Prague, which was amazing.
K, so, it's been a week of impressive activity. As I said last time, I went to Prague.
When I was studying in Regensburg, if anyone recalls, I went on a trip through Europe for about a month that basically consisted of the wheels in my head spinning absolutely non-fucking-stop. There were incredible highs and really unexpectedly low lows. I would like it to be noted here that Amsterdam was in fact not one of the highs, fun as it was. Well when I started that trip I was feeling emo and lonely and lost and listless. I think that's the most important bit: listless. I've spent a lot of time in my life moving directly towards what is comfortable and then once I'm there, staying there. It's like my camping trip in the mountains in August: I hiked straight into the campsite, put down my stuff, and made token excursions out from the site for about an hour before cooking a dinner and retreating into my sleeping bag in the middle of the afternoon. Basically, I've been stuck in this extremely non-animated state, a very boring state, and a mildly depressed or at the very least extremely detached state, for a long time. In fact, looking back after Prague, I realize there are elements of that state I haven't escaped since the last time I was in Europe.
Well that's done now. I'm back. If anyone recalls, my last post of that trip, "Munich," ended with "I am alive again, I think." Well, now, after an incredible weekend in Prague that brought my mind back to where it was a year and a half ago, seeing the world and the city around me in the way I did after I returned from Munich that last time, I would like to recapitulate the sentiment. It is difficult to explain, and to tell the truth, I'm not sure why it happened. Maybe it was the sensation of walking across that bridge, into the arch underneath that bridgetower, understanding again what it meant every time in Regensburg: I am getting back into the city--through this passageway lies Europe.
Maybe it was walking through the state rooms of the Prague castle, still in use by the Czech government as its executive palace, and again having contact with people that made me feel history. Like watching the changing of the guard.
It was a really unremarkable ceremony (it wasn't the big fancy one, though). Two guys in ceremonial-looking dress uniforms marched in perfect step to the gate, made a series of 90 degree turns, and the guys in the guardhouse sidestepped on command and made way for the new guards. A minute of stretching and mental preparation, and then the guards turned and that was that. Like I said, a simple ceremony. But it was a ceremony. And I thought, why the pomp? What does this ceremonialized military mean? Because this is not the army. They are not wearing camouflage, they are not carrying M-16's, but bolt-action rifles (with finely polished silver actions) in white gloves, wearing scarves folded and wrapped with the aesthetic care of the most pompous West Pointer. I'm talkin' Patton-level concern for appearance. And that is their profession. So what does it mean to them for the military of a country that was once on the front lines, nay, once was the battlefield itself of the cold war to have itself so thoroughly demilitarized. At the same time, what they were defending was in essence that aesthetic. If you've never seen Prague castle, even just the outside of the buildings and the way it sits in the city, you really should. It was a cultural capital of Europe for a thousand years. Art, poetry, music, sculpture, and the incredible beauty of medieval, renaissance, and modern culture has had Prague as a focus throughout history. And to see the flags that are flown on that largest premodern fortress in the western world (or so I think they said), the symbols of medieval Bohemia, Prague as a city, as an EU center, all juxtaposed brought it home.
But here's the thing: those two guards? One was about 25 or 30, the other one probably 50. So what did it mean to them? These symbols, their existence and presence as symbols, of pride and identity of the nation, state, country, new world, what did it mean to them? Because I couldn't help but wonder how much the younger one experienced of the Cold War. Was he like me? Wasn't aware of what was happening, knew a wall fell down, knew "the world had changed" (and for him of course everyday life began to change) but on the whole didn't understand at the time what that world was? And as for the older one--was he already in the army then? Was he deployed on the border, just waiting for NATO troops to launch the expected gas attack and come driving through the wire? Was he a communist then? Was he an anti-communist then? Did he become his identity after the Iron Curtain came down or did he change it with the times?
And what did they talk about over beers when they were off duty? Did they discuss that? Or did the older one think of the younger one the way I can only assume he would think of me--I may be curious, I may want to know and I may be deeply interested. But I'll never really understand.
But maybe it wasn't the guards, maybe it wasn't the state rooms, maybe it wasn't the bridge that flipped the switch in my head, no matter how much it got my head to run. Because if I can point to one moment where it all culminated, all came together, it was Prague Cathedral.
Now I hadn't really heard of it much. Maybe a few times on the list of big important beautiful European cathedrals. And I vaguely knew, okay, it was the biggest, most important, most influential and wealthy city for hundreds of miles. Really, east of the Elbe, maybe of the Rhine. So of course it would have an amazing cathedral. And I had even passed by it the day before when we took a brief look at the castle (which it is in the middle of). But I wasn't ready for it.
I was trying to be more conscious, more conscientious than usual because I knew I was kind of in that funk, so I made a point of being pious, respectful, non-touristy when I went in. I even took my hands out of my pockets--I can remember thinking about that, take your hands out of your pockets.
But I took two steps inside, one look down the nave, and muttered, "Holy shit." Because I wasn't ready for that.
