It appears to be raining and snowing at the same time. Prague just can't make up its mind about anything. I'm just glad I'm inside. I would be soaked to the bone if I were outside taking in the Prague experience. Can see a little bit of it out the window, though. Marie and her "partner" (a guy) are taking me on a walk later, with an umbrella. We are going up one hill to look at other hills. It sounds nice.
Apologies to Yuval, who reads this blog like a fiend, and seemed to take my comments about my Czech culture confusion personally. Well, I did say that Yuval was more into Czech traditions than Czech people, so perhaps that's why. That wasn't a snipe, Yuval, for real. What I meant was this... Dude, Yuval, you made me buy a non-alcoholic beer because you said it would be too weird to not drink a beer with dinner in the Czech Republic. Clearly I'm bound to think this was an oppressive, inferior culture that deserved their Soviet occupation. That Jan guy who set himself on fire, and Milos Foreman, were the only real resistence to the Soviets, I thought. Everyone else was too busy getting drunk at dinner to care about human rights and dignity, I thought. This place is like a communist regime, now, it seemed. Velvet Revolution, I questioned. I'd like to see it! You have to drink beer to eat dinner here? You can drink non-alcoholic beer "for your own personal reasons" but you can't opt out of beer entirely? Marx would be in totalitarian heaven! The Czech people are born slaves to a fermented grain! Sure, macrobiotically, beer may be better than a banana, but who cares? Free to choose, that's what I say! I was ready to change my flight and high-tail it out of here, lest I melt into this rank, intoxicated pot. Later I realized that it's not that strict here, and that's what my comment was about. Maybe I shouldn't have been name dropping. And for that, Yuval, I apologize. I was really intrigued to learn all of that horrible stuff about the Czech traditions, and I had a good time with you, Yuval, for real! I still think of some of the stories you told me, like about the German spy who was in London and said "Yaah?" when tapped on the shoulder. Where did you learn all of this stuff? Seriously, you're like an encyclopedia. It's great!
Okay, now that Yuval is apologized to...
Internet is tricky here. In Austin, I had the UT computer labs, and then my own personal computer in Rachel's loft at Royal. Here I have internet cafes, where I usually can't concentrate because of the sound of money flapping as it flies from my pockets. There's Nicole's study abroad program office, which is usually full of distracting people and has weird hours. Now there is the library, where you have an hour a day, depending on how many people are signed up. There used to be the dorms, but the last time I used the internet there, Hannah drunkenly accused me of using the internet before saying hi to everyone, grabbed my arm, pulled me out of the chair, dragged me across the floor out of her room, and slammed the door. Since then we've patched our tattered friendship, but I will probably never use the internet there again. However, Marie, from Austin, invited me to her apartment for internet today, and that's where I am now. Again, though, the internet comes at a price. Like at the dorms and AIFS, socializing is required. I mean, it's nice. She made me bread with hummus, and gave me carrots and pickles. But I can't just sit here working on stuff un-interrupted. That is a fantasy in Prague.
Last night I had the sort of experience you're supposed to have, if you want to claim that you've "been to Prague." Nicole's friend Anna's boyfriend was in town, and Nicole said that everyone was meeting at this place called Architectu cafe at 7:00. I got out of the library at 7:00, and went straight there, sure that I was going to be embarrasingly late when I arrived at 7:10. The restaurant was, like many of the expats hangs here, in a stoney basement but really fancy like. I looked around and no Nicole and friends. So I went outside to wander around and wait.
Architectu was in a sort of courtyard in Old Town, which was strangely deserted for 7:10 at night. The ground was cobblestone, like in most of Prague, and the Architectu building itself seemed very old fashioned, like an old tailor's shop. There was just a dim light coming from the first floor, throwing the ol' four rectangled window shadow on the ground, adding to the old fashioned look. The roof was pointed, and next to it was a church with a huge steeple. I heard a little bit of Dvorjak playing in the background, for which I gave my imagination mad cred. Turns out, though, the music wasn't in my imagination. I should have known better, this being Prague and all. It was coming from another building in the courtyard, across from Architectu. It had a huge window. I looked inside, but that part of the building was completely dark. I went to the classic wooden door, and that's where the music was coming from. I tried to open it, but it was locked. A song ended, and there was a lot of applause. Obviously it was a live concert, and I'd probably have walked on stage if I'd managed to force the door open. Many thanks to macrobiotics and my wasting muscles!
From the doorway I could watch Architectu to see if Nicole and everyone got there. So I sat, leaned against the door, and listened to the rest of the concert, staring at the clouds, the steeple, the shadow from the window, and this wooden walkway that went from the concert building to Architectu. The whole time I was very self-conscious about how this was a very Prague experience, and how I was going to write a blog entry about it to prove I didn't just sit around the apartment all day. I even took notes on the experience to make sure I remembered the details of the beauty, and all the profound insights I was having. I tried to think of interesting things I could say about clouds and old buildings. I was having a Prague moment, but as usual, I was out of the moment, trying to think of ways to exploit the moment later for praise about what a good observant person I am, and how only I know how to truly live.
Someone on a walking tour with us the day before said, "I would love to be in Prague hundreds of years ago. But I guess it would look the same. And that's the beauty of it!" She also complained that she could never go back to the states now that she's been here and seen how civilizations should be organized. I guess I could say something like that, but that would be completely out of character. Honestly, at first I thought the old historical buildings were too trying too hard to be all old and historical. "Functional U.S. buildings are tons better," I thought. "Can't wait to get back to the states where there's a place for everything and everything has its place!" I was offended that hardly any of the buildings here serve their original purpose. It's absurd to see this really old building and look at the window to see this woman at a computer. There should be a dragon in there torturing people on racks in a dungeon! Half of the front of the Tyn Church, this gorgeous gothic castle in old town, is surrounded by shops, like a protective moat! (the tour, revealed, however, that these tourist gift shop buildings have been around since the late 1800s!)
Now, though, I'm starting to appreciate how old this city is, and how it's wonderful that even a common public library has all this amazing architecture to explore. I started to come to terms with it last night while listening to Dvorjak on this cobblestone street looking at the clouds and steeple. Those people inside listening to the concert are suckers, I thought. This is how the music was intended to be experienced. With the sky as your ceiling! At least, that's what I'll write in my blog, I figured, because it makes me look like I'm into beauty, and have a greater understanding of art than most people. Later, when the concert was over, I went to the entrance, and saw that the concert looked free. Then I felt like the sucker. God, I could have just walked in and sat in an actual chair like a human being, and instead I was just hunched against a door, straining to hear. But seriously, imagine it, readers. Me, hunched, taking notes in my notepad, alone, pensive, staring at the clouds in Prague while passionate strings played. If there were any flies on the wall watching that scene of the real me, surely they are all in love now. What an artist I am! So tortured and unique!
Nicole and her friends eventually showed up, an hour late. Sure, I had to wait around for an hour, but I wasn't complaining. "I just saw the real Prague, guys. What have you been up to?" "Oh, nuthin'." Hah! Who here squeezes as much as he can out of life? You, Rhys. You.
