After a While

AFTER A WHILE - 7th.Nov.2009

After a while you learn
the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn
that love doesn’t mean leaning
and company doesn’t always mean security.
And you begin to learn
that kisses aren’t contracts
and presents aren’t promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of woman, not the grief of a child
and you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow’s ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down
in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns
if you get too much
so you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone
to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure
you really are strong
you really do have worth
and you learn
and you learn
with every goodbye, you learn…

1971 Veronica A. Shoffstall

Prague of foreigners?!!

For the past weeks I have been living in a city with approximately 1,250,000 locals, believe it or not. So no surprise I was fast to acquire the habit of making loud even negative comments in Bulgarian with other Bulgarians hoping that I will never be understood. What was my astonishment when in one of those what is called Slavic Souvenir Shops downtown they literary swore at me in pure Bulgarian. I had forgotten how rude people from the Balkans can be. At times rude, at times passionate to the very extreme, I really don’t know how we manage to combine it all in us but somehow it justcomes natural. The truth was I didn’t expect the shop attendant to be Bulgarian. There are not so many of us not in Bulgaria, not abroad, after all. But I can say for sure that unlike Czech, and of course not to mention English, the southern Slavic languages, Bulgarian and Serbian are, have developed much more of this swearing vocabulary.

I guess, it comes to handy in our lives much often than in any other Western state. I know though, that on my part I was right in suggesting to my Bulgarian friend that paying the equivalent of 25 euro in Crowns for Matrioshki is rather wishful thinking. No way! Not to mention that Matrioshki are not a Czech invention anyway. So even if I run the risk of being beaten next time in one of these shops, I will not hesitate to speak up my mind to any of those Bulgarian fellows selling rubbish things at amazingly high prices to obviously insane tourists! I guess even in Prague, I remain very Bulgarian when it comes to my personal interest and people who try to make profit from me in an ugly way. You can leave Bulgaria, but Bulgaria never leaves you – is a good staying, I think. Especially when dealing with Bulgarians…

***

The important thing here though, is that it was after this little Bulgarian experience at the heart of my beloved Prague that I realized what a strange amalgamation of people and nations this city still is and I say still ‘cause we all know the history of the Central European countries and it makes sense for the state of the affairs in the past. Actually I was still wondering were the Czechs in this city are. It’s not only that you can hardly see them on the streets downtown. There is more to it that this. They seem to have left all the business in Prague in the hands of the foreigners and mind you it was apparently profitable business. And it’s not only about Prague. What to say about Karlovy Vary? For one thing I don’t think I can truly see the rational behind this.

Perhaps half of the Souvenir Shops in Prague are either run by Bulgarians or at least there are several Bulgarians working in each shop. I guess we make good employees in businesses which are connected with working with tourists since we study and speak quite many foreign languages anyway. Actually, I have never seen any other nation which invests so willingly in education and foreign language acquisition like Bulgarians do and the more I travel and meet other nations, the more my pride grows from this fact. But still, there is a long way to go until they acquire proper manners in working with normal civilized people, I have to admit it.

***

When you go to Prague as a tourist, you will be engrossed in the magic of this place for sure. But then when you get to live there for longer you will start seeing the little details in the picture which somehow stir indignation in you, those tiny things that you so much wish they were never there but you feel small enough not to be able to change them, and plus, it’s perhaps none of your business anyway. Even the criminal world seems to be of foreign origin in Prague. Walk down Václavské náměstí at midnight and you will know what I mean. But better not walk there on your own. Or better not walk there at midnight at all.

***

Instead, walk down the streets during the day and you will see that Prague has this life of its own, the one that it has perhaps always had. It was amazingly preserved untouched during the Second World War. “Living” actually means both wearing off but also gaining riches and you can see both things in Prague. It offers authentic picture of an ancient city where even the plan of the streets in it has remained intact over the centuries. Walking down on these streets every single day makes me feel like I am some tiny part of this history of centuries and peoples. It feels like 2 parallel worlds intersect one another and exist together astonishingly peacefully. They somehow balance themselves. The crowds of gaudy foreigners visiting cultural sights that I am sure have little meaning to the locals there, who on the other hand are busy with their own lives and day-to-day problems. Even the places where Czechs and non-Czechs go out in the evening seem different. You will hardly see a Czech at a Karaoke bar, for instance.

