, I'm certainly not going to give it to you!

6. All of the above were received by someone!

Christmas isn't Christmas without socks.

2006-01-12T05:51:00.000-05:00

A thousand apologies to all for my lack of updates. There's no good excuse, other than that I've been really busy. But I've decided to make it up to you by writing a little quiz.

How much do you think you know about Dan's Christmas traditions, Czech Christmas traditions, and the estimable Massey family Christmas traditions? Take this quiz to find out!

1. This Christmas was celebrated around what centerpiece?
(a) A Christmas tree.
(b) An aluminum pole.
(c) A bathtub filled with live fish.

2. Christmas Dinner consisted of what main dishes?
(a) Fried bottom-feeding fish.
(b) Turkey and gravy.
(c) Gingerbread cookies.
(d) Mayonnaise.

3. On Christmas day, it was our custom to sit around what common household entertainment unit?
(a) A television.
(b) A laptop.
(c) A bathtub filled with live fish.
(d) Molten aluminum in a tub of water.

4. When the whole family gathered round to watch the Christmas specials, what did they watch?
(a) It’s a Wonderful Life.
(b) Je to Veselé Žívot. (It’s a Wonderful Life, dubbed in Czech)
(c) Seinfeld, series 3.
(d) “A Christmassey Ted” (Father Ted).

5. What kind of wine was inevitably chosen for Christmas dinner?
(a) Something Czech.
(b) Something French.
(c) Something from a box, claiming to have something to do with Spain.

6. And at the end of the day, with gifts distributed by Ježišek, and the family all sated from their repast of (see question 2), the notworthy gifts were what?
(a) A pair of socks, hand-knitted by Grandma.
(b) A carefully inscribed rohlik.
(c) A carved wooden beer stein.
(d) Nilla wafers.
(e) A french calendar, featuring naked ... cows.
(f) An amber pendant.
(g) Mostros. (If you are cool enough know what these are, you get an extra point.)
(d) A DVD from you, too.

Stay tuned for the answers!

Veselé Vánoce a St´aštný Nový Rok !

2005-12-22T04:29:00.000-05:00

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

For me it's 2 lessons, one Czech class, 5 gifts, shoe repair and 3 lunches to Christmas! :)

Other items of interest:

I haven't had email access in a week so if I haven't written you back, that's why. It's doubtful I will have it before, well, before the new year now. How sad. =(

It's apparently 80c to send me a letter. No I'm not begging, I was asked!

I've had enough Christmas cookies to choke a pirrhana, all in the name of absorbing culture.

I managed to lug my first Christmas tree home the other day. It's not a great picture, but here it is, decorated all nice and traditionally (read: cheaply) with gingerbread cookies and straw ornaments!

Erica's family arrives tomorrow and we're going to pick them up from the airport. Then we'll come back and go for dinner at the local Švejk pub, (which has the best food we've had in Prague for about $4) ! I can't wait to meet them! And I can't wait to be done with classes for a week! And ... I can't wait to buy tickets because did I tell you we're going to Portugal in February???

That's all, I think. Tak, ahoj, mě se dobrý. Be good.

Dan

The Jesus Post

2005-12-16T04:30:00.000-05:00

Children know who Santa Claus is here. They just don’t believe in him. Who is this fat guy who walks around wearing a furry red suit and how can people really believe he fits down the chimneys in houses to put presents underneath the tree? How absurd. Besides, everyone knows it’s the baby Jesus who really brings the presents.

Ježišek, as he’s called here, brings presents to put under the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve. Much like Santa except that (a) It's Jesus, and (b) He doesn't go down the chimney, he comes in the door. Apparently Jesus is more logical than Santa. And in case you're wondering how Jesus manages to get through the front door without being noticed, I should mention that he is invisible.

Adding further complication, the "Baby Jesus" is in fact not a baby at all, but an old man with a beard. I think this is to make it easier for children to believe he brings the presents, since it's hard to imagine an infant - even an invisible one - knocking on doors and dragging a large sack of presents behind him.

So when the Christmas season approaches each year, children (and sometimes students) across the Czech Republic pull out a pen and paper, and begin their wish list... "Milý Ježišku, ..." (Dear Jesus, ...). And when they've finished their letters, what do they do with them???

(Well, if they're English students, they give them to their teacher, but ...)

They put them in the Jesus Post, of course!

It makes sense. For being a pretty solidly atheist country, they remember where Christmas comes from, if only in legend. And they won't have any of this silly "coming down the chimney" business.

So, let me ask you: Have you written to Jesus lately?

Knedliky: Now Boiled, Not Baked

2005-12-13T11:50:00.000-05:00

It’s easy to fall for: Storebought foods just ought to be easier to cook. I mean, they’re pre-prepared. You simply open the package, throw them in the oven or in boiling water or you just eat the contents.

The question is which, when it’s written in Czech.

I’ve recently learned that storebought knedliky should be boiled, not baked. It’s a whole new world of knedliky-cooking that just opened up … =)

Praha, as everyone needs to see it.

2005-12-12T08:49:00.000-05:00

It was just after I set the last steaming plate on the Thanksgiving table that I saw it was snowing. It must have started while we were cooking, but, busy as we were, it was when we sat down to give thanks that we noticed the big white flakes streaming past the window. It wasn’t the first time it snowed, but this time it looked serious. The flakes were big and they were sticking. I was excited. Prague, I thought, was meant to be seen under a blanket of snow. And I was happy that it was snowing and we were going to go out and the turkey we ate wasn’t really turkey (hence, no L-triptofan!).

