Get Smart

“Education is not the filling of a pail but the lighting of a fire.” ~William Butler Yeats

Feb 27, 2013

When I woke up this morning, I still felt congested and my head was throbbing. I drank a ton of water before going to class hoping that might clear it up. I wanted to save the Tylenol and Advil that I had some if I needed them later in the trip (I have no idea how to say Acetaminophen in Czech if I had to buy more.)

I went to my early morning class which is on International Management. “Have I told you about three rules in my class?” he asked. Everyone stared at him blankly. We were either all tired and groggy, or he hadn’t mentioned it.

“You can interrupt me as the professor for three things,” he said. “The first is if you do not understand something. I know my accent and many of the accents in here might be hard to understand so just ask if you don’t understand.

“The second is if you know something I do not know. Even though I teach international classes and travel, you know more about your country than I know, so feel free to share it.

“Third, you can always interrupt if you think of a good joke.”

It is always funny to hear the professors talk about America. In many ways, they don’t consider America to be the world giant that we think of ourselves as. In other ways, they seem to see us as the biggest player (along with China, India, and the emerging Brazil.)

Today there was a lot of positive coverage of America. As a few examples:

• Of the 500 largest corporations in the world, over half of them are owned out of the US.
• The value of Apple is equal to a third of the entire GDP of the EU.
• There is great faith in the dollar, with almost two thirds of the world’s cash reserves being held in American currency.

The negative critique came in America’s relationship with Mexico. While my professor gives credit to the US and NAFTA for helping Mexico grow quite a bit, he is under the impression that we have built a wall across the southern border of America. He says, “This is not very nice way to deal with neighbors.”

I didn’t interrupt him to correct this fact. Neither did the other seven Americans in the class.

We also had to choose groups to do a research project on the WTO. Karin and I decided to work together, and a Czech girl named Ellie asked to join our group. We divided out roles for the project, and agreed on a few deadlines to check in with each other on the progress. The project is due next Tuesday so it doesn’t give us a ton of time, but the guidelines are also pretty open ended.

“Whichever project is the best gets the 10 points,” the professor said. “That is the A. The other ones will be judged off of that one.”

“Easy,” I said. “All we have to do is be better than everyone else.” Maybe that’s the American coming out in me.

After class, I went back to the dorms to try sleeping off the headache again. This time, when I woke up, I actually did feel a lot better. I was still a little congested, but the tension in my head seemed to be gone.  Unfortunately, I overslept and had to race out to the tram to get to class.

I arrived a few minutes late, but Professor Kral hadn’t started lecturing yet. When he did, it was another really interesting class. He finished his presentation from last week on possible barriers to international marketing. Using humor and sex as examples he pointed out how difference in culture can make ad campaigns more or less effective. Humor tends to be universally accepted (as long as the subject is appropriate to joke about within the culture) while sex tends to be a bit more sacred and harder to use across borders.

One example he showed was this video of a German ad campaign that wound up being successful in many countries:

 

Something I found interesting was the discussion of television advertising. In the EU there are legal limits on TV advertising. With England being the most restrictive, each country has a set limit of the number of ads that can be shown during a TV program. The generally accepted baseline is that only 15% of a scheduled portion of a TV program can be used for advertising (example: for each hour of television, only 9 minutes can be used for advertising…in England, its only 4 minutes.) The joke that several European students have made is that "football" (Soccer) never caught on in the US because the game is too fast for commercial breaks.

After class, I went to meet with Thibaut. We decided to go get dinner back by the dorms.

“I read your blog,” he said again. “I saw some of the things you said about America.”

I reiterated to him some of the pros and cons I saw in the American lifestyle after being away. He also asked me about my family and I asked about his.

“And what have you seen in Prague,” he asked. I told him the various sites, museums, and churches I had seen.

“And you?” I asked. He had a similar list, although he was clearly better versed at the history of the city than I was.

We went back and forth quite a bit before getting into the subject of travel.When all was said and done, we both had lists of places to see but we decided on Vienna, Krakow, and Budapest. Looking at the calendar, we picked a date to go to Krakow and are now looking for transport to get there. His roommates, who come from around the world, are also interested in traveling with us. I had found some folks to travel with!

After dinner, we went back to the dorms. I still felt a little congested and my headache was returning, so I decided to turn into be a little early to try and beat the cold. I found an American radio station online and listened for a bit while I blogged.

Looks like tomorrows adventure will include grocery shopping, homework, and hopefully a cathedral tour!

The Headache

“Nothing is good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” ~William Shakespeare

Feb 26, 2013

All through the night I woke up feeling a bit feverish. I couldn’t explain exactly why, but I just felt really warm. I didn’t have to be to class until 1pm, but the fever and a splitting headache got me up about 10am.

I booted up my computer and did what I had vowed I wouldn’t do: I counted the days until I would be going home. The count came down to: 81 days left in the semester, 92 days until my family arrived, and 106 days until I went home.

It was funny. Two polar opposite thoughts raced through my head. On one had, 106 days just felt too long. I wasn’t sure I was that patient or that determined. Could I makt it through 106 days? On the other hand, 106 days didn’t feel long enough to do all that I still wanted to do.

So I started creating a schedule. I figured if I looked to see when the projects were due for different classes, then I could fill in other dates with possible trips and start to expand my adventure into Europe. As I plugged in due dates, I came to a frustrating discovery.

I am enrolled in 4 classes which meet once a week for 3 hours (International Marketing being the only exception…it is broken up over 2 days of 90 minute sessions.) I am also enrolled in two classes that are referred to as “intensive courses.”  These courses meet only a few times during the semester for entire days, and the credit is earned after the intensive instruction.

Up until now, the meeting schedule for my intensive classes hadn’t been released. When I logged into the system today, I found that it was posted. The one class (International Communications) over lapped with International Marketing, every other Tuesday.

I wasn’t sure what to do. How could I miss every other class and still expect to pass? Not to mention, International Marketing is my only class where attendance is part of the grade.

I jotted down the dates that overlapped in my notebook and decided I would ask my professor about it after class. Taking some Tylenol for my headache, I got up and left for class.

The class turned out to be very interesting. We were broken up into groups and each given a form of marketing to evaluate. Our group, which was made up of two Czech students, a French girl, and myself was given the category of retail sales. We had to evaluate how effective it was at (1) reaching an audience (2) communicating with the customer (3) being reliable (4) accepting feedback and (5) closing a sale.

