A Couple of Anecdotes

I have been a neglectful blogger. The past few weeks have gone by and I haven't written a word. To be sure there have been some funny, interesting, or bizarre encounters that would make amuzing, light anecdotes, but I just haven't been motivated enough to write them down. This can be taken as an indication to the type of program I am participating. Currently, my mind is occupied by my impending Probability midterm that was supposed to be last Friday, but was moved to tomorrow. While I usually like to get things such as these over and done with instead of putting it off, this is an exception. While the increased length of time I have spent worrying about this test is a downside, I greatly needed the extra week to study. I was magnificently foolish when I first got to Budapest and signed up for Probability thinking it would be a breeze. Quite the contrary is true. I am struggling immensely. The computational aspect of the course is not all that difficult, in fact the hardest operation I've come across is integrating by parts, something I haven't done since high school. It's the interpretation and organization of the problem and information that has given, and is giving, me the most trouble. There are also so many different formulas and distributions that I get lost in the symbols and lose sight of their applications to real world scenarios. Ultimately, it has been my anxiety over this coming test for the past few weeks that has kept me from blabbering on about various happenings in my blog.

Although I should be in bed right now, I have gotten my second wind (which is often the case when one gets off task, in my case studying). Today was an unusual day. I had to use my most useful Hungarian phrase, "Nem beszélek magyarul," three different times. On a day to day basis, I usually can manage to go about my business without awkward encounters with natives with whom I can't communicate, however, today was not a normal day. My first encounter was with a woman who stopped me in the metro station who gave me a consoling rub on the arm once I communicated to her that I didn't understand her, which is far better than the usual scoffs. The second encounter was with one of the ticket checkers who stopped me because he couldn't see my picture that goes with my monthly metro pass. Once he had stopped another commuter and pointed to their picture, I quickly took my pass out of his confiscating hand and flipped it over to show him my picture, and was allowed to continue on my way. That entire episode would have been circumvented had I understood the general gist of what he was saying, though, frankly, so could practically all encounters here. The third encounter was when I was approached while waiting for the train by a beggar. I had actually been approached by this same beggar once before, and didn't appreciate the repeat of events.

Another interesting anecdote takes place in one of my favorite hang outs, Costa Coffee. My friend and I got met at Costa to work on out weekly problem sets in Combinatorics and Probability, not a week goes by when I don't need to get outside help on my homework. She got there first, and manged to score the premier seats upstairs. This table is highly coveted by all the patrons of Costa for its enormous brown leather, heavily cushioned, comfy armchairs and it's location next to a large window overlooking the intersection of Andrassy útca and Bajscy Zsilinszky útca. I often get distracted when sitting in these chairs, and instead of working diligently, I often gaze through the window and people watch from my high perch above the bustle of the street. That day, I determinedly sank into the armchair across from my friend, and opened my notebooks. We sat there for hours pondering mathematical proofs and working our way through exercises. After several hours we were both so saturated with math that we could barely stand to sit in the presence of our notebooks any longer, not to mention we were starving and our legs were quickly forgetting what it was like to walk around. I wanted to stay just a little longer to finish a download on my computer (one must use free wifi whenever one can). Suddenly, the loft was a bustle of activity. Several men with bag of equipment and came up the stairs and began setting up filming equipment. One of the men approached my friend and asked her something in Hungarian to which she told him she didn't understand, so he left us alone. It ended up to be some sort of interview. There is a possibility that if the camera was not zoomed in closely to the interviewee's face, I could be in the background of the shot. I could become an anonymous star of Hungarian television, playing a confused American student in a coffee shop in Budapest as my debut role. I have a strong feeling I shouldn't get my hopes up and should keep laboring through my mathematics school work.

Well, I hope this has made up somewhat for my sparse blog entries in recent weeks. It's no amazing adventure, but it's all I've got.

Time to Kill

Again I am sitting on a train carrying me away from Budapest. Again I am behind on my blog. I have yet to recount the second half of my trip to Croatia, but instead of immediately delving into past events as if no time has passed, I choose to depict reality. For, time has passed. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, have all gone by, and with them, noteworthy and not so noteworthy events have transpired. Some of them may well appear in this blog, others may only take the form of verbal anecdotes told on a whim as a result of a source that stimulates remembrance, and most will make their home on the shores of my memory to be slowly washed away with time.

It is from yet another train car with houses, cars, and the haze brought only by a sky threatening to rain speeding by that I think a couple of weeks back to Croatia. Appropriately, I traversed this exact length of track along Lake Balaton en route to Zagreb; however, today the lake itself is my destination. After a day dominated my rain, the sun rose on a rainless city the next morning. We awoke early to catch the early ferry over to Hvar Island, specifically the town Stari Grad. On the way to the ferry terminal we again stopped at our pastry shop and I eagerly picked up one of my long, nut filled pastries as well as a loaf of bread for lunch on the island. After the pastry shop, we stopped at an open air market near the water and picked up apples and cheese to complete our picnic lunch. We easily bought tickets for our ferry and headed aboard.

