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.