Christmastime at School

It seems that I haven't posted in nearly half a year! Whoops.

This school year, I am teaching the 3-year-olds again. Unfortunately, we have what I so often refer to as "an enrollment problem"--which is to say that I have two students. One of them comes three times a week, the other one four. This means that my time is spread between my own class, the other preschool classes, and our after-school program to which I've been assigned. Two afternoons a week, I am supposed to entertain and educate a group of 2-4 second graders. There's a reason I teach preschool and not second grade. This is not my passion. However, I am looking to just get through the next year so that I can move back to America with three full years of preschool experience and a good reference under my belt. While I enjoy writing the curriculum for the seven-year-olds and seeing their results, the teaching can be a struggle.

My first project this year was to teach them why they are learning English. They are at the age when they realize it's harder to speak English than Czech, so why bother? They haven't yet been in a situation where English was helpful so they just rebel. I asked them to list countries where English is spoken. They couldn't come up with more than five. I asked them if they thought there were more than 10 countries where English is a major language. They were certain there couldn't be. So, I showed them a list of countries where English is a national language (de jure or de facto). We picked ten countries with the highest percentage of English speakers per capita and made a book about them. We used atlases and other books to research the people, climate, animals, and traditions. We compared Irish dance and Highland dance on Youtube. As I write all of this, I feel so proud of my students and of myself. However, while teaching it, I could not wait for it to be over.

Our next project was to write letters to an American second grade class. I wanted them to explain what Christmas was like in the Czech Republic. I had them do watercolor paintings to illustrate their letters. They all wanted to paint Christmas trees. It was kind of a bust. However, I got two of them to work together to make this timeline of Christmas. They dictated to me what they did on each day and made these little pictures. Again, I wonder if the ends justifies the means because this is pretty great.

Aside from teaching, my life has had a few changes. In September, I moved into a flop house where I had only half a window as I was in one side of a room divided by sheetrock. The kitchen had no hot water. There were people moving in and out every week, not to mention the number of couchsurfers my landlord invited over without telling us. The final straw was his refusal to put a lock on my door. He pocketed half of my security deposit and I went on my merry way. In October, I moved into my current flat with my girlfriend. We live in a fifth-floor walk-up which means a lot of stairs. Otherwise, I love the place. It's the top floor with vaulted ceilings--which are still absurdly high and have skylights! Nothing like the vaulted ceilings where I lived when I was twenty. It's got a loft-esque quality to it with exposed beams and a mostly open floor plan. The last tenants put up a wall (of high quality) to separate off part of the living room/dining room area into a second bedroom which we use mostly for clothes and guests.

And now, it's time for me to get back to Christmas preparations. I hope to take pictures of our fat little tree and all the crafty decorations we've put up!

And So It's Summer.

I just said goodbye to my first real preschool class. As a gift at the end of the year, I gave them all dolls of themselves. It took a lot of work but I feel like it was worth it. One girl with the most adorable freckles did not understand why her doll was dirty and kept telling me she needed to wash it.

All week, one of my strongest English speakers has been telling me, "Miss Colleen, I gone miss you. I not see you whole the summer because I go to hotel. So I gone start miss you when I go." Nothing builds your self-esteem like being a preschool teacher. The little ones are so full of love that they'll give it to anyone, whether or not you earn it.

Summer makes little things so joyful. "A time of nostalgia," according to My Drunk Kitchen girl, and I have to agree.

It makes the little things seem beautiful. I have become the fashion equivalent of a freegan lately. This sweater came from a friend who decided three red cardigans was excessive. I happily took it off her hands, though I then wore it to a smokey bar and it's now airing out. All the cut flowers were end of the year teacher gifts (so much loot!). And I'm currently plant-sitting for Girlfriend while she's in the States. All things together make for one beautiful windowsill.

And I Will Never Grow So Old Again

There's a warm breeze in the city. And my world is coming back to life.

I discovered the other day that I can now call American telephones from my Gmail account which is pretty incredible. I called my mom's house and heard our answering machine for the first time in a year and a half. When I got through to her today, all I wanted to talk about was how I finally felt like myself again.