We knew the Christmas tree on old town square was to be lit at some point on Saturday. We guessed 8 o’clock, but it didn’t really matter because we had to eat our Thanksgiving dinner first (n.b. I bet you didn’t know that Thanksgiving falls on a Saturday here). When we arrived the town square was taken up by a multitude of little wooden houses – the Christmas market! – housing specialty foods, such as dough with cinnamon and sugar, and drinks, namely svařák (hot mulled wine). It was perfect. There was dancing and singing, and roasted chestnuts and lots of tourists, and the disney church all lit up and snow and horse-drawn carriages and a couple of Americans running around with cups of svařák in one hand and cameras in the other. And I thought, this was exactly what Prague was supposed to look like.

The Disney Church and Christmas Tree

Ooh, bet you didn¨'t know we could time-travel!

Oh, my personal favorite!

And your hosts!

Now, back to the title of this blog. Wouldn't you agree?

The Grammar of Flannel Jammies

2005-12-06T11:37:00.000-05:00

The board reads "What can YOU get away with?"

I got away with wearing my jammies to work, once again. Those of you walking around SPARTA in your jammies and slippers last friday may find comfort knowing that somewhere (in Prague), at some time (before you woke up), someone (me) wore their pajamas to work. =)

Prague to SPARTA - we're transatlantic, baby!

The Awesome Flat Needs an Awesome Plumber

2005-12-05T05:42:00.000-05:00

So the awesome flat has not been so awesome lately. The water is dripping down into our neighbor's flat. Apparently, this is a problem. I say apparently because our landlords really don't speak English well, but from the yelling and gesticulations of the red-faced husband of our landlady, I gather it is a problem. The solution? To tell the tenants not to use any water in their flat until it is fixed. We hope that will be today. Many cultures call whiskey the water of life, but frankly, we'd be fine with a hot shower. :)

Wanted: Internet Free Europe

2005-11-29T05:42:00.000-05:00

We've got radio, now we just need email access ...

... and a grammar function for flannel jammies.

You know it was Thanksgiving when ...

2005-11-28T08:26:00.000-05:00

1) There are more dishes scattered about the kitchen than you personally own.
2) When the phrase „I think I need some tums“ just means it was a good meal.
3) When you’ve eaten so much that just looking at the leftovers on the stove is enough to plunge you into the deepest cleaning-related apathy you’ve ever experienced.
4) When you have more leftovers than you have containers to put them in.
5) When the lights are dim and no one is talking and suddenly it’s Friday afternoon about 3.30. (Or if you’re me, it’s Sunday morning around 9).

And finally ...
6) When Dan didn’t have room for any fresh brown bread!

But it was a good meal. It may have been a chicken, but we named it „Turkey“ and we ate it with cranberry, mashed potatoes, stuffing, carrots and nice red wine. And the best thing about it was that we didn’t even set off the bleeding fire alarm. :)

Dan with "Turkey."

The table (duh) complete with Erica's home-made stuffing, "Turkey", carrots, cranberry (courtesy of Erica's Mom, shipped a thousand miles, mashed potatoes, and french (wait...) wine.

That's it. Thank you for all the postcards and shipments of beef, but I really am eating enough! :)

Speaking of Bulgaria (err, Thanksgiving) ...

2005-11-24T09:38:00.000-05:00

Today, I'm thankful for a lot of things. Among them are the following:

- 1-crown rohliky
- Scottish tea (couldn't find Irish)
- My favorite lahudky, Jan Paukert
- Scarves
- Textbooks
- Wool
- Having ears (so that I can put a pen behind them, duh)
- The 24-hour potraviny
- Text-messaging
- Christmas markets
- Paperclips
- The way a shirt and tie make students pay more attention
- Czech people that don't mind that I speak awful Czech
- English people that don't mind that I speak awful English
- That it's not so cold that the snot freezes in my nose
- French
- Shepherd's Pie
- That we have a petunia that just won't die, despite being surrounded by snow
- Instant soup
- That the rest of the week's lessons are ready!
- That despite my propensity to complain, I lead a pretty dang blessed life.

What are YOU thankful for ? (I'm sorry, the rohliky are only here - you will have to survive with turkey and stuffing!)

And what would an awesome flat be ...

2005-11-24T09:29:00.000-05:00

... without an awesome flatmate???

The self-proclaimed "sous-chef," we actually trade for that role!

She even let me put the Guinness poster in our dining room. =)

AND, she is responsible for the our Thanksgiving Turkey (made out of paper), which I promptly named "Bulgaria".

Well, I think it's funny, and frankly, that's all that matters.

Snih! See!

2005-11-21T09:27:00.000-05:00

U Vinoteky

2005-11-18T08:56:00.000-05:00

Blue neon lights in the window recall a herna bar – a place with dirty patrons, large fingerprint-stained glasses of pilsener, and the ever-smiling faces of gambling machines – but the old wooden sign bearing a bunch of grapes and the purple-tinged “Moravskych vin” title suggest something else. It’s a welcome sort of a place, coming in from the cool Prague twilight. The door shuts quietly and a dog looks up at you trustingly. Inside it’s smaller than you think it will be, and the patrons look up at you from their cigarettes and wine glasses that don’t stay full for very long. There’s a football match on the only television and everyone is glued to the screen, except perhaps the older gentleman by the door. It’s a corner pub and the bar takes up the lion’s share of the corner. It’s all wood inside, and bunches of purple grapes hang low overhead. A chalkboard advertising the “Finest Wines and Spirits” hangs to one side, and despite being written in English, seems to fit. A Tullamore Dew sign hangs opposite, partially hidden by a lazy cloud of smoke. The bartender is friendly here, and he tips his head when he notices you. Co si date? He asks what you will have. He doesn’t mind that you’re foreigners. You order your glasses of červené vino, and he fills them from the large glass pitcher on the counter. He brings two generous glasses of red wine to the bar, and takes a large Mattoni bottles from the old man next to you, topping it up with Rulandské for the trip home, or wherever he might be going. Then Slavia scores and the ruddy-faced man to your right you starts yelling in a hoarse voice, pounding fists on the table. A man on the other side of the bar yells back – and you think, perhaps he’s just not a fan. Or maybe he’s agreeing, it’s hard to say, but the bartender smiles indulgently and the place begins to feel just a little bit homey.

