Germany has redeemed itself with a resounding 4-0 victory over Argentina. If it can only manage to beat Spain, then i shall look forward to a Dutch-German showdown!

this afternoon i have

- chewed on cough drops
- gone to the bakery and farmer's market
- made and eaten a salad
- gone to the pharmacy
- rubbed vix on my chest
- guzzled cough syrup
- drank lemon and honey and chamomile tea
- gotten into cozy pj's
- snuggled into the couch
- missed my mommy

Duchess of Bloomsbury

"The night before I left, two friends gave me a farewell party. I'd spent the day packing to the indignant fury of all my vital organs and I left the party early and was in bed and asleep by midnight. At 3:00 AM, I came staring awake, with my insides slamming around and a voice inside my head demanding:
'What are you doing, going three thousand miles from home by yourself, you're not even HEALTHY!'
I got out of bed, had hysterics, a martini and two cigarettes, got back in bed, and whiled away the rest of the night composing cables saying I wasn't coming"
- The Duchess of Bloomsbury Street, 10


Helene Hanff does make it out of bed and on a plane to London the next day. As we all eventually do. I am always excited about going somewhere until, proportionally, close to the actual leaving date. So for instance, if I'm planning to spend the night at a friend's place, I wonder if I shouldn't stay home just as I'm pulling out of the driveway. On a trip to the other side of an ocean, the doubts start setting in a day or two before. I get nervous; not about what I will do when I get there, so much as wondering if I'll ever see anyone I love ever again. When I say goodbye, I make sure to say everything that needs to be said. Essentially, I spend the a couple of days mourning the life I won't have if I die in the next few weeks.

Once I'm in the airport, past security, then I settle back into my usual youngest-child philosophy of not worrying overly much. And, after all, its all worked out so far, right?

... or bust

I totally forgot that now that I'm in a respectable job, I get paid vacation!
Patagonia, Here I Come!!!!!!

of imbecility

Customer #1: “Are we allowed to sit outside?
Answer #1: “Only with a written permission slip. In pink.
Answer #2: “Yes, that’s what the tables are there for “


I can only laugh. Sometimes I don’t know if people are really that asinine or if they are just looking for attention. The customer above was a younger man with a cheeky if slightly confused smile; not the usual demographic for battiness.

However, sometimes I just don’t have enough grace to conclude that they are anything but a few sandwiches short of a picnic.

The other day at Wendel’s bookstore a lady comes in:
Lady: “Do you know anyone with books?”
Me: Stare blankly at all the bookshelves surrounding her.
Lady: “You know, someone that takes books?”
Me: “Um….we take books from publishers?”
Lady: “No, you know, that takes my books?”
Me: No, this isn’t a second hand bookstore. There is one in Langley though” (give her directions)
Lady: “would they buy this book?”
Me: “I’m sorry; we’re not affiliated; I couldn’t say”
Lady: “What are their business hours?”
Me: “I’m sorry; we’re not affiliated; I couldn’t say”
Lady: “Do they take hardcover?”
Me: “I’m sorry; we’re not affiliated; I couldn’t say”
Lady: “What’s the owner’s name?”
Answer #1: “The owner’s name is Charlie Chaplin, they only take books written between 1920 and 1925, and they will only sell books to people with pink or purple hair and they are open between midnight and 4am but you look daft enough to be an excellent customer!
Answer #2: “I’m sorry; we’re not affiliated; I couldn’t say”

Another lady:
Her: “Do you take Amex?”
Me: “No, we take everything but that”
Her: “Then I don’t suppose you take debit?”
Answer #1: Sure I can do that.
Answer #2: Only if you can show me ID proving that you are not a runaway from a mental institution.