Last weekend, I found myself in a six hour conversation with a relative stranger. We talked about everything. We talked about love, religion, politics, how we were raised, everything that you spend years revealing to your friends as you get to know them. At one point in the conversation, I said, "You know, sometimes you just need to talk to a stranger to remember who you are." I walked home that night and each step was easier than the one before it. For months, each step was a hurdle. I was too tired to sleep, I was too tired to get out of bed. I felt lost in this city, lost in my own head. But suddenly, I was searching for similes and metaphors. I was getting a new pair of glasses, removing a veil, watching the sun come out from behind the clouds, feeling a weight lifted off my shoulders. There weren't enough. There will never be enough. We reserve so many clichés for falling in love, for explaining that inexplicable feeling. And now, I want to steal all of those phrases and use them for how I feel about living.

I find myself running for trams a lot lately. I wear dresses again. I feel the way that my feet pound against the pavement, the way that it fights back and propels me. I feel the way that my dress flutters against my stocking-clad legs. I throw my arms wide and feel like I am flying in this warm breeze. I let the tram catch me, I let it pull me through the city. I look up. I see murals I've never noticed. I catch glimpses of crocuses. I smile at strangers and they smile back. I dance when the urge overcomes me. I sing out loud. I sing "Sweet Thing" by Van Morrison because it's the only song that can capture the feeling of spring after a long, grey winter.

Teach a Man to Fish

Though my spring break doesn't occur for nearly another month, my kids are already taking theirs. This is because different schools in different districts of Prague have different holidays to prevent the entire country fleeing to the mountains at once. None of my kids are vacationing in the Mediterranean for spring break. They all go to the mountains. One of those little things about living in a post communist country is seeing how the limits imposed by the government became somehow natural. But that's a post for another day.

My kids are off on holiday because their older siblings in other schools have holidays. This means that instead of my class of eight little princesses, we've been topping out at five. While it's frustrating because my kids will be at such different levels after this next month, it has given me a chance to get to know them better as individuals.

And there are those moments when I just happen to be listening to the right kid at the right moment that make my whole life make sense...

We've been putting up a bulletin board with fruit on it to show how some fruit grows on bushes and other fruit grows on trees. I was hanging a cloud up with rain coming down over one of the bushes and one of my girls asked why it was raining.

"Well, you need to drink water and tea, right?"

"Mhmm."

"The bush needs to drink, too. It drinks the rain water."

A few hours later, my girls were sitting below the bulletin board.

"You know why is cloudy here?" I heard. "The bush need drink rain water so it get big."

A few minutes later:

"I am rain and you are bush. I come and make you big, okay?"

Most teachers I know think of circle time as their most important lesson time. I'm learning that the time I give to individual children is just as important if not more important than our class lessons. If I teach the whole class something they don't particularly care about, it's lost about five minutes later. But if I spur the curiosity of a child and that child spurs the curiosity of another child, two sentences can lead to an elaborate role-play in which my children figure out how the world around them works.

My kids are always playing nurturing games. "I'm Mommy and you're Baby!" Or "I am the kitten and you're my daddy!" They've managed to discover a new nurturing game as rain nurtures plants. Spring is coming and I'm so excited to see it through their eyes.

"Where My Mommy Is?"

Today, my co-teacher and I were at school alone. At 5:00 there was only one boy left.

We got him into his coat and shoes so he wouldn't waste time when his mom came to pick him up. And then we sat in the entrance way and waited.

"Where my mommy is?!" He started to get really upset, and something took over inside of me.

"Well, your mommy was on her way to get you but when she went out the door and got in her car... there was a lion in it! She got out and closed the door, then she called the zookeeper...

The zookeeper came and took the lion back to the zoo. Your mommy got in the car and turned onto the street, just then... What did she see?" I asked my co-teacher.

"Uh, squirrels?"

"Yeah, that's right, squirrels! Hundreds of them! They climbed all over the car and made it so she couldn't see out the windows. She had to stop driving and call the zookeeper AGAIN! He came and got the squirrels and brought them back to the zoo. So your mommy drove to school but when she was almost here--"

"--A DRAGON!" interrupted my co-teacher, who totally got into the story.

"That's right, there was a dragon in the middle of the road! All of the cars had to stop, no one knew what to do! So your mommy called the zookeeper AGAIN! And do you know what he did?"

