St. Mikulas, I Owe It All To You

Okay, I'm running around the world so this is kind of like when they tape the late night show early...I wrote this a few weeks ago for the time when you want something new and I just don't have the energy to write it. Happy New Year!

I was little bit worried about this holiday season. For the last week now, wooden stalls put up all over Prague have been selling delicious holiday treats. I had no idea how much I love holiday treats until I have the option of drinking mulled wine on every street corner of the city. There are these things called Trdlo (no spelling error there) Trdlo is like if you were to roast cookie dough over a fire until it is lightly toasted and then roll it in cinnamon sugar. It might be the most delicious thing in the world. But these aren’t the only Prague stall temptations. There are people roasting hunks of meat all over the city. Now, for those who don’t know, I’m not a huge red meat carnivore. HOWEVER, these meat spits have been calling to me every day since they rolled up their wooden doors. The other night I finally succumbed to my first sausage…only to burn the roof of my mouth. It blistered immediately. And that was why I was worried about the holiday season. Bad omen blister.

However, I believe the blister was nullified by the amazing St. Mikulas party that occurred at FAMU. I was told days before that I absolutely could not miss this party. School tradition! Well, so far these school traditions are pretty interesting, so sure. I have been to numerous school hosted events throughout my life but I don’t think any of them topped this one. The party started at 8 pm with a potluck in our respective departments. THEN, when everyone was properly lubricated they started wandering the halls to different departments. There was a karaoke machine on the second floor, a DJ on the third, screenings on the first, and in each corner of the school there were kegs, bottles of wine and food. People look forward to getting trashed at this party every year and I must say this year was quite successful. I have never danced until 4 a.m. at my place of learning. The school got wrecked! At one point I took my heels off and the entire floor was sticky with beer and who knows what else. I put them back on. Mind you this is usually the “computer area.” I went home around four with some serious reprimands from my still partying professors. It took some negotiating getting through the building as the entire four floors were packed with people- students talking in the classrooms, smoking on the stairs, dancing in the corridors, making out in dark corners. The party went on until 7:30 a.m. The title of this post refers to a moment on the dance floor when “I’ve had the time of my Life” was played. A Dirty Dancing moment that I don’t think would fly at any other film school. But indeed I happily danced and sang along with all of my respected colleagues. I can’t say more about the evening, what happens at St. Mikulas party stays at St. Mikulas party.

"Native" Americans

...a thanksgiving post on Christmas Eve...

I shot my semester film project over Thanksgiving weekend this year. Since no one celebrates here it didn’t occur to me when I scheduled that date. I must say though, when Thanksgiving did arrive I was crushed to be in stressful pre-production and not sitting around with all of my very much missed friends eating good food and playing celebrity. SO, I got proactive. I went to the specialty grocery store in town and pre-ordered a Turkey (not really eaten here) to be delivered a week later. The date kept getting pushed back due to finals so at last we celebrated this Sunday.
It took forever to find all the food we needed…and we NEEDED it! No one would rest until we found everything to make Thanksgiving truly Thanksgiving. I think we went to five grocery stores.
Even 5 years ago the food selection was pretty bleak in Prague, but now things are pretty accessible so I couldn’t figure out why we were having such trouble. Then it occurred to me. What’s special about Thanksgiving? The Native Americans were showing the newly arrived Europeans the foods that they DIDN’T have in Europe and would now need to make it through the winter. Foods like cranberry sauce and gravy.

So, like our ancestors we foraged through store after store for our big meal. Our final shopping trip occurred the day of “Praha Thanksgiving 08” with me running through the aisles of Tesco until I reached K. “I found sweet potatoes!!!” “They have sweet potatoes?!?! Show me!” “This way! Come! Quick!” And we gazed upon sweet potatoes with the amazement our ancestors must of felt upon seeing this delicious thing come out of the ground. However, a few hundred years later and my part switched. Now WE are the Native Americans once again bringing new foods to the Europeans...well, Eastern Europeans-in this case a Montenegrin, Bulgarian, Czech, and Turk. It went over pretty well. They loved Thanksgiving. We skipped “celebrity” cause I don’t really know any Eastern European celebrities but we did all hang out in front of the TV and watched a movie. Just doing my part to show Europe our American culture.