Since I’ve worked in retail, I shared some of my observations with the group. It turned out that many of them had had retail jobs at some point, and they too had seen some of the same experiences. The frustrating customers, the odd requests, and the roller-coaster ride of self-esteem seemed to be universal in sales across different cultures. I was the only one however who said I enjoyed working in sales and thought the challenge was part of the fun.

After class, I went up to ask Professor Stan (the PhD student) about the absences. He reiterated to me that in order to pass the class I was only allowed 3 absences—this is apparently a university standard. He explained that I should be able to miss 3 sessions of this class, and 1 or 2 from the intensive classes and still pass both of them. It made me feel a little better; still a bit of an uneasy feeling, but a bit better.

As I left class, I ran into Manu. Manu is from India and is starting her master’s work in Marketing while abroad in Prague for the semester. We had met in class the previous week, but she had been sick on and off since then.

“I think I am coming down with a bit of a cold,” I told her. “I’m planning to go back to the dorm and sleep it off tonight.”

“You do not want to get sick,” she said. “Being sick in a foreign place is such a helpless feeling. You don’t know what medications to buy or where to go for help. It is awful. You don’t want to do it!”

“My plan is to stay healthy,” I said, knowing my immune system normally gives out on me at some point each semester. “My roommates have all been sick and I’m hoping I don’t get whatever they have.”

“Eat lots of fruit,” she said. “Your body will make its own antibiotics if you eat fruit.”

I went back to my dorm to rest up. On the way, I stopped into a restaurant for lunch. Their sign on the door advertised that they were famous for their schnitzel. The fact the sign was in English should have tipped me off that it was a bit gimmicky. The “schnitzel” tasted a lot like “shake’n’bake” chicken. It was good, but I’m not sure it was a true cultural experience.

When I got back to the dorm, I talked briefly with my cousin Cheri on Facebook. We swapped travel stories and she told me about an adventure she has coming up. I also saw that my parents were online and decided to Skype with them real quick. It turned out to actually be a bit of a longer conversation, but a needed one.

After we hung up, and I promised to call back later that night to finish the chat, I did get to take a nap. It wasn’t real long—only about an hour—but while I was asleep, the headache went away. It returned as soon as I woke up, along with a face full of congestion.

Tuesday Nights are the Nation2Nation parties, and I messaged Lad’ka to let her know I wasn’t feeling well enough to go. She was sick too and said she was taking a night off. I also messaged with Thibaut from my Czech class. We talked about meeting up tomorrow to discuss traveling outside of the Czech Republic together.

I decided that I wanted some soup for dinner (felt appropriate for a cold) so I went across the street once again to get dinner. Before I did, I checked my receipts to see how much I’d spent eating out these past few nights. I was surprised to see that after five nights, I’d spent about 35USD on dinners. I knew I couldn’t do this for the next three months if I wanted to travel, but it also showed me my money wasn’t wasting away.

They weren’t serving soup tonight at the restaurant (apparently there is not only just a “soup of the day” but “days of the soup.”)  I ordered tortellini instead. It took a while to come—significantly longer than the service had been the past few nights—but when it did, it was worth the wait. The noodles were made by hand, with no two shaped quite the same. They were filled with cheese and served in creamed spinach. It tasted amazing!

As I had been waiting, I’d also been thinking. The same old man was playing the keyboard. I recognized a few of the tunes as “Rock Around the Clock,” The Beatles’ “Yesterday,” and “I Could Have Danced All Night” from My Fair Lady. As I thought about the day, my headache, and the remaining 106 days left, that same small voice—the one I heard on the plane and the one that’s been coaching me since I landed—spoke up.

It said, “You can do this.”

And the funny thing was, I knew it was right. I can do this. Not hearing English out in public isn’t as scary anymore. Grocery shopping and cooking don’t feel as cumbersome anymore. Worrying about scheduling doesn’t seem as important anymore.

Those 106 days don’t feel so long anymore.

I wouldn’t say I’ve hit the acceptance stage of culture shock, but I seemed to be moving through the homesickness pretty well. I can do this. I know that it is going to fly by, and that there will be a million great memories made between now and the time I leave Prague. In fact, the idea of leaving Prague makes me a little disappointed already. I guess I really am starting to like it here.

When I got back to my room, I got a blog post uploaded and then called my parents back. My Dad answered and we talked a lot longer than we’d planned, but it was a very good conversation. By the time we hung up, it was after 2am.

I still had a headache and needed to get up at 7am in the morning, but I decided to take a shower real quick. After I did, I took Manu’s advice and ate an orange…with some ibuprofen just to take the edge off.

Come Monday

"Mondays are not part of the productive work week." ~Dilbert, cartoon by Scott Adams

Feb 25, 2013
About halfway through the night, I realized that while my school supplies were bought and purchased, I had neglected to buy textbooks for any of my classes. Sitting up in bed in a slight panic, I adjusted my alarm clock thirty minutes earlier so I could get to the university bookstore before class.

When it went off, I got out of bed, dressed, and left right away. I ran into Machek on the tram. We had been in a couple of groups together for orientation. Like everyone else in the dorms, he and his roommate had spent the weekend sick. His roommate was still laid up with a bug and stayed home to sleep.

We talked on the tram about starting to travel. I told him I was excited to start seeing more of Europe but also relayed my hesitation of going alone after my escape from Terezin.

“You went to Terezin?” he asked.

“I did,” I said.

“How was that?”

“It was really interesting to see,” I said.

“There is the big camp in Poland. Um, what is it called?” he thought for a few seconds.

“Auschwitz?” I offered.

“Yes, Auschwitz,” he said. “Are you going to go there?”

“I think I’d like to,” I said.

“I went when I was very young. Like sixteen I think, and I did not like it,” he said.

When we got to school, Machek joined me in finding the book store so that he could check the prices of his books. When I went to pay, I again only had one of the $2,000 koruna notes from the ATM. The woman at the counter was hesitant to take it. She didn’t speak English, but called over her manager. He held it under a black light and told her it was ok.

In total, my books cost $7 USD.

My first class for the day was Basic Czech for Foreigners. Once again, the professor was late. When she did arrive, she set her bags on the front desk and, with a sigh, said, “I hate Mondays!”

Apparently, this too is a sentiment understood across cultures.

In class, we finished learning the Czech alphabet and started practicing some basic greetings. Thibaut, the student from France who I’d worked with last week, worked with me.

“I have read some articles from your blog,” he said. “It’s great!”

I was a little taken aback. “Thank you,” I said. “I’m glad you like it!”