"He came and got the dragon?" asked the boy.

"No! He said, 'A dragon? What do you want me to do about a dragon?! We don't have dragons at the zoo!' So do you know who she called next?"

"His mommy?"

"Yes! She called the dragon's mommy who came down and got him. She told him, 'Little dragon, don't you ever run away again!' All the cars started driving again, and your mommy was only one block from school when she had to stop because there was a line of penguins crossing the road!"

"Yes, and they were moving very slowly because of all the snow," inserted my co-teacher.

"It's true, and that's the reason they left the zoo. They were all in their snowy area at the zoo but then they looked outside and saw snow everywhere, they thought they could go play. So they all left the zoo! Do you know what your mommy did next?"

"Called the zookeeper?"

"No, because he didn't help her with the dragon. Your mommy opened the car door and let all of the penguins in the car so she could take them back to the zoo herself! She asked the penguins which way to go and the first one said 'Right' so she drove to the right. Then the next one said, 'No, left!' so she drove to the left. Then another one said, 'No, straight!' so she drove straight. The fourth one said, 'No, turn around, the other way!' So your mommy stopped driving and decided she needed to call the zookeeper for directions." All the while, my co-teacher was pointing different directions while our student watched.

"But he was no help at all, so your mommy put on the GPS and used it to help her find her way to the zoo."

"And then what?!"

"When she got there, she brought the penguins back to their area and was in such a hurry to come get you that she forgot to close the gate! And all the animals got out! But not the scary animals, only the friendly animals because they weren't in cages."

"Mhmm, I think I see a giraffe over there!" said my co-teacher

"And an elephant?!" he asked.

"Yup, there's elepants walking outside in all this snow!"

"Then what happened?!"

"Well, your mommy got all the animals back to the zoo, closed the gate, and drove here to come get you... and there she is!"

For fifteen straight minutes I was able to tell this story. At the beginning, when I was simply putting together a sentence about a lion in the car, each word came to mind so slowly. It was like my story walkway was covered in tar. As I got going, it just came to me. The words flowed through me as though I was simply a vehicle. I didn't even have to think. When he asked, "then what?!" might have been one of my best moments as a teacher. For fifteen solid minutes, I was able to keep the most easily distracted kid in my school rapt as he sat and stared at nothing, just absorbing my words and my story. Those fifteen minutes were probably the best of my career as a teacher. They reminded me why I love children, why I love stories, why I love Waldorf pedagogy, and to some extent why I am.

And then, as I was leaving, I said to my co-teacher, "Wow, we kept him distracted for fifteen minutes!"

She responded, "I'm going to call you and have you tell me a bed-time story every night."

Okay, it was also a little good for the ol' ego.

This Moment

This Moment: One photo without words that reminds me why I'm here.

(Inspired by SouleMama)

I live here now!

As I've kind of explained, I finally moved from Kolín to Prague. However, I am still working in Kolín until the end of the month. Then I have to go through all the stress of getting a license to teach independently, then get a new visa, and all the paper work that goes with it. I'm not looking forward to it. I'm trying not to think too much about it and to instead focus on how wonderful this new chapter of my life will be--beginning with living in a wonderful new flat in a really easily accessible place in Prague. It couldn't be more different from my life in Kolín and that is so much of its appeal. Also, I have roommates who play the ukulele and leave things like chocolate cake on the table for the taking.

I've got another week of commuting and/or sleeping at school ahead of me. But this rainbow of paper lanterns which I spent most of the weekend making are giving me a sense of calm and hopefulness. I am ready to make this place a home.

Meta-Blogging/This Moment

From Guide to Online Schools

I got a totally surprising e-mail today that I have been chosen on this list of ECE blogs. When I started writing here two years ago, it was simply a way to keep in contact with my family and friends back home. I write about personal experiences, both silly and important. I write for the sake of writing. It's a passion I've had since the second grade. Lately, I've been talking a lot about committing myself to writing more, to focusing on really writing. At the end of October, I even toyed with the idea of NaNoWriMo. In the end, I decided that I would be far too busy this month to work on such a project, that I should save it for another month. Having my blog recognized as something more than a way to update people at home is kind of inspiring. I'm definitely going to work harder at this, for better or worse.

