Keri and Fleur
Old Town Prague
Jewish Cemetery
GRACÍAS A DIOS POR CREAR EL TACO!
Praha again
Our Group
The addition of Scottish, aka Ali
Herror Blog-buddy,so glad you could pop by for a good 5 minutes of entertainment, or ranting. Whatever you prefer to call it :)
To jump right into things, I have had a week long fall break from school after 1 month of working. Fabulous. This was no MEA weekend, or "fall break" from college, which entails only 2 days off from school with minimal traveling possibilities, this is a full blown break. The first weekend off, my friend Keri and I decided to ditch the city and all of it's azn tourists to kick back in the countryside with some quiet time, mountain views, and the fresh waft of cow manure every time we went outside. We took a train to Bad Ischl, a small village in Oberösterreich (Upper Austria, for all you non-german speakers) which was the summer residence of Kaiser (King) Franz Josef. We arrived, had some delicious goulash, and set in for a night filled with story upon story upon story of the "good old days", many a Wisconsin themed tall tale and the lovely bickering that only grandparents could have so perfected after decades of living together. After fulfilling our duty as good house guests, we retired to enjoy some of Jim Gaffigan's finest standup...if you haven't seen it, do so. We were crying from laughing so hard.
The next day, we discovered town a bit, grabbed a Zauner's kaffee und kuchen (oder einfach eine schöne, rosarote Süßigkeit, it was PURE sugar!), matching dresses (OBVI because they were the dream), and lacked no fresh air. On Sunday we made it over to the Attersee to help out the g-rents with some raking, and while it was rainy and cloudy, it remains one of the most beautiful places on this earth. Monday, after making it to the bank to sort out yet another card not making it to my doorstep, we drove back to Salzburg in the SNOW...a random random sight, since there has been no snow since!
After recharging for one day, and one day only, I decided that an eastern european tour would be the cure to all of my ailments of frustration with the job and an insatiable wanderlust that plagued my the week before. On Wednesday at noon, a group of us, Keri (the blonde bombshell from St. Louis/Maine/Boston/no one knows quite where), Fleur (a Durham Uni 3 language lover), Dave (the standup comedian from Oxford/Wales, and self-proclaimed "Most English Man Alive"), Brookyln-ite Italian-American turned German lover Nick, excuse me, Nebbe (coming from Nebulous Nick, shortened to Nebbie by none other than Dave), and when we got to Budapest we met up with Ali the short, scottish sassmonkey who keeps us on our toes(!), but before I get to that part of the journey, we left for Prague from the Salzburg Mainstation around two destined for Praha at 9.
We stopped in Linz to change trains, and headed towards the unknown...aka former Eastern Bloc countries. After we had made it to the Czech countryside and seen some of the beautiful rolling hills and pink sunset over the landscape, we sat excited in our cart, ready to arrive to one of the most well known cities in Europe, and party central, Praha. After a while, one of the Czech conductors opened our the door to our cabin and grunted, "You must get out when we stop, we go in bus to other train station." We sat flabbergasted at this bit of information. We had only signed up to go in a train, we made sure to ask the people in Salzburg that we would NOT change trains to a bus, and here we were, changing from a train to a bus. This is when the movie scene from all the WWII movies popped into our heads, we had to grab our bags (ONLY BRING THINGS YOU CAN CARRY) to get off at an unknown place, having absolutely no clue as to where we were, and had to climb over the empty railroad tracks in the cool night's air to a large bus. We got on the bus and tried to ask where we were, and after getting two strong grunts "No" after asking if one of the men next to us spoke German or English, we drove off into the Czech countryside. No, we did not go to a random grave to be thrown into, but we did pull up into a mysteriously lit and random train station through the fog of the cool Czech night, and crossed the tracks one more time to hop on to another train, hoping that it was in fact destined for Praha central station.
Needless to say, we MADE IT. We took a taxi from the main station to our hostel, the Czech Inn, and upon arrival, were asked if we would like to check in. HA. Ha.
Prague is immensely beautiful, full of wonderful colors and buildings, and our hostel was staffed with wonderful people (one from MN! WOOT WOOT!). We decided to go on a free tour (you can, of course, donate and should donate to the tour guides, who are fab), and from Filip, our czech-spert, we learned so much about the history and cultural goodies that are down the streets of Prague and left in the buildings and monuments. We ended up going back the next day to see the Charles Bridge (a bridge with at least a dozen statues on it) and to the Jewish Museum, which was haunting and beautiful at the same time.
