This is how I spent the last week:

Sunday:  I returned from a four day visit to my old stomping grounds in Poland.  It was really a two day visit, because I had to travel 22 hours by train to get from Prague to Szczecin, and 18 hours to come back.  I got home in the early evening and just spent a quiet evening at home, getting ready for my classes the next day and turning in early to get over my choo-choo lag.

Monday:  The alarm went off at 6 a.m., and I had an hour to get ready for my hour long commute.  The bulk of my commute now is a straight shot on the metro, so I brought along a book that I just started reading… a thriller called “Along Came a Spider”… not exactly great literature, but it keeps me absorbed and entertained during the journey.  I got to the airport half an hour before my class so that I could grab breakfast in the cantina, because after my trip, I didn’t have any food in the house.  But a long queue in the cantina meant that I only had 10 minutes to slurp down my breakfast and grab my course materials and get them set up.  I hurried to my office with my banana and sweet roll.  On the way, I saw Dascha, the English course co-ordinator.  Hoping to avoid her and any delays, I ducked my head and hurried past, sat down at my desk and began to scarf down my food while simultaneously rifling through my drawer to select the right materials for today’s class.  Just then, as I feared, in came Dascha with all kinds of requests for paperwork, notices of schedule changes and all manner of other business that required me to use my mouth for answering her instead of swallowing my food.  Irritating woman. 

I hurried to my classroom, got everything set up, and began to wait… and wait… and wait.  After an hour, it became apparent that no one was going to show up for class all day (not an unusual occurrence, because the airport employees have to come to English class all day on their day off).  An hour is about the standard time to wait before calling it a day and going home.  So, I dashed off an SMS to my friend, Dana,  to see if she wanted to move up our rendezvous to the early afternoon.  She did, and after going home for lunch, I met her by the horse statue at Wenceslas Square (the standard Prague meeting place) and we walked over to the State Opera House to see what cheap tickets we could nab.  Dana is moving back to Australia in a couple of weeks, and she wants to see as many performances as she can fit in, provided the price is right.  We managed to get $5 tickets for the Cinderella Ballet and for Aida, but were disappointed that Nabucco was sold out.  After that, we proceeded to the Theater of the Estates, where Mozart first conducted Don Giovanni, and we got more $5 tickets to the Goldilocks Ballet (we’re both big on fairy tales). 

We still had half the afternoon left, so we headed off to my favorite café/teahouse called Sudicka, which means “little heart.”  It’s a sweet café in the cellar of an old building, with low, red brick lined, vaulted ceilings, lit by candles and softly glowing floorlamps with a fire going in the fireplace.  Wooden shelves are lined with books, and some of the tables are antique, wooden sewing machines.  We each had a pot of tea served in heavy ceramic pots with tiny, ceramic teacups on quaint wooden trays.  Perusing the menu to entertain ourselves and practice our Czech on the cute, friendly waiter, we noticed a chocolate fondue and gave into temptation.  Piles of strawberries, bananas, pineapple and apple dipped into a rich, dark hot chocolate sauce graced our lively afternoon tete-a-tete and sent my spirits soaring.

We felt like we could have stayed there all afternoon, but I had to hurry off to audit an acting class.  It was in the same place where I had auditioned for Ms. L’s play, so I knew the routine… go to the back of the fruit and vegetable store, turn left, up the winding staircase, out the door, over the roof, down the steep, broken, unlit cement staircase, and into a cement courtyard to the garage-like studio… back entrance.  While waiting for the previous class to end, I got acquainted with some of my would-be classmates.  I was pleasantly surprised to find that cute guy that I’d been paired up with at the audition… and he remembered my name.  Woohoo!  I didn’t know what to expect of the class, and was relieved to discover that I only had to watch.  This course specializes in the Meisner technique, which, in a nutshell, focuses the actors’ attention on each other, helping them to play off each other’s energy and be totally in the moment so that the scenes are real and not contrived.  Three hours later, I was heading home in high spirits, having committed to joining the class. 

At 10 p.m., I finally walked in the door, and with my adrenalin rush still going strong, I didn’t realize that it had gotten to be 3 a.m. before I was tired enough to go to sleep.  What was I doing with that time?  Answering emails, commenting on soulcast, and watching “Dogma” on the internet, among other things. 

