Greetings from the laundromat once again. My long silence is occasioned by an internet wasteland! Still no regular service on my own computer, though we're getting closer to the solution. Yes, it's been very difficult psychologically and emotionally. I'm frequently reminded of my grandmother and her cross country trek to make the Oklahoma Run(s). Makes me look like a spoiled child in comparison.
So much to say, so many wonderful things happening, such great experiences, and the usual limits of time and space. The question is where to begin. Certainly not at the beginning. . . . .
A quick "Reader's Digest" version of life in the past six weeks or so. (Sorry for the silence -- you would have enjoyed accompanying me on so many of the everyday adventures)
It is fascinating to watch the similarities of life even though there has been a partial turn of the globe. I've already been made very aware of the slight, but noticeable difference in the length of the days (or lack thereof, as I'm seeing it now). Have I already mentioned that we are at 50 degrees N, which I believe is a bit farther than any continental US city? That meant that I walked home after 10 p.m. in the summer while it was still soft light. And now? I come home in near darkness, even when I am just returning at 7 p.m. from a class -- there really is a difference! AND we haven't reached Dec. 21 yet!
Another "same but different"? -- the change of seasons. I must admit to some serious nostalgia for October in New England, for hearing Don Kent or John Quill (followed by others, of course) keep us up to date on how far south the peak color had travelled. Though I wouldn't tell my Czech friends, in my current surroundings I've seen nothing approaching the explosion and brilliance of the colors. And yes, I do miss it.
The second "same but different" is happening with the "fall back". This being the last Sunday in October, we turn our clocks back an hour tonight. And you have one more week before you get that extra hour of sleep.
As for the teaching routine -- it just keeps getting better. I walk around each day under a silver cloud of gratitude. I am nearly incapable of listing all the various ways I am blessed just to be here -- opportunity/timing, health, the encouragement of family and friends, each heading with numerous subheadings. The list goes on and on. But then there is the topic of StJ. I continue to feel so fortunate that we chose each other.
The contract/term is from September to June, and I am sure I mentioned that many companies stop English lessons over the summer. Not only did most of "my" companies continue, I was able to teach some wonderful students employed by other companies while their teachers were away. I taught nearly as many summer hours as during the regular term. And to think I had been concerned.
Now that we're in the next full term, I've been given several new classes with terrific students. The Client Relations Managers (folks who work with the clients then assign classes to the teachers) have been SO good to me. They have intentionally given me classes back-to-back at several sites. Not only does that mean I make one trip to/from and get paid for two classes, it also means there is less running around. (And I've been good to them in return -- my students like my teaching which, of course, brings in more business!)
One of my new students is a translator for a German/Czech company. He's Czech, spent years teaching German at post-high school level, and is now in a position in which he works directly with the Board of Directors. Another is in charge of HR in seven countries for an American pharmaceutical company. A third is a partner in a company which invests in or buys companies to make them profitable or help them grow. The only "problem" with having students such as this is that they travel a lot for their work, so sometimes we don't have our lesson. But what a grand time I have talking with them. Each of them is advanced, a fascinating conversationalist, and eager to bring in or simply discuss things they've read/heard. I certainly anticipate their lessons each week. I also have several advanced students from last term. SO glad they have continued with me.
And speaking of advanced students - - - In October I began my own version StJ's Pub Night. The name is not entirely fitting because we met in Zofin Garden, a lovely, upscale restaurant at the rear of Zofin Palace, home to many historic concerts, exhibits, and sophisticated evenings. The site is an island in the Vlatava river, just a short bridge away from the main street alongside the River, which leads to Charles Bridge, Old Town, and then across the river to the Lesser Quarter. Four other advanced students work for Zatisi Group, the company which received the contract to be the "restaurant" for this new site. Of course they felt this would be the best place for us to meet. And instead of being dark and smoky (a pub), the evening was bright and spring-like (a Newport or Ascot tent setting). Pub Night (mine, that is) is an opportunity for any of my students (also students of other colleagues if they're interested) to gather for food/drink, and social conversation. Only requirement is that they are able to converse freely in English. And how the talk did jump around. Everyone who could attend was so pleased with the night, and as for me, it was great to hear/see. We'll do this once a month. I'm so glad to be a part of it.