I need a title!

Making films is really hard. Like, really hard. Just when I think I have a handle on this whole process I get kicked in the teeth. I realize that I have just set up a drama for you that really isn’t going to unfold in this blog entry. Filming went pretty well overall…

Considering

1) The ENTIRE story takes place outside in a park (which sounded like a GENIUS idea in September…) This meant a 2 day shoot in 30 degree weather.

2) Everyone in the film was under 17. Directing kids is fun (sarcasm)…directing kids in 35 degree weather…I don’t think I need to paint that picture for you.

3) NONE of my actors spoke English. They nodded like they understood English, but when it came down to actual communication translation was involved. This meant that the cinematographer, first AD, production manager and sometimes the sound crew were translating and if anyone remembers the game of telephone…it’s not really the most effective way to direct for film. I worked on my directing technique all semester for naught.

The film doesn’t have a title yet…I’m looking for suggestions. Here is a mini explanation that I had translated into Czech for the cast and crew. (hence the simplified sentences)

Martina (13) is a lonely girl who needs a friend. She likes to hang out in the Letna skate park and draw murals on the ground with chalk. One day a new boy, Lukas (14), comes to the park. Martina sees that Lukas has trouble making friends too. Lukas is deaf and attempts to connect with people through his ability to skateboard. Between Lukas’s deafness and her shyness Martina cannot figure out how they will connect. After a series of awkward tries, finally she realizes that she can use her chalk to communicate with him. They both find a friend that day in the skate park.

All this happens in a 6-minute film…well, hopefully it will be six minutes. I’ll let you know how that turns out…stills from the shoot coming soon!

Here are suggestions for titles so far:

Smiley Face (cause Lukas draws one on the ground)
Chalk (Krida-in Czech)
Letna Park
Girl Meets Boy

Dear National Geographic

Dear National Geographic TV,
Your television station is the only English-speaking station that came with the cable package which magically appeared in my apartment. This means that it is extra disappointing to me when you have documentaries on the history of large rubber tires. My choice is either Australian teeny-bopper soaps dubbed in Czech or rubber tire documentaries. Please do better in future. People depend on you. Yours forever, Lena

PS. I did enjoy the survey of ghost-ships around the world...

Election Night 2008-Prague, Czech Republic

My humblest apologies for keeping you waiting on election news from Prague. It happened to coincide with “Lena’s mid-terms 2008” though this was less reported by international news stations.

Honestly, I wish I had a better story for you but the news of the night trumps any entertainment I might procure. Where was I when I found out Barack Obama would be our next president?

K and I invited some friends to join us in a promising night of revelry. So it was that there were two Americans, two Australians, and a Czech girl sitting in a smoky and crowded bar in Prague at 3:30 am drinking bad wine. We had been sitting for around 5 hours and every little CNN announcement was accepted with an overabundance of joy. “We got Maine!” we whooped. It was either whoop or pass out and bring on the expected bad wine hangover.

The smoky bar was outfitted with seven tv screens all projecting CNN. The audience was not as uniform. People from all over Europe were gathered together in expectant celebration. And celebrate we did.

The night included, 150 people, 5 rounds of drinks, 4 separate attempts to explain the electoral college, 3 disgruntled and HUGELY outnumbered McCain supporters, 1 interview by K live on Czech TV and 2 happy American girls leaving the bar at 5 a.m. trying to sing The Star Spangled Banner on the tram.

Post-election feels like I have a new boyfriend. You know how people come up to you with that knowing smile and sort of singsong greeting. “hey-le-na. How’s-it-go-ing? How was your evening?” And my face inadvertently lights up. “Oh, that. Yeah, things are great. Maybe some hard times ahead but I’m so excited!” Everyone wanted to celebrate and everyone had questions about my new beaux. “I hear it is very important what kind of dog they get?” “Will he stop the war?” “Are you so happy”
and my favorite…“I don’t know, Is he really that great?” to which I now respond by breaking out into song…

Nothing you can say can tear me away from OBAMA chorus OBAMA
Nothing you can do, cause I’m stuck like glue on OBAMA chorus OBAMA
I checked Barack on my mail-in ballot, sent it in said-‘McCain can’t have it!’
You best be believing, he’s the ‘change we’ll be needin’-OBAMA.