Additionally, I've been trying to find inspiration for school projects anywhere I can. I am sick of the project books we have at school (why would I ever buy a book with that dreaded little red Scholastic label on the bottom? What was I thinking?) and tried to find blogs that are a bit more Waldorf and/or a bit more modern. I became obsessed with filling my Google Reader with inspiration. I want to be able to check it at any time and see 10 new posts. Many of the blogs I follow have a Friday tradition inspired by SouleMama, an incredible blogging mom. The tradition is called This Moment and she describes it as this:

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

For me, This Moment will not necessarily be from this past week, as I don't have my camera around often enough for that. I'll try to make it from this month, or this season at worst. Mine is not necessarily about a "simple, special, extraordinary moment" but more of a "There's no place I'd rather be" moment. And now, here goes nothing, my first This Moment:

This Moment. A single photo that reminds me that there's no place I'd rather be.

The Battle with Summer

My windows are big. When they are open, they are wide open. It's like removing a wall from my room and opening it to the world. It's finally cool enough to have them open during the day, after over a week of mid-nineties in a country without air conditioning anywhere. I can't open them at night until after I've turned off all the lights or I end up with an infestation that leaves thousands of dead gnats on my windowsill in the morning. When I stick my head out the window today, I can see the scorched earth crying out for rain. I can see the darkening clouds overhead, taunting us with the possibility of relief. And I am so angry with them, with the relentlessness of summer. I'm generally a pretty positive person about the world. What could be bad about sunshine? Ignoring the fact that I am actually allergic to being hot, summer is just too demanding for me.

I grew up in a vacation village. Summer always meant more people, longer shop hours, ice cream, and swimming. It meant whole days at the beach, just a short walk from home. As I got older, summer meant more tips, more money, and more time to spend it. From age seventeen on, summer always meant a new job. It was some temporary change that might lead me down another path in life, whether it be as a camp counselor or lock smith's assistant. But this summer, for the first time, I am doing the same job I've been doing all year. I suppose this consistency is part of growing up, but it feels like stagnation. I can't counter the itch to get up and go. In this country, they refer to the whole season as "the holidays" and flee to their cottages. I don't have that luxury. I took this past week off from work just because I wanted some sort of relaxation between now and Christmas. Everyone demanded, "What are you going to do? Where are you going? You can't just stay at home!" But I can't afford to go anywhere, beyond a few evenings in Prague. And I did have a wonderful vacation, swimming in the Vltava and relaxing in the park. But I will be made to feel like I wasted my time, just staying at home. The expectations! Why is this season full of so many expectations?! And everyone wants you to go out, have fun, be with your friends. No one talks about the fact that everyone is making less money and thus this going out thing is becoming pretty difficult. Suddenly you've got time to see your friends, but no money to do anything with them.

And so, the constant cheerfulness that gets me through the winter, through everything, it's been beaten down. For once, I give in to the negativity. I hate summer! I hate being hot! But once I make it through, I will have been here a year. I now know the way that seasons pass here, what to expect every month. So when my brain stops sizzling, I will be able to focus on what lies ahead. The fall brings among other things: my birthday, burčak, fall seasonal vegetables, pies, Halloween, another orphan Thanksgiving, the queer film festival, leaves changing, and hazelnuts everywhere. All of this is quickly followed by the magical two months of Christmas we seem to have.

So for now, I will drink my vastly overpriced seasonal drinks. I will swim in the Vltava and make liberal use of my water guns. I will ignore everyone else's demands, and keep the hope of 70 degree days in mind.

Champagnta

This is going to be one of those intensely photo heavy, long posts. All photos courtesy of Jess, Andrea, and Sara as I did not have my camera. Most of the best days in my life are those days that I look back on and, in retrospect, realize were absolutely amazing. Some days, though, you realize in the moment that they will be the best days of your life. This is the story of one of those days. **

**

When I was 18, my main group of friends was referred to as "The Table." We ate lunch and dinner together every weekday while on the weekends we came together for brunch and dinner. The Table was primarily straight-edge, so our Friday and Saturday nights involved going to the movies, candy shop, or playing cards on Jenn and Denise's floor. But brunch on the weekend--that was our time. It was a marathon for us. Ten thirty to one. As many plates as we could eat. Glorious were the days when they had the make-your-own waffle station. Jenn seemed to live for them. Kim could pack in more food than any of us, despite her small frame. But brunch was always bittersweet. We knew we were fighting against the clock, that we had a full day of homework ahead of ourselves and no amount of scrambled eggs would make it go away. We would leave in the early afternoon, resigned to a day of study.