Tuesday:  I didn’t have to work, which was fortunate after my late night.   So, I got up late, and then went to the supermarket to stock up on some groceries.  Got back in time to dogsit while my flatmate went off to his teaching job which no longer allows him to bring his malemute to class.  Shortly after he left, I jumped in the tub to get scrubbed up for my evening’s outing.  While I was rinsing the first dose of shampoo out of my hair, I heard what sounded like a werewolf howling.  For a minute, I suspected that moonriver had broken into my flat.   I turned off the water to listen more closely.  Sure enough, someone was howling.  It was the lonely malemute in the hallway.  I must have locked myself in the bathroom too soon after her daddy left for work, and she was feeling abandoned.  I kept calling out to her in what I hoped was a reassuring voice, while I hurried through the rest of my bath.  When I finally emerged from the bathroom, after ten minutes of non-stop howling,  I found her quietly munching on a bone in my flatmate’s room, as if nothing had happened.  Silly dog.  I popped my laundry in the washing machine and got dressed.  When it was almost time for me to leave, my flatmate still wasn’t home.  He must have been running late.  I SMS’d him… “I have to leave at 6, and Eny is howling, so you should hurry home.”  I didn’t think she’d appreciate being abandoned again.  A few minutes later, the flatmate (I call him the Fugitive) was home, and I was out the door. 

I met Dana at the theater, and we enjoyed a hilarious production of the Cinderella ballet.  During the intermission, we went to the bar for a glass of wine (I’ve always wanted to have someone to drink a glass of wine with at one of these events).  Unfortunately, the warning bells came on after we’d only taken a couple of sips (Dana had hit the ladie’s room before we went to the bar), so we had to chug the rest of our wine.  Feeling a bit lightheaded, we returned to our balcony seats in the plush theater for the second half. 

After the ballet, we went to a nearby restaurant and sat in comfy white sofa-like chairs while we had some nachos.  People… we are experienced expats.  Please do not try this at home (eating Czech nachos).  The nachos, a plate of tortilla chips with melted emmenthal cheese (no jalapenos) came with two gravy boats of sauce.  One was suspiciously similar to Hollandaise sauce, and the other could have been nothing other than Chinese sweet and sour sauce!  

Wednesday:  The alarm went off at 6.  Another hour long commute.  Another cancelled day.  But this time, I’d have to return at 3:45 p.m. to teach a weekly 90-minute class with my favorite students.  I went home, and since it was a bright and sunny day, I went out to photograph some of the architectural wonders in my immediate neighborhood.  I didn’t get very far before the battery died in my camera, so I went back home to recharge it and take a nap.  I also managed to prepare an actual meal for myself… something that doesn’t happen very often these days. 

When my afternoon class was over, I had to hustle out of there to get to my acting class on time.  I didn’t know how long it was going to take, but it was a long haul, and I didn’t want to be late.  Getting away from my students was quite a trick, though.  One of the guys is a non-stop talker, and he has caused me to miss my bus on more than one occasion, including moving day.  I was determined that that wouldn’t happen this time.  They seemed hurt that I was closing things down so quickly and accused me of wanting to escape, but I explained that I had to get to another class. 

I made it there 20 minutes early, and everything was dark and locked up.  Some of my other classmates showed up, but the place was still locked.  It was too cold to wait outside, so one of the students, an Irish guy, and I went across the street for a cup of tea.  We only had time to order and take a couple of sips of the hot tea before it was time to race back to class, and I observed that students who arrived late were being fined!   Toward the end of the class, I and another newbie got to do an exercise that consisted of simply repeating exactly what the other person had said to us… over and over again.  At the end of class, announcements were made.  There’s going to be a Christmas party on the 14th!  Yay!  This class is shaping up to be the community that I’ve been looking for.  In addition to two classes a week, we’re expected to rehearse with another student at least twice a week.  Lots of interaction with the other students.

