Ahhhhh! I have been unforgivably inattentive to my blog for the past few weeks, so I will try now to update you on my happenings. On the same day I wrote my last post, I took the bus up to Prague, where I met Ryan at the airport for nearly two weeks of a wonderful vacation from the bookstore. Roman (the owner of Shakes and the one who gave me the job, picked me up from the airport in May, and drove me down to Krumlov, aka, he's been really great) was wonderful yet again and let Ryan and me stay in his flat in Prague for the week while he came down and took my shifts in Krumlov! The relentless rain, which I'd grown accustomed to by this time, caught us unprepared several times throughout the week, and I think we spent as much time wet as we did dry while in Prague. Since Ryan had never been to continental Europe, it was a gas showing him around the 'mainland.' On Thursday of that week, we rented a car and drove to Salzburg for the weekend. Salzburg in the summer was something I'd never experienced, and boy are there a lot of tourists! So many terraces, outdoor bars, and music stages were set up around town, none of which I saw during my time studying there. On Sunday we drove back to the CZ, dropped off the car (this was actually quite an ordeal, but as those are memories I'm trying to repress, I won't recount them here. I will say that Sixt Rental Agency may not be the most organized institution, but the Ceske Budejovice employee was great! Thanks for your help, Vaclav) and returned to Krumlov for Ryan's remaining days. It rained every single day he was here, but I still think he had a good time... I sure enjoyed the company!! We went to Laibon for dinner one night, and SURPRISE SURPRISE David stuffed us to the point of near-unconsciousness. On Thursday it was back to Prague so I could put Ryan on an uncomfortably early Friday morning flight home.
Now that the trip I had looked forward to all summer was over, I realized I was incredibly lonely in Krumlov. It had honestly rained everyday for over a month, and it was (literally) putting a damper on my summer. Tourism in Krumlov was down, creating long days at the bookstore without much excitement, and on my days off I found myself doing nothing but hanging around my tiny room behind the bookstore. I spent the first few weeks here in Krumlov searching out people at hostels and around town in the hopes of making some friends, but almost two months had passed and I was still incredibly alone. When I returned from dropping Ryan off at the airport, I discovered that another girl was now working at the store, and that I'd now only be working 3 days a week, aka I'd now have 4 days a week to mope around in the rain or in my room. And then I found out someone from my high school class was shot and killed in Milwaukee. It was too much. Too much happened all at once. I realized I was incredibly homesick. And that I wanted to go home. Soon.
I spent the next week on the phone with Lufthansa, pleading with them to change my flight and finding no open seats. I emailed Roman and told the other girls here at the store what was going on. They all told me I could go home. I just couldn't find a damn ticket to get there. Finally I found a flight for July 22nd and nabbed it faster than Mr. Miyagi catches flies with chopsticks. (Or should I say, faster than Obama catches flies with his bare hands?) No sooner did I secure my ticket home when, honest-to-God, the sun came out and summer decided to show itself in Krumlov. Not only that, but all the people I'd met here finally decide to come to the store to check up on me. I got asked to an outdoor movie showing, a Brazilian band's concert, the girls at work started bringing me currant cakes and freshly-picked cherries... my landlady even decided to bring me an ice cream sundae out of the blue. WHATTHEHECK IS GOING ON?!?! It was like everyone in town knew I was depressed and stopped by.
"Too bad you just now decide to be nice to me, Krumlov! Well too late! It's over! I'm leaving you!" I felt like shouting, but couldn't as I stuffed my mouth full of more currant cake. I think I'm going to be 200 lbs by the time I get home. I think I'll just have a grapefruit for dinner. Oh, and maybe some leftover cherry pie...
Friday, July 17, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
Successes and Failures of the Week
Success: I did indeed stake out the primo spot for the fireworks last weekend, as hoped for in the last post.
Failure: Madison's Rhythm and Booms > Krumlov's fireworks. Actually, every-firework-show-I've-ever-seen > Krumlov's fireworks. C'est la vie.
Success: I befriended some folks at one of the hostels and now can go rafting down the Vltava for FREE whenever I want.
Failure: I didn't make enough friends to drown myself in tequila on my birthday and dance on the tabletops in platform shoes. (Sorry, Kate. I know you wanted this to happen.) HOWEVER...