But in the real world, Sunday brunch isn't procrastination's last hurrah, it's the weekend's last hurrah. Whatever happened that weekend, however disappointing, there's still a full day ahead of you to turn it around. There's no homework looming overhead, but there is the knowledge that the week begins tomorrow. Every Sunday is like the last day of summer for a school kid. You know that it's all you've got left and you have to make the most out of it. Our traditional brunch has been referred to as the "Hangover Brunch" but to me it's more of a debriefing session. We gather at someone's flat to cook, eat, and have our last drinks of the weekend. This Sunday, we started with Bloody Marys (my first!) and after we ate our way through a few hours of lounging in the kitchen on the windowsill, we finished up brunch with Magical Mermaid Mimosas. When the pitcher was finished, we finally decided to move to the park to bask in the beautiful weather (in spite of all those warnings about volcanic ash). I looked, calculating, at the empty bottle of twist-off champagne, the full bottle, and the half-empty bottle of Fanta.

"Guys!" I shouted. "We pour half the bottle of champagne into the empty bottle, then top both off with the Fanta, put the caps back on, and bring them with us to the park!" Someone quipped about the beauty of twist-off champagne caps. But then, we did. And it was glorious. *

We went to the park and found the perfect spot in the sun to drink our Champagnta. **

And drink it we did! When you mix in Fanta, you can barely taste the 48 crown (~$2.50) bottle of champagne! *

We decided that the slightly opaque sparkly stuff in the green bottles looked like what they drink in the garden in the movie of Harriet the Spy and this made Champagnta even better. *

I was pretty excited to have dressed so ridiculously for brunch. "I strive to make every moment of my life a photo opportunity" may have been my Champagnta-tipsy quote of the day. *

But while we were laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation, an Austrian boy in a photography class actually came over and asked to take pictures, so, really, we made an impression. *

You'll note that most pictures are of the five of us girls. Brunch is usually high in estrogen and any boys who end up with us seem a bit exhausted. There's a reason he's on his own little towel instead of The Blanket (The Definite Article Blanket, as it were). And that reason is girls and... **

PUPPIES! The park is full of them on a Sunday afternoon and the Czechs aren't big on leashes. We called over as many dogs as we could and attacked them with affection, making cooing noises. This dog, however, found us. We noticed her urinating on the head of a guy passed out a few yards from us. Then, suddenly, she was on our blanket. "She likes other people but not me," the owner said when he came to retrieve her. What we did not get a photo of was the pig.

"Is that man walking a pig?" asked Jess. We all looked over and debated whether or not it was indeed a pig.

"Is that pony?" asked Jess, about a very large poodle at a great distance.

But, the porcine leashed animal came closer, and revealed itself to, in fact, be a pig. Eventually, Lauren and I were on the way to the bathroom and I managed to ask the owner if we could pet it. He apathetically agreed. We pet a pig. Its nose was kind of sticky, its fur was sparse, but it was a pig, and we pet it. ***

Eventually, the one bottle of champagne split two ways ran out.

"Guys! We buy two more bottles of champagne and one bottle of Fanta..." I began.

"And split the champagne amongst four bottles and top it off with Fanta!" someone else finished.

So Sara and I went to the same shop where she had purchased the makings of the Magical Mermaid Mimosas to get more supplies. We ended up with the same cashier and Sara gleefully told her to have a good day. We certainly were having one. We returned triumphantly and the crowd applauded.

At this point, the splitting the bottles became an assembly line procedure. Pour the champagne, pour the Fanta, cap it, overturn it to mix but don't shake. ***

In the end, we had four more bottles of Champagnta. "I'll call you breakfast, and you brunch, and you lunch, and you dinner!" **

*

As we neared the end of the bottles, we did feats to show off how we were still not drunk including hand stands, somersaults, and cartwheels. Throughout the day, friends came and went. There was frisbee and football. There were guitars and surly chihuahuas. As the sun went behind the clouds and slowly began to set, we moved to the beer garden and had a last round of drinks and foosball for the weekend (for some of us, at least).