***

This whole thing makes me think about the past. I suppose, there is much in history to account for the present, be it in politics, national psychology or even lifestyle but this Czech phenomenon is not reserved to now only. Think about the Habsburg Empire (Czech until 1918 used to be part of it). It was never based on the preponderance of one nation over the others but encouraged the central European cultural variety, which was actually in tune with the whole historical tradition of the Bohemian Land. In the 19^th Prague was a weird mixture of Germanic and Czech communities living rather peacefully but each in their own social space, attending their own coffee shops, and own theaters. The German bourgeoisie walking down Graben street( Na Přikopiě), the Czech -down the Ferdinand street ( today’s Národní třída ). The names of the streets weren’t always mere transcriptions of the same names. When a German was crossing the Dominikanergasse, a Czech was immersing himself in the national atmosphere of Husova street. (the name of the street near the Charles bridge was changed in 1870 after the name of the Czech reformer but the Germans never used the new name anyway). What isolated Germans from Czechs though was their own strong wish to keep their own worlds far apart from each other.

Ironically though, I have the feeling that life in practice is destroying these artificial barriers and any attempt to live in parallel worlds in Prague is impossible. The cooks and the wet-nurses in the houses of the German upper-class used to be Czech ladies at the time. At the heart of the commerce chamber Czech craftsmen and small entrepreneurs were working together with their German colleagues. Doctors and lawyers used to meet each others in the same working places – German and Czech speech mixing all the time. The other nationality was always part of the reality, in the worst case as some threat, in the best case as your own shadow from which you can never part. The mere informational system perhaps used to change from one language to the other – one and the same scene from the day-to-day life but in different nuances because of the different languages.

Most likely, this was the charm of the multinational monarchy and the charm of Prague itself today – this charm that Prague has somehow inherited and you can feel it everywhere here, or at least I do.

***

Some more romantic part in me will go that far as to claim that the sentimental side of life perhaps was never under the influence of the barriers of nationalities ‘cause love fears no boundaries and the boundaries are only in the mind of the cowards not in the hearts of those who are brave enough to create their own life by their own standards and criteria. We all know about Kafka’s affairs with the florist lady on Celetna street. But perhaps fewer know that the writer Johannes Urzidil was born to a Czech mother and German father. Where real life starts, boundaries seem redundant and ridiculous. And Prague has learnt this lesson.

***

I guess, coming from a largely intolerant societies like all the Balkan ones are, this peaceful way of living together despite the  differences and thriving culturally because of them impresses me deeply. That’s how you know that a society is more mature than another. For the briefest moment I felt as if I am back in time and I could feel it all in the streets of Prague. The spirit of Prague has not changed much since these times, I can bet on this. And walking in these streets feels special every day.

***

The magic Prague casts on me is not the same one that all those people see when waiting for the Staroměstský Orloj to perform its little show. The magic of Prague comes for me from all these destinies interwoven in it as its integral parts. Prague has preserved like some wax cast some profound imprint of all these lives and destinies. And if not for any other thing, at least it is for this that you can get to love this place and love it faithfully and for eternity. Prague is not the lady you can take to bed only once and forget about her simply because you can never have enough of the ever-new sensation with her. It’s the one to which you will feel like returning over and again to rediscover her and taste her little secrets now and then. Prague is simply adorable in her majesty! And I wonder how come that Czechs seem to be that careless as to give huge parts of it to foreigners that readily?! I would be more protective of such a treasure…

***

Sometimes, though, I wonder what mark I can leave here and what difference I can make in Prague? And the more I think, the more complicated it seems. I only wish I knew where to begin from…

23th.Aug.2009, Prague

“The girls in their summer dresses”