In keeping with my resolve of doing something each weekend that I could not do in the US, last weekend I took tram 22, aka the Tourist Tram because it winds its way through so many historic sights, right through the middle of the Lesser Quarter, up the hills and around the curves to Prague Castle, past Brevnov Monastery, and on to Bila Hora (White Mountain), site of the first decisive battle of the Thirty Years' War. (The Protestants lost.) The site itself is unremarkable. I could not help but think, however, about the bloodshed, loss, destruction and death brought about in the name of religion. And -- by the way -- this battle occurred the same year the Pilgrims landed in Boston.
The other outstanding memory of that trip is watching scores of families flying their kites in a park at least several acres square, its trees providing the outer rim, giving free rein to myriad colors, multiple shapes, and lots of bright jackets from toddler to grandparent size. What fun, even if only watching.
Oh my, this has become long. At least you know all is well here -- except a dependable internet connection, that is. More later. . .
Showing posts with label Similar and different; Charles Bridge; Pragers; Prague Buildings;. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Similar and different; Charles Bridge; Pragers; Prague Buildings;. Show all posts
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Friday, March 21, 2008
One of these things . . .
is not like the other.
Are you fortunate enough to have a bit of Sesame Street in your background? I certainly am. And a song that keeps playing in my head is "One of these things is not like the other, one of these things just doesn't belong." It was a great guessing game while watching the program. It's just not so easy now.
It's not easy even if the topic is broadened to "similar and different." This gives the opportunity for a larger grouping, and with those two headings, everything could belong. It's definitely not so exclusionary! Whatever, whoever, you belong, you are in one of them.
Right now it is tough to keep up with the weather. One day it is spring. I remember what that is like; I know the checklist for a spring day. Bright, clear, Tarheel-blue sky, fluffy clouds, and of course the forsythia spreading cheer everywhere they've been allowed to root. And yes, we have had some of those days. Really magnificent. I don't understand how light is filtered differently in each of the seasons, but those days do lend an extra glow to even the most ordinary of buildings here.
Then there is the checklist for winter. And it is definitely different. Leaden skies, dense clouds that look like a dark tarp instead of individual formations, wind that whips around corners and seems to glue your feet to the cobblestones. And let's not forget the snow. Tiny flakes, huge flakes, gentle, or so heavy it is nearly impossible to see the buildings across the street.
There's a normal progression of things -- seasons follow each other, usually with a few days out of order to remind us what has been and what will come. Then there are the past few days. No normal progression with this! Read for a few minutes, then lift your eyes to a totally white world. Get on a tram feeling frozen, then get off a few stops later to brilliant sunshine. It has been amazing to watch.
I remember my first few years in NC hearing someone say "but this weather is really unusual" so often the phrase called attention to itself and made me wonder if a "usual" existed. And now - - - You guessed it! I'm hearing "this weather is really unusual" again. And I am off balance. The calendar says it is spring; the weather feels like the coldest yet, and it is definitely the most days of wind/snow for me. It "just doesn't belong."
There are always the moments when people seem to gravitate to one category or another. It is very difficult to forget the older man who fell getting onto a tram. Although Pragers will say of themselves they are very private, I will add they are also very polite, very helpful to those who need it, and appear either to withhold judgments or at least keep them private. As the man missed the step and stumbled over, three men immediately moved to help him. When it became apparent the fall was caused by way too much to drink, the assistance did not change. The same concern, the same care. It was easy to determine which behavior was "different". And the "similar" group is large: a quick response when help is needed -- a seat, a door, a little extra time.
And there are always the buildings! "Not like the others" is an understatement when used to describe the "Dancing House" at the edge of the Vlatava, just down the street from the Charles Bridge. (If you're curious, check out Dancing House on Wikipedia -- where else, of course, then click the first link for a 360 degree panoramic photo. It's awesome!). It was begun in 1992, has won architectural awards, and seems to be settling into the skyline and landscape just fine.
The Charles Bridge fits in both categories. It's definitely different -- one of a kind, almost mythic proportions to me. It's hard for my American mind/perspective to imagine taking for granted something which has been in place since the middle of the 14th century. And I still cannot walk over it without marveling at its past and being curious about its stories. At the same time it is similar -- it is just "one more bridge" over the river, altho' the only one with only foot traffic; its lines fit right into all the "newcomers" which surround it; and it is utilitarian -- a shortcut to get from one side to the other and a link between two very similar settings. Buildings which are centuries old inhabited by companies and people who are very much 21st century.