Today's English Lesson Topics

2005-11-16T04:59:00.001-05:00

Good morning, class! Today we're going to talk about ...

Choose the correct option:
(a) U2
(b) Sailing
(c) An exam
(d) Beer

...
...
...

If you chose ANY of the above options, YOU ARE CORRECT!

What a day for lessons, I really must say.

Let's Write a Fairytale

2005-11-11T08:54:00.000-05:00

Český Krumlov - They call it the "fairy tale" town of the Czech Republic. Perhaps this has something to do with it ...

Town, as viewed from the castle

Castle, as viewed from the town!

And what would a blog be without a picture of the author ?

They call it the "fairy tale" town. I suppose that all fairy tales are a bit different. Ours involved a crazy bus ride, a cute hostel, potato soup, used book stores, used clothing stores, svařené vino, lovely sunny weather, a playground, tequila with a Czech national volleyball star, lots of pictures, and a pub with gulaš and Kozel on tap.

But I think if it ends with "happily ever after", it's still a fairy tale. :)

Why I love Prague (# 7)

2005-11-03T04:39:00.000-05:00

The dogs. Czechs love their dogs. I mean they are crazy about their dogs. It isn’t uncommon to be eating in a restaurant when someone will come in with their dog, and the dog will lie meekly in the aisle. And it’s not unheard of that the waiter will bring a water bowl for the dog.

See Mom, I told you I'm eating!

2005-11-02T04:42:00.000-05:00

In case anyone was still worried about my waistline - proof that I eat! Incidentally, thank you for all your concerned comments. Erica tells me it's no small wonder I haven't exploded, considering how much I eat. But I think she's just jealous.

Dan with "Czech Cookery" recipe book, (oooh... ahhhh).

Mmmm, potato soup. Yes, I take pictures of food, OK ????

Why I love Prague (# 3)

2005-10-25T03:43:00.000-05:00

Because it's actually considered cool to use English expressions here.

Picture of the Day:

D.B.J.P.

2005-10-21T04:43:00.000-05:00

Děkuji Bůh (dneska) je pátek!

One lunch of gulášová polevka and rohliky, 25 crowns.
One large deposit to open an account with Planet DVD, 500 crowns.
Showing a movie in class next week, followed by a holiday? Priceless.

Now, what movie should I show them?

Something even more awesome that 1-crown rohliky

2005-10-14T03:42:00.000-05:00

First of all, I must apologize to all those out in blog-reading land (which is, I suppose, all of you), for having been so neglectful with the blogs. It's almost like this teaching jig is a full-time job or something. But, I am happy to report that Prague is still marvellous, the weather is still lovely, the beer is still delicious, and my students are still pretty dang cool. :)

Not only is today friday, and I have no more lessons until Monday ... today is also that most anticipated of days, that most satisfying of experiences, that realisation of compensation due, and that reassurance that, unlike Kramer as an economist, one really does have a job .... yes, today is pay day. Apparently someone thinks I'm a real-life teacher 'cuz they just gave me money for it!

However, don't pull that check out of the mailbox yet - we are still accepting donations for the "Fly Dan to Seattle/Croatia/DC/France" fund.

So, pretty cool. But do you want to know what's even more awesome than 1-crown rohliky ? Being excited to come to work.

The Swingin' Flat, baby (yeah!)

2005-10-04T07:39:00.000-05:00

You want to see how rockin' our new flat is? Well, do ya? Above is the view inside from our terrasse. You can just make out a piece of black leather furniture ... And is that a little champagne?? Why, yes, I believe it is! Well deserved, we thought.

On the left, the flatmates, Dan and Erica on our terrasse. Although I have lost weight, I'm the one on the right. =)

More to come once we pick up our teaching mess and take some nice pictures of the flat! :)

The Gloves Come Off

2005-10-03T12:45:00.000-05:00

That's it. No more exercises that involve Dan cutting up tiny slips of paper. This time I mean it.

Let's Do the Time Warp - Clubbing

2005-10-01T08:00:00.000-05:00

I knew we weren’t in Kansas, err, Washington, D.C. any more, when I noticed the sweaty guy in the green tank top up on stage getting down to Madonna. Arms flailing, hair matted to his head, singing as loud as he could, he was having the time of his life. And he wasn’t the only one.

A short description of the different kinds of dancers I’ve come across in my travels.

Washington, DC. I paid a $25 cover to get in here. I’m certainly not going to mess up my Versace suit by dancing. I am much, much too cool to dance.

Boulder, Colorado. What are those guys wearing? Are those JEANS? Who would wear jeans to a club? Hiking pants are the only thing to wear out, man, where else are you going to put your stash??

Florence, Italy. (Standing in front of the mirror) Ooh, look at you, sexy. Si, si, you look so buonissimo. I think I will buy you a sambuca. Va bene.

Dublin, Ireland. Right, so, one more pint, then I’ll go throw some shapes at that bird. If I time it right, I won’t even have to dance, I’ll just walk out and pick her up as she falls into my arms, like. Brilliant.

Amsterdam, Netherlands (reported by Erica). I wonder why everyone is moving away from me? Ah, they are just giving me space to dance. I wish I had an extra hand, holding both of these beers makes it hard to dance with – whoops! Spilled more beer!

Prague, Czech Republic. I don’t know if everyone can hear me, I should sing louder! “WHEN YOU CALL MY NAME, IT’S LIKE A LITTLE PRAYER, I’M DOWN ON MY KNEES…”. I wonder what the words mean. Hm. I’m glad I took off my shoes and wore a tank top because it’s sure hot in here!