“The girls in their summer dresses”…

I skipped classes today. Shame on me. I just couldn’t wake up this morning. I guess weariness has just set in. This fast pace is killing me softly. The first month of my stay in Czech was great fun though not less busy. Everything was new and good. I was like on a honeymoon but it was much better since I was single and for most of the time not dating anybody. I suppose that was the best way to adapt to the more or less new order by which things were going here. Me and my friend enjoyed ourselves so much that at a certain point superstitious ideas started lurking in me. Then came the weeks in which I was longing for something beautiful to come. And it came, and went. Not that I was expecting something different. Now I am preparing, preparing to say my goodbye to everything that was bringing delight to me in my new life. And that is no fun any longer.

***

It was decided, today is a day that I will devote to myself only and I had special liking for the idea. I took the bus and then the metro to downtown. Though it takes more time than just sticking to the tram, I still prefer it. Any time when I commute through Dejvická, it brings pleasant memories to my mind. I guess I am pretty nostalgic but nostalgia is a form of preserving the good memories in your mind just as good as they once were.

I decided to drop by in a nice café very close to Staroměstské náměstí for the best cheese cake I’ve had in Czech. While sitting in the garden on my own and savoring every sweet bit melting in my mouth, I remembered this short story by Irwin Shaw. I’ve always adored it. The girls were indeed in their summer dresses and some of us looked gorgeous…

For some reason I am into the sight of stylish women – the way they look, the manners they show, the way they talk or behave – everything. I’ve always hoped to become one myself some day.  My ex hated me for this aspiration of mine. He was so critical of the way I did what I did that I sometimes wonder what was it that he loved about me. I never got to ask him and I don’t regret it now. Now I know that he was just afraid that I will get too good for him.

Sitting at the heart of Prague, I was admiring the subtle movements of the hips of all those stunningly elegant multinational ladies when they were passing around like no man will ever appreciate them.

***

I think I am a keen observer. No surprise I was once again lost in thought. I was sitting and realizing that love in Prague is all around, although not always particularly dignified or newsworthy but it’s there everywhere. Fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, girlfriends, boyfriends, new friends, old friends, strangers, tourists, guides, dogs, dashing gentlemen… and of course, girls in their summer dresses…

There was even that elderly coupe at the nearby table – one of those couples – those well-off Westerns who spend most of their time traveling the world wearing bright colored designer’s clothing. I tend to admire them, too and secretly nurture the hope that one day I may get the chance to live their life.

It is by accidents of nature that we get beautiful young people, but beautiful old people are to me works of art.

They didn’t seem to talk much and perhaps they just skimmed the surface of things but still I tried to imagine their topics or feelings. What does he feel about the mother of his already grown-up kids? What can a man possibly feel for Her? Was his heart still in the right place?

They were so close to me that I could make out the soft creases around the corners of her eyes. Perhaps those were the feathery markings of their life together in the last decades, the result of the natural give-and-take of any human interaction. Some relationships just get better and better as years roll on. For the briefest moment I could see myself in her shoes…

***

All seemed right with the world, and I suddenly knew that the day couldn’t have gone any better.

I blinked back the tears that had mysteriously sprung to my eyes, wondering if that couple ever knew that swans mate for life…

20.August.2009, Prague

The beginning of the end…

I felt beautiful last night! Walking on my high hills to get my diploma, I felt beautiful and satisfied with myself for the first time since long ago! And there is this feeling in my stomach… I think I am falling in love… Life seems extraordinary bounteous to me these days and I can’t but appreciate it!

25^th July 2009, Praha

Transition with Czech flavor…

Transition with Czech flavor…

Looking at my grandparents, I often ask myself how come that they don’t live the life of the Germans, French or British at their age. And the more I look at my grandparents, the more I realize that they are no worse. What I can see is at home tired people, tired of transitions and experiments, tired of the life they are living, nostalgic of the times in their younger years when, they claim, the prices were reasonable and stable, the politicians noble and the young generation respectful. At lest that’s how they want to remember their 1960s or 1970s and no one can take from them their right to reject the reality that we are offering to them nowadays simply because it is not what they deserve.