SUCCESS!: My birthday rocked! And here's why: I went to Laibon, and David, the owner and one of my few 'friends' here in Krumlov, pampered me to the nines! I ordered a big plate of food and a large beer, not telling him it was my birthday. As usual, David brought me another beer as soon as I was finished with my first one. The first time he did this was a few weeks ago when I was there writing in my notebook, and he declared this freebie my "writing beer." So when he brought me a second drink on Friday, I asked him, "This is my birthday beer, right David?" He lets out an excited gasp, gets a mischievous look in his eyes, and runs off into the kitchen. A bit later he returns with my "birthday dessert," a pile of sweet dumplings stuffed with blueberry compote and topped with a heap of whipped cream and drizzled in caramel. Yummmmmm. He apologized for not having any candles but I insisted none were necessary. The couple at the next table, however, clapped for me and told me "Happy Birthday." It was fantastic. After two .5L of beer, a huge dinner, AND a huge dessert, I was quite stuffed, but... David wasn't finished yet. I was happily sitting on his terrace, watching the thunderstorms roll over the Castle, feeling magnificently content, when David tells me he wants to make me a pot of tea. "I'm really OK, David. I'm quite full."
"Oh, please. I want to. Just a pot of tea."
"OK, OK, fine."
The restaurant was quite full and it took him awhile to bring out the tea, which was just fine by me as I was slowly digesting my meal. After a while he returns with not a pot of tea, but rather yet ANOTHER .5L of beer. "DAVID! I thought I was getting tea!"
"You are! This is to watch the thunderstorms with."
I couldn't exactly say no, so now I sat timidly drinking yet another beer. Not two minutes later, out came David, still without the tea, but instead with ANOTHER DESSERT! Oy! I didn't think my stomach could distend any further than it already had that night, and told David "NO MORE AFTER THIS!! I think I'm going to explode!" to which he just laughed and said everyone should explode on their birthday. Fair enough, I thought, and spent the next hour gingerly spooning delicious pudding in my mouth, washed down by even more gingerly sipped beer. Oh, and the pot of tea that arrived shortly after the dessert did. The new couple sitting next to me (mind you, I was sitting there eating for over 3 hours) eyed my pudding asked if it was any good. I assured them it was, even though I was spending more time pushing it around the bowl with my spoon than actually eating it. I explained it was my birthday and of David's intentions to cause my stomach to detonate by midnight. They, too, offered birthday wishes, and then ordered a plate of the same deliciously neglected dessert on my table. I finally waddled back home close to midnight, and quickly tumbled into bed with a food coma rival to any Thanksgiving dinner in recent memory.
Failure: Madison's Rhythm and Booms > Krumlov's fireworks. Actually, every-firework-show-I've-ever-seen > Krumlov's fireworks. C'est la vie.
Success: I befriended some folks at one of the hostels and now can go rafting down the Vltava for FREE whenever I want.
Failure: I didn't make enough friends to drown myself in tequila on my birthday and dance on the tabletops in platform shoes. (Sorry, Kate. I know you wanted this to happen.) HOWEVER...
SUCCESS!: My birthday rocked! And here's why: I went to Laibon, and David, the owner and one of my few 'friends' here in Krumlov, pampered me to the nines! I ordered a big plate of food and a large beer, not telling him it was my birthday. As usual, David brought me another beer as soon as I was finished with my first one. The first time he did this was a few weeks ago when I was there writing in my notebook, and he declared this freebie my "writing beer." So when he brought me a second drink on Friday, I asked him, "This is my birthday beer, right David?" He lets out an excited gasp, gets a mischievous look in his eyes, and runs off into the kitchen. A bit later he returns with my "birthday dessert," a pile of sweet dumplings stuffed with blueberry compote and topped with a heap of whipped cream and drizzled in caramel. Yummmmmm. He apologized for not having any candles but I insisted none were necessary. The couple at the next table, however, clapped for me and told me "Happy Birthday." It was fantastic. After two .5L of beer, a huge dinner, AND a huge dessert, I was quite stuffed, but... David wasn't finished yet. I was happily sitting on his terrace, watching the thunderstorms roll over the Castle, feeling magnificently content, when David tells me he wants to make me a pot of tea. "I'm really OK, David. I'm quite full."
"Oh, please. I want to. Just a pot of tea."
"OK, OK, fine."
The restaurant was quite full and it took him awhile to bring out the tea, which was just fine by me as I was slowly digesting my meal. After a while he returns with not a pot of tea, but rather yet ANOTHER .5L of beer. "DAVID! I thought I was getting tea!"
"You are! This is to watch the thunderstorms with."
