You Learn Something New Every Day...

Last Monday, it was how to roll sushi. So, as promised, here are the fruits of our labor...

Please excuse me playing around with the filters. We ended up making 11 rolls. I'm pretty sure I ate about 7 of them single-handedly. 

Felt very intellectual (and if I'm being honest, a little smug) as Donut and I went to go see a showing of The Doors: When You're Strange last night. Think Dad would be proud.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have more things to craft, and more beer to drink. Ciao! 

Thursday Throwdown

I realize that I update this far too irregularly, so this is my attempt to change that. After spotting Tina Azmuz's occasional update on, where else - Pinterest, I thought - I can do that. And so, I shall. Just slightly modified.

Listening: If you don't count the parade of drunk girls underneath my window screaming "Woop Woop, Woop Woop" right now, then it's a rotation of Some Nights by fun. and all things Cheryl Cole.
Eating: Just had dinner with Peej, Kimi & her absolutely lovely friend Amy at Ambiente, full of wine, yummy pasta, and too much dramatic shenanigans for such a lovely summer. This is also a veggie only week, to counteract the previously mentioned month of US and boredom eating.
Feeling: Ecstasy that it's not currently raining. Sadness that some men boys don't realize how blessed they are, because my girls are fantastic catches who anyone would be lucky to have. For shammmme. In the words of the ever-wise Allison, "Move on and move up!" However, seems to be a global problem.
Loving: A good old fashioned porch party. Long overdue, and missing a couple key players, but splitting an excellent bottle of Chilean CabSauv with Peej on our balcony is a fabulous way to wind down an evening, which shall be repeated often.
Hating: This horrendous excuse for a summer that the Czech Republic has been trying to pass off this past week. July should equal sunshine, beer gardens, and swimming, not rain and coats. Blehhhhhh.
Wanting: A sewing machine, so I can make all the fabulous clothes and pillows I see on Pinterest. And curtains. I want some curtains. Which I would sew, on my sewing machine, if only I had one.
Needing: See above. And a new job. Workin' on it!
Thinking: Am turning into my mother. First it was the sewing machine. Then it was the manic need to clean before the cleaning lady comes. This is fine with me, because if I turn out like my mom, I'll be in good form indeed. :)
Planning: On how to squish all my furniture into Tandrew's room when they move out, so Peej and I can continue our porch parties without traipsing through a stranger's room. And how I'm going to take over the world, obviously.

Donut taught me how to roll sushi on Monday... think I'm something of a natural. ;) Pics to follow... eventually!

Disco Fries & Drunken Watermelons

Paul John and I spent a lovely three weeks back in NJ, soaking up as much sunshine, pool time and diner food as possible. It was, in the words of Nikki, devinnnnne. Here's a round-up of why going home is fabulous...

• Swiss Air is delightful. They give you yummy chocolates and ice cream, lots of leg room and all the free Swiss wine you could ask for (which, in case you're wondering, is a lot).
• Some things never change. My friends back at home are always going to be the best, most amazing group of people on the planet, who are fantastic flip cup players but could really do with a bit of practice when it comes to pong. My family is always going to be crazy wonderful, zany, and if you ask Greg, a bunch of cheaters. The diner will always make disco fries that taste like they were cooked up in heaven. And Tucker will remain the most cuddly adorable little critter that ever roamed the earth. 
• A pool is never more than 20 steps away. There's an ocean. 'Nuff said.
• I can wear heels without fear of cracking my ankle in half by collapsing into a tram line or through the cracks in the cobblestones. 
• Fist pumping is a totally accepted form of dance. 
• Beach sangria will always be delicious, especially to wash down a KC bagel and Dunkin coffee. 
• No one looks at you with disdain if you run errands in your sweats. 
• You can understand everything! (though sometimes, you don't want to...)
• Michael's fulfills every Pinterest ambition I've acquired since moving here. This contributed largely to my additional suitcase going home.
• As did my trips to A&P. I can fit about five of my local Billas inside one A&P. Eggos, I will miss you tremendously. 
• Two words: Free. Water.
• Watching two of your besties do something as grown up as get married is a wonderful thing. Congratulations again to the new Mr. & Mrs. Dempsey... love you both!

And here are a few reasons why such a long vacation is not necessarily the best thing...