Thursday:  I had to teach a couple of private lessons starting at 9:30.   The first student has been coming for a while, and we have a nice, easy rapport.  I was meeting the second student for the first time.  She’s an older woman (in her 60’s) who owns an antique shop, and she likes to talk about antiques and taught me a lot about history and the art deco era, the parallels between European and American culture in the roaring 20’s, etc.  I’m going to have fun preparing for this lady’s classes. 

I spent most of the afternoon dealing with more internet connection problems and went to the store to get a CD so I could copy a movie that I had saved on my hard drive and finally get it off of there to make more room and hopefully speed up my computer.  That, and some other maneuvers seemed to do the trick, but it was time consuming.  I treated myself for my hard work by watching multiple episodes of “Friends” and other old TV shows on www.alluc.org.  It’s a great site, if you like to see movies and TV episodes in their entirety.

Friday:  Another late morning.  I managed to get my butt out the dog on this foggy and drizzly morning and go to buy some shampoo, conditioner and toilet paper, all of which I desperately needed.  A shower and hairscrubbing brought me into the afternoon, while I lazily waited for Ms. L to let me know when she was coming over for some help with the internet.  She ended up emailing to let me know she had gotten most of it taken care of and wouldn’t be coming over, and invited me to join her on Saturday night, giving only the name of the place, the address and the time.  I had no idea what she was inviting me to. 

Now, all I had left to do that afternoon was to go out and buy tickets for a play that Dana and I were thinking about going to that evening.  We’d agreed that, if I didn’t get around to it, we would just wing it and hope there were tickets available.  I didn’t get around to it.  Just like I didn’t get around to going to the used furniture stores under the bridge to look for an old floor lamp (I’ve been getting by on candlelight since my overhead light fixture burned out a few weeks ago…it’s too high for me to reach and change the light bulb). 

That night, I met Dana at our pre-arranged meeting point, a tram stop north of the river.  Our plan was to track down a teahouse in an old tower that I had gone to the first time I was in Prague.  We wandered around for half an hour or so before we found it, but we enjoyed exploring the neighborhood.  The tower was as dark and forbidding as it had been a year ago, and you would never know there was a teahouse in it except for a letter sized sheet of paper tacked up on the stone wall surrounding the tower.  The paper sign was printed on a computer and laminated… quite an improvement over last year’s sign, which had been scribbled out illegibly in pencil on a sheet of spiral notebook paper.  We climbed the four flights of stairs round the inside of the square tower and opened the door into a warm and inviting teahouse, where we were invited to shed our boots and have our pick of any table in the place.  It seemed that we were the first to arrive.  Our choices included comfy sofas, small wooden tables and padded chairs, and low tables with cushions on the floor in, all fitting in delightfully with the Buddhist/Hindu decor.  We chose a comfy sofa and instead of tea, we each had a glass of white wine.  I think mobil was right, I am turning into a wino!  It was so cozy and comfy in there that we stayed talking for a long time and decided to skip the play.  It was with regret that we finally left… the guys in the teahouse were so nice, they even offered to bring us glasses of water at no charge after we’d finished our wine and said that we didn’t want to order anything else!  (if you’ve never been to Europe, you don’t know what a miracle this is).  But we had decided that it was to be a night of teahouse hopping, so we headed off to the next place… a teahouse in the old town that the Fugitive had recommended to me. 

As we were about to step on the metro train, an English speaking voice addressed us, asking where we were from.  We turned to face a ruggedly handsome American man, with salt and pepper hair.  He apologized for butting in, but said he couldn’t resist the sound of a familiar language.  We all got on the train together, and continued to chat, and it turned out that he’s a journalist from Chicago (near my neck of the woods) and living in Prague.  He and I exchanged a couple of colloquialisms, much to the befuddlement of Australian Dana.  There was much laughter and merriment for the four minutes or so before Dana and I had to get off, and we waved a hearty good-bye to the charming dude that neither of us would ever see again.  The ride was so short that there was no graceful way of getting or giving a phone number.  Dana was convinced that he seemed interested, and I told her that, in the movies, and even in the articles we’ve been reading in my English lessons, the guy would magically appear at our next destination with a bouquet of flowers in his hand, and sweep me off my feet, and we’d live happily ever after.

