Showing posts with label culture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label culture. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

life lessons for snails

i found that if i carefully iron every article of clothing, they take up almost half of the space than they normally would in my suitcase.  my mom took away my newly acquired books, but i somehow managed to acquire more, and now my baggage is not light, although quite compact. i dragged my suitcase through the rain to g.'s flat yesterday, and on the way a nice young man named petr dragged it for me for a few blocks.  my flight to london is in a few hours.  

"this is my letter to the world, that never wrote to me..."  i am immeasurably sad to leave this magical land.  i have lived here for almost half a year,  and i can feel the beginnings of czechophilia blossoming inside.  i don't know what it is about this culture and these people that is so magnetic to me:  the czechs love their dogs more than life itself, and cynics beware during a walk in the park: one glance at the young dads playing with their kids, and images of marriage, children, a cute little house with a rose garden and everything you previously gagged at the very idea of begin to play in your head against your will.  the language is a mouthful of ř and ž sounds, and the word "tak" is the czech equivalent of "like" in terms of frequency of use, and you have to stand in line at the library to return your books, and if anyone can make socks and sandals look normal and i daresay even sexy, it's the czechs.  prague is my star.  i have dreamed of this city since my first visit.  i was sixteen then, and i made a wish to someday return to live and study here, and now i see that my wish was actually a promise, and a goal that i subconsciously worked toward.

with the knowledge that my time here is limited, i found motivation to fill every day with interesting activities, and to expect magic and fancy from everything around me, and it really works, i began to see it everywhere.  writing about it gave me the initiative to continue.  i thought a  lot about how i can apply these methods to my daily life, because i don't want my happiness to end here; on the contrary, i know now that it is in my power to live this way wherever i may be.  i like the idea of going far away in order to find myself.  and suddenly remembering my childhood in places i had never been before, triggered by the smell of linden trees or the sight of clothes drying on a balcony.  as milan kundera wrote, "whoever wishes to remember must not stay in one place, waiting for the memories to come of their own accord! memories are scattered all over the immense world, and it takes voyaging to find them and make them leave their refuge!"  

as for magical sweater czech, what started as an amusing game turned into a serious wild sheep chase, with too much needless fuss, but the real regret would have been not having tried at all.  and anyway it seems like this is the beginning of something rather than the end.  in writing i can explain to him what i couldn't say in person, partly because it makes no sense, but mostly because i didn't have a dictionary nearby.  i am naive and dreamy and slow to accept life's lessons.  i always thought that if i only applied myself a little more in certain spheres of my life, everything would turn out as i wanted, but now i find that i can miss the mark even if i really really try.  and nothing is what it appears to be, and even the most seemingly solid elephant can vanish without notice or explanation.

but i suppose this is the whole point.  if everything went smoothly and good luck spoiled me even more than it already does and there were no false doors, no missteps, no painful impossibilities,  no laughable loves, and nothing to cry a pool of tears over, then i would have nothing to draw.  sometimes i will find myself in the middle of a bright yellow field, at the crest of simple and pure happiness, and sometimes be reduced to a silly little thing on the verge of tears, picturing myself abandoned by the world.  i wonder if i will always be so impressionable.

i was also lucky enough to meet so many wonderful people, many of whom i know i will meet again.  i am glad that they all left one by one, starting a month ago; all at once would have been too difficult to handle.  i can leave the way i came. 

i know that it won't be long before wanderlust sweeps over me again, but for now, i think i have had enough.  i miss my friends and my family, home food, school, and everything around being in english, and understanding what is being said.  thanks so much to all of you who have been reading along, close friends, family, and people i had never met before; i hope you were all able to find something that interested you.  thank you also for all of the letters and postcards that i received in the mail;  they brightened many moments of self-doubt.  if you should like to stay with me, i will of course still be on my illustration blog, for which i have big plans and where i promise to appear with greater frequency.  until then, čau!

Saturday, June 13, 2009

curiouser and curiouser!

"in a place far away from anyone or anywhere, i drifted off for a moment."  i took the tram to divoká šárka again, and climbed as high as i could this time, where i found a comfortable rock like a throne and sat quite still for i don't know how long.  then i walked the 8 km (5 miles) home through the picturesque dejvice district, with the sun behind me and listening only to the most cheerful camera obscura songs.

at five o'clock this morning, i was in letna park, wondering what kind of dimension i have entered, as the two extremely magical czechs that i was there with were pirouetting around barefoot on the grass and waving their arms in the most perfect illustration of the word "frolicking" that i have ever seen.  then one of them climbed a tree and could not get down for the longest time.  when he finally did, he grew very attached to a large metal pole and refused to let go of it, while the other was trying to convince me of the virtues of walking around barefoot on cold, wet, dewy grass;  his ancestors did it, he said, and i should too.

Monday, April 13, 2009

pondělí velikonoční (easter monday)

happy easter monday; no school!  in the czech easter, there is a tradition for every day of the week leading up this day.  the most interesting one is called pomlázka (from the verb "pomladit," meaning "to make younger").  in this centuries-old tradition, boys run around the village, holding whips made from braided pussywillow twigs with colorful ribbons tied to the end.  with these, they proceed to whip the girls of the village, and sometimes even douse them with water.  the girls then reward the boys by giving them lovely painted eggs that they have worked on all week.  fair exchange, no?  at first i thought, oh funny old village tradition, ha-ha, but now i am scared because i am seeing boys in the street with these whips sticking out of their back pockets!  (above, "mazanec" easter bread.)

Friday, April 10, 2009

velký pátek (good friday)

the general opinion among foreigners seems to be that czechs are standoffish, arrogant, and impossible to understand as a culture.  perhaps to people from countries where human interaction is generally more open and warm, the differences are strikingly obvious.  myself coming from a culture that isn't particularly famous for its kindness to strangers or even to its own, i can sort of understand this (mis)conception and the truth and reasons behind it, the way i can understand why czech verbs conjugate the way they do, but still have no feeling for them.  yet i hear disappointingly often from friends who have lived here for longer than i that i will probably never find any close friends among the czechs.  of course this is a bullshit thing to say, but still, i wonder. 

sometimes i think it is easier here for students who have no intention of ever belonging here. people who, coming here, don't feel nostalgia for a time and place they never lived in.  but i sit on a strange fence between understanding a little and understanding nothing, and it is the combination of one glimmer of hope for the future and the bitter pain of being different that startles and confuses me.  dear prague, please don't break my heart.