We stumbled over all of the tongue bending words of the basic Czech phrases, before class ended. When it finished, I went to my next class that was right afterwards.

Between classes, I got an email from my friend Bryan back home. He asked me about a project for a Boy Scout event that was coming up. I told him I’d work on it a bit when I got back to the dorm. The reality was, my brain started working on it in that moment. All through Supply Chain Management, I found myself thinking about the project. For over a year, working on scout projects had been my life. It was certainly overwhelming at times, but it was also very fulfilling. It had been over a month since I’d worked on a anything scout-related. I knew that I was on this “life changing adventure” but my brain really liked the idea of solving a puzzle again.

When class ended, I went with Lucas to lunch. We’d met in class the week earlier and were going to do a project together on RFID for that class. I’d invited him to join me in the cafeteria, but he said he’d show me a nicer restaurant that was cheaper for students.

The restaurant turned out to be in the academic club room in the upper level of the Paradise building. They had a student combo every day that was a drink, soup, entrée, and dessert for 100 crowns ($5USD). We were joined by his girlfriend, Marketa, who helped translate the menu for me. The soup was beans and corn, in a thick creamy broth. The entrée for the day was roast beef served in bright orange gravy with a side rice. The dessert was a donut with banana cream filling.

As we ate, they asked me about my time in the Czech Republic.

“Do you like the beer?” Marketa asked.

“I actually don’t drink,” I said.

The both stared at me, wide eyed and slack jawed.

“I’ve tried the beer and the wine” I said. “I don’t really like them and I never drank back home so, I’ve just decided not to drink. I do like orange soda, though.”

They stared at each other and then back at me. “I’ve never met anyone who didn’t drink. Especially the Americans; they all come to Prague to party.”

“I’ve noticed that,” I said. “I came to Prague for this history and the culture”

“Really?” Lucas asked.

“Absolutely!” I said. “You guys have buildings that are older than my country. It’s amazing to me.”

“Do you like art?” Marketa asked.

“Kind of,” I said. “They aren’t my favorite exhibits, but like I said, the history fascinates me.”

She told me about an exhibit that was coming to Prague Castle. It was comprised of paintings by a Czech artist who had invented cubism (years before Picasso made it cool.)

After lunch, I thanked them for letting me join them. They said good-bye to each other Lucas and I continued to the second portion of our Supply Chain class. We had about twenty minutes till it started so we sat in the hallway talking.

“I watched some of the American election last fall,” he said. “Can I ask you who you voted for?”

I laughed a little and told him.

“In America, you have only two political parties?” he asked.

“Actually,” I said, “We have several parties. I want to say there were twelve on the ballot this year. But most of them don’t have enough money to get publicity and the media only covers the main two.”

“Really?” he asked. “We only ever hear of republicans and democrats. You can vote for any of them and then whoever gets most votes wins?”

“Not exactly,” I said. I debated how to explain the Electoral College but decided to give it a shot. “Each state gets a certain number of delegates. Whichever candidate wins in the state gets all of the delegates from that state.” I decided not to mention the quirks of Nebraska and Maine.

“That makes sense,” he said. I was surprised at his reaction since it doesn’t make sense to most Americans. “Keeps it fair for all the states, especially when it comes to campaigning.”

“That’s the idea,” I said.

When the class started, we went inside. We had to present our preliminary plan for our project. I explained to the professor that I thought it would be interesting to compare RFID to barcodes and then discuss which one we thought was more effective.

The professor agreed, but followed up asking, “Have you found anything specifically interesting in your research about RFID.”

Lucas jumped in. “I found one article that said they use it to track athletes when they run to get their time across the finish line.”

“Yes they do,” the professor said. “They also use it to track patients in hospitals when they are moved for tests.”

Each of the groups presented their ideas, and then we proceeded with the lecture. After class ended, I headed back to the dorms to start on the project Bryan had sent me.

While I felt a little guilty working on scout stuff in Prague, I loved it at the same time. It was fun digging back into my tool box and coming up with creative ideas. It was the exactly intellectual challenge I needed on a Monday.

While I was working, I got an email from our friend Matt down in Munich. He sent me some dates for a trip to come visit them and I got it on the calendar. My Dad also sent me some info to go visit some relatives in Germany which I’m starting to look into now.

I probably stayed up a little too late, but my first class on Tuesday isn’t till 12:45. After getting the blog updated and ready, I took a shower and headed to bed.

The Vigil

"True religion is not a narrow dogma. It is not external observance. It is faith in God and living in the presence of God. It means faith in a future life, in truth...Religion is a matter of the heart" ~Ghandi

Feb 24, 2013
I slept in again today with no specific plan of what I wanted to do. When I woke up, I saw that it has pretty much stopped snowing. I decided I would venture out to do the Museum of Torture. Ivana’s restaurant was on the way, so I figured since it was almost noon, I would go get a bite to eat there.

As I logged onto my laptop to check my email, a message popped in from Kevin. He was feeling better and hoped to get out and see some of the city today. I invited him to join me and offered to point out some of the sites I’d already visited. He took me up on the offer and said he’d meet me in 30 minutes.

I started putting away my laundry (which was finally dry) and rearranging some stuff in my closet. As I pulled some stuff out of my suitcase, I came across a small relic from back home. Buried in the bottom of my suitcase was my Vigil Triangle. The Vigil is the highest award given to leaders in the branch of Boy Scouts I worked for last year. The Triangle they’d given me was a token of my nomination for this award. I will go through a formal ceremony when I get back to receive it. I had thought it would be clever to bring my triangle and take photos with it at various sites around Europe.

I decided that if I was going to do a little retracing today to show Kevin some sites, I could take the triangle along to capture those photos as well.

After meeting up with Kevin, we successfully navigated to Ivana’s restaurant. I only got a little turned around at one point, but I was actually right in front of it—it just looked different without falling snow. The cobblestone roads were still quite slippery, but the ice was turning to slush. The shoes I bought to bring to Prague were proving their worth and my feet stayed nice and dry.

Once inside the restaurant we took a seat. I asked one of the waiters if Ivana worked today and he said she’d be in at 2:00. I told him that she had recommended a seafood dish to me and he pointed one out. I’d brought my meds with me today, and taking them along with a glass of mirinda, I decided to order it.

Over lunch, Kevin and I talked about a variety of issues. He asked me my impression of the US after seeing it from the outside and I gave him my views.

“I can certainly see where the ‘ugly American’ stereotype comes from,” I said. “Americans are quite loud and I don’t think they read other cultures very well. It cracks me up how often I see or hear them yelling at people in English. I always thought that was just a joke, but they do it all the time.

