You and I have done a lot of traveling around this week. (You are my companion, right?) Lots of tram and metro steps, many many footsteps, and most of all, so many interesting faces, conversations, and conversations which would have been longer if only I'd been doing a better job of learning Czech.
This has been a week of the ordinary and the extraordinary. As I look out my living room window, I see huge white clouds hurrying by in a Carolina Blue sky. Funny, that seems "ordinary." And I'm the one who's been so sick of carrying an umbrella. It's not that I mind the gray skies, I really don't. I just hate the extra weight in my already heavy book bag. And we've had a lot of those gray skies lately. We also had some extraordinarily hot days very early, and a few warmer-than-I'd-like-it ones now. But I know I'm so fortunate compared to many of my friends, baking and broiling away! Some of the extraordinary has been three violent rain/lightning/thunder storms. Thank goodness, I was inside for each of them!
Tomorrow is the last day of my "first" contract, the one that, thankfully, brought me here. And Tuesday I start the summer one, having already made a promise to accept the next 10-month one. Yep, I still love it. There are so many routine and normal things in my life that I haven't or don't talk about. Here are a few of them:
StJ isn't the "ordinary" language school. They do not offer open enrollment to anyone who wants to learn a language. They work with corporations/organizations/government offices on a contract basis, then the StJ Client Managers (they have the really tough job!) work to find the best fit to fill the classes -- that would be a skills/experience/teaching style fit AND a person who has that time slot open. Full time teachers (I'm one of them, thank goodness) must teach a minimum of 17 student-contact hours a week, and it's usually 20. (I've been quite a few hours above that some weeks; I'm grateful and it's a push!) In addition they must accept prime time classes -- that would be FIRST thing in the morning and end of the work day. There are other classes, but naturally many companies want to use those hours for the least disruption to daily schedules. And we are paid only for student-contact hours, so I am very happy my schedule's been running full.
My normal work week starts with an 8 a.m. class on Monday. I spend the rest of the week back and forth from a company to StJ to a different company, etc, etc. The CMs have been very good to me (and I know that in response I've done very good work for the Centre.) I have several classes back-to-back at the same location, which means I don't have to spend up to an hour between classes just getting to and fro. Also, many of my classes are very high level students enrolled in Business English. The Business English is what appealed to me about StJ, and I'm very fortunate to be assigned quite a few of those groups. It's a great marriage of my background and experience.
This past month has been extremely tough -- it's end-of-term assessment time. We always have to write progress reports on all classes each month, but this is beyond that. We write exams covering what has been taught, administer them within a two-week window, then grade them, write individual "report cards" as well as general assessments, and final evaluations. Talk about taking time. And that's all on top of normal preparation. Just thinking about it is tiring. At last that is all behind me.
Just in time to get a new schedule! June 30 is the end of both teacher and company contracts. Many companies cancel their classes for the summer -- that's tough for students' memories! And many teachers move on to someplace else at that time. For several weeks now the CMs have been working to get everybody reassigned. Including part timers (and there are a lot of them, some of whom teach only one class) there are nearly 150 of us. That's a lot of shuffling around. Final schedules (and I know nothing's really final with these classes) were handed out Thursday. Now it is wrap up / shift thinking / plan ahead time. Oh yes, and do the regular month-end reporting.
Silly me, thinking this would be the good time to take a US break for a couple of weeks. Silly for lots of reasons. The first and most important one is that I still can't leave the CR. My work permit came through some time ago, so I've been very legal on that front. And I had my "visa applied for" stamp in my passport, the purpose of the Vienna trip, which basically made me legal to stay here. Had I been stopped by the police they technically could have deported me, since I don't actually have the visa in hand. Most probably they would not have. I had instructions whom to call in Vienna if anyone have given me trouble (which I seriously doubted would happen, since I'm so old and common! I have seen several "sweeps" since arriving, though.) Expectations were that the visa would come through in late August, which, of course would have been too late to get a flight (yes, I've heard about oil/gas prices and airline tickets!) and plan for my classes.
Well, surprise surprise. I got a call from my landlord (great guy and his wonderful wife) that they'd received a call from the embassy that the visa was approved! I'm sure you heard my enormous sigh of relief wherever you are -- it felt like a big "welcome home". It could have been stopped just by the random throw of the dice-of-life, for whatever reason anyone wanted to give. (And we all know there are a lot of reasons why folks in other countries are not in love with America just now!)
Obviously I'm learning a lot in all these various processes. Well, duh! Wasn't that part of the point of all this?! One of the things I would never have guessed is that I cannot even leave to pick up the visa. I'd be sent home (it's called deported!) on the spot! I must send someone (an assistant at school will go) with my passport, power of attorney, proof of medical insurance (yep, have to buy that this week), and a copy of my contract through January 29, 2009.
Can hardly believe I'm at this point. What a lovely shifting time in life. Are there things and people I miss? Absolutely. Am I so very happy to be here, in this wonderful city, my cozy little nest, with interesting colleagues and students, great assignments, and a chance to learn many things every day? You bet! And are there days that are really tough? Yep. Sometimes my body wants to remind me of my age, but usually it says that if I'll give it a good night's sleep it'll be better the next day. And it always is.