At the office, during the peak of the H1N1 panic, I answered a call from an obviously frazzled woman:
Lady: My son has been sick for a month and its just dreadful.
Me: I’m sorry, that must be difficult for you.
Lady: Well yes, and I went to the doctor and he told me that its not the swine flue.
Me: That must be a relief.
Lady: well, I just don’t know. He’s been sick for a month and I just thought maybe you could tell me if he has the swine flue?
Me: I’m sorry, but I’m not a doctor so I really can’t say.
Lady: Well, I was just looking for a second opinion.
Answer #1: I’m sorry, but I’m not a doctor so I really can’t say.
Answer #2: “My opinion, lady, is that if you think that the first person that answer’s the phone at your local mp’s office is qualified to give you a medical opinon contradicting your family doctor, then perhaps what your son is suffering from is simply the culling of a strand of DNA not fit (or deserving enough)to survive in this world. Cut your losses and let your line fade from the gene pool in peace.


I can assure you that whichever answer i did not give was the one I most wanted to.

zeeba neighbors

Note to disgruntled constituents: If you send mail stating you want to be taken off our mailings list, then PUT YOUR NAME AND ADDRESS ON IT! Contrary to popular belief, the government and its drones aren’t all knowing and psychic!

of ageless themes: Soccer and books

The World Cup is being absolutely ridiculous. I don't like it. England tying with the USA??? Germany losing to SERBIA!!! The status quo is being upset and that simply won't do. If your top teams cannot be depended upon than what can??? Next thing we know, gravity will go!

Despite claims that my WC enthusiasm is simply band-wagon-jumping like the Olympics (which I freely claim was a total case of getting swept up in the enthusiasm) it literally hurts to see my teams doing so badly! And soccer really is the most beautiful sport. Both regarding the moves and the players.

In other news: 84 Charing Cross is brilliant and its companion, Duchess of Bloomsbury Street even more so. No one writes letters and journals like they used to. And while it might be cliche to lament this; lament it I can't help when I read these books. If you havn't read them but you have read the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society, think of the former as a more authentic version of the latter (although I make absolutly no complaints about it either)

Catch 22

My friend Erica and I recently discovered a book that really has hit the nail on the north American head. Stuff White People like epitomizes our intense need for individuality. It's a list of all things that white people like; whether for real or because they feel they should like them. (I use the third person but I am in no way excluding myself from this degenerate group).
For instance, #7:

White people love ethnic diversity, but only as it relates to restaurants.

Many white people from cities like Los Angeles, San Francisco and New York will spend hours talking about how great it is that they can get Sushi and Tacos on the same street. But then they send their kids to private school with other rich white kids, and live in neighborhoods like Santa Monica or Pacific Palisades.

But it’s important to note that white people to do not like to be called out on this fact. If you run an ethnic restaurant you can be guaranteed repeat business and huge tips if you act like your white customers are adventurous and cultured for eating food that it isn’t sandwiches or pasta.

I think its a brilliant mockery of ourselves but it's also horribly depressing. It seems like the only way to not be white is to be completely mainstraim and normal: and yet, the mainstream is to try to be unique. But if you're not unique, then you're in a small category in this world that defines its by self-identity.

Even as I write this I am aware that it sounds utterly pretentious and "white" so is the answer total self-oblivion? But that goes against everything our culture says: it is now "I think i am therefore I am" so without forming your "cyber you" you are just not worth knowing.

Well, I give up. its way to tiring trying to be unique. I now resolve to be the most boring unintersting person around...

oooo...maybe that can be "my thing"

Myotonic Goatlets

I've added a new goal to my to-do list:
Have a goat farm.
Don't start picturing bearded grandfathers and alps and goat boys named Peter. I'm thinking more rolling green tropical hills than towering mountains with endless winters.
And instead of headstrong little goats named Little Swan and Little Bear, I'm thinking something more along the lines of these hysterically entertaining, adrenaline-deficient, swooners:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=we9_CdNPuJg

I would guess that we all have moments where we look at ourselves as if from a distant end of a telescope. And from a distance, I don't understand my latest move at all. No wonder everyone has been so puzzled. I've got a lot of "Vancouver? Really? But....."s.
I know I need to be here. I just hope that a year from now, I will have figured out why.