• All of those previously mentioned Eggos and bagels take a toll. Vacation eating is fine, vacation eating for three weeks while operating under the taste buds of Buddy the Elf is not. 
• A certain Donut was very, very far away for a very, very long time. 
• You eventually have to turn around and go back, and it's just as hard as it was the first time around. I crammed as much into my suitcases as possible, but sadly, there was not enough room to fit everyone else along too. I'm incredibly lucky to have such amazing people on both sides of the Atlantic, but it certainly makes saying goodbye very difficult. (Paul John, I apologize again for the sporadic bouts of tears you had to witness throughout our flights home.) 

A wonderful trip back, and I cannot wait to see everyone again. I want lots of visitors this year!

Prague Spring

Historically, the Prague Spring was an attempt to grant civil liberties and a loosening of restrictions in Soviet-controlled Czechoslovakia in 1968 (as one might imagine, not well-received by Mother Russia & led to the invasion of the nation by troops set about halting these reforms, thus kicking off an era of "normalization"... but that's enough history for one day, folks).

In 2012, Prague Spring means crazy weather, visitors galore, umpteen castle tours (even some I wasn't leading, hurrah!), zany traditions, more hills than I care to count, horrible work schedules, doing work (Grope would be so proud), frozen men, and general running amok. It has been glorious.

Since we ran through the streets of Budapest, drunk on spring break excitement (and breakfast wine), it's been nonstop. Steph finally arrived, and we kicked things off appropriately enough by playing flip cup for hours, getting kicked out of a [herna] bar (the shammmme), crying on the sidewalk, and me falling down. It's nice to know that some things never change!

Pre flipcup, enjoying the lovely views from Letna beer garden. 

This is where the problem began...

Steve arrived two days later and many sausages and beers later, I wished them well on their road trip through Germany and Austria and prayed they'd make it halfway there before Steve veered their car into a ditch on purpose. From the sounds of things, it was a bit of a close call! 

They came back the next weekend and were treated to absolutely gorgeous weather, and so commenced the second part of Laura's Little Tour Company trips around Prague (seriously - fall back plan.), which included strolling around Vysehrad and then huffing and puffing (well, me and Steph were huffing and puffing) up Petrin Hill towards the castle. Steph flew home the next day, and Steve and I tagged along with HS on what we were told would be a "nice walk in the nature".

Nice walks in the countryside clearly mean different things to Americans and Czechs. This is probably largely due to the fact that as a whole, Americans don't really walk. Ever. Czechs, on the other hand, seem to approach every athletic diversion with the gusto of an Olympian. This is why I'm always gobsmacked when my students tell me that they had a nice relaxing weekend with a 90km bike ride thrown in, or cross country skied halfway to Bratislava. This is a fact I forgot, and so it was that Steve and I geared up and headed out to the hills of Cesky Raj (Czech Paradise). 

I think it's fairly obvious that I am not what one would call outdoorsy. In fact, this basically sums up my attitude to nature:

But I'm also game for anything, and despite all of my grumbling and panting and fears of impending death by falling off a boulder and the fact that on more than one occasion HS had to propel me up inclines by pushing my ass (not that I'm complaining, but I feel like in general, was not at my most attractive that day - sweaty, covered in dirt from scooting down hills on my butt, and covered in mud from...?... I'm not sure), it was awesome. Cesky Raj is stunning - just look:

Ten miles later, we were back in Prague and I was popping Aleve in the hopes of fending off impending muscle debilitation. Aleve and beer. Lots of beer.

Steve left on Labour Day, which we have off and were lucky enough to be blessed with more perfect weather. Joined HS for a lazy (comparatively) day at the Botanical Gardens, enjoying a nice bottle of wine and lounging in the sun and walking around the river. I think it may have possibly been the most enjoyable, most relaxing day I've had in ages and ages. Ahhhhhh.

The following weekend, HS & I set off for Cesky Krumlov, the "Venice of the Czech Republic". I cannot even tell you how absolutely in love with this little town I am - it is adorable and charming and gorgeous and perfect.

We also went to Rozmberk, which is a little village a few kilometers away and also precious. Did a castle tour, which is really enjoyable when it's not the same castle for the 230498398 time and you're not actually leading the tour (just kidding, I love all my visitors!).

Had another day off, this time to commemorate Victory in Europe Day (woot woooot) and spent it traipsing around Divoka Sarka and eventually winding up back at the botanical gardens (I cannot resist their wine). It's around this point that I'm sure you are starting to realize, like I was, that days spent with HS are rarely lazy. Would like to imagine that this will make me terribly skinny just in time for bikini season, but people keep bringing me chocolate, and well, I'm not exactly known for my willpower, am I?