The next teahouse looked like it came right out of a fairy tale, homey with several rooms under low, white, arched ceilings, the artisan’s handiwork evident in the unevenness of the curves… one room filled with rough-hewn wooden tables and chairs and brocaded booths, another with an odd assortment of armchairs.  In spite of our fairy-tale surroundings, however, Prince Charming never showed up, and I drowned my sorrows with a pot of yerba mate in honor of the late Che Guevara, accompanied by an interesting assortment of mini-pastries (queenparanoia… I’ll try to get the recipes for you!).  We closed the place down, but with the yerba mate coursing through my veins, I wasn’t ready to call it a night yet.  We decided to locate the next teahouse on our list, and it looked intriguing, but we opted to save it for another day, and just kept wandering around the old town, discovering streets and plazas that we’d never seen before.

Dana finally pooped out.  I could have kept going all night, but went home, amazed at how little time it takes to get to my place from the town center.  That yerba mate really packs a wallop, and once again, I found myself up until 3 a.m. puttering around on the internet.  I know, I know, I should have been blogging, but you guys now have competition from all the online movies and TV shows that I can access!

Saturday:  Another late morning.  Ms. L’s mysterious invitation looming ahead of me.  Fog and drizzle.  Need to go shopping.  Need to get a lamp or a light bulb.  Don’t want to leave the warmth and comfort of my sweet room that I’ve decorated so nicely.  I alternate between reading and watching TV shows.  I pop in a DVD of an old Lassie movie with Polish Lektor (the original actors’ voices in the background while some Polish dude reads the script in Polish in the foreground).  I send an SMS to Ms. L… “Thanks for the invite.  Think I’ll spend a quiet nite at home.  When R U coming over for hot chocolate?”  She texts back… “Come tonight!  U’ll meet lots of cool guys”. 

Hmmm, I’d like to meet some cool guys.  But I have no idea what Ms. L has invited me to… she only sent the name and address of the place.  I text back:  “What exactly would I be coming to?”  Her answer:  “Music, poetry, I’ll sing, etc.”  I hesitate.  If she’s going to be singing, who am I going to sit with?  I text her back with my question, hoping to find an excuse not to have to go, but afraid that I might regret it if I don’t.  I was really happy with my decision to stay in.  The texts are coming fast and furious now:  “Miss Muffet is coming, you’ll hang with me.”     I’d like to see Miss Muffet again (she was in the play that I auditioned for… a native of Denver… we got along well).   I hesitate.  Then I take the plunge:  “You’ve convinced me.  Directions, please.”

Later, when I’m getting ready, I do regret having accepted, but once I’m outside, I feel happy, warm and empowered.  I find the place.  It’s a small pub with almost no seating in front of the bar and just a small room off to the side.  I go into the small room and peek in, facing my going-into-a-bar-alone-phobia head on.  There’s just one large table in there full of people I don’t recognize.  I head back out to the bar and text Ms. L.  “I’m here but don’t C U.”  While I’m trying to ask the barmaid, who doesn’t speak much English, if there’s another meeting place, Ms. L pops out of a back room and whisks me away.  There’s a small group of people sitting around some scattered little tables.  Among them is Cabin Boy.  The rest of the faces are new to me.  Ms. L picks up a drum and starts drumming and singing.  It turns out that this is “Irish Night.”  Everybody takes turns singing something or reciting a poem.  People urge me to scoot in a little closer.  I explain my keeping my distance,

“I don’t want to be asked to sing.” 

Cabin Boy laughs, “That’s right, this is the music zone, right here.”

I scoot in but keep my mouth shut.  Cabin Boy is in rare form tonight.  He goes into an absolute flamboyant tizzy when I share my Polish nickname with the group.  A bunch of guys from the bar come in making a lot of noise and disturbing Ms. L’s concentration.  They’re trying to figure out a way to disconnect the speakers in our room, because the bar patrons want to listen to music, but all the speakers in the whole place are connected together.  They can’t seem to find a way to shut our speakers off and still have music in the bar, so they compromise and leave the music on low, but it’s really distracting, so the group decides to head over to Cabin Boy’s flat, but first, we have to wait for some late arrivals.  Miss Muffet finally shows up, and she has a very good looking Canadian artist in tow.  The group splits up, and some take the tram while Ms. L, Miss Muffet, Canadian Artist and I all go on foot.  Ms. L and Miss Muffet are involved in shop talk, so the Canadian Artist and I have a nice conversation about art and travel.  He’s only been in Prague for ten days.  He’d never been to Europe before, so he just picked up and moved to Prague as a good base for exploring the rest of the continent.  That’s the kind of people you meet in this place.