***

Now that I am in Prague, I look at the Czech elderly people and try to compare them to the elderly people in Bulgaria. What was 1960 like for the Czech people? What were their 1960s like? My dad was born in 1960. That is how long ago 1960 is. How come that this country was cited as among the most successful cases of transition economies after 1989? Why them and not us?

***

I’ve come to realize that it’s because they’ve always had intellectual leaders, leaders not afraid of their own dreams. There is hardly any nation which like the Czech has entrusted its destiny into the hands of the intellectuals. And it’s not only the establishment of the independent country in 1918 but also the period between the two wars that is marked by what we call “Masarik Republic”. It is impossible to think of the post-communist period without the figure of Václav Havel. In other words, with the exception of the socialist period, when Czechoslovakia had little choice, during the whole period of its independent existence it has always had intellectuals for leaders. Unlike the thinkers and intellectuals in many other countries, which consider politics dirty and dishonorable endeavor, the philosopher Masaryk and the writer Havel did not run away from politics not because they had no idea of its catches, but because they felt it as their own duty to put their own ideas to practice in real life and to lead the nation to its better tomorrow.

Actually, even the birth of the independent state is a product of what once looked as an impossible dream, as some kind of madness. When after the first world war had already broken, the 65-year-old Masaryk -an emigrant at the time – decided to fight for the destruction of the ages-old Habsburg empire in the name of the right of the small nations to have their own countries, it all seemed madness. This same madness which after the war turned into reality and future for the Central European states. It’s not by chance that when they asked Lloyd  George Who won the war? He answered – Masaryk.

***

Czech Republic is truly a state born from one beautiful dream. Our dreams have always been to make it somewhere else, in comparison. That’s how bad our leaders have screwed it all up that the young intellectuals of our generation believe that our own country does not deserve our kids. Sad but true. (see the Bulgarian transition in a BBC 10 min movie – mind you it’s shot some 10 years ago)

***

What does Czech want to be now? Prague is no longer another communist capital as it used to be in the years after 1948 proud with its celebrations on May, 1^st. It seems that no one had been member of the communist party. It seems that no one had ever been informer for the political police. The past is forgotten for the better. But any time I see a bunch of elderly Czechs sitting on a bench I ask myself what does Czech want to be now that it’s no longer Czech and Slovak Federative Republic? Who is winning, who is losing and who is to foot the bill of it all?

16th.July.2009, Praha

Dating the Czech way?!

Dating the Czech way?!

So fair enough- young, beautiful and single… and in Czech! – there I was -ready to try the biter-sweet taste of dating the Czech way… whatever that was supposed to mean, by the way.

Actually my first and only relationship had just ended abruptly several moths before my trip to Czech, for good or bad. It was pretty soon after this that I discovered that being stuck in a relationship leaves you totally inexperienced in dating so that it wasn’t only dating in Prague that was kind of new and challenging. I realized that we’d spent six years together on and off and we knew nothing about dating other people at all.

But practice makes perfect so there I went.

***

He was in his really late 20s, speaking good English and ambitious enough to be with a good American master’s degree. So I made up my mind to give that Czech guy the chance and he was smart enough to seize the opportunity.

His fist try to take me out was a complete failure, though. I took with a pinch of humor his invitation to go out on a first date… to the gym… No matter how modern I might be, this was too much.  I have to admit that even though I have never had rather high expectations of Slavic men, that was really too much even for me and he didn’t get that date at all in a result. But it in fact made me and my Bulgarian friends in Prague laugh so much at the dating culture that we were seeing in Central Europe and I guess not only there. Great managers have little time for private life or simply bad taste. Whichever it was, it wasn’t my cup of tea anyway.