“I also think Americans are very distrustful. It’s been hard for me to trust people since I got here, but I’m getting better at it and I realize how much people trust one another here. Mothers trust strangers on the tram to watch their kids get to school. The tram drivers rarely check tickets, and when they do, they seem to feel guilty for kicking someone off the car.

“I think Americans also work too much. I’ve been frustrated trying to plan trips and figure out my days. I try to cram them full so I can do as much as possible, but I realize there is something to be said for sleeping till noon and enjoying a nice lunch with friends.” I paused for a second. “I don’t think that happens enough in America.”

“Yes Americans are very frustrating,” he said. “They’re so close, but they just don’t quite get it.”

“Well I don’t know about that,” I said. “There are things I miss about back home.”

“Like what?” he asked.

“I think Americans are very compassionate. I think charity is an important part of America. I think being friendly and open are key characteristics of Americans. Smiling at strangers and saying ‘how are you’—even when we don’t always care what the answer is—we greet people all the time. I think that’s good.

“I think the fact that in America you can get whatever you’re willing to work for is a good thing. I think sometimes we are spoiled by it, but I think that is the American Dream. Take our health care. If I break my arm today, I can be in surgery within an hour. I think that’s a good thing.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “That doesn’t happen in the rest of the world. But America is becoming quite socialist.”

“I believe that now more than I did before I left,” I said. “I think America is far more socialist than most of the Europeans I’ve talked to. The government programs that we have for housing, unemployment, and now healthcare; they are all far more in depth than anything I’ve seen or heard about in Europe.”

“Oh your Obama is way more socialist than our Prime Minister,” Kevin said.

He asked me a few questions about gun control, and then gave me his view. Again, I was shocked that he was not in favor of banning guns. He, far more than I did, thought there was value in the citizens having the same weapons as the government and the military.

I decided to go a little deeper. “How about abortion?” I asked. “Is it legal in Canada?”

“Yes,” he said. “Up till 20 weeks. After 20 weeks, it has to be a pretty severe medical emergency to abort. And US?”

“I think that’s about right,” I said. “I know that about five or so years ago they pushed it back and outlawed partial birth abortions.”

He asked me my views on it and then shared his. We weren’t that different, although some of our logics were.

“I don’t religion can be used an argument for everything,” he said.

“I agree,” I said. “I think if we are truly to have ‘separation of church and state’ as the US promises to, then we can’t let religion dictate government, but government also should not dictate religion.”

“That makes sense,” he said. “My religion, Sikhism, is one of the newest world religions. It takes aspects of Hinduism, Islam, and Judaism.”

“I have heard of it,” I said.

He told me that he struggles with religion, especially given how much science has progressed in the past few years.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t think religion is as important as faith. My religion tells me that I should go to church on a regular basis, but my faith tells me that there is something to be said for lying awake at night and thanking God that I’ve had a safe trip.”

“I can be thankful for my safety without directing it to a god,” he said.

“True,” I said.

“I think so many religions have just done so many things in history that some of what they believe is archaic,” he argued.

“Well I don’t think you can judge a religion by the people who follow it,” I said. “There can be some truth to what they believe, but their actions may not always reflect that truth.”

He paused for a second. “That’s a good point.”

"I know that I've done a lot of praying before and during this trip, and I believe it's made a difference for me," I said. "The Zach I knew back in the US wouldn't jump on a bus to tour concentration camps or even think about going to a club on a Tuesday night. I was sure I'd be homesick by now, but something is giving me the strength to get through."

"Maybe you just had something in you that you never noticed before," he offered.

I thought for a minute. "I think that's probably true," I said with a half smile. I knew that he meant some sort of inner strength. I gave credit for that to the Holy Spirit.

We continued to discuss through our meal. The dish I’d ordered had pasta and shrimp covered with some green, leafy vegetable (I think the waiter called it “rocket”) that I did not recognize. It all tasted very good, although when Ivana arrived, she said it was not the same dish she recommended.

Before we left, Ivana suggested that we try dessert. I ordered one with ice cream in it, but Ivana suggested that I try the tiramisu instead. “I think it taste better,” she said. It was very good!

After we paid, we left and retraced the route I’d been taking around the city. Like tourists, we posed while the other took our photo. I got several great shots to send back home. As we left the Charles Bridge, we found the signs for the Museum of Medieval Torture. Paying the entrance fee, we went up the stairs and into the exhibit.

The museum was quite bizarre. It showcased various instruments that had been used from pre-historic times up until as late as 1972 for torturing and interrogating suspects. Most of them were from the days of witch hunts while others were employed by the church to prosecute heretics. There were tools that maimed, while others just tore flesh. A few devices were used to cook the victim alive until the point of either death or confession. One was used to saw a person in half (starting from the feet and working towards the head so that the blood remained in the brain and the person stayed conscious the whole time.)

There was an exhibit on medieval water boarding. “Oh, Americas favorite,” Kevin teased.

There just happened to be a torture device called “The Vigil.” I’ll abbreviate some of the details to keep it PG but the general idea was that a person was suspended by their arms and legs and forced to stay awake. Various instruments were used to cause the person excruciating pain until they passed out. While they slept, the tormenting would stop, but upon waking again, the torture would continue.

“How could a god let this happen?” he asked.

“Oh, we’re going to have to argue free will a different day,” I said.

After we finished the exhibit, I suggested we end our walking tour in the Jewish Quarter. We were only a few blocks away and walked up the street to see the synagogues. On our way, we passed an ornate building I’d see a few times but didn’t recognize from any of my books.

“What is that?” Kevin asked, pointing to it.

“I don’t really know,” I said. “It looks like some kind of theater, but the national theater is back by the square.”

We took more photos in the Jewish Quarter and I noticed several sites I’d missed before. It still felt very sacred and solemn in that neighborhood. I pointed out the big synagogues to Kevin. Most of them are very unassuming buildings and easy to miss.

After we’d seen the outside of the buildings, we headed back to the metro to catch the subway to the dorms. As we walked by Pinkas Synagogue, a huge chunk of ice and slush fell from the roof and landed less than an inch in front of Kevin.

We both laughed.

“Whoa! That was close!” he said.

“See,” I said. “That’s where I see God.”

“And if it had hit me?” he asked.

“I didn’t say He doesn’t have a sense of humor.”

Round the corner out of the neighborhood, we again saw the ornate, unknown building. There was a man outside selling tickets and trying to lure in tourists. I went up to him and asked, “Excuse me. What is this building?”