Tram-rider beware!

I am standing on the tram ride home when I notice these signs. (no more bus poetry for me!) I could not for the life of me decipher the message here. "Don't shove your boobs into other people's backpacks respectable older women!" "Army guy don't jab respectable older women with training weapons! "????
This one reads well in any country: "If you're a private detective do not get bitten by dogs with zigzag teeth while doing one armed pull-ups"...seriously though, I love this guy's face. I must also note that the artist seems to feel their designs might be ruined by a red line going through the drawing so it has been moved to the background. Nice touch. Obviously now I have a new language goal-to read what the heck the captions say.

Berlin!

Leaving Prague for the first time!
The 4 hour train ride to Berlin. A little gray but not too shabby!
I think any good city should have a river through the center...but I'm bias.
I have never seen a city so covered in public art...
Me trying to break apart the Berlin Wall. (they left some up for graffiti art)





Karina always makes me stand for a photo in front of whatever famous thing we happen to be around.
(left) One of my favorite artists Kathe Kollwitz. A fallen soldier memorial. That light is coming from a hole in the ceiling so the statue is not immune to the elements. When rain falls it looks like the woman is crying.

(left) A fantastic memorial to the "murdered Jews in Europe" It was nice to see they don't tip-toe around tough issues.


Thank you St. Vaclav for the holiday weekend! Thank you Berlin for the workout! We calculated that we walked 20 miles in 48 hours.

foreign doors and hugging

I realize today (as midterms approach rapidly) that I have been in Prague over one month now. It’s at that odd place where I feel on one hand like I have been here forever and on the other hand like I just arrived. It depends purely on the moment that I am in. Overall, the cultural adjustment has not been too bad. (remembering of course, that I have been in Prague before) There have been a few adjustments…

1) You push doors open to enter buildings. You pull them to exit. I would estimate that over 80% of doors in the USA operate the opposite way. The first two weeks I was here I chalked up my inability to open doors correctly as part of jet lag.

2) I have work to do ALL THE TIME. This isn’t so much to do with cultural differences as with the fact that I haven’t been in school for a few years. Seldom did I have to think about work past 6 pm on any given day until 8:30 am the next morning. Last night I was up until 1 am trying NOT to listen to Conan O’Brian while I thought about something clever to say about the film “Soy Cuba.” What gets me into serious trouble every fricken time is that when I have copious amounts of work to do I can easily procrastinate by going to see a movie. “It’s important! I need to watch movies! It’s my career!” Though in the end all of my teachers would prefer I do the reading for their class over seeing The Dark Knight.

3) Sushi is expensive! Going out to sushi in the States is a nice night out. Going out to sushi here will involve taking out a second mortgage. However, when last I was in Prague (5 years ago) sushi was nowhere to be had so I am not complaining.

4) Everyone speaks Czech. Duh. But it takes some getting used to. Especially since most of my day takes place in English there is sometimes some cognitive dissonance* to then going to the grocery store and having to mime “chicken”

5) Everyone speaks English. Well, the students and professors in the international program do. I am smack in the middle of an international community where I’m lucky enough that my language is the currency. It means, however, constantly tweaking your ear to understand English from Denmark vs. Bulgaria. Also, as the native speaker every day I get a new “What’s the word in English for this?” Which usually leaves me blank faced.

6) No one here hugs. This one’s not mine. I figured I wasn’t getting hugs because I hadn’t made those types of friendships yet. My new friend and cinematographer just moved back from living in the States ten years and she is having difficulty getting used to the lack of hugging.

So with that my mostly American friends, enjoy your frivolous hugging and of course, the last few days of election mania.


*Manda, that term’s for you!