I think maybe it’s something about the people here. They’re without pretense. They don’t dress fancy, and they don’t fault you if you don’t either. They don’t all make a lot of money, so they don’t worry about spending it on nice clubbing clothes. They are some of the nicest, most intellectual yet most down-to-Earth people I've met. They rock. Even if they do it to Madonna from time to time.

Hanging Out at KFC - Local Culture

2005-09-29T05:46:00.000-05:00

So you didn’t know it was considered cool to hang out at KFC? Really? Well, I’ll be. It may be that most of these kids have no idea what a Kentucky is, but they can recognize Colonel Sanders and his chicken at a distance of 500 metres. Why is “Ka-Eff-Tsay” so popular here, when elsewhere it has faded into near-obscurity?

a) Czech cuisine by its very nature involves a lot of chicken, a lot of bread, and a lot of frying. You might say it was a match made in Kentucky.

b) Colonel Sanders is a short, hearty man in a white leisure suit. For Czechs having lived under a communist regime, he represents the exotic joie-de-vivre that is America.

c) It is American, and therefore, cool and trendy. And since there are no Starbucks, the honor falls to KFC.

d) The bright red and white tub of chicken rotating atop its pole can be seen for miles. It’s almost as tall as the communist-era television tower that dominates the west of Prague.

According to travel guru Rick Steves, the statue of Saint Wenceslas is a popular meeting point.

“Locals say, ‘I’ll meet you under the horse’s tail.’”

It isn’t true. They meet at KFC.

And Happy Saint Wenceslas Day to YOU

2005-09-28T05:47:00.000-05:00

Wednesday was Saint Wenceslas Day. That's Den Svateho Vaclava, for the myriad Czech speakers reading this blog. :)

A holiday, as I believe I said exasperatedly (are we making up adverbs here?) on tuesday night, is just what I needed! What did I do on my day off? Not to pose a rhetorical questions, I'll answer it: I went exploring. Here's what I found:

1) They have bowling alleys here. In Czech, it's referred to as bowling.
2) ALL of the shops are closed on St Wenceslas Day except the herna bars and touristy places downtown.
3) There is an awesome restaurant I'll call "Mural Pub #2" near my flat - yay!
4) I can get a take-away pizza for 60-kc (and extra 6-kc if I want the box .... don't know what I'd need that for!)
5) There is a pub near the metro that sells fresh burcak. Burcak is young wine straight from the vines - awesome! (but no, not as awesome as rohliky)

Oh! And I went shopping and found a wall map of the Czech Republic that is so incredibly cool, you'll just have to come and see it.

It's Official - The Awesomest Thing Ever

2005-09-28T05:43:00.000-05:00

1-crown rohliky. It's true. Mini-baguettes for a measly crown. That's about .... 4 cents. Yessss.

Is there a Plan C???

2005-09-26T06:21:00.000-05:00

Munich Report:

- German beer consumed: 2 litres (Good German beer consumed: 1/2 litre)
- Sauerkraut eaten: 0
- Sausages eaten: 0
- Drunken Irishmen run across: 1, but what a one!
- Number of times I was yelled at in German for being in the way: 15,817
- Bavarians in lederhosen: Far too many

A nice weekend trip, but man did it feel good to get back to the Czech Republic.

Plan B: Going to Munich for Oktoberfest

2005-09-23T04:24:00.000-05:00

To remedy the aforementioned situation, I, Daniel Wicklund, will endeavor to:
- Consume healthy portions of German beer.
- Consume unhealthy portions of wurst, sauerkraut, and other deliciously fatty German foods.
- Confine my exercise to walking to and from the beer tent. At all other times, I will attempt to utilise public transportation.

God help me.

Desperate Times - a weight update

2005-09-22T04:17:00.000-05:00

I'm certain everyone is dying to know: Not how does Dan like Prague, or how does Dan enjoy teaching, or even how much beer is Dan drinking, but the eternal question - how is his waistline? I'm here to tell you, the situation is desperate. I am now using the Dan-made sixth hole in my belt and I feel like one of those skaters back in the '90s (remember way back then?), sagging my jeans down to, well, down low.

Apparently eating pork, dumplings, and irresponsible amounts of bread and beer is just not cutting it. Desperate times, indeed. I think this Czech beer is deceptively healthy (how dare they).

I may just have to resort to Plan B.

Is he REALLY in Prague? (Pictures, yes!)

2005-09-20T06:05:00.000-05:00

Ah, Prague. Taken from one of the little islands in the river (where there happens to be, oh yes, a beer garden), this is a view of the end of the Charles Bridge and a smattering of old town and the spires for which Prague is famous!

The view out of my bedroom window in my old flat. The spires you see are those of the Strahov Monastery, where you can go for a delicious 67-korun lunch and lovely tmave pivo.

And for now, that's all folks! More pics when I get the internet at home, including pics of my new flat, my flat-mate, and heck, maybe even myself. :)

Ahoj.

Pop! Goes the Weasel / Bed / Whatever. Rearranging Furniture.

2005-09-16T06:02:00.000-05:00

Question: If a bed is to be used as a storage facility, such that the top (mattress) opens to reveal storage space, for what reason would one spring-load the blasted thing???

It seems to me – and maybe this is the engineer talking – that gravity is on your side here. You want the mattress to stay down, gravity helps you. You wish to open the compartment? You lift the mattress. It’s not heavy.

But perhaps there is a method behind the madness. Possible reasons I can come up with:

1) Developed by the French during one of many revolutions, this bed allows for quick conversion from “sleeping” mode to “barricade” mode.

2) Spring-loaded mattress allows easy access to the items of marginal importance normally stored underneath a bed (such as: seasonal clothes, boxes, and packing materials).