I was surprised at how fluently he spoke English. “Is Czech Philharmonic,” he said. “Concerts all the time and two hundred crown student discount.”

I took the man’s flyer and we headed back to the subway. When we got to Wenceslas Square, Kevin suggested we get some hot chocolate. We walked down to the end of the square, and ducked back into Trinity Café where I’d been a few days before.

The waiter was the same, and once again, they had MTV playing on a plasma screen in the corner. It looked so out of place in the otherwise decorative European room. Either way, “Bohemian Rhapsody” serenaded us as we sipped our drinks.

Along with my hot chocolate, I ordered a slice of cheese cake. Once again, like the castle, it was nothing special. It wasn’t very sweet and tasted a bit dry. The scoop of ice cream it came with however was well worth it!

We caught the 9 back to the dorms, but I continued on to the grocery store a few stops later. I’d decided it was finally time to buy school supplies and was thrilled when I was able to find them right away inside the store.

When I got back to the dorm it was starting to rain. I wrote a little for the blog before deciding I’d eat out one more night at the Italian Restaurant. I tried yet a third dish that was spaghetti, chicken, with a green pepper sauce over it. It was spicy, but tasted fantastic!

When I got home, I played with the blog a bit more and finally figured out an easier way to upload pictures to the site. It was still slower than I’d like so I only started with a few, but now I could add images to the stories I was sending home.

With another full day, I turned in for bed, ready to start school again the next morning.

Cobblestones Slippery When Wet

"Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment." ~Rumi

Feb 22, 2013 (continued)
When I got back to my dorm, I was still a little wired from adrenaline and found it hard to jot down everything I’d seen at the concentration camp. I decided to make some rough notes and then I’d go back to fill in the details later.

I was very conflicted. It’d been in Europe now for almost two weeks and I wanted to start traveling outside of the Czech Republic. At the same time, I didn’t know several things. First off, I didn’t know the best way to travel out (plane, bus, train, etc.) Secondly, I didn’t know where to stay once I got out. How did one find a hostel or know which hostels were good and which ones weren’t. Thirdly, I was still freaked out. I wanted to travel, but I now realized I needed a travel buddy.

To start, I began researching other places I wanted to visit. I found a few agencies that specialized in student trips, as well as a few sites of recommendations of where to go and how to get there cheap. I emailed a few people with questions and hoped I’d hear back soon.

Still a bit jumpy, I decided I didn’t want to cook. I’d been talking with a few people online and Kevin recommended an Italian Restaurant across the street from the dorms. Putting on my jacket, I went there.

It turned out to be a great restaurant. There was an old man playing a keyboard in the corner. Actually, the key board was playing one of its pre-set medleys and the man was attempting to play along. It was out of key and off beat, but entertaining nonetheless.

Once I was seated, there were a few mix-ups with the waiter. The first was when I ordered orange soda and got orange juice and tonic water (still very refreshing.) The second was when I said I needed more time to look at the menu and he brought me my check. Either way, the food was great! I specifically ordered something with meat and vegetables so that I could try to round out my carbo-loaded diet. I got pasta with chicken and broccoli and it all tasted awesome.

Walking back to the dorm, it started to snow. It was the most serious storm we’d had since I got to Prague. Usually, the light flurries just blend into the air and barely hit the ground. This one was blowing big flakes that were accumulating quickly.

When I got back to my dorm, I took a shower and then skyped with my brother. It was the first time we’d talked since the day before I left. He looked good and it felt good to hear from him.

“You look so tired,” he said.

“I am exhausted,” I admitted. “Doing stuff all day every day is really taking it out of me. But it’s so much fun!”

“You should go to bed,” he kept saying, but I wanted to keep talking with him.

Feb 23, 2013

My brother was right. I must have been tired. I slept till almost noon.

Ivana had to work this weekend and she’d invited me to the restaurant she waitressed at for lunch. I pulled up the address on Google and then oriented it with my map. I was really getting pretty good at this whole map thing. Those scout skills were finally coming in handy.

I messaged Kevin on Facebook to see if he wanted to go, but he said he was feeling a bit sick. Aaron had been sick too this week and Ivana felt a bit ill. I’d heard of other people in the dorm and at school who were laid up with a bug too. Seems to be going around. The carb diet and constant alcohol can’t be helping the situation either.

After lunch, I’d planned to go see a few museums. There was the Museum of Medieval Torture that Ivana had given me flyers for, and Karel (another Czech student who had studied at my university last semester in America) had recommended the Museum of Chocolate.

Getting dressed, I peeked out the window. The snow had gotten serious. It was piling up and still falling in big gusts. Back home, people would have been hording cases of water and staying inside. The thought crossed my mind, but my time in Prague was ticking and I wanted to get out and do something today.

I took the tram into town. It amazed me how mobile people still were. The trams were just as busy and the roads just as crowded as they would have been any other day. While nothing had been plowed, traffic still drove and people still rushed about their routines as if the snow was a total non-factor.

At the stop for school, I transferred to the 26 and road it to Republic Square. It took me a while to get oriented and I walked around a few wrong streets before finding the right one for the restaurant. It was kind of fun getting “lost.” All of the buildings and courtyards were so interesting that every street seemed worthy of its own private tour.

While stumbling around, I did run into two girls that were slipping across the ice in high heels. My initial impression was they were tourists, but upon closer looks, I found they fell into a different category. They were transvestites. While their hair, make up, and clothing was very feminine, their faces and voices were very, very masculine. They spoke in Czech and were clearly both lost and confused by the snow covered signs.

When I found the correct street, I tried to find a building number. The number for the restaurant was 2, but the only number I could find was 6. I couldn’t see if the numbers on the streets were increasing or decreasing.

As I looked in the windows, I found one that looked like a restaurant. Stepping inside, I was greeted by a thick, black curtain that was hung to keep the cold out. Pushing it back, and letting my eyes adjust, I saw Ivana wiping down tables. She looked up and saw me.

“You came!” she said.

“I did!” I said. “I got a little lost, but not too bad.”

“Is ok,” she said. “I got lost the first few times I come here too. Where you like to sit?”

I pointed at the closest table, but she suggested a smaller one by the window. Bringing me a menu, she said she’d be right back. I’d only scanned it for a few minutes when she returned.

“Would you like a recommendation?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said.

“This one is very good,” she said pointing at one towards the bottom. “It has seafood in it and a good sauce. Or maybe this one,” she said pointing at another seafood dish.

