My linguistically finest moment so far

The foreign police in Prague is known for being the one place where no one speaks English, long lines, and unpleasant employees.

Needless to say, when I had to change my address, it wasn't exactly something I was looking forward too. Especially after hearing horror story from two other fellow American's recently. One girl waited in line for 5 hours without actually getting anything accomplished. And they both said they had to go all the way to this office on the edge of Prague, early in the morning. Apparently, they just changed the old policy where everyone goes to the main office (nice building, long hours) to a new one where the section of Prague in which you live dictates which office you go to. But both of these ladies live in Prague 3, and I live in Prague 7. So I thought I would try my luck and venture to the main office after work today.

It just so happens that I lucked out and my new place of residence dis qualify me to change my address at the main office (the one with long hours, and therefore, no lines).

I did it all by myself and entirely in Czech. It was very pleasant, and took me about 15 minutes. There wasn't even any angry pointing, frustrated gesticulating, or eye-rolling. I was swelling with pride.

The meeting with my landlord to get him to sign the change of address form was also a very pleasant experience. I was expecting a crotchety old man who didn't speak a word of English (I was told he didn't speak English). Instead, I was met with a sweet, smiling old man who kept saying any random English word he thought of. At least he was trying. I had a Czech woman from work on stand-by to call on the phone because I thought it would be complicated stuff, and we wouldn't be able to understand each other thereby triggering the aforementioned frustrated gesticulating. But as it turns out, he spoke German. So the transaction was completed (not that quickly, he is a rather old man and moves quite slowly) in a mixture of Czech and German. With the occasional 'glasses' and 'cousin' thrown in there.

The Saga Continues

The Saga to which I am referring is that of my Fahrrad (bike). I got back from the states on a Thursday afternoon. Needless to say, when I awoke on Friday, I didn't really jump out of bed. After hours of snooze hitting, I finally dragged myself out of bed and into the shower (that was in the kitchen!) and decided not to bike, because I was too tired. I would just start biking again on Monday. I should also note, that I had brought my bike lock back with me from the states, because the one that came with my bike was pretty hit or miss as to whether or not I could get the key to turn. Sometimes it would take a little jiggling. Anyway as I was walking to the U-bahn, I realized I didn’t have anything smaller than a 50, since I had just gotten back. No ticket machine takes 50’s. Some of them don’t take any bills. Those ticket machines are really annoying at how picky they are sometimes, but that’s a different rant for a different day. So I turn back around thinking, screw it, I’ll just bike. I went to retrieve my bike, and sure enough had to jiggle like crazy to get the key to turn and get it unlocked. I thought to myself, “should I go get my other lock? Nah, it was probably just cold since it’s been sitting there for a whole week without being used." And I rode to work.

Upon leaving work, I went to unlock my bike. I inserted the key, and turned...nothing happened. No lateral movement whatsoever (ok, so I don't think the key turning constitutes lateral movement, but whatever). So I took the key out, and put it back in. I tried using my left hand. I took my gloves on and off. I said some 'magic' words. Nothing. So I left it there, telling myself I had planned it that way, since I was moving on Monday anyway. I can just wait until I move, and ride it to my new home after work on Tuesday.

Intermission story: On Monday I was riding the U-Bahn to work since my bike was still locked up at work. I was reading one of the books my parents bought for me while I was home: Green. Your Place in the New Energy Revolution, by Jane and Michael Hoffman. (I would recommend it if you want to learn about energy). I was sitting next to a man who was also reading. When people read on the U-Bahn, I like to look to see what language they are reading in, and this man was reading in English. I don't remember what it was. He must have done the same thing as me, because when he got up to leave, he said to me, "please visit this website, miss" (yes, in English) and handed me a card. And just like that, he was gone. (Ok, so that was a little dramatic) but he did seriously leave the train. I looked at the card and it says the following (I still use it as a bookmark):

,,The origin of the most far-reaching undertaking often lies in barely noticed events"
Vision of Idealistic Citizens Everywhere sponsors
,,Hands around the Globe" on 6.26.2026
(then there's a drawing of a world with people holding hands around it and next to it a picture of what looks like a rolled up peice of paper tied with a ribbon.)
Support a Citizen World Peace Agreement for Freedom and Justice
BECOME AN INTERNATIONAL VOLUNTEER
www.voice-consensus.com
epluribusunum@t-online.de

I have no idea if I got the card because he noticed I was reading an English book, or because of the book I was reading. Either way, I thought it was interesting and went to the website when I got to work. It's a bunch of really long narratives written by someone with English as their second language. I didn't take any further action. But, I'm passing on the website to you, so there.

Now it's Tuesday. The move went smoothly, and I'm ready to bike to my new home. I slowly approach the bike. It's been sitting there for 4 days now. I tell myself it'll unlock easily on the first try. No deal. But, alas, it's the same as before, plus it's really cold so my hands are freezing and my nose is running. I start to think of all of the irony behind the fact that the bike is here in the first place. So I began cursing my life and threw a mini temper tantrum to myself in the courtyard of the Umweltbundesamt, complete with a couple of tears (I kid you not) and then tried one more time. Success! Now I see why kids throw tandrems, apparently it works.

I rode happily home on my bike and continued riding the rest of the week. On Sunday I decided to go to church. It just doesn't seem like the Christmas season yet (despite the numerous amounts of lighted structures in the streets) so I figured I'd see if church would add to the Christmas spirit. I went to a place I pass on my way to work, only about 10 minutes down the road by bike. It was the family service so it was very kid oriented. They talked a lot about Saint Nikolaus since the day before was St. Nikolaus day (the reason we got an orange from Santa in elementary school) and I know nothing about him, so it was kind of boring. After the service, I went to unlock my bike only to notice the completely flat back tire. I definitely need a new innertube. So I had to walk back the whole way, dragging my bike. I've been riding the U-bahn to and from work this entire week.

Commute Home From Work

I observed the most entertaining site on the S-Bahn home from work today. There were three seats together, and on one end sat a young teenage girl dressed entirely in black with died hair and gothic accessories. On the other end was a old man with unkempt hair and unintended facial stubble. He had sad eyes and was wearing raggety jeans and T-shirt both covered completely in paint. These individuals shared one thing in common; they were both eating a bratwurst, presumably purchased at the S-bahn station before boarding the train. The best part was the lady who sat in between these two creatures. She was middle-aged, well dressed and had the most disgusted look on her face the entire S-bahn ride. She was sitting as erect as humanly possible, trying to avoid any physical contact with either party. She clutched her bags tightly on her lap and occasionally glanced, in digust, to each rider next to her. Both the teenage girl and the old man, who so elagantly whiped his mustard drippings on his pants, remained completely oblivious to this woman the entirety of the journey. The was the first time I had wished I brought my camera.