I couldn't exactly say no, so now I sat timidly drinking yet another beer. Not two minutes later, out came David, still without the tea, but instead with ANOTHER DESSERT! Oy! I didn't think my stomach could distend any further than it already had that night, and told David "NO MORE AFTER THIS!! I think I'm going to explode!" to which he just laughed and said everyone should explode on their birthday. Fair enough, I thought, and spent the next hour gingerly spooning delicious pudding in my mouth, washed down by even more gingerly sipped beer. Oh, and the pot of tea that arrived shortly after the dessert did. The new couple sitting next to me (mind you, I was sitting there eating for over 3 hours) eyed my pudding asked if it was any good. I assured them it was, even though I was spending more time pushing it around the bowl with my spoon than actually eating it. I explained it was my birthday and of David's intentions to cause my stomach to detonate by midnight. They, too, offered birthday wishes, and then ordered a plate of the same deliciously neglected dessert on my table. I finally waddled back home close to midnight, and quickly tumbled into bed with a food coma rival to any Thanksgiving dinner in recent memory.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Five-Petalled Rose Festival, Day 2
I know yesterday's post was a bit of a cop-out, so I will try to fill you in a little better about what I've done today. I'll preface my story by telling you that I'm currently sitting in Dobra Tea House (yup, the same Dobra Tea that's in Madison; it's like my home away from home) listening to a drumline that set up outside the door. Six drummers, each in matching red renaissance-era costumes, are pounding away on instruments which thunder in the narrow streets of Krumlov. It feels great to sit down, as I've spent much of the day traipsing from the Town Square to the Eggenburg Brewery Gardens to the Castle Courtyard to Široká Street and back again, trying to catch as many interesting events (and eat as many delicious things) as I can squeeze into the day. My day began at the courtyard of Český Krumlov's castle after I took a gander at the program for the day and was intrigued at the prospect of "Swordmen fights by Gral Brno." I had been disappointed yesterday at the the "Knight Training" and thus hoped the sword-fighting would quench my thirst for blood and gore... This is a Medieval Festival, after all. This leads me to a short tangent. Please hold whilst I digress:
I am living in an honest-to-God Renaissance Fair, right? So is it really too much to ask to see some honest-to-God Renaissance tomfoolery? I had visions of encountering an overweight, pompously-dressed man with a feathered hat gnawing away at a turkey leg, only to discard the bones nonchalantly by throwing them at the nearest dirty wench, but I gave up on this dream after I went to every, and I mean EVERY vendor in the city and could not find a turkey leg to save my soul. Disappointed by this, I went to "Knight training" hoping to see my other imagined norm of Renaissance life; lots of blood and gore. If I can't see a turkey-leg-eating slob, then I'd better see someone get stabbed while an onlooking maiden swoons in distress. Am I really asking too much here? So off I go toward the Eggenburg Brewery Gardens to see some knights kill each other; but alas, they were rather tame and I merely watched a few horsemen riding around, occasionally knocking off a few things here or there, but never each other's heads. Disappointing. Anyway, back to this morning...
So off I go the sword fight, hoping to see a bit more excitement. I arrived a few minutes late, and as a result, I was stuck behind several dozen of the world's tallest people. Even the dog in front of me had a better view. OK, OK, I exaggerate slightly, but I am NOT exaggerating when I say this dog was an F'ING MONSTER. His head literally came up to my bicep. Yes, yes, I realize I'm not the world's tallest kid, but when a dog's head is over 4 feet off the ground, that's just unnatural. In any case, I wiggled my way away from enormo-dog to the front, only to discover the "swordsmen" were actually a comedy troop, and the knights resembled John Cleese and Eric Idle more than Richard Harris. Although I saw no blood nor gore, not to mention the whole thing was in Czech, I was nonetheless thoroughly entertained. I then roamed around the historic market, also in the castle grounds. The vendors here sell any- and everything you could possibly imagine: handmade leather shoes and belts; pots, pans, and mugs; metalworking; more jewelery than you know what to do with; wheels of cheese as big as tractor tires; specialty salts, herbs, and spices; hemp clothes and bags; toy swords; REAL swords; miniature canons; REAL canons; woven basket; marionettes... you name it, they got it. With the exception of exotic pets imported from Indonesia (and real canons, I was joking with that one), I think this place has got you covered. After ogling the goods for a while, I wondered back to the Town Square, where a medieval singing troop entertained me as I ogled some more at all the food vendors, some (read: most) of which I visited yesterday. This time around I sampled a potato pancake of sorts, washed down with what else, a beer. You'll be proud, it was nearly 1pm by this time... much later than my pre-noon beer from yesterday.