The museum has an entire floor's walls donated to the victims of WWII, stating their names, date of birth, what village they came from and where they died. I saw some victims who died at the age of 11. It was an incredibly powerful and moving statement since there was an entire FLOOR donated to this, walls that were covered in tiny script from ceiling to floor. I was emotional because they also had a list of concentration camps and places where people were killed, and saw that Riga was on there. Riga, is where my grandmother is originally born and raised in her young life, but was forced to leave because of the incoming forces trying to take over. I had only begun to dip into her knowledge last time I got to spend time with her about what it was like during this time, and cannot actually imagine what it was like to live through it.
In the upstairs of the building, there was an exhibition on the art done during WWII in the camps by the children, who were taught how to draw, which was also moving. It is interesting what we choose to remember...happy times, simple days, and family seemed to be main themes.
After spending a bit more time wandering through the cemetery and leaving a wish on the wishing wall, we headed home to get ready for our big day trip to Budapest! The 7 hour train ride from Prague to Budapest was flat, boring, and pretty dull. Slovakia, I can assure you, is not the most beautiful country, and that the Czech Republic and Hungary are beauties in comparison! We did have a special surprise waiting for us in Hungary...a special little scottish surprise! Ali met us in the trainstation before heading off to our next destination...the hostel.
Hungary was an interesting meeting of east and west, and after being locked out of our hostel (not NEARLY as nice as in Prague) and drinking czech beers to drown our sorrows, we did find some fabulous food and drink in the city. What was most exciting was finding a BURRITO place with real guacamole, refried beans and chips! MMMMM
NOW onto the good stuff, Hungary was pretty low key, saw many beautiful buildings and scenery, did some things, but I was mainly ready to get home because we had to work this week too. So, I decided to take the train back on Monday morning with the boys. Being an honorary bro, this was not too difficult, but it was a bit of a problem when I left my brand new pink bag on the train. I was so tired from sight seeing, lack of sleep and traveling that I simply forgot the bag that contained my clothes, makeup and jewlery. I made it home to remember that this had happened, and quickly asked my roommate Patricia if she could lend me her bike since taking the bus would've been another 40 minute trip, and I rode as quickly as possible over the Salzach river to the other side of the bridge to get to the Hauptbahnhof (train station) asap. Unfortunately, Patricia's bike is not the best bike. To get her brakes to work I had to squeeze as hard as I possibly could (which actually HURT my hands) to get an almost complete stop. This is unfortunate because I was cut off by a bus going into a round about, and instead of plowing into traffic or the construction surrounding said round about, I tried to get up on the sidewalk. No go. The tires were far too thin to make it up, and I ended up WIPING out on the sidewalk, the bus didn't stop, no cars stopped, but 2 german tourists did stop. So, I had to walk to the Bahnhof with ripped tights, a bruised ego, and a bleeding knee to find out that my bag was nowhere to be found and that I would have to call back later in the week.
Alas, there is still no bag, but the bloodied knee and swollen ankle have started to heal. Thank goodness. After having a puppy, I'm used to losing stuff, so as sad as it is to know that things that had sentimental value are now lost forever, I am just trying to let go. Letting go has been increasingly difficult these past few months, especially since so many things have gone wrong. First the visa, then the bank cards getting lost, now losing my stuff and having issues STILL with my schedule...sometimes I just wish things WOULD be easy. I am tired of learning all of these lessons the hard way, and tired of things going wrong. It has been an incredibly hard week with getting back to the reality of teaching kids, being injured, and having lost my things. There are just some things which push you over the edge...which would be easier in your own country, in your own language, and with a strong support network. I appreciate all the people that I am with here, but part of me just continues to wonder if I should've listened to my gut and stayed home.
I had to come here though, even if it was a start, because I had to conquer my fear of coming back to the place where many of my fears started. I had to come back to know that in some sense, I have changed and overcome so many things in the past two years, that I might have never overcome had I stayed home. I know that I have made huge steps and that I have a big fan club behind me, and yet part of me still feels so terribly and utterly alone in my experience. I have counted out the days until my next appointment for the doctor. 54 days. 54 days to live, to continue to be in remission, to continue to be a person and not a patient, to not have to stroll through the doors of the oncology building pretending that I am completely unscathed by everything that has happened, and to not sit in the fear that things have somehow come back. This is not anyone's normal fear, and I envy the ignorance that is bliss in this situation, and can only continue to pray and maintain the idea that I am fine, I am cured, and that I will move forward, not backwards.
So, I guess I leave this post with a giant question mark. I don't know which way is up or down, but I do know that I cannot continue to sit around and wait for things to get better, because half if it lies in my power. Where to find the energy and strength to do this, is the real question, but it will come from somewhere.
It always does.
Sending you lots of hugs and love!
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