Much more than enough words already! Life has a lot that is routine, maybe even mundane. There's always the setting and the view and the millions of possibilities of marvelous things which are right around the corner and can happen at any instant to keep that edge of anticipation and gratitude.
I hope you have that also, whatever city and routine you have this week.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
A Midweek Treat
Aren't surprises lovely!
I learned some months ago that one of my students plays French horn in an orchestra here. During a quiet moment in class Monday I asked him if his June concert had already taken place. Surprise -- it was tonight. I asked just in time.
Yet another surprise -- it was held in a church in my neighborhood. I've passed the church dozens of times since it is right on my tram line. "Evangelistika" is in its name, and I'd heard that it is somewhat in a line back to Jan Hus ("his" day is a holiday here in a couple of weeks). It is not a typical Prague church. It's front/facade is almost like every other apartment building in the block, only a few religious touches set it apart, not at all like the free-standing buildings which are such a part of the city scape. (You may know that Prague is also called a City of Spires.) I've been curious but never stopped, made a special trip to learn and see more, or even considered attending a service. Tonight was the night. It is beautiful inside, lovely frescoes, a balcony around three sides of the church reminiscent of Old First in Springfield, MA and Joan Grindrod-Helm's church in Northumberland, UK. So sitting in the pew brought back wonderful memories.
And another surprise -- while sitting quietly, observing my fellow concert goers, struggling (shamefully) with the Czech program, a fine young gentleman joined me. Indeed, another of my students. He is an interesting young man, a good conversationalist, and an all-round pleasant companion. What a treat to have his company so unexpectedly. I believe he was as surprised to see me as I was to see him.
The members of the orchestra were young, mostly mid-to late twenties and thirties. Some may have been in their early forties. But they definitely weren't students! The conductor also may still be waiting for his thirtieth birthday! But what lovely music they made together. His conducting was sure; they understood what he wanted and gave it to him -- all of them! What a pleasure.
And then there was the music. Ah, yes. They opened with Mendelssohn's Third Symphony, one of my favorites. It was totally satisfying. Radek had told me they were playing Dvorak, "our best composer." The second portion of the evening was the Slavonik Dances, Opus 46. I must admit my fingers were itching and twitching. And now I've heard Dvorak played and conducted by Czechs in a Czech setting, surrounded by Czechs. Their enjoyment of the music was noticeable, and it was clear these were familiar sounds to members of the audience.
I lingered a bit afterwards. By the time I'd made my way to the door, members of the orchestra were also beginning to leave. It was so pleasant to see and feel their enjoyment of the concert. I could tell they knew they had played well -- it's always such a pleasure to see others enjoy the results of their hard work. There was a sense of camaraderie and accomplishment. It was clear this was not just another "gig" and they were moving on to the next job. They'd made music because they wanted to and because it made them happy to share it. And I was one of the fortunate recipients.
But wait -- one more surprise. At the intermission I was joined by the one colleague to whom I'd mentioned the concert. The comment was rather off the cuff. I certainly did not expect him to come. And there he was. He's also a musician, a marvelous British gentleman, good teacher, fine colleague, great friend. More good conversation, more enjoyment.
What a surprising midweek treat. I can hardly wait to see and hear what's next.
I learned some months ago that one of my students plays French horn in an orchestra here. During a quiet moment in class Monday I asked him if his June concert had already taken place. Surprise -- it was tonight. I asked just in time.
Yet another surprise -- it was held in a church in my neighborhood. I've passed the church dozens of times since it is right on my tram line. "Evangelistika" is in its name, and I'd heard that it is somewhat in a line back to Jan Hus ("his" day is a holiday here in a couple of weeks). It is not a typical Prague church. It's front/facade is almost like every other apartment building in the block, only a few religious touches set it apart, not at all like the free-standing buildings which are such a part of the city scape. (You may know that Prague is also called a City of Spires.) I've been curious but never stopped, made a special trip to learn and see more, or even considered attending a service. Tonight was the night. It is beautiful inside, lovely frescoes, a balcony around three sides of the church reminiscent of Old First in Springfield, MA and Joan Grindrod-Helm's church in Northumberland, UK. So sitting in the pew brought back wonderful memories.
And another surprise -- while sitting quietly, observing my fellow concert goers, struggling (shamefully) with the Czech program, a fine young gentleman joined me. Indeed, another of my students. He is an interesting young man, a good conversationalist, and an all-round pleasant companion. What a treat to have his company so unexpectedly. I believe he was as surprised to see me as I was to see him.
The members of the orchestra were young, mostly mid-to late twenties and thirties. Some may have been in their early forties. But they definitely weren't students! The conductor also may still be waiting for his thirtieth birthday! But what lovely music they made together. His conducting was sure; they understood what he wanted and gave it to him -- all of them! What a pleasure.
And then there was the music. Ah, yes. They opened with Mendelssohn's Third Symphony, one of my favorites. It was totally satisfying. Radek had told me they were playing Dvorak, "our best composer." The second portion of the evening was the Slavonik Dances, Opus 46. I must admit my fingers were itching and twitching. And now I've heard Dvorak played and conducted by Czechs in a Czech setting, surrounded by Czechs. Their enjoyment of the music was noticeable, and it was clear these were familiar sounds to members of the audience.