The ferry ride was thankfully uneventful, which is always hoped for while traveling. The ride to Stari Grad took two hours. We started the trip by getting coffee and lounging in the ferry cabin before heading upstairs to the outdoor sitting deck. It was a gorgeous day. The sun was finally shining and we spent the rest of the ride enjoying the weather while alternatively reading, talking, taking pictures, and gaping at our surroundings. The ferry's passage through small coastal islands was very reminiscent of my ferry ride in New Zealand from Auckland to Waiheke Island.

Our arrival on Hvar Island left us a bit confused. We had seen the town from the ferry, but had docked a couple kilometers away from it. Once disembarking, we couldn't figure out how we were supposed to get over to the town other than by taxi or walking on a very narrow shoulder of the islands highway. Neither appealed to us, so after taking the shoulder several meters and then realizing it was a sure fire way to get ourselves killed, we asked. We were directed to a foot path to the left of the ferry dock that was unmarked, but nevertheless looked promising. After the short walk around through a wooded area we came to the edge of the town. Stari Grad is a very picturesque little island town. However, I was surprised to see that it was picturesque Italian. I honestly felt like I had been transported out of Croatia and into a small Italian town. I guess I shouldn't have been so surprised considering that on the island I was far closer to Italy than I was to Croatia's capital.

Without an agenda, we picked a direction and began walking. We wandered through narrow streets lined with buildings like a gapless wall that rose on either side of us. We soon came upon a a church that we were able to walk through and into an inner courtyard full of lime trees and other greenery. The inner garden was surrounded by a wall of arches. Back outside, we continued wandering the cobble stoned streets in search of an important sight I had read about online. We never did find it, but we managed to find other touristy type buildings that we were directed to by ever helpful brown signs. Within about an hour or so, we had explored most of the town and decided to stop at a park and sit on a bench and eat lunch. Our lunch of bread, cheese, and apples was delicious. After lunch we went to explore the other side of the town on the opposing side of the small harbor that the town surrounded, but found only roads leading out into the rural area surrounding the town. With nothing else left to do, and several hours until our ferry, we had to get creative of how to spend our remaining time. We ended up walking down to a small pebbly beach that I'm sure is crowded in summer, but with the time of year and light drizzle that had begun, was deserted. We spent a few minutes on the beach collecting cool looking pebbles and trying to skip rocks on the surface of the rain pockmarked water. After that, we attempted to get a coffee/beer at a café that had been crowded when we came into town, but we were turned away because it was now closed. We found another café around the corner and sat down and ordered. Shortly after sitting down we were visited my a local dog that Franky affectionately named Mr. Magoo. He was adorable and just hung out next to our table or under our chairs in the hope of receiving some food. Occasionally, he wandered off to solicit food from other patrons of the café or passers by. At one point he declared the small plaza we were located in his territory by ensuring that another dog that came by made his way out of the plaza. We eagerly watched this amusing endeavor. At one point he bounded, ears flapping like wings across the plaza with a speed we didn't think he had. It was hilarious the way his ears flopped when he ran. Oh Mr. Magoo, what a character.

After the café, we walked back along the path to the ferry dock and stopped at a peach along the way to stick our feet in. The water was a bit chilly, but it was crystal clear and felt good on our weary, traveling feet. We weren't at the peach long before we headed back into town where Franky and Claire got two huge 1.5 liter bottles of beer to drink while we whiled away the hours scanning the horizon. I was anxious to get back to Split, but at the same time it was nice to be somewhat bored.

The time passed and it was time again to get on the ferry. The ride back was similar to the ride over, and two hours later, we were pulling into the Split ferry terminal. We walked back to our hostel to drop our stuff off, and then decided to splurge on dinner in an actual restaurant instead of going to one of the many pizza joints nearby. The restaurant was nice, but our waiter was a bit weird. I think he could tell he wasn't going to get much of a tip out of us ragged looking college kids, so he didn't pay much attention to us. There were a couple of English speaking couples at nearby tables, so I spent part of the evening somewhat eves dropping.

Finally, it was time to head back. We went to bed early because we had to wake up at the crack of dawn to catch our train home. In the morning, we headed down to the train terminal and upon buying tickets back to Zagreb, we were told that no trains would be running that day due to construction, but that the railway company had arranged for buses. After buying our tickets, we headed over to the bus terminal and after asking which bus was the 7:30 to Zagreb, the woman looked at me like I was an idiot and told me that the next bus to Zagreb was at 8:10. Very confused, we schlepped our stuff back to the train station to ask again where the bus was. It turns out it was behind the train station building right next to the track. After a little confusion with a man also waiting for the bus, about where we were standing, and then stuffing all of our food in Franky's suitcase to put under the bus because we weren't allowed to bring food on, we got on the bus. The ride was beautiful! In a blur we were traversing seasides, mountains, and flat lands. Then, we were once again back in Zagreb, and then finally, pulling into Budapest's Keleti Palyaudvar.