I love seafood, but unfortunately, I am allergic. With a bit of benedryl, I can normally eat it ok, but without the medication, I get hives and heartburn.

“I can’t eat seafood today,” I told her. “Is there something with some meat and vegetables?”

She suggested a dish that had chicken and spinach in it. I got to choose my type of noodle and got penne.

“And you like something to drink?” she asked.

“I really like orange soda,” I told her. “Do you have any?”

“Yes we have it,” she said. “Is called mirinda in Czech.” Now I could order it again.

She brought the soda a few seconds later in a chilled, glass bottle. Pouring about half of it into a glass with a slice of lemon, she left the rest of the bottle with me. I started staring out the window. I realized it was going to be a cold and chilly day getting around town. With the late start, I worried I might not get to both museums. I also realized that was ok. My American culture had taught me I need to stay busy and be productive, but my European friends were starting to show me it was okay to slow down and just be.

As I looked around the restaurant, I saw Ivana making drinks for some people at the bar. As one of the guys turned around, I recognized it was Lubos. He stood up and came over to sit at my table.

“How are you?” I asked as he sat down.

“I’m good,” he said. “You?”

“Very good,” I said.

“Is not so good weather we are having today,” he said. “It needs to be better.”

“It reminds me of the storms we get back home,” I said. “Except back home, the city would have shut down.”

“Really?” he said. “The Czech people do not shut down for snow.”

“What about the schools?” I asked. “Do they ever close schools for snow?”

He looked confused. “No, we don’t close anything for snow. Unless it gets over a meter, then maybe but usually, we don’t close for snow.”

“That’s funny,” I said. “Back home they close schools for snow all the time. If it gets icy or more than a few inches, it all shuts down.”

He laughed. “No I don’t think we ever closed school here for snow.”

We laughed some more. “When the weather gets better, Ivy and I can take you travelling. We talk last night about going to Berlin sometime.”

“That would be great!” I said. “I went to Terezin yesterday and got a little over my head.”

“Really?” he said. “My mother’s husband works there,” he told me. “You should have told me and he could have shown you lots of historical things.”

“Oh that would have been great!” I told him, feeling even more fooling about my escapade. “Let me ask you something,” I said. “When I was there yesterday, there was a guy who I think was following me. When I crossed the street, he crossed the street, and he waited for me when I went inside the museum. What would you suggest I do if this happens again?”

He thought for a minute. “I don’t think will happen again,” he said. “Not in Prague at least. And I think important thing is maybe not going out alone. I wouldn’t go to Terezin alone.”

That made sense, and would have been valuable information 24 hours ago.

“So I would say call Ivy, or me or some other Czech student and have one of us go with you. We can communicate for you and help show you stuff you don’t know about.”

Soon after, my food came. It tasted great! The chicken was tender, the pasta and sauce were great, and the spinach was amazing.

“The food here is all so good,” I said. “Everything tastes so fresh. It’s amazing to me what happens when you take out high fructose corn syrup.”

He laughed. “Did you ever see American movie, um, what was it called?” He thought for a minute.

“Supersize Me,” I offered.

“Yes!” he said. “With guy at McDonalds.”

“We watched it in my marketing class last semester,” I said.

“Is so gross,” he said.

“Yea the last time I had McDonalds was after rock climbing with my friends. It made me feel sick,” I told him.

“Is not real food,” he said. “And in Czech we don’t have any supersizes. Just portions that are good for you.”

We continued talking all through the meal. We discussed relationships, politics, and family. He shared with me that he had originally gone to law school, but never got certified to practice because he didn’t like the lifestyle. He wanted to make enough money to travel, but didn’t like the long hours being a lawyer demanded. Now he was a manager of an Apple store in Prague and did some computer repair on the side.

It amazed me as we talked how much we had in common. We’d grown up in different cultures with very different backgrounds but so many ideals permeated both of our narratives. Fear of the future; childhood dreams; desire for friendship—all of these things, while conveyed through different stories were ideas that we both could relate to.

We’d been talking so long that Ivana came up with a dessert menu. Lubos recommended one and I went along and ordered it.

“I am excited to see America this summer with Ivy,” he said. “I am coming to see her for two weeks before she comes home and we will travel.”

“Where do you want to go?” I asked.

“I want to see New York,” he said. “Is lifelong dream of mine. I remember watching Home Alone movies and seeing the city. I think the second movie takes place there. I just want to see all of it.”

“It’s a cool city,” I told him. “You have to see the Empire State Building and Central Park. You can also go in the FAO Schwartz toy store; it’s in a lot of movies. And if you can see a play on Broadway, it is awesome.”

“I also want to see San Fransisco and LA,” he said.

“I’ve never been to LA,” I said, “but San Fran is a fun city too.”

“With the bridge, right?” he said.

“Yes, the bridge is very cool,” I said. “I just saw it back in November when I was there.”

When the dessert came, it was two fresh baked brownies with a scoop of vanilia ice cream. I used  my fork and took a small bite of the brownie. It tasted amazing! The center was still warm and mushy and the cocoa flavor was rich and intense.

"Try ice cream too,” he said.

I hadn’t had any ice cream since I left the states. “I love ice cream,” I said. “I eat it every day back home.”

“How you are not fat?” he asked.

While the ice cream was vanilla, it was not the white color we associate with vanilla back in the states. Rather, it was a deep yellow. Taking a small bite, I couldn’t believe I’d waited two weeks to try it. The flavor was the best vanilla ice cream I’d ever tasted. In the states, I joked that vanilla was only to be eaten if it had toppings on it, but this was so rich, it didn’t need any help satisfying my taste buds.

“Oh my God, that is good!” I said.

“You like?” he asked.

“I like it a lot!” I said. “Can I get it supersized?”

We both laughed. He called Ivana over and told her my joke. She laughed too.

We talked a bit more until I realized we’d been there for almost three hours. “I should let you go,” I said.

“Yes, I probably should be heading home before I come back to get Ivy,” he said. “I’m going to do some work and then take a nap.”

“I’m off to the chocolate museum,” I said.

“Oh,” he warned. “That is a dangerous place. They have lots of samples and then gift shop at the end.”

I pulled out my map and asked him to make sure I knew where it was. Ivana came over and pointed out a few routes as well, in addition to a few of the places I’d apparently already been to with her in this area. I thanked her for a great lunch, and headed out.

“Thanks for joining me for lunch,” I told him as we walked out.

“Is no problem,” he said. “I taught myself English from watching American television so is good for me to practice with you.”

I was surprised. “I think your English is great!” I told him. I never would have guessed he was self taught.