I lingered a bit afterwards. By the time I'd made my way to the door, members of the orchestra were also beginning to leave. It was so pleasant to see and feel their enjoyment of the concert. I could tell they knew they had played well -- it's always such a pleasure to see others enjoy the results of their hard work. There was a sense of camaraderie and accomplishment. It was clear this was not just another "gig" and they were moving on to the next job. They'd made music because they wanted to and because it made them happy to share it. And I was one of the fortunate recipients.
But wait -- one more surprise. At the intermission I was joined by the one colleague to whom I'd mentioned the concert. The comment was rather off the cuff. I certainly did not expect him to come. And there he was. He's also a musician, a marvelous British gentleman, good teacher, fine colleague, great friend. More good conversation, more enjoyment.
What a surprising midweek treat. I can hardly wait to see and hear what's next.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
A Perfect June Evening
Sometimes everything lines up just right, nothing could possibly be any better, at least for that one happening. And I was privileged to have one of those nights this past week. Absolutely a night to remember . . .
One of my colleagues is a beautiful young woman from Sri Lanka. Our lives had crossed paths in several different ways. In one of those encounters I learned that not only is she fluent in many languages and teaches English, she is also a pianist. Because I'd heard only brief statements now and again of both her gift and her background, I had no idea the depth of those gifts and heritage. Her father is Sri Lanka's most famous composer. Working in the tradition of Janacek and Dvorak, who were his inspiration, he combines folk melodies with classical composition. Gayathri continues in those footsteps. After studying in the conservatory in her homeland, she moved to Prague 13 years ago -- she still looks like a teenager -- to study at the Prague Conservatory because she "loves Bach." After rigorous studies there, she was accepted at the highly selective Academy of Early Music. Why all this background? Because her classical training is so far from the music of the evening that it seems another world away. I heard Phillip Glass in her playing, not J.S!
She interrupted her studies following the tsunami, first to return to Sri Lanka to see her family and help in the relief efforts, then to return to Prague, giving a series of concerts of the music of Czech composers to raise money for the effort. In addition to this, she composed and played the soundtrack for the documentary about the victims, Facing the Waves, which also looked at the issue of racism which was reopened following the disaster. This is one gifted young lady, a person to remember and follow.
And now to the evening.
The setting was Zizkov Atrium. Zizkov is another of Prague's many and varied districts. It borders my home, so a leisurely walk, including supper with a wonderful new friend, was the perfect opener for a perfect evening. Good talk, good food, great views of lovely architecture I'd not seen, all under a quiet, end-of-the-day sky. And then we arrived at Atrium. Oh my goodness! Total awe. There, set back from the sidewalk (remember, the "apartment" buildings border the sidewalk with the greenery inside the rectangle) was an exquisite mellow cream-yellow building, wrought iron gate, roses, lush trees, brick and cobblestone entrance way. It is one of those places where I automatically drop my voice to a whisper. And then to enter. First a long hall-type entry with the concert hall on one side and a courtyard "cafe" on the other. Walking into the courtyard brought the wonderful surprise of many colleagues, already enjoying their espresso, wine, and conversation. (This group of colleagues is known for how much they support each other -- it may not be "my thing," but I'll be there for you!) The doors were opened. It was almost like being transported. I kept saying to myself "this had to have been a church," "I just know this was a church." The concert grand was on the marble "chancel", at the back there were two marble niches awaiting more holy water, and I'm certain I could tell where the confessional had been at one time in this magical building's history.
This is a small venue, tucked away in its own corner of the world, a little bit of a walk from any tram or metro. Of course I had to search the web. here's what I found (with only slight editing). In the Tchaikovsky street you can find historically protected building - Baroquechurch of St. Promote,
Then the music. Most of the program was solo piano, all Gayathri's compositions. The program carried the title "Me and My Elephant" with a picture of her sitting beside and petting, yes, an enormous elephant. Talk about size extremes! The pieces and the program notes told a haunting story, both in words and music, of the terrors and tragedies of war and of racism, the disruptions and losses, repetitive themes of being lost, searching, finding a small space for rest. The last number before intermission she was joined by Badra, a drummer from Mali. During the second half -- and by the way, applause occurs only at the intermission and at the end of the program -- she was joined by her group, a bassist and a violinist. The last number was absolutely, no question, the best. Great rhythms, great freedom, soaring music.
To open the concert two people introduced the evening -- one in English, another in Czech -- and presented her mother and a close friend with yellow roses, a Sri Lankan tradition. Also two small candles were lit at the front of the stage. At the close, it was very emotional to see her mother, even tinier than Gayathri, come forward to embrace her, and to think of all that had occurred to bring them to this point.
This is probably her last concert in Prague, at least for some time. In January she's emigrating to Canada, joining her sister who left a few years ago because of the racism here. Pity, pity. And in my Caucasian skin I can only begin to feel the ripples of it.
For now -- I was privileged to be there when magic happened.