The group was a bit reduced by the time we got to Cabin Boy’s flat, but it was an ecletic and international group… three Irish (Ms. L., Cabin Boy and Dough Boy who was in Ms. L’s play and very kindly remembered my name), two Americans (me and Miss Muffet), the Canadian Artist, an Englishman (Cabin Boy’s flatmate who shall be known as Beowulf), a Slovakian guy and a Czech girl.  Cabin Boy was in the kitchen cooking up a hearty and spicy Korean soup that he served later in the evening.  The aroma wafting into the living room made my empty stomach gurgle. 

The rounds of music and poetry were revolving faster and faster.  Beowulf is quite fond of poetry and honored us with his renditions of poems by Wordsworth or some such thing. ..  I should have been paying more attention.  Cabin Boy had a book of lovely short poems by an Irish woman from which he recited.  Ms. L and Dough Boy charmed us all with their lilting Irish voices.  Dough Boy’s rendition of Danny Boy was breathtaking.  Ms. L even cajoled Miss Muffet into singing a bit of a ditty, and then she started in on me.  I assured everyone that I couldn’t carry a tune, but they wouldn’t let up.

“Surely you must know some songs from Mexico that you could share with us.”

“Nope.”

“Polish songs?”

“Nope.  Just campfire songs.”

They urged me to share one of those, and even though I hadn’t been drinking (most of the others were really socking it away) I finally relented and let them have it with “Bullshit and Onion Gravy.”  They thought it was hysterical, and wanted me to write the words down… couldn’t believe all that foul language came out of my sweet little mouth.  A few more rounds and people started telling jokes.  I told a couple of my favorites, and Cabin Boy said,

“There’s more to you than meets the eye.”  (My personality has a way of creeping up on people when they least expect it).

As the evening became more bawdy, I regaled my companions with some others of my favorite childhood ditties, and they marveled that all this was coming out of me without a drop of alcohol in my gullet.  As things wound down, we watched a few things on youtube on Cabin Boy’s gigantic computer screen.  I directed them to the video of the Muppets’ Beaker singing “Feelings,” and Ms. L rocked and hooted with laughter.  Finally, at around 4:30 in the morning, we all got ourselves together, and Beowulf escorted us to the tram stop so we wouldn’t lose our way.   Home by 5:00, I crawled into bed and slept happily until noon.

Sunday:  When you sleep until noon, there’s not much left of a Prague winter’s day.  The sun goes down at four, and my room starts getting dark at three... two, if it’s cloudy.  I had to scramble to get up, get dressed, go to the supermarket, eat, and clean my room before one of my classmates from my acting class was due to come and rehearse with me at 2:30.  At three, she still hadn’t showed, so I texted asking if she was still coming, and she answered that she was on her way.  We sat and chatted over a cup of tea, getting to know each other.  She arrived in Prague about the same time I did, from England.  A retired librarian, she’s here teaching English like every other expat that I know.  She joined the acting class the same day that I did, and just that weekend, had moved to my neighborhood… very convenient.  We only rehearsed for about ten minutes before she had to go and take care of finishing to install herself in her apartment, but we figured that was probably enough for a first time… an hour and a half of chatting, and ten minutes of rehearsal. 