3) Developed with the moody sleeper in mind, this bed allows the owner to simply roll over and gently lift, thus triggering the springs and jettisoning the unwanted (or snoring) companion directly into the wall.

4) Originally developed by the U.S. Military for military transports, so that soldiers wouldn’t have to wake up in the event of an emergency ejection.

But whatever the reason, it sure makes moving the bed a pain in the arse.

... and a flat. With a pool. Yeeeeeaah.

2005-09-15T05:51:00.000-05:00

After a hellish week of apartment searching (following a hellish week of starting work, on top of a hellish week of the course), we finally found our new flat. Yes. It has a pool. Even one with a “resistance” function to prevent over-enthusiastic swimmers from running into the wall. And a terrasse. The Champagne in the fridge is chilling until, well, until we’re both well enough to drink it. :)

You may be wondering who I meant by “we”. The last time I used that, I was talking about my car, but now I’m talking about Erica, my awesome flatmate. We were flatmates in the old flat, and decided to just ditch the weird girl and the annoying guy for our own place.

Our flat is a ways out, in Prague 10, an area called Strašnice, but it’s nice. It’s a little villa-style building with only 5 flats. Our flat is pretty class, actually. Black leather furniture, white tile floor, glass tables. And a terasse which looks out on the more affluent in the neighborhood – i.e. nice old houses with lots of flowers, fruit trees and gardens.

Very swingin’ baby, yeah!

Champagne, a job, and then, I think... a nap.

2005-09-02T08:55:00.000-05:00

Yes, it's true! Not only am I drinking champagne to celebrate having passed (moderately successfully) this course, I am also after having taught my first class this morning!

For those who may be wondering what it is I am doing, and who I will be teaching - or perhaps I should replace the word 'wondering' with 'fearing' - I am teaching English to impressionable young 18-20 year olds who somehow have been given the impression that they will be taught something called "Intensive English". Little do they know they will instead be taught Beatles songs and Irish slang.

On a more serious note, my kids rock. Wait for next week's blog which may read "My kids are brats, was I ever this obnoxious???". But for now, they rock, and I am very happy. :)

Now, how about that long-deserved nap...

Look Out, Kids!

2005-08-30T03:51:00.000-05:00

"And today, we will be discussing the lyrics of the best band in the world. Can anyone tell me who that is?" [Eliciting Key Lexis]

"That's right, U2. Very good, Johnny." [Positive Reinforcement]

"Now, everyone say it with me. 'Yuuuu Tooooo'." [Pronunciation]

These poor kids really have no idea what they're in for. But they're in for it starting on Thursday!

Why We Don't Teach Phrasal Verbs to Beginners

2005-08-21T08:06:00.000-05:00

Otherwise known as "Dorky-teacher-speak-101".

Setting: A classroom in an office building known as the "banana room". Two beginner students. Two teaching trainees, one of which is Dan. No teacher.

D: Well, the teacher is late. That's okay. We'll do something.
S:
D: I'll just make this up as I go along, okay?
S: What means ... to make up?
D: Oh boy... um. It means, I have nothing. No plan. No lesson. But I'm up here anyway.
S:
D: It's like 'to improvise'.
S: To improvise??
D:
M:
D:

Teacher walks in.
T: Fantastic, did you do a warmer?
D: Um.... we kind of, um, made one up ... .

Lesson of the Day: Phrasal verbs bad. Very very bad.

Extreme Swimming in Prague - An Exercise in Spatial Awareness

2005-08-18T03:49:00.000-05:00

I suspected that swimming pools would be a bit different here. Perhaps, I thought, the water would be warmer. The pools might be smaller. The, ahem, attire could be different. There might not be lockers. The showers could be co-ed -- the locker rooms could be co-ed. There might be naked children running about everywhere and women breast-feeding in plain sight . Heck, there could be naked adults running about! This is Europe, after all.

Nothing really prepared me for the reality, which was, quite simply, very normal. Except for one small, tiny, almost un-noticeable thing, really: the pool had no lane lines. I wasn't ready for that.

The pool was an obstacle course, chaos theory in action. If you could have seen it from above, I have a suspicion it would have been reminiscient of ducks in a small pool. That is, ducks, in a small pool, on speed. You swam and looked up, swam and looked up. If there was someone in your way, it was common courtesy to begin swimming diagonally. If this took you into the paths of other swimmers, you could switch directions, but it was really up to you. If you started out on the left side, you might very easily end up on the right side when you got to the other side. Of course, actually getting to the other side was apparently optional as well, as many swimmers decided that 80% was very nearly there, and so, good enough for them. Perhaps they chose this because there was no good place to hold on to when you reached the side. Another common courtesy was to swim breast stroke. I believe this was to allow swimmers to more easily see the person swimming directly toward them, although my first deduction was that Czechs simply had one leg shorter than the other, (causing the aforementioned diagonal swimming).

At first I tried to swim against the stream. Or, perhaps, the flood. I swam straight, hoping to encourage the depth perception my fellow swimmers, and going under them when they charged me. This was working until on butterflyer I'd like to dub the tank came in. That was my signal to start dodging with the rest of them.

The Czech people are some of the nicest, meekest, intellectually stimulating, fun-loving people in the world. But the way they organize their swimming pools makes me wonder about their organizational skills.

Ahoj.

Doing Nothing in Prague.

2005-08-13T08:01:00.000-05:00

Nedělam nic.

That's czech for "I'm not doing anything". But in fact, what it really means is "I'm no longer a tourist". See, I think you know you live somewhere when it's saturday, the sun is out, the tour groups are clogging the streets, and you can sit quite happily in a cafe drinking coffee writing things like blogs. Give it another week and you're saying things like "Bloody tourists, what are they doing here!?".

