SUMMER shmummer

Is coming to an end.  I am actually really excited to be going back to Bard–back to the beautiful Fall, Winter, and Spring.  My creativity will grow, I will harness it, and take the Bard film department at the knees.

Since I have been home for the past 2 weeks, Netflix has been my reprieve.  Not only do they offer GREAT documentaries and films on instant watch, BUT A JANE AUSTEN BIO FILM I HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR SINCE 2008. Miss Austen Regrets.

Check it, even if you don’t like Jane Austen (we all know I do…did I tell you about the recent addition to my left shoulder blade?) it sheds light onto the mystery behind the mysterious author and the last years of her life before Addison’s disease took it from her.  [too many beautiful shots to pass up--I <3 the BBC].

Ode to Prague

So far this summer, I have been an excellent hermit. I have eaten food and slept and remained online until vulgar hours all in the sanctuary of my room. There have been those rare days I ventured out, mostly to eat the delicious repasts of Germany, or to venture into Bamberg proper to explore the curiosities of German fashion with friends. I have been a little Cinderella as well, cleaning out kitchen cabinets, overhauling bathrooms, and helping dad wipe down every wooden thing in our house with Murphy’s Oil (which for some would not be so horrible, but considering my dad’s vast collection of antique furniture, it is quite a feat, to say the least). I have claimed pots and pans in the name of the Purple House, my residence for the coming school year, and have even managed to get plates and bowls, all thanks to my father’s shopping convictions. I have outfitted a kitchen, cleaned a kitchen, and made a hundred or so dollars cleaning house all within the last month.

(When cats strategically place themselves on quilts and in the sun, you don’t argue.)

However, my greatest adventure of all was my venture into Prague. My father suggested the trip to me upon my arrival, and it was quickly planned out with the addition of our good family friend, who just recently got hitched. We took a train to Nürnberg and then from Nürnberg took a bus to Prague, all under the operation of Die Bahn. They promised to get us to Prague not in three-and-a-half hours, or three-and-a-quarter hours, but three-and-three-quarters of an hour exactly. And, in typical German flair, they managed to keep their precise word.

We arrived at the train station in Prague, and if you have been, you know that under no circumstances (the info video on the bus made sure to stress this in three languages) should one ever cross the road in front. After a small adventure figuring out how to get under the road (which happens to be via the fancy new train station beneath the original, which is lovely but in need of some tender-loving care), we came out in the green, a small patch of, well, green. Trees, grass, people lounging smoking cigarettes, as they do. We were unsure of how to get to our hotel, which was the Best Western at the Meteor Plaza, only a short distance from the Republic Square. Instead of wandering the streets, we submitted ourselves to being ripped off by an irritating but endearing Czech taxi driver, who had the thickest accent I’ve ever heard and continued to insist that I wait, though I was waiting most patiently, while he figured out where we were going. We paid twenty euros for a trip we could have easily taken on foot.

In any case, we made it to the hotel in one piece, and after settling in, we ventured out into the city of Prague. Let me tell you, Prague is easily one of the most beautiful cities I’ve ever been in. The churches, the architecture, the smells, the sounds, it is so deeply lovely I think I shall have to go back. We ate goulash at a small restaurant in the Old Town Square, where they had an enormous screen set up for passersby to enjoy the intricacies of World Cup football. The goulash was delicious, as was the company, made only more tasty due to the fact that we were sitting next to a group of old Americans dressed to the nines in pastel-colored sweaters.

(The Astronomical Clock in the Old Town Square.)

Our goal for the night was to find a pub where we could watch the US vs. Algeria game, and after much searching (and thanks to the kind efforts of one handsome TGI Friday’s employee) we found ourselves in Che Guevara’s Irish Pub – leave it to an Argentine Marxist revolutionary to have an Irish Pub. We sat in a corner with some American college students (all females from University of Seattle, all dressed like city hipsters) and a token American wanderer staring across the room at the smallest screen in the place, with no sound, watching the game. Around us were Brits hollering at the four other screens, with sound, eagerly cheering Rooney on. Needless to say, the lucky goal scored by the US was happily received with drunken shouts and screams of “fuck yeah” on my part – might I add that not once during that time had I strayed from my glass of Coca Cola. It was a good year, what can I say.

(Papa and I on the Charles Bridge.)

After our drunken hollering, we wandered along the Charles Bridge, from which, to my pleasure, one can see the Franz Kafka Museum. We joked that perhaps the restaurant connected to the museum served some sort of beetle dish. After more drinking and more eating (shamefully, the Hard Rock Café, which was a treat, albeit a strange one) and shop perusing (we found a lovely English bookstore across the bridge where my father purchased Lolita for me), we wandered back to the hotel for a night of relaxation. My roommate, our family friend, crashed fairly early, and much to my chagrin I was not able to stay up to my usual buffer zone of midnight, likely due to the mental scarring I received, when, to my horror, I could hear the telltale moaning of two human beasts having sex in the courtyard that our window opened onto! Oh, Prague.

(A picture of the rooftops of the churches and old buildings on the eastern side of the Charles Bridge.)

The next day we wandered more, having had a small breakfast at the hotel. At my dad’s request we went to the Alphonse Mucha museum, which I can easily say was one of my favorite parts of the trip. Mucha is an artist, pure and simple, a man capable of all forms of art, expression, from graphic to oil, from architecture to furniture! He was a dedicated man with the kind of ideals and love for his struggling homeland that few other artists can rival. Needless to say, that small side trip expanded my horizons, after which more eating occurred, more ooh-ing and ah-ing at the art nouveau-meets-art deco décor of Prague architecture. Later in the day we went to a classical concert featuring the music of the likes of Vivaldi, Bach, and Mozart. It was quite lovely, though the first violin and the second violin had some trouble keeping their composure after a particularly well-done improvisation. After our music appreciation venture we ate at an art nouveau style restaurant on the Republic Square, which was quite delicious, though for the life of me I can’t recall its name. More drinks were to be had later at a medieval restaurant, one of those you-eat-like-a-barbarian numbers because our friend liked the live music they played (which had nothing to do with being a barbarian or medieval, thank Prague).

(The beautiful, blushing Prague night sky.)

That, unfortunately, was the extent of my trip (we left for Bamberg the next day at 11:27 a.m. exactly, to take our bus trip that, to our amusement, arrived earlier than scheduled – how dare those Germans not be punctual!), though I can’t say Prague disappointed me. It was a lovely trip filled with laughter, much food, much drink, and a large dose of culture. I would urge anyone thinking of going to Prague to go, and anyone not thinking of going to go, and anyone that hasn’t even heard of Prague to go. Next time, I think I want to go to the Kafka museum, and maybe have a tryst at a nightclub that, hopefully, will not end up loudly in a courtyard of a hotel.

All pictures, minus the one that I am in (I’m not that good), were taken by none other than moi.

Oh dear me

Wanna know where i am working for the next 6 weeks?

this place^^^ aww yeah.

for this program: TIP which I attended for three years :)

I am so excited.

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