If I could describe it to you, what I saw, I would in a heartbeat, because that's how long it took for it to complete the process that was changing my head again. But it was so deeply personal, and so unexpected, and more importantly a kind of image with such complexity of beauty that you just can't explain it, or take a picture of it. You have to see it.
Or maybe it was the time we went searching for a non-tourist place to eat a meal and have a beer in the middle of Prague (a monstrously tall order; the city is overrun, more than any other place I've ever been in my life), and we actually found it: a cellar door with a small sign scribbled on saying:
"Pivo:
Gambrinus 0,3 35
0,5 45
Pilsner 0,3 40
0,5 50"
Plus a few things that seemed like food written in Czech.
And nothing in English.
Those of you who have been to Prague know how amazing that is.
And it was exactly what you think of when you think of a bunch of old men from Prague sitting back around a rustic old table in a cellar bar drinking liters of beer and kvetching with some factory workers still partially in uniform while they all watch and bit of sports on the one tv.
Because that's what it was.
And it was good. The beer was great and cheap, the food was tasty and traditional, and the service appropriately bad.
Or maybe it was just the experience of spending a long weekend in Europe again with a cute French girl while we talked about cultural exchanges, language and non-spoken language, politics (a little), history (I talked, she zoned out I suspect), sex (like I was at Wesleyan again), and a bit of religion. And hitting it off so well we pretty much agreed that we would after all attend the equivalent of the prom at the high-school we're both TA's for, and we'd go together.
Or maybe it was just the absinth.
But I doubt it.
The point is, even though I'm sitting here at my computer again having spent the whole day in my comfortable routine despite planning on going out, even though I know I need to watch myself or I slip so easily into that rut, I do feel liberated from it, alive, and most importantly, happy.
I've got plenty more to say, for instance about Budapest, which was also pretty amazing, and I'll go into that maybe tomorrow, but little doubt eventually.
I will say that having students not be prepared for a lesson in which they are supposed to take the lead is really not good. And having it be the fault of the main teacher (whom I am assisting) just makes me pissed.
And I find myself thinking about pretty intense stuff lately now that I have to, say, explain the death penalty. And the gap between hypothetical-fantastic and real-experiential is a real punch in the gut sometimes. But it's going pretty well in general. And I'm quite happy, and having the mice in my head chase each other is actually a pretty good thing these days, no matter how many times it means I play the movie "Monster" in my head over and over.
Anyway, time for dinner. This time tomorrow, I will probably have learned to cook something. Exciting.
When I was studying in Regensburg, if anyone recalls, I went on a trip through Europe for about a month that basically consisted of the wheels in my head spinning absolutely non-fucking-stop. There were incredible highs and really unexpectedly low lows. I would like it to be noted here that Amsterdam was in fact not one of the highs, fun as it was. Well when I started that trip I was feeling emo and lonely and lost and listless. I think that's the most important bit: listless. I've spent a lot of time in my life moving directly towards what is comfortable and then once I'm there, staying there. It's like my camping trip in the mountains in August: I hiked straight into the campsite, put down my stuff, and made token excursions out from the site for about an hour before cooking a dinner and retreating into my sleeping bag in the middle of the afternoon. Basically, I've been stuck in this extremely non-animated state, a very boring state, and a mildly depressed or at the very least extremely detached state, for a long time. In fact, looking back after Prague, I realize there are elements of that state I haven't escaped since the last time I was in Europe.
Well that's done now. I'm back. If anyone recalls, my last post of that trip, "Munich," ended with "I am alive again, I think." Well, now, after an incredible weekend in Prague that brought my mind back to where it was a year and a half ago, seeing the world and the city around me in the way I did after I returned from Munich that last time, I would like to recapitulate the sentiment. It is difficult to explain, and to tell the truth, I'm not sure why it happened. Maybe it was the sensation of walking across that bridge, into the arch underneath that bridgetower, understanding again what it meant every time in Regensburg: I am getting back into the city--through this passageway lies Europe.
Maybe it was walking through the state rooms of the Prague castle, still in use by the Czech government as its executive palace, and again having contact with people that made me feel history. Like watching the changing of the guard.
It was a really unremarkable ceremony (it wasn't the big fancy one, though). Two guys in ceremonial-looking dress uniforms marched in perfect step to the gate, made a series of 90 degree turns, and the guys in the guardhouse sidestepped on command and made way for the new guards. A minute of stretching and mental preparation, and then the guards turned and that was that. Like I said, a simple ceremony. But it was a ceremony. And I thought, why the pomp? What does this ceremonialized military mean? Because this is not the army. They are not wearing camouflage, they are not carrying M-16's, but bolt-action rifles (with finely polished silver actions) in white gloves, wearing scarves folded and wrapped with the aesthetic care of the most pompous West Pointer. I'm talkin' Patton-level concern for appearance. And that is their profession. So what does it mean to them for the military of a country that was once on the front lines, nay, once was the battlefield itself of the cold war to have itself so thoroughly demilitarized. At the same time, what they were defending was in essence that aesthetic. If you've never seen Prague castle, even just the outside of the buildings and the way it sits in the city, you really should. It was a cultural capital of Europe for a thousand years. Art, poetry, music, sculpture, and the incredible beauty of medieval, renaissance, and modern culture has had Prague as a focus throughout history. And to see the flags that are flown on that largest premodern fortress in the western world (or so I think they said), the symbols of medieval Bohemia, Prague as a city, as an EU center, all juxtaposed brought it home.