The list is endless -- so many little moments which jump into one group or another, then others which require considerable thought to find some semblance of order. Perhaps the grace and charm of "similar and different" is that we are allowed to move, sometimes seamlessly, sometimes not so easily, from one group to another, even if only in our own minds.
It's time to make sense of another day -- what is similar, what is different, and what are my choices.
Are you fortunate enough to have a bit of Sesame Street in your background? I certainly am. And a song that keeps playing in my head is "One of these things is not like the other, one of these things just doesn't belong." It was a great guessing game while watching the program. It's just not so easy now.
It's not easy even if the topic is broadened to "similar and different." This gives the opportunity for a larger grouping, and with those two headings, everything could belong. It's definitely not so exclusionary! Whatever, whoever, you belong, you are in one of them.
Right now it is tough to keep up with the weather. One day it is spring. I remember what that is like; I know the checklist for a spring day. Bright, clear, Tarheel-blue sky, fluffy clouds, and of course the forsythia spreading cheer everywhere they've been allowed to root. And yes, we have had some of those days. Really magnificent. I don't understand how light is filtered differently in each of the seasons, but those days do lend an extra glow to even the most ordinary of buildings here.
Then there is the checklist for winter. And it is definitely different. Leaden skies, dense clouds that look like a dark tarp instead of individual formations, wind that whips around corners and seems to glue your feet to the cobblestones. And let's not forget the snow. Tiny flakes, huge flakes, gentle, or so heavy it is nearly impossible to see the buildings across the street.
There's a normal progression of things -- seasons follow each other, usually with a few days out of order to remind us what has been and what will come. Then there are the past few days. No normal progression with this! Read for a few minutes, then lift your eyes to a totally white world. Get on a tram feeling frozen, then get off a few stops later to brilliant sunshine. It has been amazing to watch.
I remember my first few years in NC hearing someone say "but this weather is really unusual" so often the phrase called attention to itself and made me wonder if a "usual" existed. And now - - - You guessed it! I'm hearing "this weather is really unusual" again. And I am off balance. The calendar says it is spring; the weather feels like the coldest yet, and it is definitely the most days of wind/snow for me. It "just doesn't belong."
There are always the moments when people seem to gravitate to one category or another. It is very difficult to forget the older man who fell getting onto a tram. Although Pragers will say of themselves they are very private, I will add they are also very polite, very helpful to those who need it, and appear either to withhold judgments or at least keep them private. As the man missed the step and stumbled over, three men immediately moved to help him. When it became apparent the fall was caused by way too much to drink, the assistance did not change. The same concern, the same care. It was easy to determine which behavior was "different". And the "similar" group is large: a quick response when help is needed -- a seat, a door, a little extra time.
And there are always the buildings! "Not like the others" is an understatement when used to describe the "Dancing House" at the edge of the Vlatava, just down the street from the Charles Bridge. (If you're curious, check out Dancing House on Wikipedia -- where else, of course, then click the first link for a 360 degree panoramic photo. It's awesome!). It was begun in 1992, has won architectural awards, and seems to be settling into the skyline and landscape just fine.
The Charles Bridge fits in both categories. It's definitely different -- one of a kind, almost mythic proportions to me. It's hard for my American mind/perspective to imagine taking for granted something which has been in place since the middle of the 14th century. And I still cannot walk over it without marveling at its past and being curious about its stories. At the same time it is similar -- it is just "one more bridge" over the river, altho' the only one with only foot traffic; its lines fit right into all the "newcomers" which surround it; and it is utilitarian -- a shortcut to get from one side to the other and a link between two very similar settings. Buildings which are centuries old inhabited by companies and people who are very much 21st century.
The list is endless -- so many little moments which jump into one group or another, then others which require considerable thought to find some semblance of order. Perhaps the grace and charm of "similar and different" is that we are allowed to move, sometimes seamlessly, sometimes not so easily, from one group to another, even if only in our own minds.
It's time to make sense of another day -- what is similar, what is different, and what are my choices.
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