That night, I had plans to go to the cinema with Pegleg to see the movie “Beowulf” (not to be confused with Cabin Boy’s flatmate, Beowulf.  Pegleg had invited me after turning down my invitation to my birthday gathering (he didn’t respond until a week after the gathering)  From the previous night, I knew that Cabin Boy and Beowulf would also be there.  I arrived at the IMAX theater in the mall in plenty of time, and soon after, my mobile rang.  It was Pegleg wondering where I was.  There was the usual confusion with the English language, and he finally put Cabin Boy on, and it was Cabin Boy who came to meet me and take me back to the restaurant where they were all having a beer.  Much to my surprise and delight, my favorite pirate, Sinbad, was there too!  I hadn’t seen him in about four months, so that was really great.  And he was there with his mythological girlfriend… in the flesh!  Let’s call her the Wench, Molly Bly.  Ms. L had told me that she looked like a female Sinbad, and I could kind of see what she meant, but I’d been picturing someone more like a young Patty Smythe.  Molly Bly is a skinny, little thing with short, brown hair, all angles and flat chested, kind of like me.  I like her.  And I like that Sinbad has a girlfriend that’s built like me. 

We had half an hour before the movie was to start, so everyone headed off to McDonalds for a quick burger.  I abstained, holding strictly to my vegetarian vows.  Good thing I stuffed myself before I came, because I would have been sorely tempted.  Pegleg and Molly Bly wandered off to smoke a couple of joints while the rest of us waited around.  Sinbad was showing some of his drawings to me and Beowulf (the man, not the movie).  He’s really a pretty talented artist.  He does a lot of caricature type drawings, but in great details.  I’m always amazed at their intricacy.  I’m also amazed by the blueness of his eyes contrasted against the long, black ringlets that frame his face, the wispy hairs of the moustache and beard that surround his full, lush lips, the softness and perfection of his fingers… there’s a small cut on one finger… his hands seems to have grown since I’ve seen him last… wonder what else has grown… oops, am I getting off track? 

We headed over to the movie theater, and I let go of any attachment to where I would be sitting, although I kind of hoped to sit next to Pegleg, because I hadn’t had much of a chance to talk to him yet.  It was so good to see him.  He was just so peacefully happy… I guess the pot maybe has something to do with that.  If it does that, it can’t be all bad, can it?  As it was, the seating arrangement turned out thusly… Molly Bly, Pegleg, Cabin Boy, Me, Sinbad, Beowulf.  I was surprised to learn that this was a 3-D movie, and we all had movie star glasses to play with.  Since this was the IMAX theater, the previews were stunning.  An underwater nature film with sharks and barracudas swimming right at you, so close that you could reach out and touch them, then a dinosaur movie with gaping mouths rimmed with daggerous teeth ready to bite your head off.  I didn’t know if I could sit through a whole movie like that, but the effect seemed a bit more subdued in Beowulf.  

After it was over, we walked a few blocks over to a pub and squeezed into a back room.  I struggled to get my coat off, but the zipper was stuck.  I was having a hot flash, so the need became urgent, and Beowulf noticed me struggling and came to my aid.  Phew!  Soon, however, we had to move to another table, because this was a non-smoking room, and Pegleg and Molly Bly wanted to smoke.  There wasn’t a table quite big enough for our whole group, but we found two tables close together.  I remarked that Pegleg was the only one not sitting at our table and Cabin Boy assured me,

“It’s alright… Pegleg is involved with chemistry right now.”  He was rolling a joint.  The conversation was lively.  Beowulf treated us to an analysis of the difference between the movie and the original saga, as he is rather a buff of ancient literature.  Cabin Boy thought the Angelina Jolie character was mesmerizing, but the other women in the film were a bit bland.  He asked the women in the group if  we found Beowulf (in the movie) attractive.  We both said, no, he wasn’t our type.  I’m glad that Cabin Boy didn’t ask us what our type was.  I would have been inclined to point out Sinbad.  I’m afraid that Molly Bly and I have the same taste in men.  Fortunately, I’m now content with my fantasies and just enjoying the smiles and eye candy aspects. 

After one beer, we were all ready to go.  The regular trams had just stopped running, so I had to wait twenty minutes for my tram which took me to a transfer point.  At the transfer point, I realized I’d have to wait another twenty minutes for the second tram, so I decided to walk instead.  It was raining lightly and wasn’t too cool, but I knew I’d be chilled if I just stood there for twenty minutes… better to keep moving.  It was a pleasant walk, and as soon as I got in at one in the morning, I undressed quickly and slipped into bed, sleeping soundly until my alarm went off at 6 a.m., ready for another full day of teaching followed by an acting lesson.

And that, my dears, is what I’ve been up to.