The Birth of the Card of Unbeatability

After a very long day of traveling the day before, I woke up with the sun. In fact, I woke up before the sun. Upon awakening, I noticed two things. One, my companions were still fast asleep, and two, the steady rhythm of rain was very apparent outside of our window. I decided to shower and lay in my bed until my companions woke up. A couple of hours later, all three of us were awake and ready to hit the streets of Split. The rain had abated momentarily, so we decided to go to a large park we had seen on the map. We made a pit stop at a bakery just down the street and around the corner where Claire and I discovered a wonderful pastry that was about a foot long and filled with a sugary and chopped nut concoction. It was absolutely delicious!

By the time we got to the park, the rain had returned, but it was only drizzling. We started walking along the path in a nicely wooded area next to the shore and oddly enough didn't notice that it had subsequently started pouring. We somehow deluded ourselves into thinking that despite the heavier and heavier rainfall, it was still only a measly drizzle. I finally came back to reality when the thigh of my pants were sticking to me. Within a minute my entire pants were soaking. With every step I took I could feel the added weight of the water. We quickly abandoned our efforts to walk all the way through the park to the lighthouse on the other side and took refuge under the overhang of a small building home to some vending machines. We stood there for several minutes, checked the map, and then realized we would just have to walk back in the downpour. Left with no other option, for we had no idea how long the rain would last, we left our shelter and made our way back to our hostel, pant legs sticking, shoes squelching, and coats dripping.

Back in our hostel we immediately stripped out of our wet clothes and threw on dry clothes. We then hung all of our clothes up to dry on the balcony outside our room (don't worry, it was covered, just in case you were thinking we put our clothes to dry outside in the rain). After a while of sitting in our hostel, we noticed the rain had once again eased up. We threw on our soaking shoes onto bare feet and ran down the street to a convenience store to get beer. On an impulse I threw in a thick Croatian newspaper to ball up and stick in my shoes.

Later that day after newspaper had soaked up some of the water in our shoes and we had spent as much time as we could in our room, we again put on our damp shoes (mine soulless because that was the wettest part) and went to explore Split a little bit. We ended up in Diocletian's Palace, the world's most complete and preserved ruins of a Roman palace. Built at the turn of the fourth century AD as Diocletian's place of retirement, it was abandoned by the Romans and then reinhabitated by residents fleeing barbarians in the seventh century. The palace has been occupied ever since, and is now home to shops, cafés, and museums. The architecture of the palace was spectacular and made me forget I was in Croatia. Instead, I felt transported to Italy.

After wandering around the palace, we set our sights for finding the beach. We made it to the shore, but found, instead of sandy beaches, cement pool sides. I have since then named them peaches because they are a cross between a pool and a beach. I was disappointed that there weren't actual sand beaches, or at least none that we found. We wandered around the deserted structures ordinarily teeming with life and activity in summer, but were deserted due to the weather and season. Then, the rain began again, and refusing to get more clothes soaking wet, we headed back to the hostel, but not before we each made a point to stand at the edge of a peach and touch the Adriatic Sea.

We spent a relaxing evening hiding from the rain. We ventured out only to grab pizza at a pizza joint down the street. There were pizzerias everywhere! You couldn't walk down a single street and not see some sort of sign advertising pizza. I ended up spending the evening attempting to finish my Prague blog and look up ferry times for the next day. I had the idea to try to take a ferry to one of the coastal islands the next day. It took me an embarrassingly long time to figure out the ferry schedule. The one I got from the ferry ticket office was in Croatian, so that made life a bit more difficult. Luckily, I was able to find one in English online. While I made use of the hostels free internet, I listened in on Claire and Franky making up a game with Belot cards they had found in the hostel's kitchen. It was the most ridiculous thing to listen to. It was absolutely hilarious. They invited me to play, but frankly it was funnier just to sit and watch. They ended up creating a game like war, but with bizarre rules, like the six of Christmas balls (a.k.a. the card of unbeatability) would trump any card except for flowers. And, the player who played the six of Christmas balls would have to say "Jo Keleti jo," (with enthusiasm) before collecting the cards they had just won or the other person would get to take the cards. Like I said, hilarious!

Budapest to Split and Everything in Between

With classes, homework, running, get-togethers, and adventures, it seems as though I only have time to write about my bigger adventures, namely those that involve going away to some other country. This post is no different. This past weekend, for of course it is already almost the next weekend, but this is the first chance I've had to sit down and write (type), I went to Croatia. As I sit here whilst the chili I have been slaving away in the kitchen is bubbling away on the stove, I think back a little bit farther than just this past weekend. Before I came to Budapest, actually to be more specific, before I read a former BSMers blog, Croatia never crossed my mind. Sure I knew it was a country somewhere in or near the former Soviet Union, but other than that, its exact geographical location, and just about everything else about it, never once entered the edges of my mind. In fact, it was so far off my radar that I never thought I'd think about visiting it, let alone spending a weekend there.

