Alone

Feb. 14, 2013 (continued)
United Airlines in their Hemisphere magazine often features an article called “Three Perfect Days.” In the article, they feature a city and suggest places to see, eat, and visit if you were to spend three days in that area. I once talked with a friend of mine about what three perfect days in our home town would look like.

Aaron had finished going through the Communist Museum faster than I had and he had headed back to the dorm. When I arrived back he was working on his laptop at the little table in the kitchen.

“Is the stove on?” I asked as I took my shoes off by the door.

“Oh I forgot to check,” he said. We did, and, thankfully, it wasn’t.

I was starving. I had eaten some yogurt and fruit for breakfast, but my stomach was now howling. Another friend had given me a travel book that broke Prague down into neighborhoods. Opening up to Zizkov I found a few restaurants that looked reasonably priced. Checking a map however, I noticed they were kind of far away. I could definitely catch a tram but walking was probably not an option.

It did dawn on me that aside from the yogurt and fruit, I hadn’t eaten much of the food that Ivana and I had purchased at the grocery store. I pulled some of it out and realized that some of it had expired. I guess that’s what happens when you don’t load your food up with preservatives.

“I think I’m going to stay in tonight,” I told Aaron. “Save some money for traveling next week.”

“That’s what I did, Dude,” he said. “I made a sandwhich.”

I decided to make pasta. The water I’d prepped for tea was still in the pot. I just added a little to it and turned the knob on the stove. I got pasta out of my section of the cupboard along with some bread. Reaching into the fridge, I grabbed some sauce, an orange, and some butter. I was set!

After about 10 minutes, the water still wasn’t boiling. Actually, it was only room temperature. It struck me as odd. I’d expected it to be slow, but I’d also expected it to work. Slowly, a thought crept into my head. Getting down on my hands and knees, I looked behind the mini-fridge under the stove. Just as I’d thought! It wasn’t plugged in.

As soon as I clicked the plug into the outlet, it fired right up. The room quickly became warm and within minutes the water was boiling.

“Way to figure it out,” Aaron said.

I laughed a little. “Yeah I guess that’s the boy scout in me.”

He paused for a second. “You were in boy scouts.”

I laughed a little at that too. I realize that it had only come up twice since I’d landed: once with Ivana and Kevin, and once with Carl and Nick. When talking with Carl and Nick about it, I went into great detail about my time as Lodge Chief and some of the stuff my team and I had done. I’d assumed the conversation had bored them, but towards the end of it they kept asking more questions.

“That’s amazing to hear about,” Nick had said.

“Yes,” Carl had agreed. “And you have light in eyes when you talk about it.” That made me a laugh a little too.

“Yes, I was in Boy Scouts,” I said.

“What’s that top badge called? Eagle? Did you get your Eagle?”

“I did,” I said. “And now I still volunteer with the Boy Scouts.”

“Nice,” he said.

While the pasta and sauce were still cooking, Aaron left for the pub. When my food was ready I moved it all to the table. The pasta and sauce were very hot, so I peeled the orange first. I also “toasted” some of the bread but setting it right on the burner. If I pulled it off after just a few seconds, it would be warm and crispy, but if I waited more than 2 or 3, it would be charred and black.

I was pretty proud of myself. At school I ate in the Dinning hall and at a home I rarely cooked (aside from an occasional scrambled egg for breakfast.) It had taken me nearly 30 minutes to get ready, but it was a start. I decided to take a picture of it. As I loaded the picture of my food to facebook, I did briefly feel like my OA lodge advisor from Boy Scouts, but I was excited anyway to share it!

I said a small grace by myself and started to eat. It tasted pretty good. The sauce was a little salty—I’d probably need to water it down in the future—but the pasta was cooked just right. I’ve been so thirsty since I got here that I downed several mugs full of water (we don’t have glasses.)

As I ate, I started to think about what I was going to do for the next few days. Ivana was out of town. Most of the exchange students were going to the Orientation Weekend (an event we had to sign up for back in November—it involves rock climbing so at the time of registration, I declined.) I wasn’t a fan of the taste of the beer and the smoke of the pubs really, really burnt my lungs. I realized I might have to venture out on my own for the weekend.

I was ok with this idea. I’d enjoyed being alone. It allowed me to really meet the locals and see the culture without the western filter that many of us as students were still carrying around. It made me a little nervous, but I remembered that I had Suzanna’s number and if I got lost I could always call her.

And just like that, it hit me! The three perfect days conversation that I’d had with my friend several years ago. I was in Prague, and I now had three days to go off and explore. That’s exactly what I was going to do.

I grabbed the travel book that my other friend had given me and thumbed through to the section of “suggested itineraries.” I picked three that looked like they covered a little history, a little art, and a little culture. I dog-eared the pages and decided I would do more research on each of them after dinner.

The salt in the sauce eventually started to get to my stomach. I ate most of the pasta, and then nibbled on some bread and butter, before finishing it off with the orange. Our kitchen is cozy, but it is not big, and it does not have a dishwasher.

Time once again to call on those Boy Scout skills.

I boiled water in the pot that I’d used to make the pasta. Once the water was boiling, I tossed the utensils I’d used into it. Occasionally, I’d dump out the water and start with fresh water to get some of the sauce—which was admittedly burned to the bottom of the pan—off.

By the time I’d finished, Aaron was back from the pub. I realized that start to finish (cooking, eating, and cleaning) had taken almost two hours. I took a shower and then started thumbing through the travel books.

The night before I left for Prague I was nervous and kept reassuring myself it was going to be okay. Tonight, I feel like Bilbo Baggins from The Hobbit. As I look at this plan I’ve crafted for the next few days, a voice in my head exclaims, “I’m going on an adventure!”