One of my colleagues is a beautiful young woman from Sri Lanka. Our lives had crossed paths in several different ways. In one of those encounters I learned that not only is she fluent in many languages and teaches English, she is also a pianist. Because I'd heard only brief statements now and again of both her gift and her background, I had no idea the depth of those gifts and heritage. Her father is Sri Lanka's most famous composer. Working in the tradition of Janacek and Dvorak, who were his inspiration, he combines folk melodies with classical composition. Gayathri continues in those footsteps. After studying in the conservatory in her homeland, she moved to Prague 13 years ago -- she still looks like a teenager -- to study at the Prague Conservatory because she "loves Bach." After rigorous studies there, she was accepted at the highly selective Academy of Early Music. Why all this background? Because her classical training is so far from the music of the evening that it seems another world away. I heard Phillip Glass in her playing, not J.S!
She interrupted her studies following the tsunami, first to return to Sri Lanka to see her family and help in the relief efforts, then to return to Prague, giving a series of concerts of the music of Czech composers to raise money for the effort. In addition to this, she composed and played the soundtrack for the documentary about the victims, Facing the Waves, which also looked at the issue of racism which was reopened following the disaster. This is one gifted young lady, a person to remember and follow.
And now to the evening.
The setting was Zizkov Atrium. Zizkov is another of Prague's many and varied districts. It borders my home, so a leisurely walk, including supper with a wonderful new friend, was the perfect opener for a perfect evening. Good talk, good food, great views of lovely architecture I'd not seen, all under a quiet, end-of-the-day sky. And then we arrived at Atrium. Oh my goodness! Total awe. There, set back from the sidewalk (remember, the "apartment" buildings border the sidewalk with the greenery inside the rectangle) was an exquisite mellow cream-yellow building, wrought iron gate, roses, lush trees, brick and cobblestone entrance way. It is one of those places where I automatically drop my voice to a whisper. And then to enter. First a long hall-type entry with the concert hall on one side and a courtyard "cafe" on the other. Walking into the courtyard brought the wonderful surprise of many colleagues, already enjoying their espresso, wine, and conversation. (This group of colleagues is known for how much they support each other -- it may not be "my thing," but I'll be there for you!) The doors were opened. It was almost like being transported. I kept saying to myself "this had to have been a church," "I just know this was a church." The concert grand was on the marble "chancel", at the back there were two marble niches awaiting more holy water, and I'm certain I could tell where the confessional had been at one time in this magical building's history.
This is a small venue, tucked away in its own corner of the world, a little bit of a walk from any tram or metro. Of course I had to search the web. here's what I found (with only slight editing). In the Tchaikovsky street you can find historically protected building - Baroque
Then the music. Most of the program was solo piano, all Gayathri's compositions. The program carried the title "Me and My Elephant" with a picture of her sitting beside and petting, yes, an enormous elephant. Talk about size extremes! The pieces and the program notes told a haunting story, both in words and music, of the terrors and tragedies of war and of racism, the disruptions and losses, repetitive themes of being lost, searching, finding a small space for rest. The last number before intermission she was joined by Badra, a drummer from Mali. During the second half -- and by the way, applause occurs only at the intermission and at the end of the program -- she was joined by her group, a bassist and a violinist. The last number was absolutely, no question, the best. Great rhythms, great freedom, soaring music.
To open the concert two people introduced the evening -- one in English, another in Czech -- and presented her mother and a close friend with yellow roses, a Sri Lankan tradition. Also two small candles were lit at the front of the stage. At the close, it was very emotional to see her mother, even tinier than Gayathri, come forward to embrace her, and to think of all that had occurred to bring them to this point.
This is probably her last concert in Prague, at least for some time. In January she's emigrating to Canada, joining her sister who left a few years ago because of the racism here. Pity, pity. And in my Caucasian skin I can only begin to feel the ripples of it.
For now -- I was privileged to be there when magic happened.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Muzejni Noc
Or Museum Night -- and what a night it was. That was the "label", alternating between Czech and English, on an enormous fleet of buses running from 7 p.m.till 1 p.m. providing free transportation to over 25 cultural institutions with 51 sites, each with no admission fee during this special event. There were nine different lines/routes, each with its own attraction(s) carefully described in Czech and English in the great little guide book, running continuously to carry us ("human sardines" would be the term) to the various locations. This was the 5th annual Prague Museum Night, an event copied from similar events in other leading European cities. Over 170,000 people attended last year, and I think, from the crush of the crowds, that each of them brought two or three friends this year!
I met with five colleagues from StJ at the metro stop by Old Town Square. Their intention was to visit the nearby Jewish Museum first. Although I've been there a couple times, each visit was before I'd read Madeline Albright's moving account of finding her family listed in this place of sorrow in her book, Madam Secretary. I wanted to take that image with me on this visit. I'm glad I didn't air my thought about whether or not the Sabbath might have some influence on this. Yes, it did. The JM didn't open till 10:30 p.m. (That's an hour after it got dark here!) Who knows how things would have turned out had they known that.
As a substitute first event the Zbraslav Chateau was selected. It seemed like a wise choice even before I knew the details. So many of the sites are near the center with relatively easy access. I'm not sure when, or even if, I would have made this little trip. There are so many places to go and things to see that I might not have noticed it in the long list of possibilities. Free admission, free direct transportation -- sounded like a winner to me! We (and way too many other people) boarded Line 6 for the 25-30 minute trip along the Vlatava then the Berounka rivers to the picturesque town of Zbraslav.