Lubos went to his car, and I headed into the snow to find the chocolate.After wandering around for awhile, I found the museum. Luckily, the woman at the counter took a few of the bigger bills I’d gotten out of the ATM.

The exhibit was very cool. It went through the history of chocolate. I had no idea that it had started as a liquid and had only been converted to solid form in the past 400 years. The drink was originally used by the mayans as a sacrifice to the gods, later as a drink for kings, and then as a treat for the public. Christopher Columbus is the first European to have described it and he was not actually that impressed by the taste. When it first arrived back in Europe, the Catholic Church tried to ban it thinking it caused too much disruption and distraction in society. Monarchs loved it, peasants couldn’t get enough of it. Eventually it was solidified and turned into candy.

There was a demonstration room about midway through the museum that talked about the differences between milk, dark, and white chocolate. Being the only one in the demonstration for that hour, she showed me how they make hazelnut filled chocolates. Her English was decent, as long as she stayed on script. I quickly learned that if I asked questions, she had no way to respond. At the end of the demo, I got to try one of the chocolates I’d watched her create. They were very good!

In the gift shop, I bought a small bag of chocolates that had been made in Belgium from cocoa beans grown in Venezuela. I thought a bag of chocolate might keep me from buying Milka bars for a few days. Unfortunately, I finished the bag off in a few hours.

Outside, the streets had turned to a solid rink of ice. Walking on cobblestones is a delicate art any usual day. Many times since my arrival, I’ve stepped on a surface I thought was flat, only to learn from my twisted ankle that it wasn’t. When the stones were wet, walking was tricky; now that they were frozen, it felt impossible.

Shuffling along in an ice skating gait (without really picking up my feet) I maintained my balance pretty well. All around me, people were falling and crashing, unable to get their footing on the layer of slush and ice. It was almost 5:00 so I decided to skip the Museum of Mideval Torture.

Getting back to the station, the trams were clearly running behind schedule. I waited over 30 minutes for tram 26 to come get me. When I got on, I rode as far as I could back before transferring to the 9. Even waiting for the 9—which usually comes every six minutes—I stood in the cold for close to 20 minutes.

By the time I got back to the dorm it was almost 7:00. It had taken 2 hours to make the journey. Aaron and I had talked about this delay several times. The problem with the public transport system was, while it was efficient, it took a long time to get around. If a student waited until they were ready to leave, it would still take them another hour to 90 minutes to get where they wanted to go.

I started writing some blog posts and polished off my notes from Terezin from the night before.  I got a message from our family friend Bill who has given my lots of great tips for travelling. When I ran the story of the guy from Terezin by him, he gave me a few good ideas to try in the future as well.

I didn’t realize how late it had gotten while I was online, so I decided to again go out for dinner. Going back to the Italian restaurant across the street, I was craving a steak. They had one on their menu, and I ordered it along with a side of veggies. I also ordered a “mirinda” and this time, I got an orange soda!

The dish that was delivered to my table looked amazing. The plate was so well decorated with vegetables and garnishes; it felt sinful to eat it. The steak was cut into four medallions with tomato slices, basil, and gorgonzola cheese melted over the top of them and cooked really rare. It melted in my mouth and tasted awesome!  I have no idea what all was in my side of veggies. There were different colored peppers that ranged from sweet to spicy. Carrots were thinly cut into strips the size of spaghetti and I ate them as such, twirled around my fork. It all tasted great!

Slipping and sliding my way back to the dorm, I put a few last touches on the blog and got ready for bed. It had been a bit of a slower day, but it was exactly the kind of day I needed.

Taken

Feb 22, 2013 (continued)
I walked back through town. The empty streets were still creepy and haunting. There was an occasional man on a bicycle or a woman walking a dog, but if I saw five people on my walk back, I’d be surprised.

When I got to the bus station, the signs were all in Czech. I remembered from reading online that during some hours the bus left every 50 minutes and some hours it left every 30 minutes, but I couldn’t remember which hours were which. On top of that, there were also several different signs that buses departed from and since I’d gotten off outside of town, I wasn’t sure how to identify where the Prague bus would come.

I decided to go in the museum to see if they would know the schedule. As I crossed the street, I noticed a bald man walking along the curb towards me. I continued crossing and stepped up onto the sidewalk. As I did. He started talking to me in Czech. He wore sunglasses and a long black coat over a dark shirt and jeans.

I couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying. Words like “bus” and “me” jumped out, but the rest didn’t make sense. He seemed like he was telling me something crucial, but there was something odd about how he looked at me that seemed off.

“I don’t understand,” I said in English, but softly so my American accent wouldn’t give me a way as a total tourist. Whatever this guy wanted, I didn’t want him to think I was a lost, rich American.

He stopped talking and I turned to walk the other way. When I was a few paces down the road, I looked over my shoulder casually and saw that he was starting to follow me. I walked a little faster and sure enough, I could hear his footsteps quicken.

My one thought was he might be a cab driver trying to convince me to take his cab instead of the bus. I’d read in both travel books and on the US embassy’s site that this was a common issue tourists ran into. While crime against tourists—beyond that of pickpocketing—was pretty rare in the Czech Republic, the ones who did report more aggressive issues tended to involve taxi drivers who took them far away from town and left them without any money or resources. I also figured there was a chance that he was just a run of the mill “mugger” who had picked me out as a clueless tourist (not that it was real hard considering I was one of the few people walking around the town.)

When I got to the gate of the museum, I took a hard turn and rushed up the stairs inside the wooden door. Inside the gift shop, I peeked out the window. I saw him pacing a little at the bottom of the steps.

“Can I help you?” a woman’s voice said from behind me. I turned and saw her sitting at the counter watching me stare out the window.

As I walked over to her, I considered telling her that I thought I was being followed, but for whatever reason, I decided against it. “Do you know where the bus to Prague picks up?” I asked.

“By sign one across the street,” she said, pointing in the direction I had just come.

“Thank you,” I said. “Do you know the schedule by chance?”

“Yes,” she said, and produced a laminated sheet of paper with the times for various buses on it. “Next one is in 2 minutes, one after that is in 32 minutes.” I checked my watch. It was 1:33. That meant they came 1:35 or 2:05.

“Thank you,” I said, and turned to leave.

As I cracked open the door, I didn’t see the man at the bottom of the steps. Gingerly, I walked down them and towards the gate. As I looked down the street, sure enough, he was waiting a few yards back.

I turned left and started walking down the block. It was the opposite way from the bus stop but I figured I could loop around the block and try to lose him.