In contrast to Prague's rather heavy, important, imposing Gothic cathedrals, monuments, and ancient buildings, Ljubljana seems almost flirtatious. To my surprise, it resembles Venice with its beautiful brides criss crossing the canal. But what I really loved was all the Grecian and Art Nouveau touches: the columns, whimsical paintins, marble fountains and colorful little shops. Not the most interesting and entertaining city perhaps but its non-pretentiousness is charming

Bled is the most divine, enchanting, unbelievable combination of Water, Mountains, Castles, and Churches that creates. I spent the better part of an entire day trying to take in the fact that such beauty was possible! Or, that it was possible for people to exist without having seen this, which one picture, which cannot show the many different views from each new meter around the lake could ever show.

Since my last post: Winter, Spring, (Break in Costa Rica) and Summer

it is time for a list again

Things I like about Prague

1. Night trams that run literally all night.
2. The Starbucks has "for here" cups.
3. Fashion. Relaxed, funky, professional but not as OCD as the rest of Europe.
4. The old man who looks like a sailor in a land-locked country. ¨
5. People attempting to dash over tricky cobblestones in tricky heels to catch the tram.
6. Not being a tourist.
7. The high percentage of people reading everywhere.
8. People-watching, so much scope.
9. Watching people people-watching. No shame in staring. After all, what else do you do in trams.
10. Bridges
11. Stunning night walks.
12. Balconies


Things I dont like about Prague
1. Czech pronounciation
2. Dogs
3. Expensive museums
4. Lack of available flats
5. Beaurocracy.
6. No free tap water anywhere. Not even in resturants.

Love, Laugh, Grow

These were the goals I set out for myself for this year in Prague. I have the tendency to forget.
Instead of opening my heart to my surroundings and loving with all my heart, I have the tendency to critisize, using culture shock to excuse my lack of understanding.
Instead of laughing and joyously experiencing the beauties of this place all around me, I look down, focusing on my needs instead of my blessings.
Instead of looking at the difficult facets as a joy and a privilage and an experience which will broaden my horizons, I complain.
But I do not want to lose the chance to be enlightened by things far beyond my control. So instead of judgement, I chose love. Instead of looking down I choose to look up and to laugh. Instead of complaining, I choose to grow.

And, in the words of St. Francis,

Make me a channel of your peace.
Where there is hatred let me bring your love.
Where there is injury, your pardon, Lord
And where there's doubt, true faith in you.

Oh, Master grant that I may never seek
So much to be consoled as to console
To be understood as to understand
To be loved as to love with all my soul.

Make me a channel of your peace
Where there's despair in life, let me bring hope
Where there is darkness, only light
And where there's sadness, ever joy.

Make me a channel of your peace
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned
In giving to all men that we receive
And in dying that we're born to eternal life

What a dehumanizing feeling is lack of sleep. At least for me, without sleep I simply don't have energy for life. My schedule is rather messed up in that I have no evenings, usually getting home between 8 and 10 and getting up at 6 every morning (except Fridays). So for four days, I exist in a strange Zombie-like state where every moment is spent finding energy for the next. I do not want to spend a year like this. I did manage to get rid of one of my children's classes so that means I have a rather large gap on Mondays where I can sneak in a long nap. That is bound to help. Furthermore, lesson planning is becoming less stressful and quicker, so again, time will be saved there.

I want to live fully every moment not just on the weekends! Is that an unreasonable request?

Tram #20

The metro, despite its extreme convenience in strange cities, is, when taken daily, a disgruntling experience. Mornings, especially, are no time to take the tram if one is sleepy of eye. Like drones, the slightly thinner throngs trudge down down down from the darkness of the sky to the belly of the city. Conversation is limited, faces are long, and it is generally a depressing experience, even to a sunny morning riser like myself.
Which is why, after the very forgettable 7:20AM classes are over, I opt to take the tram instead. The #20 is particularly delightful. It winds around dignified residential areas; around national monuments where caretakers plant and nurture beautiful flora, through old, narrow streets filled with quaint and modern alike. It winds around hills already bursting with autumn colors and makes a convenient stop right by the only Starbucks I have yet to find in the city (and which, of course, i only allow myself an occasional moment here and there). But if all this looked weren't here, and 90% of the path looked like Mordor, it would be worthwhile for a 1 minute stretch which makes up for all the misery of the morning. As the train leaves the residential area of Hradchanska, it winds down the mountain and for a brief moment one can view heaven as it hugs the largest castle in Europe on the one side and gives the trammers an amazingly beautiful view of Prague in all its glory: spires, cobbblestones, the predominant green and black colors, and Karlov Most (or Charles Bridge) can all be taken in.
It is this daily minute that reminds me why I am here. In that minute I forget about my cheeky teenagers, my terrifying kids, and my keener adults. In that minute, my sense of adventure comes back and I remind myself that somewhere in that panorama there is a home waiting for me! I am reminded of all the art galleries yet to enjoy, the streets to explore, the coffee shops to discover. No matter what new complications the day throws at me or the odd characters back in my hostel room. With a view like that, I tell myself, I can have no complaints.