It seemed to most of us that Monday morning was more brutal after a beautiful Sunday, but I think that on some level we all preferred an amazing Sunday and rough Monday to two mediocre days.

*From Sara

** From Jess

*** From Andrea

A Most Peculiar Friday Night

I am certainly the last person who would have predicted that a Friday night in which I do not go Out On The Town would be atypical in my life, but as it turns out, it is. I've slowed down since Christmas, but until then, every Friday was dancing night. As it had been snowing since I walked to work on Friday morning, I thought I would have a rare Friday night in. But it being KT's last day in Prague and Nicole's last weekend before she started her farming adventure, I was coaxed into going to Nicole's flat for a soup dinner.

While you may think that Central Europe would get a lot of snow, this much is really uncommon here. It had only been snowing since 8am, but by four in the afternoon, the trains were a mess. I caught what I think was the 2:26 train at nearly 4 o'clock. When KT was convincing me to take the journey to Prague, I was so adamant that there was blizzard outside and she was being completely unreasonable. She kept telling me it was just a little snow. When I got to Prague, I realized that the reason she kept saying it was just a little snow was that... it was... in Prague. We were certainly getting much more snow in Kolín than Prague was getting.


I'm kind of sad that this is no longer a typical Friday night in my life. Hangin' out on couches, poking each other in the eyes with our toes. That's one of the downfalls of living out in the 'burbs--every time I come into the city, it's for something big, not for casual hang-out-time.


There aren't two people in the world with whom I enjoy casual hang out time more than KT and Nicole. Let's spoon on the couch, okay? 'Kay!

But as the evening progressed, I began to feel more and more sick. Spending hours outside in the cold is starting to get to my immune system, it seems. Between that and the fact that I don't trust CD (the Czech rail system) to get me home late at night during a blizzard, I decided to call it a night early. I headed back to Hlavni Nadraži where I found most trains to be delayed at least 70 minutes. The train I got took nearly twice as long as usual. But eventually, I made it back to Kolín...

...where Rasputin was waiting for me. As was a long, unplowed, snowy walk home.

But the snow clinging to my window (okno, neuter) made it all worthwhile! And it continued to snow for two more days. So look forward to pictures of my town after a snow storm with accumulation totaling more than the past three winters combined! Hurá!

A Very Ex-Pat Christmas

I spent Christmas Eve, which in this country is Christmas, with my Czech friends having a very civilized dinner. We had a Christmas tree, presents, a beautifully set table with floating candles as a centerpiece. While we did play Go Fish, it was still quite a classy affair. Then I went to Christmas with the expats. It was more like Christmas as I know and love it.

We didn't have a Christmas tree, but this tree outside of the flat was decorated with a pool tube and a jock strap. Merry Christmas!

In order to fit everyone at the table, we had to put together tables and desks and overflow into another room. In order to get from one side to the other, one needed to do the Under-the-Table-Shuffle, as demonstrated here by my most nimble self.

We may not have had glasses to drink our wine out of-- but who needs 'em when we each have our own bottles? Also, we had quite the spread! There was not one Christmas feast item that was lacking. Wait... maybe a goose? Do people still do that?

Another example of the Under-the-Table-Shuffle, done the other direction.


Climbing out...
I made it to the couch which was used instead of chairs.

Begin gratuitous posed photos! Aww, friends!

The expat ladies all have some power animal. Mine is danger mouse. I may be small, but I love me some danger?

And what would Christmas be without a little post-wine sing along? There was no "Jingle Bell Rock" but we did sing a rousing rendition of "The Wild Rover" and other unmentionable melodies.



And what is Christmas without a little love?

I couldn't have asked for a better orphan's Christmas celebration!

Naděje, Láska, a Vánoce

On Tuesday, Jess and I met up to do some Christmas shopping before she heads home for three weeks (what shall I do without her?!). Somehow, we ended up on a walking tour of landmarks near Old Town Square--because I usually don't do touristy things, this was kind of nice. First, we stopped at the John Lennon Wall

The wall has been used since 1980 as an homage to the Beatles. The graffiti is mostly positive--of the peace and love persuasion. A lot of it is also Beatles lyrics.