So instead, today is filled with looking for a job, looking for a new flat, and homework. There's really nothing to yank you back from dreams of dancing sugar plums (or whatever you dream about) like homework does.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go wander around the city with my camera. :)

The Story of the Hanging Coffee

2005-08-04T04:22:00.000-05:00

There is this cafe in Prague, called "U Zavesenyho Kafe", or, "The Hanging Coffee". It is a small place, tucked into the hill, atop of which sits Prague Castle. It's a touristy street in a touristy city, but at 11 in the morning, it is mostly empty, with a few Czechs in for an early lunch, and blues playing in the background. The food is good, and the beer is cheap, although this morning I will have only coffee. There are several rooms, all tiny, and in the evenings, packed to the brim. Typically, you have to sit at a table filled with strangers. But it's okay, because the food is good, the beer is cheap, and you're in what it quite possibly the most beautiful city in Europe. I am sitting in the garden, and I've learned that I no longer need to ask, when I walk in, "Muzu sedet na zahrady?" because that's how it works here. You just walk in and sit down and they come by to take your order or bring you a beer if they know you well enough. At least, so I suspect. But on to the story.

"Do you know what 'hanging coffee' is?" the menu asks. "You don't? Well ..." You see, a guy comes to a cafe, and drinks a cup of coffee, and he says "I pay for two cups - the one I just had and another one I leave hanging here." Another guy, who is broke, comes in and asks "Would you by any chance have a hanging coffee here?" And if there is one, he drinks it and goes home. And if he is later able to afford it, he comes back and pays for another hanging coffee.

But as we all know, everything changes over time. Now, instead of a hanging coffee, it seems to be a hanging wireless internet hotspot. Not bad. :)

Day 1 or 2 - The Hazy Period

2005-08-02T09:34:00.000-05:00

As anyone who's ever traveled across 8 or more time zones can tell you, the first day is always somewhat of a blur. For example, when I traveled to Ireland. I distinctly remember having a Guinness in O'Neill's pub. And when I woke up, I realized I had no idea what Dublin looked like, but I was sure excited to find out.

Yesterday isn't quite so hazy as all that. After all, I seem to remember...

(a) Lugging my suitcase (the only one that made it onto my connecting flight) up six flights of stairs. Of course, I thought, of course.

(b) Passing the swedish bikini team on their way to tour Prague castle.

(c) Getting asked directions by French people.

(d) Having a beer for less than a dollar, in a beer garden that overlooked the city of 10,000 (or some other large number) spires.

(e) Getting a european number for my phone (and if you are nice, I just might give it to you). :)

(f) Hearing entirely too much 80s music.

And that's about a wrap. For those concerned, I did receive my missing luggage. And I found Tesco Value tee-shirts for 49kc (that's about 2 bucks). Look out, fashion world!

Na schled.

38,000 Feet and Counting

2005-08-01T09:30:00.000-05:00

Na letadlo. That's Czech for "on the airplane". The one to Prague. I wouldn't normally have my computer with me in my seat. I hate those businesspeople that have to be on their laptop computers 24-7-52. They make me think of mushrooms. Not necessarily because they smell (though they often do), but because of a line in Le Petit Prince where the little prince looks at such a businessman and suddenly realizes that il n'était pas un homme, mais un champignon! That's why it reminds me of mushrooms. But no, I sit here with my laptop perched happily in my lap because of a long series of events, which in reality started 4 weeks ago as I made my packing list, but in practicality started when I realized my checked baggage was too heavy for me to lift. This occurred yesterday, or whatever day was the one before I left Seattle. I'd been wondering if I had purchased luggage big enough for my trip and my grandiose aspirations. After all, I was to be gone for (possibly) two (don't tell Mom) years. I wanted to fit everything in, including, but not limited to my espresso maker and yoga mat. When I'd packed to my heart's content I had a sinking feeling. I had the feeling because there was extra room in my suitcase. While this might normally be considered cause for joy, I had the suspicion (later to be confirmed) that it was not a question of volume, but of mass. Sort of like ... (fill in brilliant analogy later). So I compromised, and had to give up some of the items that just weren't important enough - I left out several tee shirts and my green khaki pants. So finally I could lift my bags, even though I far preferred not to.

But I digress. The real reason I sit here with a laptop on my lap top is that I had entirely too much carry-on baggage.

One camera in camera bag.
Extra lens for camera, in separate camera bag.
Filters, extra camera, in camera bag.
Tripod, in tripod case, which also houses two Guinness posters.
Hiking backpack, housing smaller backpack, housing computer case, housing laptop.
Books for the flights: “How to Teach English”, by Jeremy Harmer. “Colloquial Czech”, by James Naughton. “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time”, by Mark Hadden. “The Financial Times”, by … I guess the editors of the Financial Times.

Needless to say, when I arrived in Amsterdam after a 9 ½ hour flight from Seattle with 45 minutes to race from E17 to D55 in an airport where everything was written in English (wait… hm), I was NOT expecting to go through security again before boarding the airplane. And I knew I was in for it, too, as I looked around and saw all those nice, tidy little European carry-ons. And there I was with a hiking backpack, a canvas bag, and a tripod case with a winter jacket looped through it.

And they let me through. But of course, not until I had voluntarily repacked my backpack with my jacket and tripod, decided to carry my laptop, and camera bags, which are now sitting under the seat back in front of me, where, in a perfect world, my legs would be outstretched. Tant pis.
Na schled for now. That’s Czech for … later. My next post will be from a lower altitude.

And the winner is .... (Day 11 - Final Day)

2005-06-10T23:24:00.000-05:00

The last day of a trip is always a strange kind of transition, especially when you're going from one lifestyle to another. Road trips seem to magnify this, because there is no time you're so free as when you are on the road, with no real itinerary, no real responsibilities, and no cell phone signal. Of course, it's not a real freedom. No, the bills await, sometimes impatiently, the family worries, and your friends begin to wonder what happened to you. And all you wanted to see were wild horses.