But here's the thing: those two guards? One was about 25 or 30, the other one probably 50. So what did it mean to them? These symbols, their existence and presence as symbols, of pride and identity of the nation, state, country, new world, what did it mean to them? Because I couldn't help but wonder how much the younger one experienced of the Cold War. Was he like me? Wasn't aware of what was happening, knew a wall fell down, knew "the world had changed" (and for him of course everyday life began to change) but on the whole didn't understand at the time what that world was? And as for the older one--was he already in the army then? Was he deployed on the border, just waiting for NATO troops to launch the expected gas attack and come driving through the wire? Was he a communist then? Was he an anti-communist then? Did he become his identity after the Iron Curtain came down or did he change it with the times?
And what did they talk about over beers when they were off duty? Did they discuss that? Or did the older one think of the younger one the way I can only assume he would think of me--I may be curious, I may want to know and I may be deeply interested. But I'll never really understand.
But maybe it wasn't the guards, maybe it wasn't the state rooms, maybe it wasn't the bridge that flipped the switch in my head, no matter how much it got my head to run. Because if I can point to one moment where it all culminated, all came together, it was Prague Cathedral.
Now I hadn't really heard of it much. Maybe a few times on the list of big important beautiful European cathedrals. And I vaguely knew, okay, it was the biggest, most important, most influential and wealthy city for hundreds of miles. Really, east of the Elbe, maybe of the Rhine. So of course it would have an amazing cathedral. And I had even passed by it the day before when we took a brief look at the castle (which it is in the middle of). But I wasn't ready for it.
I was trying to be more conscious, more conscientious than usual because I knew I was kind of in that funk, so I made a point of being pious, respectful, non-touristy when I went in. I even took my hands out of my pockets--I can remember thinking about that, take your hands out of your pockets.
But I took two steps inside, one look down the nave, and muttered, "Holy shit." Because I wasn't ready for that.
If I could describe it to you, what I saw, I would in a heartbeat, because that's how long it took for it to complete the process that was changing my head again. But it was so deeply personal, and so unexpected, and more importantly a kind of image with such complexity of beauty that you just can't explain it, or take a picture of it. You have to see it.
Or maybe it was the time we went searching for a non-tourist place to eat a meal and have a beer in the middle of Prague (a monstrously tall order; the city is overrun, more than any other place I've ever been in my life), and we actually found it: a cellar door with a small sign scribbled on saying:
"Pivo:
Gambrinus 0,3 35
0,5 45
Pilsner 0,3 40
0,5 50"
Plus a few things that seemed like food written in Czech.
And nothing in English.
Those of you who have been to Prague know how amazing that is.
And it was exactly what you think of when you think of a bunch of old men from Prague sitting back around a rustic old table in a cellar bar drinking liters of beer and kvetching with some factory workers still partially in uniform while they all watch and bit of sports on the one tv.
Because that's what it was.
And it was good. The beer was great and cheap, the food was tasty and traditional, and the service appropriately bad.
Or maybe it was just the experience of spending a long weekend in Europe again with a cute French girl while we talked about cultural exchanges, language and non-spoken language, politics (a little), history (I talked, she zoned out I suspect), sex (like I was at Wesleyan again), and a bit of religion. And hitting it off so well we pretty much agreed that we would after all attend the equivalent of the prom at the high-school we're both TA's for, and we'd go together.
Or maybe it was just the absinth.
But I doubt it.
The point is, even though I'm sitting here at my computer again having spent the whole day in my comfortable routine despite planning on going out, even though I know I need to watch myself or I slip so easily into that rut, I do feel liberated from it, alive, and most importantly, happy.
I've got plenty more to say, for instance about Budapest, which was also pretty amazing, and I'll go into that maybe tomorrow, but little doubt eventually.
I will say that having students not be prepared for a lesson in which they are supposed to take the lead is really not good. And having it be the fault of the main teacher (whom I am assisting) just makes me pissed.
And I find myself thinking about pretty intense stuff lately now that I have to, say, explain the death penalty. And the gap between hypothetical-fantastic and real-experiential is a real punch in the gut sometimes. But it's going pretty well in general. And I'm quite happy, and having the mice in my head chase each other is actually a pretty good thing these days, no matter how many times it means I play the movie "Monster" in my head over and over.
Anyway, time for dinner. This time tomorrow, I will probably have learned to cook something. Exciting.