summary of Bohemia so far

I have arrived in Prague and it has been a bit of a roller coaster ride. It's exhilarating to be here but the journey was long and tiring and stressful. Now that I'm here, it is rather annoying to be in a hostel but I am doing my best to look for apartments in all my free moments.
Orientation was a bit overwhelming but luckily other people were feeling the same way and I met a bunch of cool teachers and we've worked on some of our paperwork together and gone through some annoying steps together so that really helps to feel less overwhelmed!
Monday I start my official, full-time teaching career. Luckily, all my Mon and Wed classes are at one or two of the official school buildings. Tuesdays and Thursdays I'm gonna have to travel all over the cities to businesses and homes etc but it'll help me to get to know the city and transport better.
I now have a three month travel pass for which I will get reimbursed by the school. This covers my bus, metro, tram, funicular and is valid 24/7. So whoopee for free travel!
OK, i'm not feeling inspired to go into details...gotta go get going on my enourmous list of stuff....bleh

it's back

It is with a heavy heart that I prepare to leave. As I look out from the lofty heights of my porch with the best view one could hope for, I have to admit to myself that one more figment of my imagination is slowly being tugged from me: my security.
This little nest has always been a haven, an oasis of sort. I can handle everything else because I know that I can crash here. I know that I am surrounded by loved ones and that when the entire world is going crazy, this place, at least, remains untouched. Kingdoms may rise and kingdoms fall; wars ravage and politics tear assunder but in this place I will be hidden. I can retreat here and be swallowed up for a time to rest and recuperate before heading out into the world. Heartaches and tragedies are both surmountable because of my knowledge of a safe place where everything is "as it should be".
Until now.
Now I'm not so sure. My beloved haven is starting to bear signs of unrest. Much has changed since my last time here two years ago. Now, grumblings are arising and rumours of evil tidings swell and the waves of crime grow to lap against our feet. Tonight I witnessed the fear and frustration in the eyes of my sister as she learned that her home had been the target tonight. More tragic than the financial loss however, was the loss of security; the feeling of violation of something private; something sacred. All around us, this violation is happening. While it has not yet broached my doorstop I can dare to hope. Perhaps we are protected. Perhaps my nest will remain safe. In the face of this uncertainty, whispers talk of protected condiminiums which, in light of our beautiful home in the middle of a coffee plantation must be little more than a reverse prison and for me, would seem to be the worst fate of all. It was hard enough to give up my old home, but at least I retained my illusion of freedom and nostalgia. Yes, I love Costa Rica but home for me cannot be elsewhere in this country but on this lofty hilltop and I will not run away from it. And yet, isn't that excactly what i am doing?
NO! I am exploring only because I know that I CAN return. I am not running and if I am needed I will remain here!
Oh this awful fear that cannot be soothed. It creeps in and leaves me cold and nauseous. I thought it was gone. I thought that time and reason had done its job. But now, years later, it returns, more rational and therefore more frightening than ever. Am I destined to spend my life seeking merely to dull it? Go away! Oh withdraw your tentacles and leave me in peace for once and for all!

Prologue

I am not about to attempt to explain the name for an explanation wouldn't bring you any more englightenment towards the subject than silence. I will only go so far as to say that "streaks" can be read as either a noun or a verb. Both are correct.
As I got this blog in order to chronicle my Prague doings, I am going to enter my first update (Unless you can't update what hasn't been "-dated" yet)"
I have bought my ticket. D-day is September 22.