Jennica and Cole arrived for a whirlwind weekend in which we managed to cram in all of the major Prague sights, a nice at the beer garden, a nice dancing at Retro until sunrise and more ham and sausages than necessary (Aha! Perhaps it's all the Czech food, thanks to all my American visitors, and not yummy chocolate. Take this as a sign that it's acceptable to continue eating chocolate as much as I want because will not be having Czech diet constantly anymore. Though am about to go home to the US, so don't think that's much better...) before getting them back on a plane and getting myself to bed. Exhausting weekend, but it was great to have them here!

Sadly, no more days off, so last week felt terribly long, but finally got to the zoo on Saturday and it was awesome! So well done - am in love with the gorillas. The entire thing is incredibly well put together and nicely laid out and it was a lot of fun, though could have done without the bats. That was more than I needed to deal with in the pitch black tunnel surrounded by strangers and kids with sticky fingers and god knows what else. Eeeeek.

Speaking of children with sticky fingers, Sunday was our Children's Day and Benefit Concert for the Pink Crocodile. The weather was beautiful and we had great turnouts. Am happy to say that have "mastered" enough Czech to piece together a conversation with a three year old and left covered in paint and spit and marker, but totally happy. The Pink Crocodile is an amazing organization here in the Czech Republic that works to provide care and education for special needs children here and in India. You can find out more on their website by clicking here.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I have lots of sleep to catch up on!

Bang Bang Pest

Our trip to Budapest started out with a bang - literally. 


That was the noise that the pheasant who harakiri-ed itself into our windshield approximately 1 minute and 37 seconds into our trip made. So, leaving behind a poof of feathers in our wake, we set out for Hungary, land of goulash and spas and, for some reason, falafel. 


Disclaimer: This is not a very informative post. You'll soon figure out why. 


Nine of us shacked up in a big apartment for an Easter weekend that felt a lot like spring break 2012. After driving around lost (excellent way to take in the sites), we hit the store for Hungarian wine (well, wine anyway. Hard to tell where it was from given the zany language), danced around to Carly Rae Jepsen on repeat, and hit the town for dinner (falafel) and drinks. Many, many drinks.


Staved off hangover from said drinks with what we shall call "mimosas", though that is a definite stretch. Then it was on to the spa! We went to the Széchenyi Baths, which are the largest bath complex in Europe. It's gorgeous, the weather was sunny (albeit very, very chilly), the water was toasty and the beer was cheap (I think - any attempts to convert forints to crowns to dollars left me with a headache. Though that could have been the "mimosas"). Everything added up to the most relaxing thing ever. 

After soaking in the spas, it was time for goulash. Finally, Hungarian goulash! Was it everything I'd hoped for? In a word - no. I like Czech goulash more (blasphemy!). Maybe it was the restaurant. Am more than willing to go back and give it another shot. :) 

No instagram to make all food, even plates of mush, look delicious. Sorry. 

Monday, after breakfast burritos (a highly cultural weekend, as you can see), we headed up to the castle. Woah. Stunning. Makes me wanna pull a Nikki and start squawking about how "Divinnnne" everything was. But really - beautiful. 

After walking the ramparts (?), checking out the bird of prey (whyyyyyyy this fascination with these awful things??) being handled by a dude garbed in a medieval ensemble and possibly the world's worst haircut, and making Alice scale a statue to rub horse balls (good luck?), we headed back home, where we arrived a few hours and one speeding ticket later, just in time to see men with their whips (google that fun Czech Easter tradition!). Another fabulous weekend, though definitely a city I'll need to revisit again. But perhaps without the mimosas. :) 

Put the Zlotskies in the Slotskies... Or, a "divine" culinary tour of Krakow

I know - I'm terrible and slow and severely behind and blah blah blah.


Nikki Jatskovski & Kristen MitzKanif (as they shall henceforth be known) came to visit [errrr... last month. Jeez, really am behind!] our fair city and drink in the beer sights of Prague. Luckily, they also brought some lovely weather with them, which stayed with us as we cruised the highways of the Czech Republic and dodged the potholes of Poland on the best minibreak ever.

Here we go!