The village is centered around a not-square square (namesti -- and few of the "squares" I've seen have the shape of a New England town square!) with several shops, a few restaurants/cafes, a library, and even a couple penzions and a small theatre. It seems like a lovely place to "come home to," and given the housing market in Prague, I'm pretty certain this would be one of the commuter villages.
Approaching the village, we were treated to an excellent view of the Chateau. Someone describes it as "an impressive pile dating from 1268." It's now home (with lots of interesting side stories of its journey to this point) to a part of the National Gallery and currently is keeper of its permanent exhibition of Asian art. Two complementary non-art attractions are a lovely long hall lined on both sides with exquisite bonsai and a Japanese tearoom.
Walking through the entrance gate onto the beautiful grounds dotted with sculptures of many centuries and styles seemed like an entrance into another time and place. All the greenery was rich and lush, even with bus loads of people it was quiet and inviting, and each step seemed to move me further into the past.
The collection is impressive and beautifully displayed. It covers many centuries -- at least the early 12th to the present, many art forms, and includes items from Japan to Turkey. I must admit Asian art as a whole is not my favorite. That's probably a secondary reason I would have missed this lovely place when planning some time out. This collection is exquisite, inviting one to linger rather than move along. What a memorable evening.
The return trip was even more crowded, though that hardly seemed possible. The group was on its way to other viewing sites. Me? I wanted to listen. Concerts and recitals of every style everywhere. In the end, however, I called it quits. Long day, long night. Hours of walking/standing/waiting with a busy week ahead made the final decision. I traveled most of the way to the Dvorak Museum for its hour-long concert, then just couldn't gather the energy to walk the final four blocks, especially with the thought of lots more walking much later. Yes, it would have been a nice ending to the day. But Zbraslav wove its own spell, and it lingers still. Perhaps my body knew better than my brain!
I met with five colleagues from StJ at the metro stop by Old Town Square. Their intention was to visit the nearby Jewish Museum first. Although I've been there a couple times, each visit was before I'd read Madeline Albright's moving account of finding her family listed in this place of sorrow in her book, Madam Secretary. I wanted to take that image with me on this visit. I'm glad I didn't air my thought about whether or not the Sabbath might have some influence on this. Yes, it did. The JM didn't open till 10:30 p.m. (That's an hour after it got dark here!) Who knows how things would have turned out had they known that.
As a substitute first event the Zbraslav Chateau was selected. It seemed like a wise choice even before I knew the details. So many of the sites are near the center with relatively easy access. I'm not sure when, or even if, I would have made this little trip. There are so many places to go and things to see that I might not have noticed it in the long list of possibilities. Free admission, free direct transportation -- sounded like a winner to me! We (and way too many other people) boarded Line 6 for the 25-30 minute trip along the Vlatava then the Berounka rivers to the picturesque town of Zbraslav.
The village is centered around a not-square square (namesti -- and few of the "squares" I've seen have the shape of a New England town square!) with several shops, a few restaurants/cafes, a library, and even a couple penzions and a small theatre. It seems like a lovely place to "come home to," and given the housing market in Prague, I'm pretty certain this would be one of the commuter villages.
Approaching the village, we were treated to an excellent view of the Chateau. Someone describes it as "an impressive pile dating from 1268." It's now home (with lots of interesting side stories of its journey to this point) to a part of the National Gallery and currently is keeper of its permanent exhibition of Asian art. Two complementary non-art attractions are a lovely long hall lined on both sides with exquisite bonsai and a Japanese tearoom.
Walking through the entrance gate onto the beautiful grounds dotted with sculptures of many centuries and styles seemed like an entrance into another time and place. All the greenery was rich and lush, even with bus loads of people it was quiet and inviting, and each step seemed to move me further into the past.
The collection is impressive and beautifully displayed. It covers many centuries -- at least the early 12th to the present, many art forms, and includes items from Japan to Turkey. I must admit Asian art as a whole is not my favorite. That's probably a secondary reason I would have missed this lovely place when planning some time out. This collection is exquisite, inviting one to linger rather than move along. What a memorable evening.
The return trip was even more crowded, though that hardly seemed possible. The group was on its way to other viewing sites. Me? I wanted to listen. Concerts and recitals of every style everywhere. In the end, however, I called it quits. Long day, long night. Hours of walking/standing/waiting with a busy week ahead made the final decision. I traveled most of the way to the Dvorak Museum for its hour-long concert, then just couldn't gather the energy to walk the final four blocks, especially with the thought of lots more walking much later. Yes, it would have been a nice ending to the day. But Zbraslav wove its own spell, and it lingers still. Perhaps my body knew better than my brain!
Saturday, June 7, 2008
A Lovely Morning . . .
Come along with me -- you are a traveling companion, right? It's one of those mornings when things work as they should. Perhaps not as I wish, but certainly just right.
It began with a little extra sleep. What a pleasure. That was followed with a lot of dithering -- should I do this or that first, what about the weather (rain is promised) and what about all the other things that need to be accomplished this weekend. If I didn't find the eye doctor this morning, when would I go, since an extremely busy couple of weeks are looming large just around the corner,
Self-discipline is definitely not my strong point in quite a few areas. And that was showing up in a big way when it came to visiting an ophthalmologist. Not least among the reasons was the fact that I didn't want to hear bad news, which seemed to be a distinct possibility. Other contributing factors were uncertainty about directions, cost, allegiance to my wonderful eye surgeon in NC, and a reluctance to dedicate as much time as it undoubtedly would take from the day. Silly me! What a great morning it turned out to be.