But, evidently, Croatia did become known to me and the idea of visiting it was brought to my attention. A group of people were planning to go over our long weekend (this past Friday was a national holiday, thus no classes). When my other plans to travel to Istanbul for the long weekend fell through (only to be reestablished for over Thanksgiving) I hopped on the Croatia train, so to speak. I convinced another friend to come with me for what we both agreed would be a relaxing weekend to let our minds turn to mush after the stress of midterms, and we quickly bought train tickets bound for Split, Croatia.

Split, one of Croatia's major cities, is situated on the Adriatic Sea. From what I had read of the former BSMer's blog, I knew there were excellent beaches in Split. I very much looked forward to laying on the sand and reading as the sun hit my SPF 85 protected face (it's amazing how much my mom's voice plays in my head with regards to sun protection even with half a continent and an ocean between us). Claire and I bought our train tickets several weeks in advance, so for weeks we were fantasizing about a weekend getaway to the beach. Then, finally, the time had come! Midterms were over, or most of them were, I actually had one today, and it was time to head off into the ideal that was Croatia.

The night before we left, Franky decided spur of the moment to come too, so we had a last minute addition. The three of us, we were our own subgroup of the larger group, met at the train station at 5:30 AM, went to the ticket office to get a train ticket for Franky, and then made our way to the right platform. Upon boarding the train we quickly realized that all of the cars were made up of compartments instead of rows of seats. We ambled into one such compartment and soon realized that it was surely the better way to travel. We had our own compartment for almost the entire six hour trip to Zagreb (we got a visitor right at the end). The six hour trip passed as quickly as six hours can. We alternated dozing off, talking, and gaping out the window like children in a candy store. My favorite part of the ride was when we rode along Lake Balaton. The towns that we went through, all with some form of Balaton in their name, looked so serene and quintessential European with their eclectic mix of houses and quiet streets.

After hours of the slow rocking and rumbling of the train punctuated by occasional stops at foreign train stations with almost intelligible names, I began to wonder if we were still in Hungary or if we had slyly crossed the border into Croatia. I got my answer soon enough. We made another stop, which at the time I considered unremarkable. Then a figure appeared at our compartment door in a baby blue uniform. He opened the door and after saying something in some other language, registered our blank faces, and spoke in English. "Border control, passports please." We all quickly bustled around to get our passports to give to him. The baby blue officer was followed by a long slew of officials including Hungary's own border control officer, a customs officer, and a ticket checker. All of these officials went one by one down the train to check everyone. After quite a while, as you can imagine, everyone on the train was apparently clear and we continued on the Croatia leg of the journey.

The rest of the journey passed quickly after that, and we were soon pulling into Zagreb's Glavni Kolodvor train station. We had several hours before our connecting train departed, so we decided to get out and walk around and see what Croatia's capital had to offer. A couple blocks away from the station we found a beautiful park. We walked through it like wide-eyed children and then found a bench to sit on to eat our packed lunch. I have never eaten so much bread and cheese in my life, but it is cheap and one must cut cost where one can. Once we had finished our lunch, we continued to wander around and decided to follow the very helpful brown signs that point towards tourist attractions. After climbing a hill past a large square lined with modern stores we were standing in front of the St. Francis Cathedral, yet another exquisite example of the gorgeous architecture abundant in Europe. After taking a look inside the cathedral, which reminded me very much of the St. Mattias Church in Buda, we continued on in the streets of Zagreb. We ended up in a open air market with vendors selling everything from homemade cheese to fruit to souvenirs. After passing through the market we found ourselves walking down a street lined with cafés. We wandered around a bit more and then found a café to have a beer (coffee for me) in before going back to the train station. All too soon it was time to get back on the train, but we were all excited to reach our final destination.

After another, more uneventful, six hour train ride we finally arrived in Split! The rain that had been pouring down while we were on the train abated momentarily, so we were free to walk out of the train station into the damp night. The sight and smell of the sea immediately hit both my eyes and nose as we walked out of the train station. It never ceases to amaze me how excited I feel when seeing a large body of water. There is something so mysterious and beautiful, not to mention serene and timeless, about the oblivious sway of the sea. Without really any idea at all where to go, we started walking toward what we hoped was old town, where our hostel was located. After being pointed vaguely in the right direction by a cab driver only to still have no idea where we were supposed to go, we bought a map. While pouring over the map a woman asked us if she could help us. She spoke English and gave tours in the Diocletian Palace. She told us where to go and we graciously thanked her. We found ourselves on a wide, well lit promenade along the sea. We turned and headed up a similarly well lit street and then into a maze of tiny, curving streets walled in by tightly packed buildings. While we were standing at an intersection trying to get our bearings, we were asked yet again where we were headed and if we needed help. We actually knew where we were supposed to go, we were just trying to find a street sign to confirm our heading. The woman who asked us persisted and we told her that we were looking for Hostel Nikola to which she responded "oh, that is me." We had unknowingly stumbled across our hostel owner. She took us to our hostel (or more accurately told us the way while walking behind us with her two friends).