After an evening with too many Jamesons (Happy St. Patrick's Day, y'all!), four of us dragged ourselves up to the airport, picked up our rental car, and headed out for a weekend full of history and pierogies. Mostly pierogies. And also, vodka. With Peej as our fearless driver and I as the dutiful songstress providing the soundtrack to this adventure, we hit the road. In search of a lekarna somewhere in Moravia, we checked out the charming little village (or hamlet, which I infinitely prefer to refer to it as) of Vranovice-Kelčice, where we encountered some locals who were no doubt wondering what a car full of Americans blasting Carly Rae Jepson's hit "Call Me Maybe" were doing on the sleepy little streets. Alas, no lekarna, so onward bound. Next stop - Prostějov. Still no lekarna, and was not thoroughly impressed, though according to Wikipedia it hosts a disco tournament in May of each year, so I may need to take a trip back & show off my boogie-oogie skills. Finally, a lekarna could be found in Olomouc, which is absolutely charming and definitely will be visited again. 


Allergies in czech (hehe), we crossed the border into Poland & it immediately became clear why so many students had warned me about the terror that is both the Polish roads, and the Polish people who drive on them. The use of turn signals was clearly not covered in driving school, and as we whipped through Pope John Paul's hometown, we nearly joined him several times. But finally, we made it to the beautiful city of Krakow... only to realize that I had not bothered to get directions to our hotel. Undeterred, we set out to find it by luck, and managed to do so in an incredibly short time. 


Our aparthotel was right next to the Old Town and we immediately headed out in search of food. Krakow is stunning. The Old Town Square is so grand, and the entire city made all of use these types of ridiculous adjectives - everything is stunning and grand and lovely and charming and absolutely divine. But seriously - cannot put into words how gorgeous it was, so here - see for yourself:

There is a huge market building in the center and restaurants and churches surrounding it and these beautiful medieval streets radiating out in all directions and just WoW. 


Once we feasted our eyes, it was time to fill our stomachs - pierogies, kielbasa, Okocim beer, honey vodka, mead, the rest of the right side of the menu - you name it, we gorged on it. And we could afford to do this because Poland is fabulously, wonderfully dirt cheap. A meal out for four of us with appetizers and giant entrees and desserts and alcohol came to the equivalent of $50 - TOTAL. Shocking.


On our second day in Poland, we went to Auschwitz-Birkenau. I'm not sure I can put into words what the experience was like. The Auschwitz camp is full of exhibits in each building that describe the rise of the Nazis, the total destruction of Poland, the historical events that led to such a horrific period in time, and the cost of human life. There is one building full of artifacts taken from the prisoners - eye glasses, luggage, clothes, and human hair, but the worst bit is definitely the shoes. Thousands upon thousands of shoes, with baby and children's shoes lined up in front. Awful.


From Auschwitz, we drove over to the Birkenau camp, and nothing quite prepared us for that. Birkenau stretches on in all directions as far as you can see & is the most desolate and depressing place imaginable (for information regarding just how big it is, please ask Nikki Jatskovski). With most of the barracks burned to the ground in the days before liberation, most of what's left are chimneys and the tracks that brought the trains full of prisoners in and on to the gas chambers. It's just totally overwhelming and left us mostly speechless, other than to ask each other a couple important questions, namely...

• How does one explain to a small child what the crematorium at Auschwitz was used for? There were a surprising number of kids there.
• Why are there so many groups of tourists taking pictures in front of the death wall and smiling?
• Who are the people that own the giant houses that back up onto the gas chambers ruins? And how does an estate agent ever manage to sell a property that is Birkenau-adjacent? 

After that, we all needed to veg out so we got back to Krakow and took a little electric car tour of the city. We had an awesome guide named Anna who has lived in Krakow her entire life and was just so freakin' cute. We took the full tour which consisted of Old Town, the Jewish Quarter, the Ghetto and Schindler's Krakow, and she was full of excellent information and managed to give us all types of awesome trivia while simultaneously getting hit on by every man we drove past. 

En route home, we stopped at the Wieliczka Salt Mines for what was to become a three hour tour (cue song) and I thought it was totally fascinating, though maybe a bit too much for MitzKanif & Peej at the end. The cathedral is crrrrrrazy!

All salt! 

Drove home at night and have never seen so many stars in my life as on the backroads of Poland - such an amazing thing to see. Annnnnd then we got to Ostrava, where the pollution obstructed any views we had left. Glad I live in Prague, where our pollution is only mildly vision clogging! :) 


Had a fabulous time with the girls here and their trip was far, far too short. Luckily I'll get to see everyone soon!


I'm in the process of creating an online album for all Euro pix so as soon as that is done I will post up a link!


Next post - Budapest!