The directions were right on, distances between points much shorter than I anticipated, a bright yellow Lamborghini (Alexander's favorite car at one point in his life) parked on the street outside a ritzy hotel in the high-rent district a huge bonus. Yes, I had my camera and stopped for a picture. I did have to wait in line behind others doing the same thing, and I do wonder if the owner was sitting in the restaurant behind the huge windows enjoying our enthusiasm for his toy! I found my way without a single extra step, only to learn that I was early for the doc. I had already been told by one of my favorite StJ colleagues that you just show up and wait your turn, which is one reason I wanted to get a good start on the day.
Sounded like time for a cup of coffee. And away I strolled. And strolled. And strolled. At that point I broke a promise to myself -- I went into a McDonalds. I really intended to avoid them completely. And I have been successful till today, even when hungry and in a hurry. This time I couldn't miss. And guess what -- in Prague Mickey D's serves cappuccino for just about the price of a regular cup of coffee. And it was perfect for the morning. The return stroll included a lovely little bench in the shade under some rooftop statues which have been watching over the citizens for well over a century.
There was yet another wait, but when he -- a new Tomas in my life now -- came, it was all I could have hoped for and more. You see, this was Eiffel Optical, and in the US we don't find fully certified ophthalmologists at the opticians office. But he and this place had been recommended by another colleague. I was told he speaks English very well and is -- how about this! -- post-doc Johns Hopkins trained. What a great time with him. We talked about a million things, including how he manages in his little space with only a few machines and his knowledge and instinct instead of the big offices with four machines doing the same operation as they have in the US. (He said it's because the doctors are afraid of being sued before I could get it out of my mouth.) We talked about the H1B visa situation, which a student and I had discussed from an Economist article (April 12, 2008, in case you're interested) just this past week. The conversation went everywhere all the while I was looking in the right direction, sitting very still and being somewhat apprehensive. It was wonderful to hear him give the details of my surgeries, including correct dates, and praise for Dr. Lee's work. I know she is highly regarded; it is nice to have that confirmed this way. And the diagnosis? Everything's great. No worries. What a relief.
If you're interested, he gave me an alternative to taking pills for eye health: cut up some carrots, put in a couple spoons of sugar and lemon juice, then add olive oil and stir. Then, of course, eat regularly. This gives all the important vitamins and supplements I could get at a lekarna (chemist/pharmacist). I also walked out with new sunglasses. I came without mine, and am missing them more every time the sun shines. I was just about to buy some on the street (my favorite store in any town!) and had hesitated because I knew that wasn't good for my eyes. How right I was. He actually came out to fit just the right pair to my eyes. I will say that I would never pay that for sunglasses in the US! Knowing my eyes are protected correctly is a good thing. Although the wait was VERY long, it was worth every minute. What an great morning.
There was time for more strolling, including two relatively small public gardens with roses in full bloom. I'd seen the bushes earlier and knew they were only a few weeks away from full color. Today was definitely one of the best days. And then yet another choice -- home to a nearly empty refrigerator or a stop at a cafe near the river. You can guess which won! Perfect ending to a lovely morning.
It began with a little extra sleep. What a pleasure. That was followed with a lot of dithering -- should I do this or that first, what about the weather (rain is promised) and what about all the other things that need to be accomplished this weekend. If I didn't find the eye doctor this morning, when would I go, since an extremely busy couple of weeks are looming large just around the corner,
Self-discipline is definitely not my strong point in quite a few areas. And that was showing up in a big way when it came to visiting an ophthalmologist. Not least among the reasons was the fact that I didn't want to hear bad news, which seemed to be a distinct possibility. Other contributing factors were uncertainty about directions, cost, allegiance to my wonderful eye surgeon in NC, and a reluctance to dedicate as much time as it undoubtedly would take from the day. Silly me! What a great morning it turned out to be.
The directions were right on, distances between points much shorter than I anticipated, a bright yellow Lamborghini (Alexander's favorite car at one point in his life) parked on the street outside a ritzy hotel in the high-rent district a huge bonus. Yes, I had my camera and stopped for a picture. I did have to wait in line behind others doing the same thing, and I do wonder if the owner was sitting in the restaurant behind the huge windows enjoying our enthusiasm for his toy! I found my way without a single extra step, only to learn that I was early for the doc. I had already been told by one of my favorite StJ colleagues that you just show up and wait your turn, which is one reason I wanted to get a good start on the day.
Sounded like time for a cup of coffee. And away I strolled. And strolled. And strolled. At that point I broke a promise to myself -- I went into a McDonalds. I really intended to avoid them completely. And I have been successful till today, even when hungry and in a hurry. This time I couldn't miss. And guess what -- in Prague Mickey D's serves cappuccino for just about the price of a regular cup of coffee. And it was perfect for the morning. The return stroll included a lovely little bench in the shade under some rooftop statues which have been watching over the citizens for well over a century.