But on to my subject. The winner .... of the Great State Rating Competition, that is. Having been through - let's count - 13 states, which one tops the list? Quick summary.

Maryland. Lived there 4 years. Got a ticket. Low speed limits. No.

West Virginia. Wild and Wonderful. Big hills. Green. Great songs about it. A contender.

Pennsylvania. (Very funny, No).

Ohio. Well, it did look like Ireland for a while. But only for a while. No.

Michigan. Southern Michigan was pretty boring, although they did have beer cheese, and coastal Michigan was pretty amazing up north. Mackinaw City nice, good local beer and "lakefood". U.P. tres beau. Girls not so pretty. Alas... you were so close.

Wisconsin. Not nearly as pretty as I thought it would be. Now, if I'd stopped at a brewery and cheese shop, you might have fared better. But no.

Minnesota. Good times, but in the city. Too many bugs.

South Dakota. It took me by surprise, the black hills, and Mount Rushmore was beautiful. But I still drove through the most boring and flat landscape in the country for a good 4 hours, and that's a lot to overcome. Sorry.

Nebraska. The company was wonderful. Kimball was not nearly as small as I expected (it even had a stoplight!). The steak was delicious. But the state ... eh .... at least it had high speed limits.

Wyoming. No wild horses. Thanks for playing, please try again next time.

Montana. Hmm.... good beer, good coffee, pretty girls, beautiful scenery, big ole sky, mountains, high speed limits, curvy roads. Sounds promising, very promising. Flathead Lake, for fishing. Picturesque mountain vistas. Great college towns. I'm thinking .... this could be it, folks!

Idaho. Raining in Coeur d'Alene, the only thing worth seeing in Idaho. When your license plate raves about potatoes, you know there isn't much to see. It's almost as bad as advertising your state's web site on your license plate (http://www.state.pa.us/).

Washington. Well, Washington. You faced some pretty high expectations, considering I'd been talking you up to just about everyone in town for the past four years. Or more. And starting out in Eastern Washington (a truly astounding place, astounding that it can be so incredibly boring yet still in Washington State). Well, it was tough. And after Montana, who'd really blame you for losing? I mean, the potato fields, the wheat, the WIND which felt like it was going to tear the driver's side door off the car. And then, all of a sudden, we turned right. (Then we turned left, right, left and then right again). And we were going up alongside the mountains, and things started to get awfully pretty. We managed to pass the slowpokes, and wound around deliciously curvy roads, with the hills rising up so steep beside us that I couldn't see the tops of them out of my window. Ali seemed to like it, and I thought, man, the old girl (that is, WA) is catching up! And then .... THEN, we turned left. You know, into the mountains. The sun was out, the clouds were racing by and we came through the town of Leavenworth - Washington's Bavarian Village. Don't ask me how it got there, but dang if it isn't cute. At least, to drive through. And we left town and wound through some of the best scenery I'd seen in the entire trip - including Glacier Nat'l Park (sorry Montana). We cruised along a river cut into the mountainside, next to steep cliffs and sheer rock faces and the deep green of the trees reflecting in the turquoise of the river, and we felt not a little insignificant. We raced down the mountains, and struggled back up the mountains to Stevens Pass. And then, the most usual thing happened - clouds passed overhead, and it began to rain. Not the hard, lashing rain of a thunderstorm, but the soft, pitter-patter rain of the northwest. I got out of the car, looked at the mountains around me - so steep, so rocky, so ... unpretentious. And I thought, thank God. I'm home.

So, I think it's safe to say that in the final stretches, Washington blew away the competition. Without even trying. And maybe that's what best about Washington. It's genuine. It's authentic. It's real.

Town of the Day: George. George, Washington. I cracked up for about 10 minutes about that. That's really when I knew it was time to get off the road. :)

a la prochaine fois.
~Dan (and Ali)

Going Back to the Sun: Day 10

2005-06-09T23:16:00.000-05:00

If the road I traveled yesterday is called the "Going to the Sun" road - what does it mean when I'm taking it in the opposite direction?

Back to Glacier. Picnic lunch in the rain, by the river by the mountain by the glacier. It felt right that it was raining. Not comfortable, but right. Even if it was a 5 minute lunch of a banana and a cheap gas-station sandwich. And some shots down by the rocks. Cold water. Gee. Stopped the car when I saw a load of cars, finally gave in. Thought I'd hike for a few minutes. An hour and a thousand feet of elevation later, I found myself at Avalanche Lake, very glad to have made the trip. Very social deer there. They even walked on the path. Talk about domesticated. Lake was gorgeous, remote, just the way I figured Glacier Nat'l Park ought to be. Glad I took the hike. Lots of people when I started, very few at the lake. Tough trail it was, I wondered why I kept seeing 70-something grandmothers on it. Maybe I was just seeing things. After all, I am conversing with my car. :)

Drive down from Glacier to Missoula, along Flathead Lake. Incredibly scenic. I thought, if I were a fisherman, I'd come there to fish. Then I thought, that's really what fishing is about, so maybe I'll do it anyway. Scenic drive along the mountains, stopped to take some glamour shots of Ali (yes, I know I've lost it). Popped over to see the St Ignatious Mission. Incredible church. Middle of nowhere. Fantastic murals on the inside, over 100 years old, painted by the cook. If I had a picture developed it would go (here).

Town of the Day: Hungry Horse, MT.

Welcome to the Northwest: Day 9

2005-06-08T23:58:00.000-05:00

It rained. Lots. It clouded. Lots. It even snowed a little. But it didn't stop me. I saw Glacier National Park. At least until I hit the "Road Closed" sign. Tomorrow I'll go at it from the other side. But first, I will sleep. Really spectacularly improperly late.