I went back and forth from venue to venue a few more times before returning to my room for a little rest and a Skype chat with my mama and Kate. Right as I was about to wonder back out to find the "Historic Costumed Parade," I hear the distant thunder of drumming grow louder and louder. I swing open my window just in time for the parade to turn the corner of Široká Street and head STRAIGHT for me. I grabbed my camera just in time to capture the whole parade, with the best view in town. For once I wasn't the short girl jumping up and down, standing on tip-toe trying to catch a glimpse of the action. I was the girl everyone was envious of, comfortably sitting in her window with a perfect view. I'm working on putting all my video clips of the weekend into a little movie of sorts, so you'll soon see how stellar my vantage point was.
After the parade finally rolled out and with it, the throngs of people that subsequently clogged the streets in its wake, I made my way back to the Brewery Gardens for the "Tournament of Roses." Krumlov's really just like Pasadena, only instead of football players running at each other, there's horsemen in full regalia running at each other with jousting sticks. Coool.
It's a shame the tournament also didn't take place outside my bedroom window, because I was once again demoted to "short girl who can't see a damn thing" and spent the first few minutes of the tourny trying to find a good place to scope out the action. Eventually someone abandoned their spot standing atop a bench, and I quickly filled their space. From here I couldn't see everything, but I could make out the knights galloping around, gasping when everyone else gasped at a rider who was knocked from his horse, or cheering when everyone else cheered as the winning knight took his victory lap around the ring. (Hey Ryan, this is as close to real-deal jousting as it comes.) Again, hopefully I'll be able to salvage some of the footage I took here to include in the video. Toward the end of the tourny my camera died, so I returned home to recharge it, and then went to Dobra, where I am now recharging myself with a nice cuppa tea. After this I'm off to scout out a primo spot for the midnight fireworks. More later.
I am living in an honest-to-God Renaissance Fair, right? So is it really too much to ask to see some honest-to-God Renaissance tomfoolery? I had visions of encountering an overweight, pompously-dressed man with a feathered hat gnawing away at a turkey leg, only to discard the bones nonchalantly by throwing them at the nearest dirty wench, but I gave up on this dream after I went to every, and I mean EVERY vendor in the city and could not find a turkey leg to save my soul. Disappointed by this, I went to "Knight training" hoping to see my other imagined norm of Renaissance life; lots of blood and gore. If I can't see a turkey-leg-eating slob, then I'd better see someone get stabbed while an onlooking maiden swoons in distress. Am I really asking too much here? So off I go toward the Eggenburg Brewery Gardens to see some knights kill each other; but alas, they were rather tame and I merely watched a few horsemen riding around, occasionally knocking off a few things here or there, but never each other's heads. Disappointing. Anyway, back to this morning...
So off I go the sword fight, hoping to see a bit more excitement. I arrived a few minutes late, and as a result, I was stuck behind several dozen of the world's tallest people. Even the dog in front of me had a better view. OK, OK, I exaggerate slightly, but I am NOT exaggerating when I say this dog was an F'ING MONSTER. His head literally came up to my bicep. Yes, yes, I realize I'm not the world's tallest kid, but when a dog's head is over 4 feet off the ground, that's just unnatural. In any case, I wiggled my way away from enormo-dog to the front, only to discover the "swordsmen" were actually a comedy troop, and the knights resembled John Cleese and Eric Idle more than Richard Harris. Although I saw no blood nor gore, not to mention the whole thing was in Czech, I was nonetheless thoroughly entertained. I then roamed around the historic market, also in the castle grounds. The vendors here sell any- and everything you could possibly imagine: handmade leather shoes and belts; pots, pans, and mugs; metalworking; more jewelery than you know what to do with; wheels of cheese as big as tractor tires; specialty salts, herbs, and spices; hemp clothes and bags; toy swords; REAL swords; miniature canons; REAL canons; woven basket; marionettes... you name it, they got it. With the exception of exotic pets imported from Indonesia (and real canons, I was joking with that one), I think this place has got you covered. After ogling the goods for a while, I wondered back to the Town Square, where a medieval singing troop entertained me as I ogled some more at all the food vendors, some (read: most) of which I visited yesterday. This time around I sampled a potato pancake of sorts, washed down with what else, a beer. You'll be proud, it was nearly 1pm by this time... much later than my pre-noon beer from yesterday.
I went back and forth from venue to venue a few more times before returning to my room for a little rest and a Skype chat with my mama and Kate. Right as I was about to wonder back out to find the "Historic Costumed Parade," I hear the distant thunder of drumming grow louder and louder. I swing open my window just in time for the parade to turn the corner of Široká Street and head STRAIGHT for me. I grabbed my camera just in time to capture the whole parade, with the best view in town. For once I wasn't the short girl jumping up and down, standing on tip-toe trying to catch a glimpse of the action. I was the girl everyone was envious of, comfortably sitting in her window with a perfect view. I'm working on putting all my video clips of the weekend into a little movie of sorts, so you'll soon see how stellar my vantage point was.