Slaboo-ey

“We have sort of a special surprise for you today.” Michal says by way of good morning to Ivan and I. My neck now tenses in expectation similar to Pavlov’s drooling dogs. There have been a few surprises since starting. Apparently by order of the FAMU dean we are to be officially matriculated into AMU... right now. (AMU is the larger school of the arts) My first thought is “Does this include paperwork?” Michal hands us a piece of paper with a typed translation of more or less what the ceremony will be in English. “Wait, ceremony?” On the back he draws directions to the venue.

Ten minutes later we get off the tram in Mala Strana and walk over neat cobblestones up to an intimidating Renaissance manse. In the courtyard are around thirty Czech peers dressed to impress. Clearly they were given a bit more notice of matriculation than we were and Ivan and I look down discomfited by our jeans. (Mine were a new pair of wide-flairs that I was testing the waters with assuming, stupidly, there would be no ceremony involved in my day) From the second floor balcony overlooking the courtyard we see a friendly face of the school registrar and find our way through the maze of marble steps and arches to the procession hall he is in. He and Zeneta show us our place amongst the velvet chairs before explaining the situation.

Apparently it is an old AMU tradition to be ceremoniously “matriculated” and formally accepted into the AMU family. But what does this mean? Well, when you hear your name you must stand up, walk to the stage, hold out your middle and index finger on the the zezlo and say Slaboo-ey. “What’s a zezlo??” I ask. Zeneta looks at Ivan, the more experienced Slavic-English speaker. Ivan looks at Zeneta. “A zezlo is a zezlo. I don’t know. It’s just a zezlo” Zeneta says we will see what a zezlo is but I must put my two fingers on it and say Slaboo-ey. “Sla-BOO-ey?” “Sla-boo-EY” “What does that mean???” “uh, it means like ‘I promise’” Ivan and I look at each other confused. “What are we promising??” Ivan asks. “uhh, you are promising to do well in your classes and some things like this.” “oh. okay.”

We stand as the deans enter in robes passed down from the medieval art school deans of the past. They walk onto the stage and the rector makes a short little speech. I don’t know what he says but it is pretty funny in the gigantic cap that ornaments his head. After a short speech by a selected student, which I am assuming more accurately details what exactly we are promising, the FAMU Dean starts saying names and students proceed one by one. I am dead last but still tense when I walk up on stage. So after appropriate dramatic tension-what did I put my 2 fingers on? The best English translation for zezlo would be a scepter. This guy that could only be described as the rector’s page holds out the elaborate scepter that has AMU printed on it. And I said Slaboo-ey. And I shook the rector’s hand. And I still don’t really understand what I have promised but I guess I am officially part of a new medieval AMU family.

Lena’s Theorem and tips on surviving long-term hostel living

In the event that you find yourself living in a youth hostel for more than a few nights (say, for example that your dorm falls through and you are desperately searching for housing in a pretty saturated housing market.) here are some friendly tips to help you stay sane.

1) Reserve a bed ahead of time. Even if you don’t know the length of your stay, it is better to cancel a reservation than say, having to check your stuff out every morning, store it in a luggage room, and then check back in later that afternoon pending a free bed.

2) At many hostels there is a choice of how many dorm beds to a room. This is a tough decision based on money vs personal comfort factors. However, I have calculated an equation for figuring out which room you are in. This took me too long.
30-(your age)=(how many dorm beds at MOST you want in your room)

Keep in mind this equation really only works for a range of appropriate hostel ages and does not take into account traveling with a group. Also be aware that you break this equation at your own risk, as I discovered the other night when I was sharing a room with two strangers making out, three people snoring, four guys that came in at 5 a.m. and a partridge in a pear tree-that’s code for sex offender.

3) There is a constant battle at your new home. It is a fight for hygiene. You vs. Hostel. The air that permeates the hostel is of stale cigarette smoke, the carpets are worn with accumulated filth and who the hell just used the shower?? You will feel the desire to sink to a more base level of hygiene. Skip the shower rather than face the co-ed washroom. Wear the same socks again rather than dig through the bottom of your bag for a clean pair. HOWEVER, it is this very cleanliness that will keep you from wallowing in your own misery at your current predicament. So, BE PREPARED. Keep toiletries together and easily accessible. Make sure to pack A LOT of clean socks and underwear and keep them at the top of your bag or in a side compartment. Hang dry your towel. I can’t stress how important shower shoes are. Keep deodorant on your person. Pick your outfit out the night before (like when you were 8) so you don’t have to rummage in the morning and end up putting on the jeans you wore to the smoky bar the night before. Your overall mental state depends on you winning the hygiene battle.