At the end of the street, I decided to cross. It gave me an excuse to look around (as if checking for traffic) in order to catch a glimpse behind me. As I did, I saw that he was walking down the street very slowly towards me.

I crossed and started walking down the block so I could get back to the station. Checking behind me, I saw that he was crossing the street as well. I crossed back over, and in a few seconds, he did too. I crossed back over, and sure enough, he did too.

This was creepy!

At the end of the block was a woman walking her dog. She was on her cell phone waiting to cross. While I didn’t want to alarm her, I did stand near her and wait while a truck drove past. I figured being close to another person was a good cover for now. When she crossed, I followed her, looking behind me. The man was still there.

She continued straight while I needed to turn to the bus stop. Making a quick turn between buildings, I jogged a little up to the main center were the buses picked up. As I came around the corner and saw sign one, the first thing I saw was the bus to Prague pulling away!

I had missed the 1:35!

So many thoughts went through my head. I was alone. I was being followed. And I couldn’t get away for 30 minutes.

Seeing a police station across from the bus stop I walked over there. I figured I could tell them I was being followed and at least wait inside for the 30 minutes. When I tried the door knob, it was locked. The sign said that the station closed at 1:00 on Fridays.

What kind of city was this? The police closed?

I went back to the bus station and found a sign (number four I think) that had a few people waiting at it. I figured again that being around people would give me some protection. I hadn’t been there but two minutes when their bus pulled up and they boarded. Now I was the only person in the square.

Going back over to sign one my heart was racing. I tried to figure out where else I could go. I didn’t see him anywhere, but I didn’t know if he could see me—after all there were all sorts of alleys and passages between buildings; I could easily be a sitting duck in the open space at the bus stop and not know it.

What I did see was a “Tourist Information” sign. I decided that would be another safe place to wait and I could see the bus arrive when it came. Walking over to it, I again tried the door knob. It too was locked. The sign said that it closed at 1:00 as well.

I didn’t know what to do. My fired off thoughts from no to nowhere as I tried to think of a plan. I wish I’d learned some Czech phrases for “Help” or “Leave me alone” but all I really knew “please” and “thank you.”

I heard footsteps approaching from the direction I’d last seen him. I pressed myself against the door frame of the building and waited. My lung tensed as I held my breath. The steps grew louder and louder. I waited and waited. Seconds ticked by like hours. Thoughts swirled in my head.

After a few seconds, I didn’t hear them anymore. I waited a few more seconds and stepped down to look around the canopy.

As I did, I heard a voice behind me. It made me jump. I turned and saw a man coming towards me speaking German.

Was there any chance they were working together? I panicked but didn’t know where to go.

I tried to make myself look tall as if I was fending off some sort of wild animal. I tried to make myself look confident. Inside, I was shaking like a fig tree.

As the man approached he held out his hand. His fingers were black from frost bite. Most of his teeth were missing and his hair was long and unkempt. In his palm were a few silver coins, probably totally five crowns.

He said something to me looking quite desperate.

“Yeah, sure,” I said reaching into my pocket. I was so shaken I just wanted him to go away. I pulled out the first coin I grabbed (a 50 crown piece—which totals about a buck fifty USD) and gave it to him.

His entire face lit up and he said something else.

“Um, nerezumin,” I said. I don’t understand.

“English?” he asked.

“Yeah” I said.

“Is too much,” he said pointing at the coin.

“It’s fine,” I said and looked the other way, still scanning to see if I was being watched.

“London?” he asked.

I hesitated for a second. Should I tell him where I was from? Would he want more money? Would he want to mug me too? I weighed the thought in my head before saying, “America.”

“America!” he said. Reaching in his pocket he pulled out a carton of cigarettes. There were four left. “Here,” he said, offering me one.

“No thank you,” I said, trying to smile at his gesture.

“No smoke?” he asked.

“No smoke,” I said.

“Oh ok,” he said. “Bye!” and with a big smile, he stumbled off to accost some other people who had just entered the square.

As my eyes darted between watching him and looking for my stalker, the clock tower suddenly chimed. Checking my watch, it was two o’clock. I only had five minutes left. I walked back across the street to the bus stop. There were a few older people walking around the square so I figured I might be able to get someone’s attention if I needed to.

The minutes of waiting for the bus seemed to last forever. I kept checking my watch only to find that mere seconds had passed. I started to count. It was a technique I’d read about to deal with anxiety attacks. Softly to myself I started, “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…” and so one. At one point, two larger men came around the corner and I jumped a little, quickening my count…”thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four.”

When I checked my watch again, it was 2:07.

2:07! Had I missed it somehow? I said a silent prayer (which was one of many I’d been letting slip between numbers.)

“Seventy-seven, seventy-eight, seventy-nine.”

A bus pulled up at sign four. Was that possibly my bus? Had the woman inside been mistaken?

“One hundred-fifteen, one hundred-sixteen, one-hundred seventeen.”

Finally, I saw a bus come around the corner.

“Oh please God! Oh please God! Oh please God!” I prayed. Sure enough, it pulled up to my stop and opened the door.

Getting on, I paid the driver for my ticket and took my change back to my seat. He started the bus before I’d sat down and the forward motion hurled me into a bench. Gathering my stuff and wedging up against the window, I scanned the bus to make sure I didn’t see the guy. Obviously, I didn’t.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief! I’d made it! I was okay!

I noticed a sticker on the window that said the bus had Wi-Fi. While I knew it would give me away as a tourist, I needed something to calm down and release my nerves. Turning on my iPod, it connected to the network right away. It was actually the best connection I’ve had in Europe and I was able to email my mom and update my Facebook.

When I got to the main station back in Prague, I got off and went to catch the subway. I realized I was a bit hungry so I bought some pastries from one of the venders in the station and ate them on the ride back into town.

When I made it back to Wenceslas and got on the tram, I started feeling more relaxed. I listened to the various conversations around me and realized I was back around people and didn’t need to worry anymore. I also noticed a new language that I hadn’t experienced yet…sign language. There were two deaf girls on the tram talking to each other with their hands.

I made it back to the dorm safely and got online to start recording the events of the day. It had been an exciting one and certainly a learning experience. Even though I’d probably gone a little too-far-too-fast for my skillset in travelling, I also felt very proud that I’d navigated my way out of and back to the city. Even dodging whatever danger—real or imagined—that I had encountered, I realized I was savvier than I thought.

And after all, this trip was an adventure. I certainly got my money’s worth today!