After the parade finally rolled out and with it, the throngs of people that subsequently clogged the streets in its wake, I made my way back to the Brewery Gardens for the "Tournament of Roses." Krumlov's really just like Pasadena, only instead of football players running at each other, there's horsemen in full regalia running at each other with jousting sticks. Coool.
It's a shame the tournament also didn't take place outside my bedroom window, because I was once again demoted to "short girl who can't see a damn thing" and spent the first few minutes of the tourny trying to find a good place to scope out the action. Eventually someone abandoned their spot standing atop a bench, and I quickly filled their space. From here I couldn't see everything, but I could make out the knights galloping around, gasping when everyone else gasped at a rider who was knocked from his horse, or cheering when everyone else cheered as the winning knight took his victory lap around the ring. (Hey Ryan, this is as close to real-deal jousting as it comes.) Again, hopefully I'll be able to salvage some of the footage I took here to include in the video. Toward the end of the tourny my camera died, so I returned home to recharge it, and then went to Dobra, where I am now recharging myself with a nice cuppa tea. After this I'm off to scout out a primo spot for the midnight fireworks. More later.
Friday, June 19, 2009
A Gastronomic Adventure
Today was the start of Krumlov's biggest event of the summer, the Five-Petaled Rose Festival. I could tell you what I did today. Instead, let me tell you what I ate today:
-Yogurt and granola. (OK, so the day started out normally enough. But just wait...)
-A spinach-filled pastry.
-Half a liter of beer. (What?! Don't give me that face! Everyone else was drinking at 11:30am, too! When in Rome...)
-An ear of sweet corn.
-Iced coffee, only with ice cream instead of ice.
-A sleeve of candied almonds.
-A Kielbasa plate with 2 slices of bread, sweet/hot peppers, and a pickle.
-Another beer.
-Chocolate covered strawberries, pineapple, and cherries. On a stick!
-A hunk of Turkish halvah the size of my fist (I'm still working on finishing this.)
-Fresh-cut potato chips, piled in a sleeve that I'm fairly sure was meant to hold a bouquet of flowers.
-A meat-and-veggie shish kabob.
And it's only 8pm! I'm sure I'll have more to add to the list before the day is done...
Needless to say, I feel disgusting. Disgustingly terrific!
-Yogurt and granola. (OK, so the day started out normally enough. But just wait...)
-A spinach-filled pastry.
-Half a liter of beer. (What?! Don't give me that face! Everyone else was drinking at 11:30am, too! When in Rome...)
-An ear of sweet corn.
-Iced coffee, only with ice cream instead of ice.
-A sleeve of candied almonds.
-A Kielbasa plate with 2 slices of bread, sweet/hot peppers, and a pickle.
-Another beer.
-Chocolate covered strawberries, pineapple, and cherries. On a stick!
-A hunk of Turkish halvah the size of my fist (I'm still working on finishing this.)
-Fresh-cut potato chips, piled in a sleeve that I'm fairly sure was meant to hold a bouquet of flowers.
-A meat-and-veggie shish kabob.
And it's only 8pm! I'm sure I'll have more to add to the list before the day is done...
Needless to say, I feel disgusting. Disgustingly terrific!
Monday, June 15, 2009
Rheinhardt the Travel Writer
Rheinhardt the travel writer, 52 years old, was born in Austria, followed the "hippie trail" and all the drugs that went with it in the US during the 70's and 80's, has residency in 15 European countries, fathered a Ukrainian love child (and perhaps one or two in South America as well), worked in the tax evasion business in Romania, and currently resides on a little island in Greece where- as he says- the beaches are beautiful and no one cares who you are or where you came from.
These are the things you learn about a person when they decide to spend ALL day in your bookstore, and decide to spend ALL day telling you about their life. Thus it was with Rheinhardt, my entertainment for the weekend. He showed up on Thursday and continued telling me about life and travel and Buddhism, among other things, until Sunday afternoon. We got to talking and pretty soon he's off on a play-by-play of every single spot in Europe that's worth visiting, what to see and where to avoid. Because it was a slow day, I was amused by his rambling (that's really what it was, rambling, just fluffy filler and grandiose articulations of this beautiful beach here or that beautiful site there.) He spoke all about the interesting people he's met in his life, and asked if if I listen to Jim Croce. He gestured sweepingly with his hands, as if conducting a symphony, not unlike Willem Defoe in "Boondock Saints," and told me he felt my positive aura and could tell I was following the right path in life. (Tom, Calvin, Durkin, whoever may be reading this: just picture Rochus Gratzfeld, but grey-haired and slimmer, with similar mannerisms and equally as many foreign girlfriends.) "This is how you should lead your life," he told me. "Send out your wishes to existence, (insert hand gesture here) and see what you get back, (more sweeping of arms) and then go where life leads you."