There was yet another wait, but when he -- a new Tomas in my life now -- came, it was all I could have hoped for and more. You see, this was Eiffel Optical, and in the US we don't find fully certified ophthalmologists at the opticians office. But he and this place had been recommended by another colleague. I was told he speaks English very well and is -- how about this! -- post-doc Johns Hopkins trained. What a great time with him. We talked about a million things, including how he manages in his little space with only a few machines and his knowledge and instinct instead of the big offices with four machines doing the same operation as they have in the US. (He said it's because the doctors are afraid of being sued before I could get it out of my mouth.) We talked about the H1B visa situation, which a student and I had discussed from an Economist article (April 12, 2008, in case you're interested) just this past week. The conversation went everywhere all the while I was looking in the right direction, sitting very still and being somewhat apprehensive. It was wonderful to hear him give the details of my surgeries, including correct dates, and praise for Dr. Lee's work. I know she is highly regarded; it is nice to have that confirmed this way. And the diagnosis? Everything's great. No worries. What a relief.
If you're interested, he gave me an alternative to taking pills for eye health: cut up some carrots, put in a couple spoons of sugar and lemon juice, then add olive oil and stir. Then, of course, eat regularly. This gives all the important vitamins and supplements I could get at a lekarna (chemist/pharmacist). I also walked out with new sunglasses. I came without mine, and am missing them more every time the sun shines. I was just about to buy some on the street (my favorite store in any town!) and had hesitated because I knew that wasn't good for my eyes. How right I was. He actually came out to fit just the right pair to my eyes. I will say that I would never pay that for sunglasses in the US! Knowing my eyes are protected correctly is a good thing. Although the wait was VERY long, it was worth every minute. What an great morning.
There was time for more strolling, including two relatively small public gardens with roses in full bloom. I'd seen the bushes earlier and knew they were only a few weeks away from full color. Today was definitely one of the best days. And then yet another choice -- home to a nearly empty refrigerator or a stop at a cafe near the river. You can guess which won! Perfect ending to a lovely morning.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Accidental Sightings
Cobblestones can be wonderful. They present endless variety of colors, patterns, opportunities to stumble, unexpected sights -- pleasant and unpleasant, and often a chance for reflection. Because a serious fall is not something I wish to invite, I find myself looking down more consistently than usual. This was a very good week to keep my eyes on the stones! Some of the unexpected pleasures - - -
A snail whose shell was quite large, larger than the circle of my thumb and middle finger, patiently making its way from the road side of the stones to a lovely grassy area opposite. (S)he was almost there. Considering the distance of the journey in snail terms, the end was in sight but still required quite a bit of traveling. I could not begin to imagine where the journey began. The road behind was a busy four-lane major access. How could it be that none of those tires ended the snail's slow and measured trip? I stopped to watch for a few moments (one of the rewards of being a bit early most of the time) and could not discern any progress at all. Naturally I stopped again on my return trip. Not a snail in sight. I even checked the high grass. I'm glad I didn't see it -- that meant no harm had come, at least on the unprotected cobblestone walkway. And the reflection -- I'm sure you're there ahead of me. I still find myself thinking about journeys, setting out without knowing the end, patience, and just doing what needs to be done.
A young woman cradling her pet in her arms as she walked along a very busy sidewalk. She was crooning and stroking, admiring and enjoying. From a distance it looked as though she had a new puppy, all black and probably pretty cute. And then they were right in front of me. It was a black piglet! Talk about surprises. The piglet and the young woman seemed to be enjoying themselves equally. And they certainly gave me another smile in my day. Prague is a city which loves its dogs! This was a new (to me) variation on the theme. Dogs are everywhere, totally well behaved, often entertaining, and treated like members of the family (sometimes that's good, sometimes not). I wonder if I'll get to see the pig again. The reflection -- I probably haven't seen everything yet; it's wise to maintain a good balance between keeping track of the immediate (looking down) and keeping an eye on the long view (looking up and around); and yes, we each have our own ideas of enjoyment.
Trams in trouble at during commuting time -- not a pretty sight. As I waited for my correct number at a busy tram junction in the middle of several very busy highways, it became apparent that the one sitting on the tracks was not going anywhere soon. My view expanded -- there were others standing still, and they had not yet reached their stops. Clearly the power wasn't working. One of the advantages (also a huge disadvantage) of knowing so little of the language is that there are great gaps in my knowledge of what's happening. That means I can create my own internal version! People were wiggling, squirming, and talking with each other. Some were leaning out of the doors to look around. One "in charge" gentleman from the second coach got out and came to talk with (or perhaps to) the driver. After some time, one, then two, and finally nearly everyone on the trams got off, obviously to find some other way to work. A few resolute folks stayed put! They had a seat and they were not relinquishing it until they were told to. Actually, they may have grabbed a seat when the exodus began. You've guessed the outcome: when the tram was nearly empty the power returned, everyone still in the vicinity scurried to get back on, and the day continued as usual. As for me, I stayed put till my own tram came. The reflection: when is it right to wait and when is action required? And do we ever really know until after the fact? What about leading and following? Where is the line between taking care of yourself and watching out for others? And sometimes there are no known alternatives -- I didn't have a clue how else I could have gotten to my destination. That means I get no points at all for staying put.