***

His second attempt was a much better one, though. I can be pretty eloquent especially when I have nothing to lose and don’t care much. So the few remarks that I made on the phone about his manners must have brought him down to earth.  Or simply men like it when you play hard to get – that stupid mentality that will never really make sense to me. But that’s how you learn that Czech guys are good at carrying out tasks that someone else gives them and in fact they do it quite well, but when it comes to innovation and resourcefulness, that’s not their thing at all. Hopefully they’ve got amazing women who take care that things go in check and it’s under their guidance that Czech men thrive. At some point of my stay in Czech I got completely convinced that this nation badly needs to erect a monument to celebrate all the contemporary Czech women without whom I truly believe Czech men today will be totally lost.  I don’t think they’ll ever admit it, though.

So I was there at Václavské náměstí for my first date with a guy since I don’t know how many years. And on top of all dating a foreigner!!! – it’s always a challenge and demands more efforts to understand one and to love one as as he is and to make yourself understood, sort of  to bridge the gap. I was brave and willing to give it a try. Actually, I was doing pretty good –following a demanding program in fields that my linguistic mind had little knowledge and finding time for socializing with relatively high-class locals. Many would be jealous.

***

Although nearly 30, he looked real good and would say that he like a man of style if he didn’t start kissing me passionately right away – lack of taste for which I will somehow excuse an Italian but not a Czech.  We definitely don’t do it this way and I was pretty positive they were not supposed to do it in Czech.  But my Czech was an exception form the first moment. So I jumped to the conclusion that either he is unbalanced or has not been out with a woman for longer than me with a man -which for me meant  the several months that I had been single since we broke up with my ex.

Anyway, we had dinner at a good restaurant with good service and good meal. A place where later on I used to take friends and relatives who kept coming to visit me and Prague during my stay and they were all impressed. I think that evening I got as much attention as I had always wanted to. A nice man was staring at me and taking every word I was saying as if it was the last thing I will ever say which in reality didn’t help me feel less tense.

It was after the second glass of perhaps the best wine I had during my whole stay in Czech that that completely unknown man looked me in the eye and told me that my father must be totally  insane to let such a daughter that he has go abroad without him. It was fair enough. What this stranger didn’t know about me was that I was good enough to take care of myself and he was yet to see it. I was much better in that than my dad would ever be, in fact.

Later that evening he insisted on paying the bill and in fact did it but getting out of the restaurant gave me a small lecture on how offending it is to a man when the lady doesn’t accept him to foot the bill and asked me never to try doing it again. He warned me with a smile that that’s not the way it works in Czech. I knew he was just trying hard to make impression on me but he was once again underestimating me.

***

So we went for an evening walk. I wanted him to show me his Prague -the places that he loves not Prague that all the tourist guides show us- so we joined all the crowds of tourists drifting down the magnificent narrow streets of night Prague. He was totally unprepared for what I had asked him. That was how we ended up on Charles Bridge with all the German, Russian, British, Japanese and what not tourists that visit Prague every  summer – as banal as it could ever be – but once again the mere confirmation of how terrible devoid of creativity Czech men can be. But on the positive, it taught me later to stay alert and to highly value any instance of a man with an eye for it.

Eventually we both knew that seeing each other again is pointless. That would mean time and efforts in vain. I was not willing to give him more of either of the two. What has forever been making me feel sick in the guts is cheap women. I am too young, too smart and still too attractive to be on sale, and it’s even more ridiculous when you try hard to pay for something that they just won’t sell anyway. Simply this Czech guy was definitely not on the right track with me. That was it. We both knew it.

***

When I got back home to the dormitory my Bulgarian friend laughed at me and told me that her best friend was being a stupid blonde for not accepting the necklace that he was trying to buy for me half of the evening. Actually it was at that point of our date that I already knew I needed to get back home right away. Don’t get me wrong – I would be the happiest woman in the world if a get some nice present from the man I date and I don’t much care if it costs a fortune or just several bucks as long as I know he had spent some time in thinking about me and trying to find something especially for me– but definitely not on the first date and definitely not in some tasteless manner.  The mere fact that he did it this way makes me think that perhaps many women expect it to work this way and would be quite content with it. And now that’s really disgusting. By my standards love and being with someone is hardly some commodity. There should be more to it than that. And I am not trading romance for some quick dirty sex, for sure.