I assured him that I'll be sure to send my wishes out to existence soon; right after I get this nutcase out of my store.
He continued to tell me that I will do great things in my life because I am positive and have a smile that radiates goodness. "Your parents love you very much. I can tell. You are a happy person filled with life. You must travel, travel, travel now. Before you are old. Don't stop when you are young." He continues on like this for a while and eventually I try to drown him out. Come on, man, don't you have anything better to do with your time?
At 7pm he announces he's off for the day, but will return tomorrow. I (oh-so-somberly) inform him that I do not work on Fridays but it was lovely talking with him today. He leaves, and I shake my head in amusement at the ridiculous day. Friday manages to pass without a single Rheinhardt sighting (I tried to stay out of my room/bookstore as much as possible) though on Saturday I come out of my room (for those of you who haven't had the virtual Skype tour of Shakes, my apartment is literally the back room of the bookstore, so I open my door and step into the Children's Section... no joke) and there he is, reading Eckhart Tolle. Oy. Vey.
He informs me that he met a young man the day before, a 20-year old student going to school for hotel management who works at Hotel Růže. The young man has apparently "lost his way" in life, and Rheinhardt told him about me and instructed him that he should come talk to me sometime in the next week. "I think it will be good for the man to see someone his age who has such clarity about life and is on the right path of existence. You can talk with him, and tell him how you found your way."
I assured him that when (or rather, "if," as I thought in my head) he shows up I'll be sure to talk with him about life paths and positive auras. Several philosophical conversations and grandiose arm gestures later, Rheinhardt finally left. Oh, I should mention that before he went, he gave me his address with the instructions that I send him an e-mail in "about two years or so" updating him on my life path, with an evaluation of every place I've gone, so maybe he can put my comments in his next travel segment.
Look for my quote in the 2012 edition of Lonely Planet: Crazyland.
These are the things you learn about a person when they decide to spend ALL day in your bookstore, and decide to spend ALL day telling you about their life. Thus it was with Rheinhardt, my entertainment for the weekend. He showed up on Thursday and continued telling me about life and travel and Buddhism, among other things, until Sunday afternoon. We got to talking and pretty soon he's off on a play-by-play of every single spot in Europe that's worth visiting, what to see and where to avoid. Because it was a slow day, I was amused by his rambling (that's really what it was, rambling, just fluffy filler and grandiose articulations of this beautiful beach here or that beautiful site there.) He spoke all about the interesting people he's met in his life, and asked if if I listen to Jim Croce. He gestured sweepingly with his hands, as if conducting a symphony, not unlike Willem Defoe in "Boondock Saints," and told me he felt my positive aura and could tell I was following the right path in life. (Tom, Calvin, Durkin, whoever may be reading this: just picture Rochus Gratzfeld, but grey-haired and slimmer, with similar mannerisms and equally as many foreign girlfriends.) "This is how you should lead your life," he told me. "Send out your wishes to existence, (insert hand gesture here) and see what you get back, (more sweeping of arms) and then go where life leads you."
I assured him that I'll be sure to send my wishes out to existence soon; right after I get this nutcase out of my store.
He continued to tell me that I will do great things in my life because I am positive and have a smile that radiates goodness. "Your parents love you very much. I can tell. You are a happy person filled with life. You must travel, travel, travel now. Before you are old. Don't stop when you are young." He continues on like this for a while and eventually I try to drown him out. Come on, man, don't you have anything better to do with your time?
At 7pm he announces he's off for the day, but will return tomorrow. I (oh-so-somberly) inform him that I do not work on Fridays but it was lovely talking with him today. He leaves, and I shake my head in amusement at the ridiculous day. Friday manages to pass without a single Rheinhardt sighting (I tried to stay out of my room/bookstore as much as possible) though on Saturday I come out of my room (for those of you who haven't had the virtual Skype tour of Shakes, my apartment is literally the back room of the bookstore, so I open my door and step into the Children's Section... no joke) and there he is, reading Eckhart Tolle. Oy. Vey.
He informs me that he met a young man the day before, a 20-year old student going to school for hotel management who works at Hotel Růže. The young man has apparently "lost his way" in life, and Rheinhardt told him about me and instructed him that he should come talk to me sometime in the next week. "I think it will be good for the man to see someone his age who has such clarity about life and is on the right path of existence. You can talk with him, and tell him how you found your way."