The hostel was not what we had expected. As a family owned hostel, it was the first of its kind that I had stayed in. We entered through a gate into what would have been a tiny courtyard that had been transformed into a sort of dining area with most of its space taken up by a large picnic table. Next to the picnic table was a small open kitchen for communal use. We waited around while the hostel owner got our room ready. Once our room was ready, we were directed up stairs around the outside of the building into a very narrow hallway and then up another set of steps, these curving and also exceedingly narrow. At the top was a bathroom, our door, and the door to another room. We entered our door, eager to set our stuff down, and found the room taken up almost completely by three beds. We claimed our beds and settled into our home for the next three days.

Operation: Infiltrate Jewish Cemetary: Part Three of the Prague Chrinicles

As my far too long saga in Prague continues, I will now recount the third and final day of the trip. For those of you who have been dutifully hanging on and continuing to read this ridiculously long post, but would rather be out in the real world doing whatever it is that you do, I will soon release you from your obligation.

On the third day in Prague, our mission was simple, see the Prague Castle. After all the wandering we had done, we still had not climbed up to see one of Prague's most notable landmarks. After getting everyone besides Franky and I checked out (we were staying later than the others), we made our way yet again to the tram. We hopped on a tram that we were pretty sure should take us to the castle. After several stops we were told that we had reached the tram's last stop and we had to disembark. We were still a little ways from the castle with not the best idea of how best to complete the trek to our destination. We began to walk while I tried to simultaneously consult a map continually asking "what street are we on?" only to receive shoulder shrugs and blank stares. As the rain began to descend yet again, I finally got my bearing and discovered a course that would take us to our destination.

As it seems with almost anything that is perched atop a hill, before making the final ascent, you must first descend. This was the case in Prague, but we finally made it to the base of castle hill (not sure if it actually has a name). Once we reached the top, we came to a large gate guarded by two rather comically dressed guards and to our left was a wall that provided spectacular views of the city. Inside the walls of the castle, we discovered that Prague Castle is far more than just one building. It's an entire complex! There are several museums, St. Vitus's Cathedral (the second largest in the world, second only to the Vatican's St. Peter's Basilica), the old Royal Palace, and so much more. It was too bad that we only had a morning to explore. After wandering around and gazing up at the cathedral towering above us, I decided I wanted to get an audio guide and go and tour the cathedral. I was alone in this desire, however. My companions were either not interested or more concerned about finding something to eat before the long train ride later that day. I was not backing down and stubbornly stated that whether or not anyone wanted to join me, I was going to see one of the most important buildings in Prague's history, not to mention one of the most famous. I agreed to do my best to race through the tour of the cathedral and meet them in an hour and then quickly ducked inside to purchase my audio guide before the discussion could start anew.

Although they promise that with an audio guide you can skip to the front of the line to get into the cathedral, there were lots of fellow listeners, so I had to wait. As I waited, a tumultuous down pour began. Everyone in the line surged forward as the rain pelted us hoping that the door monitors preventing us entrance would have mercy. They didn't. I ended us crowded near the front almost covered by a neighboring couples' umbrella. I didn't really mind getting wet, but I protectively covered my camera. Finally, we were admitted to enter. Once inside, my jaw dropped. It's one thing to claim that a building is the second largest of its type in the world, but it's another story to actually stand beneath towering vaulted ceilings. The cathedral was gorgeous. I meandered through it with my audio guide glued to my ear listening as a Brittish voice clearly enunciated every syllable of each altar's history and purpose. The stained glass lining every wall was absolutely spectacular. They ranged from scenes of the lives of saints to abstract shapes and patterns. One of the most notable features of the cathedral is the tomb of John of Nepomuk, the patron saint of the city. His tomb was the most impressive and excessive display of decorative silver I have ever seen. The other alters are comparatively bleak and simple.

After racing through the Cathedral (I skipped a couple of the altars), I had a few minutes left before having to meet the rest of the crew, so I scurried across the plaza to the Old Royal Palace. Inside, I got a feel for the lives of the building's former inhabitants. My favorite room in the palace was Vadislav Hall, a room with a towering ceiling lined with intertwined curved ribs (I wasn't allowed to take pictures, so you'll have to use your imagination). I made a point to at least see each room of the Old Royal Palace and listen to what I could of the audio guide, but all too soon my time was up.