Town of the Day: Whatever that tiny little hamlet was, on the little country road, that consisted of a post-office, a couple of houses, and old dilapidated western bar, and an espresso stand. I knew I'd officially entered the Northwest at that point.

Looking For Wild Horses at 80 mph: Day 8

2005-06-07T23:52:00.000-05:00

I'd looked forward to driving through Wyoming again about as much as I looked forward to going to the dentist - and not just any dentist, my childhood dentist with the Hygenist named Rex.

I think all it took was someone to tell me that sometimes, if you look, you can see wild horses, driving through Wyoming. I'm pretty sure there is nothing cooler than wild horses. The device that Ed let me borrow to play my iPod in the car is pretty neat, but I think if I could have seen wild horses, I could have done without it. I didn't see any wild horses in Wyoming, but looking for them sure did pass the time.

(I did see what appeared to be wild horses. But they were in Montana. And they weren't really running free like wild horses are supposed to do. They were drinking water.)

It was still a long way between towns, but you know.... it could have been Kansas. Or root canal work with Rex.

Dan Gets Impulsive: Day 7

2005-06-06T23:42:00.000-05:00

I'd said before I started my road trip that I wanted to bond with Ali (my car). It struck me that I might have taken things a little bit far when I found myself apologizing - out loud - to her, as we set out in the opposite direction she expected: South, to Kimball, Nebraska. It turned out there was no need, she was fine with it. After all, she'd never been west before.

It was the day before that I'd phoned Annie in the afternoon. How far was it from Rapid City to Kimball, I'd asked. She looked it up and said it was 5 hours. I thought, I could do it in 4. And it would be good to see my friend Annie, since I wasn't going to be able to meet up with her in Europe in the summer, as I'd planned.

I set out in the morning, driving through the black hills. Didn't see an interstate all day. Five hours later, I was in Kimball, where I spent the day hanging out with Annie, cooking for her parents, seeing her classroom, and sitting on the porch. And I learned what it means to "cruise main". For all you non-small-towners, "cruising main" is when you drive up and down main street. Usually a minimum of 5 or 10 times, or an hour, whichever is longer. You also have to keep the windows open and blast music. It helps if your vehicle is camouflaged in color or has a large gun rack. Good times, good times. So glad I can be genuinely impulsive on occasion. :)

Town of the Day: Carhenge. Not a town, so much as a "henge". Yes, kids, it's true. There is a carhenge. I believe the world's largest rubber band ball might have been nearby as well, alas, I was unable to stop. :)

Don't Hold Your Breath: South Dakota (Day 6)

2005-06-05T23:20:00.000-05:00

It was a Monday. There are some days you just instinctively lower your expectations. And then, when something even mildly pleasant happens, it completely blows you away. South Dakota was this for me.

I'd been in North Dakota before. I had not enjoyed it. Except for a park where I was told there were wild horses. And I didn't see the horses, so that about did it for North Dakota for me. But South Dakota wasn't all that bad, once I got the first few hundred miles out of the way (this is key). The black hills were beautiful. The Badlands were awesome (I think this is because I felt kind of like Indiana Jones walking around them). Rushmore Cave was impressive. And Mount Rushmore was far better than my expectation. I was even there for the "lighting ceremony" during which we got to listen to a 30 minute speech of nationalistic american propaganda. And I love my country. But please, I was scared we were making terrorists right there in the audience... But I got my long-exposure shot, found a hotel, ate a calzone, and all-in-all, had quite a pleasant day in South Dakota.

Town of the day: Wall Drug. Don't ask.

Guinness, Frisbee Golf, and Raw Fish: Days 4-5

2005-06-04T23:14:00.000-05:00

I hadn't seen my buddy Ryan in about 4 years. Pretty much ever since I moved to the east coast and he started law school. And now that both were finally over, we had to catch up. And catch up we did, making our way through pints of guinness, bouts of bocci ball and frisbee golf, and a trip to the Mall of America. Met the fiancee, the lovely Mara Garcia, and her son Alan (who kindly allowed me to sleep in his room, and taught me how to play Star Wars). Learned that fish can be *cooked* by squeezing lime on top of it. And sipped Paddy whiskey and watched Father Ted.

It was a good weekend.

U.P. UP ? : Day 3

2005-06-02T23:02:00.000-05:00

James Joyce anyone??? Upper Peninsula. Right.

Drove across the Mackinac Bridge UP to the U.P., where Ali and I had a lovely drive along the coast of Lake Michigan. It was like cheap oceanfront property. I liked how they called local seafood "lakefood" although somehow that makes it sound a little disgusting. Ate lunch at the Swedish Pantry in Escanaba, MI. The road signs all said it was the best. I'm a sucker for good advertising. It was okay, but the decor was fantastic with old clocks and lots of umlauts. Made me wonder if someone confused Sweden with Switzerland! I felt like I was doing something, in my own small way, for my heritage. Aside from having the last name Wicklund, that is. The nice, non-swedish lady at the counter suggested that I HAD to drive down to the bottom of main street because there was a lovely park there. Well, I was in a hurry, but I thought, why not. The funny thing is that when you drive across the country, you see an awful lot of places. Big cities, small towns, national parks, forests, and coastlines. But the best places are always the little things that you discover where you're not expecting to. Everyone expects Yellowstone National Park to be beautiful. It is. But who knew the university campus in Bozeman was so pretty? Well, maybe you did. I didn't, at the time. Whatever, sidetracking sidetracking. The long and the short of it was, I found such a nice beach, inhabited by such, errr, nice folks (ahem), that I just had to stay a little while. So I cut Wisconsin a little short. It wasn't that nice anyway.

Made it to St Paul, Minnesoooota around 7.30, in time to meet Ryan and his fiancee Mara Garcia, for dinner at a Russian restaurant downtown.

Town of the day: Frankenmuth. 1-800-fun-town.