I believe the story is that when John Lennon died, students painted his portrait on this wall. It became a place for the students to write about hope and freedom under communism. It gets painted over every so often, but the graffiti just keeps coming. Imagine how many layers of hope and love cover John Lennon's face! I think it would make him happy.

After we crossed the Charles Bridge, we came to this canal. It seems that many cities have a place like this. When you find your One True Love, you carve your names into the lock, attach it to the rail, and throw the key into the canal. Some day, I will have a lock on this canal.


So that covers hope and love... now for Christmas! I give Jess full credit for this batch of photos. My hands were too cold to keep taking pictures so I just gave her the camera.

Approaching Old Town Square, again, to wander the Christmas markets.

They have a lot of old fashioned handcrafts at this market, which is really nice compared to Kolín's market! Also, mead! Omnomnom!

There are so many sweets to try in Central Europe during Christmas, how will I ever make it? I still haven't tried Trdelnik, which is delicious looking fried dough with nuts and spices.

The nut stands remind me of Christmas in New York so much! But they are not as hot and fresh as in New York. However, I think the fact that they come from a wooden stall surrounded by so much magic balances that out.

View of the Christmas market from the center.

Oh and what's that, folk dancing? Yes, this is a magical, magical place.

Saint Barbora Day and Saint Mikuláš Day

Last Friday, 4 Dec., was Saint Barbora's Day. I came in to work to find this branch in a cup of water. I, honestly, didn't think to ask about it. Later on in the day, my co-worker asked me, "Do you know what this is for?"
"Uh, no?" I replied.
"Today is Saint Barbora's Day and in the old days it was a tradition that you cut a branch from a tree and if it--"
"Buds?"
"Yes, if it buds by Christmas, you will be married in the next year."

I looked at the branch and then paused for a second.
"Wait, this branch is for me? Everyone else is married!"
"Yes, and the children are too young. So it is your branch. If you have many boyfriends, you cut one branch for each of them and put a tag on it. Jana said she doesn't know how many you have so maybe we should cut a lot."
Jana walked into the conversation at this point.
"Oh yes, it is your branch. If it buds, we need to know will it be a Czech or an American."
"Well, we could always cut another one and put flags on each," I suggested jokingly. Yet, when I came back on Monday, there was a second little branch in the cup. So, I added the flags. The odds are stacked against the American branch but, what can I say? If I marry a Czech, I can get citizenship!

Today, a four-year-old student of mine was decorating my branch and when it was too heavily laden with decorations, Jana and I feared it might break. She explained to him, "This branch needs to bud so that Colleen can marry a nice, handsome Czech boy."
"Like me?" he asked.

I love my job.


Yesterday, I went to a small Christmas pageant with my students. Part of the Christmas season here is, which I alluded to last time, Sv. Mikuláš Day. On 5 Dec., the Czechs go all out for Sv. Mikuláš. He is kind of Saint Nicholas and has many similarities to Santa Claus. On 5 Dec., he comes to your house with an angel and a devil. If you are a good child, you sing a song and the angel gives you some kind of treat--candy or a gift. If you are a bad child, the devil puts you in a sack and takes you to hell. Sv. Mikuláš wears a tall pointy hat with a cross and carries a book with the names of good and bad children (a bit classier than Santa Claus' list). There are some differences in the portrayal of the devil and angel than in American iconography. The angel doesn't always have a halo, often just a star on her forehead. The devil is not a red beast, he's usually black with red horns. He may or may not have cloven hooves. He has a tail (more like an animal's than a devil's) and chains. He wears dirty clothes. I think it's actually more frightening than the less-believable American devil.

What is truly crazy is that parents actually pay people to come to their houses and scare the be-Jesus out of their children. I've heard tales of my friends peeing themselves as small children when the devil came to their door with Sv. Mikuláš and the angel. But when you're an adult, it's a wonderful holiday! It's an excuse to dress up (which I did!) and something you can hold over children's heads. "Be good! Don't you know who is coming this weekend?!" Getting taken to hell or getting coal in your stocking, which is a more effective threat?