Back outside, I found the rest of the group and we made our way out of the castle complex and back to the hostel. Once at the hostel, everyone picked up their bags and we all went to the train station. Everyone bought their train tickets and figured out which platform to go to. After making sure to get our train tickets for the following day, Franky and I bid farewell to everyone else and headed back for the city center. My main goal for the final evening in Prague was to see the Jewish Cemetery. Retracing our steps from the past couple of days, Franky and I found ourselves in the Jewish Quarter. With a quick consultation of the map, we quickly found the cemetery. Upon nearing the gate, I saw two people looking at the gate and then back down at something in their hands with confusion on their faces. They walked away as we approached the gate, and only then did I realize the reason for their confusion. On the gate of the cemetery was a sign written in multiple languages that read "Closed due to holiday." I couldn't believe it! The reason I stayed in Prague for an extra night was closed! I was not going to give up. I quickly noticed that the wall surrounding the cemetery had gaps in it, and thus began Operation: Infiltrate Jewish Cemetery. Franky and I walked all the way around the cemetery periodically climbing the wall to peer through and see the cemetery. At places where the gap was too high for me to see through, I held my camera up to it and blindly released the shutter. At one point, I squatted next to the sheet metal wall by the bathrooms to get a good look at the cemetery beyond. All in all, I think I got a pretty good visual of the cemetery, with a great story to go along with it to boot.

After seeing the cemetery, neither Franky or I had anything that we particularly wanted to see. We ended up wandering the streets of Prague. We climbed the tower of one of Prague's many cathedrals, sauntered along Charles Bridge that was teeming with tourists, made our way back up to the castle to see the front gate, and then finally ended up back in Old Town Square it was wonderful to have no agenda and to only have to consult with one other opinion instead of six. Franky wanted to check out the Dalí exhibit at a museum in Old Town Square, so we bought tickets and wandered around the upstairs of the building looking at rather bizarre paintings and sculptures. I found most of the artwork disturbing, but it was nice to wander through the museum with no further agenda. After the museum we found a relatively cheap place to eat, and then headed back to the hostel.

The next morning came all too quickly. We woke before dawn to catch the early train back to Budapest. While waiting for breakfast at the hostel to open, we ran out to a bakery down the street and got some bread for the train ride back. I attempted to put a dent in the remaining crowns I had, but found that a bakery was not the place to do that. Bakeries are incredibly cheap (now that's my kind of place)! After securing rations for our seven hour train ride we went back to the hostel, scarfed down some free muesli, and checked out. Check out took longer than expected and so did the tram, so by the time we got off at the train station we had to run to the platform. I honestly thought we were going to miss our train. We made it on the train with several minutes to spare. As we breathed a sigh of relief, the train began to roll out of the station, leaving Prague behind, Budapest bound.

"Pipe Down Rub-A-Dub.": Part Two of the Prague Chronicles

My plan of keeping my blog relatively up to date is failing miserably. What follows will be the second part of The Prague Chronicles, two weeks after it happened. It has been an absolutely crazy couple of weeks. I have been studying for midterms or working on midterm projects/presentations almost constantly. These past couple of weeks have made me feel like I'm back in Ripon with more homework to do than there are hours in the day. While not having homework constantly is a nice break from the constant worries that come with assignments, I do best when I'm busy, so I was back in my element. The downside to numerous assignments is that it forces me to prioritize, and the first things to go are timely blog recountings. Now, sitting in rainy Croatia, my current adventure, I have a chance to look back on Prague.

After our ridiculous night of being stranded tramless and cold, we finally got into bed and fell fast asleep within seconds. Then next morning I woke up earlier than I would have expected after not going to bed until 2:30 AM. I have realized that whilst traveling, my body wakes me up prematurely. Perhaps it is my body's way of physically expressing my brain's desire to get out there and see the world. I ended up taking a shower before it was clogged with my newly awakened travelmates. Once we were all showered and dressed, we headed down to the free breakfast that the hostel offered (a free meal is always a plus!). The breakfast was pretty measly, just some sandwich makings (American cheese, ham, and white bread) a couple types of cereal (corn flakes and muesli) and coffee and tea, comparable to a hotel continental breakfast. But, I was not going to complain one bit, unlike some members of our group. The fact that it was free, and I had access to an unlimited supply of coffee in the morning, was fantastic.

After breakfast we hurried off to catch the tram to the metro station, and then take the metro to Old Town Square where we were going to participate in a free tour put on by a company called New Europe. We were a little late, as is to be expected when dealing with a larger group of people, so we missed the tour. Luckily, there was another tour later in the afternoon, so, in the mean time, we decided to mill around Old Town Square. The square was bustling with life despite the cold, rainy conditions. Prague, one of the top twenty most visited cities in the world, was full of tourists. In that respect, it wasn't as enjoyable as Budapest. Everywhere I went I heard English, and while it is comforting to hear my native tongue when constantly surrounded by unfamiliar languages, it makes the entire experience feel too commercial. We wandered through the many booths that are set up in the square with Tyn Church and St. Nicholas Church towering above us, listening to the sounds of a band of old men playing encircled by oggling tourists. After a short wait, we made our way through the gradually thickening pack of people standing in front of the Astronomical Clock in preparation for its hourly show. Staring up at the bizarre array of dials, symbols, and figures I tried to fathom what kind of crazy dance they would soon be doing. As the bell tolled and the audience watched in wonder, a small skeleton began ringing a bell, then doors opened and figures of the apostles made their appearance in front of the opening before the doors closed. That was it. I have to say that after all the hype I had heard about the amazing astronomical clock, I was a bit disappointed. Though, I have to give the architects of the clock a little credit. It was originally built in 1410, long before modern technology, and has been added to and repaired numerous times over its centuries of existence.