Perhaps he was giving me what I was supposed to be dreaming of at 22 – stylish restaurants, passionate kisses and lavish compliments, jewels and romantic bridges, even proposing me to join him on his holiday abroad. But still something there didn’t feel OK at all. Call it style or manners or whatever but no surprise I refused to play that game. It was not my game. Though sometimes beautiful enough,  I am not meant to be anyone’s trophy.

In fact, I dream of being a good wife and a good mom. Sure not right away but some day. I long for that HIM, the ONE with all his little human imperfections and even weaknesses but definitely not of the glamorous seducer. It takes courage to admit but, I mean, he was good enough and perhaps he could have taken me to bed after several more dates by simply being normal and even he would enjoy it much more.  He was just pushing it too much and unfortunately in the wrong direction. I guess, partnership here is the key concept he overlooked. And I am sure that love is more than the three words mumbled habitually before bedtime. I’ve come to understand that it is more a pattern of devotion in the things we do for each other on a regular day-to-day basis and it means efforts, clear vision of the future and a pinch of romance and inspiration.

***

Is this the syndrome of the man coming from a post-communist country, the one who always lacks self-confidence and tries to measure himself up against the standards of his German or even American counterpart? And if so isn’t it us to blame, the beautiful East European ladies who seem so stupidly eager to sell ourselves as Westward as possible only because we happen to look much better than the average English or French women? Either way, for some reason my Czech was ready to pay supposedly high price literary but went home empty-handed. However, I don’t think he learnt his lesson simply because the market of single women obviously operates by investing meaning in the wrong values. Being part of this market somehow does not make me proud.

***

What I got to know for sure after that odd experience of a(n almost) perfect Czech date, is that we all badly need a good romantic novel. I wish I will write it some day and I wish I will tell the story of my life.

***

That night was an important experience though, and on the metro back home it made me also look back at the relationship with my already and this time for sure ex. From the distance of time I admitted it to myself that I had never felt much lonelier than towards the end of our relationship. In fact, I had put so much efforts in trying to attract his attention and all in vain, and at the same time it came so natural for a completely unknown man to see in me what I wanted my ex to see – a smart and charming woman worthy of being at least courted. I guess it’s no longer fun seducing your own girlfriend, though…

But the irony of it is that no one can compare to my first love, be him good or bad. Not that he was good enough, of course. In fact he was terribly difficult; it pains me to say it, but he knew nothing about how to take care of a lady, and on top of all he was pretty ignorant of sophisticated gentleman manners. He was just too young, I suppose. Good enough or not, but still he was my first and in that sense only with whom we had been growing up together and experiencing together life for the first time. That was enough to secure him the status of a special man in my life. As simple as this…

***

Back at the dormitory I shared this revelation with one of my closest friends. She pronounced me totally nuts but gave me a hug and said that even so she can’t help but love me. It was some comfort after all. At least I knew that she was perfectly honest, and at least she really meant it.

14 July 2009

Praha

Praha!

Praha!

We were finally there among all the shops selling bags and shoes and all that fancy items that could easily catch the eye of 3 ladies. And mind you the terminal was big enough to accommodate much retail property. No surprise we were late to come to the luggage belt to find the last pieces there – ours. In a minute and we were out there. The arrival’s being quite packed with people of all ages and nationalities; I could not help but wave at all of them in a manner of greeting them and then the 3 of us bursted into laughing, enjoying the unbearable lightness of being, of being in Czech. It swept away my low spirits of getting at up 3 a.m. and made me light-hearted. Enthusiastic and eager to explore the whole Czech universe before me, I joined the crowds to find any authority that can give us a hand with basic logistics. I guess I was quickly back to reality and back to my senses, thinking pragmatically again after the first wave of emotions sweeping me.