Three beautiful private courtyards glimpsed at separate times only because the driveway gates were open. The timing was perfect -- I was at the right spot at just the right time (I acknowledge with continuous gratitude how often that has been the case for me in life as well!) to have full view behind the ordinary facade. As I have noted so often before, in Prague, "ordinary" takes on new significance for me! Each was very different: one had red brick pavers surrounding a covered flower garden, another was mostly lush grass with a few low flowering bushes, and the third an open area with unusual -- to me -- small trees providing privacy for the various doorways. Apartment buildings here are built right up to the street -- the open spaces are enclosed within the rectangle. No front yards here. Privacy is well maintained. There is individuality and often great beauty on the street side. Frequently, however, there is a magical world on the inside. If only I could have gone in and seen the whole, perhaps even looked down from an upper story flat. Again, obvious reflections: our seeming obsession with outward appearance and the magic of discovering unknown individuality behind the "street side" of a person; the apparent randomness and chaos of life's conjunctions; and most especially, the importance of tending my own garden.
I'm still looking up and around while also watching my step. It's another week. I wonder what sightings are just waiting for me to happen by and appreciate their contribution to my life.
A snail whose shell was quite large, larger than the circle of my thumb and middle finger, patiently making its way from the road side of the stones to a lovely grassy area opposite. (S)he was almost there. Considering the distance of the journey in snail terms, the end was in sight but still required quite a bit of traveling. I could not begin to imagine where the journey began. The road behind was a busy four-lane major access. How could it be that none of those tires ended the snail's slow and measured trip? I stopped to watch for a few moments (one of the rewards of being a bit early most of the time) and could not discern any progress at all. Naturally I stopped again on my return trip. Not a snail in sight. I even checked the high grass. I'm glad I didn't see it -- that meant no harm had come, at least on the unprotected cobblestone walkway. And the reflection -- I'm sure you're there ahead of me. I still find myself thinking about journeys, setting out without knowing the end, patience, and just doing what needs to be done.
A young woman cradling her pet in her arms as she walked along a very busy sidewalk. She was crooning and stroking, admiring and enjoying. From a distance it looked as though she had a new puppy, all black and probably pretty cute. And then they were right in front of me. It was a black piglet! Talk about surprises. The piglet and the young woman seemed to be enjoying themselves equally. And they certainly gave me another smile in my day. Prague is a city which loves its dogs! This was a new (to me) variation on the theme. Dogs are everywhere, totally well behaved, often entertaining, and treated like members of the family (sometimes that's good, sometimes not). I wonder if I'll get to see the pig again. The reflection -- I probably haven't seen everything yet; it's wise to maintain a good balance between keeping track of the immediate (looking down) and keeping an eye on the long view (looking up and around); and yes, we each have our own ideas of enjoyment.
Trams in trouble at during commuting time -- not a pretty sight. As I waited for my correct number at a busy tram junction in the middle of several very busy highways, it became apparent that the one sitting on the tracks was not going anywhere soon. My view expanded -- there were others standing still, and they had not yet reached their stops. Clearly the power wasn't working. One of the advantages (also a huge disadvantage) of knowing so little of the language is that there are great gaps in my knowledge of what's happening. That means I can create my own internal version! People were wiggling, squirming, and talking with each other. Some were leaning out of the doors to look around. One "in charge" gentleman from the second coach got out and came to talk with (or perhaps to) the driver. After some time, one, then two, and finally nearly everyone on the trams got off, obviously to find some other way to work. A few resolute folks stayed put! They had a seat and they were not relinquishing it until they were told to. Actually, they may have grabbed a seat when the exodus began. You've guessed the outcome: when the tram was nearly empty the power returned, everyone still in the vicinity scurried to get back on, and the day continued as usual. As for me, I stayed put till my own tram came. The reflection: when is it right to wait and when is action required? And do we ever really know until after the fact? What about leading and following? Where is the line between taking care of yourself and watching out for others? And sometimes there are no known alternatives -- I didn't have a clue how else I could have gotten to my destination. That means I get no points at all for staying put.
Three beautiful private courtyards glimpsed at separate times only because the driveway gates were open. The timing was perfect -- I was at the right spot at just the right time (I acknowledge with continuous gratitude how often that has been the case for me in life as well!) to have full view behind the ordinary facade. As I have noted so often before, in Prague, "ordinary" takes on new significance for me! Each was very different: one had red brick pavers surrounding a covered flower garden, another was mostly lush grass with a few low flowering bushes, and the third an open area with unusual -- to me -- small trees providing privacy for the various doorways. Apartment buildings here are built right up to the street -- the open spaces are enclosed within the rectangle. No front yards here. Privacy is well maintained. There is individuality and often great beauty on the street side. Frequently, however, there is a magical world on the inside. If only I could have gone in and seen the whole, perhaps even looked down from an upper story flat. Again, obvious reflections: our seeming obsession with outward appearance and the magic of discovering unknown individuality behind the "street side" of a person; the apparent randomness and chaos of life's conjunctions; and most especially, the importance of tending my own garden.
I'm still looking up and around while also watching my step. It's another week. I wonder what sightings are just waiting for me to happen by and appreciate their contribution to my life.
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