After watching the clock spectacle, we decided to just wander wherever we felt like. We ended up outside the Spanish Synagogue and then continued on and stumbled upon the Convent of St. Agnes of Bohemia. We were able to go inside and look around. It was beautiful, and like any place of this sort, very quiet. I always feel like I am the loudest person when I am forced to be as silent as possible. The sound of every move I make seems to magnify by ten. After we had had our fill of the convent, our grumbling stomachs dictated our next destination.

Instead of wandering aimlessly trying to find a restaurant that was both cheap and authentic, I turned to Rick Steves' Eastern Europe that I had borrowed from a friend. While other members of the group suggested going to a place we passed that sold wings, I stubbornly insisted on finding a restaurant that served authentic Czech cuisine. Call me a snob, but I didn't come to the Czech Republic to eat wings! There is always Buffalo Wild Wings when I get back to the states. I found a place located nearby that met both of my criteria, Czech and cheap. It was a traditional Czech cafeteria where you get a tray and a slip of paper and make your way through the lines selecting whatever you want. Once you've ordered an item, you hand the slip to the server who proceeds to write down the item and the price of the item you ordered. After you're done eating, you take the slip to the cashier and pay on your way out. I thought it was really cool.

After lunch we headed back to Old Town Square to meet up with the other tour. We successfully got assigned to a tour guide and off we went. Our tour guide, Isaac, was an American who had been living in Prague for the past eight years. He was a history buff and gave us very brief, but entertaining history at various sights around Prague. At one point he paused for dramatic effect after confidently assuming that we wanted to hear about the Nazis in Prague's history. To this assumption Franky chimed in "Yeah, do it," in a mock enthusiastic child voice. Our tour guide, slightly thrown off by the addition of Franky's comment, responded "Pipe down Rub-A-Dub," which got laughs all around. He was very funny, if not a little crass. He liked to make fun of different nationalities, which sometimes was a little over the top, but otherwise he made what could have been a boring tour, very entertaining and engaging. At one point he picked me out of the crowd to play the Virgin Mary in a skit about how a severed hand wound up in a church.

Unfortunately, we had to leave the tour early so we could go back to our hostel and change before heading off to a piano concert at the beautiful Rudolfinium. Our tour guide was less than pleased that we were leaving early, but we explained to him that we had plans that required us to bail out before the three hour tour had been completed. He still got a bit pissed off, but after walking away, two of our group returned to tip him and then we traipsed off to our hostel.

After a quick rest for our feet (we had literally been walking or standing all day, including during lunch because there were no booths open) we were soon back on the metro and headed to the Rudolfinium. We walked around the block once because we didn't realize that the building that we had passed on more than one occasion during our trip thus far was the one we wanted. We finally came to the realization that we were fools and had indeed been right in front of the correct building without even noticing it. Upon our realization, we quickly bought cheap tickets and went in. The concert was lovely. I have no knowledge of composers or what pieces go well together, but the music was great. After a day on my feet as the lead navigator it was wonderful to sit back in a beautiful room and listen to the sounds of seasoned fingers stroking the ivory keys of a piano. Half the time I just let the music fill the back of my mind as I let my mind wander to whatever it so pleased. After the pianist was done and had walked on and off the stage countless times (as is apparently customary in these types of performances) and perform two encores the concert was finally over.

Back out on the street (and our feet) we made dinner our next objective. Someone amongst us decided that we should go to a restaurant called The Crazy Cow (a name which is very close to mad cow, and which would have been unsettling if I ate beef). Upon arrival at the restaurant I took a quick look at the menu and realized there weren't many options for a non-mammal eater like myself, and even fewer for a vegetarian. I decided that I'd rather keep looking, but the others were perfectly happy with this selection, so the lone vegetarian in the group and I went off in search of something more appetizing. We found a nice place that had something appetizing to both of us. I ended up getting the cheapest thing on the menu, potato soup in a bread bowl. It was delicious, Czech, and cheap, an unbeatable combination. After dinner Gene and I met back up with the rest of the group and we all headed for our hostel.

That night we made sure we were on the metro before it closed, so we wouldn't have a repeat of the previous night wandering around the streets of Prague looking for the right night tram. After another exhausting day we all fell fast asleep in minutes.

Bratislava? Are We in Slovakia?: Part One of The Praha Chronicles

As the title so subtly suggests, what follows in a chronicle of my recent trip to Praha (Prague for those who may not recognize it by it's true name), Czech Republic. I have been rather busy this week due to various assignments for midterms, ahh!, so I am somewhat behind on my blog. I have decided to take time away from studying and homework to finally put my trip into words.