Damaged Goods

I'm not sure why it has taken me so long to finally buckle down and write about the grand adventure that was speed dating - perhaps a desire to not relive it, though it's more likely that I've just been lazy busy. I mean busy.

A few weeks ago I agreed to buy a friend's ticket to speed dating. I assumed it would be horrendous, full of terrifying men, probably fairly embarrassing, and definitely hilarious. Speed dating did not fail to live up to my expectations.

Armed with the code name of "Batwoman", me & "Xena" headed to a wine bar in the city center and shuffled down the basement to meet the prospective suitors. There were 11 men and 12 women, so one of us lucky ladies always got to sit a round out. I ended up being the first one to do so, which gave me a nice four minutes to sip my wine while perusing the goods.

The event was set up for 25 - 45 y/o English speaking singles. Let it be known that some people took these rules as more of a suggestion. Or they were deluded. Either way.

Sadly, in the time since this escapade, I have lost the paper with my notes, so I cannot give you a play by play of every Superman, Thor, and Cyclops (what an awful codename!) that graced my table, but these are some of the gems I encountered...

• two very tiny Latin men - one from Spain and one from Portugal. Trying very hard to embody the latin lover vibe, but failing somewhat spectacularly. It did  not help that one of them had a haircut that was something between Mary J. Blige and Moe from the 3 Stooges. Or possibly a medieval monk. Just not particularly attractive (though - big step up from the various mullets and rattails that have been gracing the streets of Prague recently). 
• The aggressive New Yorker. Possibly the youngest man there, but our geographically similar roots did not help me get past the fact that this man was appallingly arrogant, and not for any particularly evident reason. 
• Le Parisien. I hobbled together as much French as I could remember, but it's been a while and stimulating conversation was not to be had. Entirely my fault for not brushing up on my francais skills before an English speaking event. Whoops! 
• The professor. Him: "Are you Czech?" Me: "Ne." Him: "Slovak? Hungarian? Russian?" Me: "Nie. Nincs.  нет." Him: "Are you sure? You look Russian. I've spent a lot of time there and I'm sure I've seen you." Me: "Welllllp, it's a big country, I'm pretty sure I'm not, and I've never been there. Sorry!" So then he explained why he has spent so much time in Russia, quizzed me on his nationality, and proceeded to interrupt me any time I tried to answer one of his questions with "Sopranos!" "Jersey Shore!" "Real Housewives of NJ!" Yes. We have a lot of crappy television based on NJ. I'm aware. I love it. 
• The psychoanalyst. This Czech man was eassssssily way into his 60s, and looked a lot like Gollum. Things started out normally enough, and then we got to talking about people watching. People watching is a highly entertaining activity. There's not much that I like more than sitting somewhere, sipping coffee (or fine, wine) and scoping everyone around me out. It's fun. What is not fun? Asking these people to reveal their deepest, darkest secrets. This is what Gollum apparently likes to do for fun, and when I asked if anyone actually answered him or if they just ran away immediately (in slightly more polite terms), he said yes. Then asked me mine. I told him he'd been lied to, and that I had nothing to share. This was not an acceptable answer and he got very angry that I was not willing to tell him about the bodies stashed in my basement or my heroin addiction or my life as an underground exotic pet smuggler. It was a long four minutes.
• The pilot. We all know I have a soft spot for pilots. Well, one particular pilot anyway. Not this pilot. This pilot was Czech (& I really do sincerely like Czech men... well, some Czech men), pushing 65, and missing an alarming number of teeth. He sat down and opened with this: "I purposely started at the table next to you so I could finish up here and be the last impression you have of speed dating." Ladies and gentlemen, there is the culprit for the reeeeeeally bitchy tone of this post. Blame Captain Cavity and his lasting impressions. 

I am truly sorry for the bitchy tone this post has taken. There were some two charming men there, but given the massive age difference in both cases, what is fine on a four minute date would probably not translate to an actual one. Because I picked no one to potentially be matched with, I get another chance for free. I think I am going to pass, and continue to find dates the old fashioned way --- drunk at a bar or hitting on my single students. Both methods have proved much more successful.  :) 

UPDATE: Perhaps this will help: http://meetingeuropeanmen.com/. Cannot determine if this is legitimate or a very elaborate internet hoax. Find Grandma's reference to her European lovers highly disturbing, and have to question who the man was who she cannot say by name but got a "little bit passionate there for a while" could possibly be.

Think instead I shall read Singled Out, which sounds like it will be a very empowering, but very sob-inducing, look into post-WWI British history & the bamf women who lived it.