I assured him that when (or rather, "if," as I thought in my head) he shows up I'll be sure to talk with him about life paths and positive auras. Several philosophical conversations and grandiose arm gestures later, Rheinhardt finally left. Oh, I should mention that before he went, he gave me his address with the instructions that I send him an e-mail in "about two years or so" updating him on my life path, with an evaluation of every place I've gone, so maybe he can put my comments in his next travel segment.
Look for my quote in the 2012 edition of Lonely Planet: Crazyland.
"You Talk English? Don't read in the sun. You burn your eyes"
This weekend I was chastised by an Italian for reading my book in the sunshine. I was sitting in the park on Friday, enjoying the sun for the first time in a week, and he decides to ruin my moment of vitamin D bliss. "Escuusa, you talk English? Don't read in the sun. You burn your eyes." As he spoke, I considered informing him that HE was the one with a face as leathery as his wife's knee-high boots. Instead I decided to smile, politely put my book down until he left, and then promptly continued reading. Escuusa, but have you ever heard of sunscreen?
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Clarifications, and some Shakes musings
Some clarifications, just to make sure you all don't think I'm incredibly lonely and desolate after that first post. Yes, the first week in the bookstore was a little long, but I am actually enjoying myself here quite a bit. I have gotten into the routine of running every morning (don't expect me to run a marathon or anything when I get back, but yeah, I run everyday) and have spent next to nothing on food, favoring the grocery store to eating out. I am getting more and more creative with my lack of refrigeration, though it has been sad not having eggs or milk or yogurt or meat or... yeah I really need a fridge. But other than that, things are good.
I use my German all the time here, owing to the fact that most of the German tourists who come in assume that I speak German and immediately start blabbering away, which is great, because I can understand them! Unfortunately, the Czechs who come in also assume I can speak Czech and immediately start blabbering away, which is NOT as great. I have, however, gotten really good at asking "Mluvite Anglicky?" to which the general response is a laugh and look of utter surprise that a girl working in the CZ can't speak the language worth a lick. One woman, after being informed of my lack of language skills, gasped and said "but you look Czech!" then laughed and said, "I don't know if that's a compliment or not, but you do!" I told her I'll take it as a compliment and we ended up chatting for quite a while. Just this morning, another old lady shook her head after being asked if she speaks English, but then perked up when I countered with my usual "oder vielleicht sprechen Sie Deutsch?" (or perhaps do you speak German?) and we then continued auf Deutsch. She told me that my German was very good and asked if I was Dutch. Haha. Nope.
Perhaps my most entertaining "lost in translation" moment was last week when an old man came bounding in the store and started gesticulating wildly. He was speaking in Czech, or what I thought was Czech. I reply with my normal "Mluvite anglicky?" but the man looks at me quizzically, continues talking and gesturing at the books on the counter. "English? Do you speak English? Deutsch? Koennen Sie Deutsch sprechen?" I try in a few other languages... "No, no, no" he replies. He manages to say "book","Cesky Krumlov" or something close to it, and continues to gesture with two fingers downward as if to say "here, I want a book about this place." Ahhh, I think, he wants a travel guide for Cesky Krumlov, so bring him over to the travel guide section and pick up the guide in Czech. "Is this one good?" I ask. "NO NO NO!" he says again, and this time I pick up something that sounds remotely like "Russian." Ahhhhhh, I think again. He's not speaking Czech, he's speaking Russian, no wonder he can't understand my Czech. This time I lead him to the guide written in Russian, which he finally approves of, then quickly disappears out the door without buying it. As soon as he's out on the street, he starts yelling for his wife, or sister, or whoever, and goes hollering through the streets of Krumlov (I can hear him as he's going around in search for his wife). In the meantime, a nice man from Kansas comes in and I help him find "The Good Soldier Svejk." Easy enough, we sell about a copy a week of that book (written by a famous czech author). As he's paying, back in comes the old Russian, accompanied by 2 other women and another old man. They bombard the counter, two guides in hand now, and are each talking at me in Russian, gesturing and waving the guides around. The Kansan (yup, I looked that up) looked at the Russians, laughed, told me "good luck with them!" and headed out the door.
First they motioned with their money, so I told them how much the guides cost. Or rather, I pointed to where it was written on the book. 149 crowns. "NO NO NO!" the ladies said, and kept saying "2 books! 2 books!" and one grabbed a piece of paper and pen, and wrote "130x2" on it. "Yes?" she asked. "No," I replied. I am NOT giving you those books for 130 crowns each.