***

By the very first interaction with the locals it was already pretty obvious – they don’t speak much foreign languages. The English of the guy who was supposed to be giving tourist information was poor and though an elderly gentleman, he spoke no word of Russian. Bulgarian or Italian was out of question. It dawned on me that I will need to switch to Czech sooner than expected and perhaps my Czech phrase book will come in handy pretty soon. Not that I minded it much, but at the time I thought they will mind my Czech. In the long run it turned out that I was wrong ‘cause Czechs seem to appreciate it when you make efforts to speak their language and are quite forgiving when you mistake one suffix for another.

It seems that me and the guy at the tourist information were not all that lost in translation. At least of all the languages in the world, body language is a bit more universal semiotic system than anything. So finally me and the girls were sitting comfortably in the bus that was supposed to take us straight to our new home for the weeks to come. And we couldn’t have been more enthusiastic about it, in fact.

Praha at 7.30 a.m. is beautiful!

***

Though not an extremely experienced traveler, I can say for sure that orientation is hardly my thing. Hopefully, I don’t mind it when I get lost in a nice place and Czech definitely is one. Nonetheless, I can assure you that trying to find a dormitory early in the morning with 35kg luggage and no guy around willing to help with it can be pretty disturbing if anything. Luckily we were for sure at the right bus stop. Not that it was because of us, of course, but somehow it happened to be the terminal stop and like in any normal country, mine obviously does not fall in this category, they kindly ask you to get off. Of all the very few people in the street it turned out that none spoke foreign languages. So like it or not, I was engaged in the most absurd dialogue I could ever enter with a Czech lady asking her in Czech “Prosím vás, mluvíte česky ?”. Well, yeah, she obviously did speak Czech. The thing was I was not that sure about myself. From the distance of time, I can say Thanks God! it was a lady whom I asked about directions since Czech men are totally lost in all respects. So in less than 10 min the three of us with all the luggage made it to our new home. Now that I can visualize us in my mind’s eye, we must have been looking like some moving gypsy camp. Luckily, there weren’t many people in the streets.

Praha at 2.00 p.m. is beautiful!

***

Actually, what was our surprise in the weeks to come to realize that the neighborhood was pretty deserted in the evening! Not that during the day it was crowded anyhow. At a certain point in my stay in Czech, my surprise started growing into amazement and I couldn’t help asking where are the people in this indeed weird country, and I mean not the foreigners plenty of whom you can see downtown, but the Czechs in Czech?! The few explanations that I got from the locals somehow seemed flat. It seemed to me that the country was that nice because it had very few people left there. And it was logical – people mess things up. They always do it! But actually the real answer came finally from one of the dailies that I was trying hard to read during some of my politics lectures – a one-page article about sunbathing in Bulgaria. Yeah, now it made perfect sense to me – the Czechs are in Bulgaria. How come it never crossed my mind?

***

In the afternoon we decided to go downtown after the lectures. That was our fist encounter with the most terrible coffee that I have ever had. Though not a huge coffee-drinker, I can say these people know nothing about good coffee. Later on, I got to realize the bitter way that they know nothing about ice-coffee either. I guess you don’t have high expectations from the coffee when you go to Czech anyway. And yeah, the beer is good, you cannot deny it.

Praha at 4 p.m. is beautiful!

***

No surprise none of the three of us remembered that at 5 this morning at the departure’s of an airport 1,350km from where we were this afternoon, we made a promise that once we get in Prague we’ll go vote at the embassy. It was the day of our parliamentary elections today. Standing at Charles Bridge, this fact meant little and seemed so redundant.

Praha at 9 p.m. is beautiful!

***

Going to bed that night, I thought about the Czechs. I felt like I knew nothing and everything about them, about their language, about their history, about their country. I thought that be them good or bad, be them in many respects similar or in others different, be them better or worse than we are or I am, I felt like I can forgive this nation everything. This is actually the greatest love, I suppose, the one you feel without the need of thorough understanding, loving unconditionally and without obligations. My Czech republic was out there – I could see it, I could smell it, I could taste it but above all – I could feel it. I only wondered if they will some day be able to feel me…

Praha at night is majestic!

5^th.July.2009, Praha