Last Friday after class, I, and six of my friends, hopped on a train and headed for the Czech Republic. It is about a seven hour train ride from Budapest, which is manageable for a weekend getaway. I enjoy the train. It's lovely to sit and look out of the window as unfamiliar lands whiz by with the knowledge that I am speeding off to an exciting new place. The scenery on this ride was especially spectacular because of the changing foliage. The hills were spotted with blasts of orange, yellow, and red among the blanket of green. It happened to be a good day to be on a train. The sky was overcast and gray, adding to the mystique of an unknown landscape.

As the train glided out of Hungary I resigned myself to split my time between gazing out of the window and reading my fantastic book about famous Hungarian Jews who were forced to flee Budapest after Budapest's Golden Age came to an abrupt end in the 1920's, and changed the world.

I need to interrupt this recounting of my train ride to bring you a breaking news bulletin: I just succeeded in lighting my oven for the first time! I am ecstatic to finally be able to bake! I have been ovenless for the past six weeks because I was unable to figure out how to light my gas oven. My land lady finally showed me how to light it. Previously, all I could get it to do was billow gas into my flat, but I couldn't figure out where exactly I was supposed to stick the flame to get it to ignite. Not wanting to blow up my flat, I abandoned the effort. After being instructed on where to put the flame I discovered that the ridiculous shark lighter that I have doesn't fit, so I've been searching for matches for a couple of weeks now. Oh, how I miss electric ovens! Anyway, back to the train ride...

Many crumbling, neglected buildings lined the railway or were visible from the train car in which I sat. Those buildings, added with the bleak, gray sky and my exposure to the history of communism in Hungary, made me feel as if I had been transported to another time. This may reveal the extent to which I have been "Americanized" because I associate desolation and wreckage with communism, but from what I have learned about Hungarian history during the communist regime, it wasn't a great time in the country's history.

Somewhere in my daydreams of other times, I noticed that the alphabet on signs along the railway had changed. Letters were now adorned with a wide variety of unusual accents and symbols that had no place in Hungarian. My immediate thought, proving my complete geographical ignorance, was that we had crossed the Hungarian border into the Czech Republic. It wasn't until we pulled up in Bratislava (which I knew wasn't in the Czech Republic) that I call out, "Are we in Slovakia?" Everyone else, having even less of a clue about the geography of Eastern Europe than I did, just shrugged. I quickly pulled out a map and discovered that Hungary does NOT border the Czech Republic, and that we had been in Slovakia for quite some time. Oh, the ignorance of youth.

After an uneventful train ride spent alternating between looking out of the window, reading, sleeping, and talking to my companions, we finally arrived in Praha. It took us a ridiculously long time to locate an ATM in the train station so we could get Czech koruna (crowns). I finally found it in the most logical of places, right next to the ticket counters, duh. Oh well, after getting some money we finally managed to get on the metro and take yet another train to our hostel. Our hostel was fabulous. It was called Plus Prague and was fantastically cheap (only $12 a night) with clean rooms, free WiFi, free breakfast, a pool, and keycard access. The only downside was that it was located a little outside of the city center, but it's easy access to a tram stop made getting to it easy. I found the hostel on hostelworld.com which is a great site if you're ever in need of booking a hostel.

Once checked-in and unloaded, we went in search of food to please our growling stomachs. We found a Mexican restaurant just around the corner and happily walked in. It's a good thing it didn't take us the usual five years to make up our minds because when we came in we were told that the kitchen would be closing in five minutes, so we just made the cut. The most remarkable thing at dinner was when we ordered chips and guacamole, we were served guacamole with french fries. Of all places to adopt the Brittish meaning for chips, a Mexican restaurant! When we pointed out the error, we were confused as to why we were receiving french fries, our waitress just said she "you said chips," and left. We never did get real tortilla chips. I guess I'll just have to wait for the real thing when I get home. Los Loros here I come!

After dinner we decided to go down by the river and see Praha at night, big mistake. We got down to the river, which was very beautiful. I was continually impressed by Praha, besides the large number of fellow tourists. Praha's many gorgeous and historic buildings suffered little damage during WWII, unlike Budapest, who's buildings still bear marks of past horrors (i.e. bullet holes). The price for choosing to see this wonderful city at night was that the metro closed during our escapades, which included stumbling upon some animated peeing statues outside of the Franz Kafka Museum. We had a good laugh at those statues with their moving appendages to put it discretely. We ended up walking most of the 4 km back to our hostel on a very chilly night before we finally found the right tram to take us the rest of the way. As self appointed lead navigator, I was exceedingly cranky by the end of the night. At one tram stop, after confirming that it was a stop on the tram line that we wanted, we were passed by the oncoming tram with a small wave from the driver as he passed us without even stopping. They have different stops for different directions of the same tram line. We were at a stop for the tram going the opposite way. We finally found the stop for the tram going in our desired direction several blocks away and had to wait another 15 minutes because the trams only run every half hour after midnight.

But, in the end we finally made it back by 2 a.m. or so, and all fell, totally drained, into bed. The next day would prove far more exhausting.