4) Use the hostel kitchen but really don’t go much further than ramen. You don’t know how long you are going to be living there and buying groceries just doesn’t make sense. I would just advise to find a cheap place nearby…perhaps a vegan food buffet…which incidentally, I ate at once but was pretty embarrassed about accidentally asking “Do you have meat for my bread” instead of butter, so never returned. They are surprisingly similar in Czech. Though neither was a well-received request.

5) Make friends with the hostel employees. At some point in the duration of your stay you will need a favor... PLUS, these people can act as sort of a faux support system to get you through this and give you tips…and with that, Thank you to Prague Square Hostel and it’s fantastic staff for their help during my crisis. I rate it the most comfortable seven hostel beds I have EVER slept in!

Lena's Letna Neighborhood

The best part of my new apartment is the park down the street. It's packed on the weekends with people flying kites, drinking beer, rollerblading, playing tennis, walking dogs, etc. I'm trying to go as much as possible now while fall is in full swing.

The independent movie house not even a five minute walk away plays a lot of English films with Czech subtitles.


Down my street, my very own shop for all of my graffiti needs. I am estimating that they have 300 different colors of spray paint visible from the door. Who knows what else as I haven't gone in, it feels illicit even peeking as I walk by.
The beer garden (in the park) for those gorgeous days when you can't wait until noon for a beer. (Important note that this park also hosts Ultimate Frisbee pick-up games so though there is no Muddies, I do have a beer garden a few paces away)
My street complete with punk rock store, second-hand clothing store, a chinese restaurant and 2 mini-markets.






The view from the park. Any time I get confused about where I now live I walk over and check out these views of the city.
That's all for now but I will get some up of my school and my apartment shortly!

Prague Pirates

Bags heavy over my shoulders, I crawl up a narrow circular staircase made out of rustic wooden branches. I drop my duffles into a tiny room with two single beds tucked in. The entire room is reminiscent of the tree house from The Swiss Family Robinson…it is the tree house from The Swiss Family Robinson! I walk around the “apartment” which is literally built into a tree. There is a surprising amount of space considering the small room the twin beds inhabit. A dining room table with chairs made out of palm, a balcony, a living room with bamboo furniture…

Deciding to take myself on a tour of the school, I end up walking down a lot of hotel-like corridors before finding a beige heavy door. I open it and walk through to the side deck of a ship. The entire school is a huge tall ship cruising down a gigantic river. The ship floats by lush green hillsides on the banks. Ancient Mongolians(?) dressed in neon clothing charge horses carrying large neon colored banners over the hillside. They are small in the distance but their calls can be heard on the ship. The river is filled with thousands of water transportation of all kinds. Wooden carved canoes paddle through making way for modern speedboats. Tall ships call to little catamarans. Rafts try and avoid the wake caused by 200 men strong Egyptian slave boats. The river is literally packed with these ships that dance up and down the water trying to avoid catastrophe. I look on amazed. There is someone dressed like a pirate/sailor standing in front of me with a small telescope. He turns, sees me, and smiles, his long hair blowing behind him into the wind. “Welcome to FAMU!” he calls cheerily, his voice carried to me through the chilly sea air.

Clearly, this was a dream. I had this one a few days before leaving for Prague. Doesn’t take Freud to interpret this one.
My Subconscious: What the #?*@! Have you gotten us into?!
Me: Umm, we’ll see when we get there? (shrug with cutest smile)
My Subconscious: Yeah, is that how we’re gonna play this? Here’s what I got for ya’ in the meantime. Work through this one!

My subconscious is right. I have no idea REALLY what it’s going to be like. What the program is like. Who I'm going to be studying with? Where I am going to live. I could very well be on a tall pirate ship floating down a river in Mongolia…well, maybe not. But there are certainly a lot of words that need to be filled into my Czech mad-lib.