This is a bookstore, I think, not a market. You cannot haggle the price of books. However, the four Russians in front of me seemed to think differently. Many cries of "YES YES YES" and "NO NO NO" were exchanged, and finally the other old man, who'd been standing quietly behind the others, says "Iz two bookes, come on..." which I couldn't refuse, so I wrote down "140x2" on the piece of paper. they seemed to be happy with this discount, (a 9 crown discount per book is about 40 cents... really?) and they finally paid and left.
There is also a Czech man who calls at least twice a week, and each day we have the same confused conversation over and over again. He mumbles "Hello? Hello?" into the phone and rambles on in Czech after I continue to tell him I can't understand. Our conversations are always about 1 part Czech, 1 part German, and 1 part English, with a large dash of confusion thrown in for good measure. I managed to get across that on the weekends the girl who works here knows Czech, but he has continued to call this week, so we'll see when he finally gives up...
I use my German all the time here, owing to the fact that most of the German tourists who come in assume that I speak German and immediately start blabbering away, which is great, because I can understand them! Unfortunately, the Czechs who come in also assume I can speak Czech and immediately start blabbering away, which is NOT as great. I have, however, gotten really good at asking "Mluvite Anglicky?" to which the general response is a laugh and look of utter surprise that a girl working in the CZ can't speak the language worth a lick. One woman, after being informed of my lack of language skills, gasped and said "but you look Czech!" then laughed and said, "I don't know if that's a compliment or not, but you do!" I told her I'll take it as a compliment and we ended up chatting for quite a while. Just this morning, another old lady shook her head after being asked if she speaks English, but then perked up when I countered with my usual "oder vielleicht sprechen Sie Deutsch?" (or perhaps do you speak German?) and we then continued auf Deutsch. She told me that my German was very good and asked if I was Dutch. Haha. Nope.
Perhaps my most entertaining "lost in translation" moment was last week when an old man came bounding in the store and started gesticulating wildly. He was speaking in Czech, or what I thought was Czech. I reply with my normal "Mluvite anglicky?" but the man looks at me quizzically, continues talking and gesturing at the books on the counter. "English? Do you speak English? Deutsch? Koennen Sie Deutsch sprechen?" I try in a few other languages... "No, no, no" he replies. He manages to say "book","Cesky Krumlov" or something close to it, and continues to gesture with two fingers downward as if to say "here, I want a book about this place." Ahhh, I think, he wants a travel guide for Cesky Krumlov, so bring him over to the travel guide section and pick up the guide in Czech. "Is this one good?" I ask. "NO NO NO!" he says again, and this time I pick up something that sounds remotely like "Russian." Ahhhhhh, I think again. He's not speaking Czech, he's speaking Russian, no wonder he can't understand my Czech. This time I lead him to the guide written in Russian, which he finally approves of, then quickly disappears out the door without buying it. As soon as he's out on the street, he starts yelling for his wife, or sister, or whoever, and goes hollering through the streets of Krumlov (I can hear him as he's going around in search for his wife). In the meantime, a nice man from Kansas comes in and I help him find "The Good Soldier Svejk." Easy enough, we sell about a copy a week of that book (written by a famous czech author). As he's paying, back in comes the old Russian, accompanied by 2 other women and another old man. They bombard the counter, two guides in hand now, and are each talking at me in Russian, gesturing and waving the guides around. The Kansan (yup, I looked that up) looked at the Russians, laughed, told me "good luck with them!" and headed out the door.
First they motioned with their money, so I told them how much the guides cost. Or rather, I pointed to where it was written on the book. 149 crowns. "NO NO NO!" the ladies said, and kept saying "2 books! 2 books!" and one grabbed a piece of paper and pen, and wrote "130x2" on it. "Yes?" she asked. "No," I replied. I am NOT giving you those books for 130 crowns each.
This is a bookstore, I think, not a market. You cannot haggle the price of books. However, the four Russians in front of me seemed to think differently. Many cries of "YES YES YES" and "NO NO NO" were exchanged, and finally the other old man, who'd been standing quietly behind the others, says "Iz two bookes, come on..." which I couldn't refuse, so I wrote down "140x2" on the piece of paper. they seemed to be happy with this discount, (a 9 crown discount per book is about 40 cents... really?) and they finally paid and left.
There is also a Czech man who calls at least twice a week, and each day we have the same confused conversation over and over again. He mumbles "Hello? Hello?" into the phone and rambles on in Czech after I continue to tell him I can't understand. Our conversations are always about 1 part Czech, 1 part German, and 1 part English, with a large dash of confusion thrown in for good measure. I managed to get across that on the weekends the girl who works here knows Czech, but he has continued to call this week, so we'll see when he finally gives up...
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