One fine day in Prague

We went rowing in Vltava one fine summer day here in Prague. I think it was two weekends ago when A and I decided to play tourists.

New teachers at school would often come to ask me about the best places in town to wine and dine, to explore, to visit. Most often than not they come out empty-handed. You tend to ignore what the place offers when you live there. Such was, and I'm afraid still is, how it is with me and Prague.

You can find lots of boats (row) for rent especially near Charles Bridge. They are for 150kč/ hour. A warm day on a weekend usually means waiting for a while for one to be available. Now when it seems fall has come to kick the summer out, you probably wont have to wait at all.

Our conversation was just me asking where we were going. A said "to Karlovy Lazne," which is a popular discoteque in Prague. It's one of the buildings before (from the Old Town) Charles Bridge.

Sometimes I stop in my tracks when I walk in Prague's center. I still get amazed at how picturesque this city is, but I'm also guilty of ignoring its beauty now and then.

Purely random

I'm back! I'm amazed at how I survived the previous week unscathed.

Last night, I watched KC Concepcion's "Mansyon" on YouTube. It wasn't the story or the acting that made me glued on my seat for a while. It was her prettiness. She's like a breath of fresh air. Then halfway through the episode I switched to watching music videos. Tearjerkers are not my thing anymore.

Almost half an hour of watching music vids I noticed I was stuck on the 90's hits. I don't know about you but I think it was the era of great music, at least till 1997. There was Paula Cole, Shawn Colvin, and who could forget Jewel? Then came Britney.

Yeah, this entry is purely random. I guess I keep on writing, not so much from having so many things to share, but from the paranoia that I'm losing my English.

At the camp I shared this to my co-teachers and they, too, have exactly the same sentiments. The Brazilian-American, raised in America almost all her life, couldn't remember the word splinter. She also said " I don't see" and couldn't believe she just said that. Me, it took me almost five minutes to remember the word "convenient." Oh, for crying out loud!

Can someone be really fluent in several languages? I certainly start to doubt. Trying to learn Czech for me means losing my Tagalog and unfortunately, my English is declining as well. The Finnish co-teacher said she lost her Swedish and French already, and that she is starting to speak Finnish with an English accent. Talk about Jill of several languages, master of none.

Today, the nurse at my doctor's clinic was annoyed that I still don't speak Czech. "She's been here three years and she still doesn't speak Czech?" So sue me. There's a time for everything, Czech included. For now, just let me be without it.

Today

Snippets of my (mis)adventures today:

1. We got stuck in a traffic today on our way to the farm for a field trip. We took the public transport. The traffic was moving in a snail pace similar to the horrible Manila jam. Suddenly the door near the driver opened and the driver himself got out. All eyes zeroed on him wondering where he was going. Guess where he headed? To the bushes along the road in the middle of the city to pee. One of my kids, who is four, exclaimed in a scandalized voice; "He's going to the toilet?!"

Welcome to the Czech Rep! I guess here the motto is " You gotta go when you gotta go."

2. Still on the bus, it was hot so my Brazilian-American co-teacher rolled up her sleeves. One of our kids, who is already very much showing signs of following the footsteps of Dolce and Gabbana, was horrified to see that my co-teacher has faint dark hair on her arms. In verbatim the next D&G exclaimed "Your arms have hair. Not nice. Like man's!"

3. You'll be surprised at the things you experience or see when you're stuck in a bumper to bumper jam. Today we also saw a man apparently sunbathing on the rooftop of a three-storey mall. He had a towel on when he stood up, but for some reasons, be it the wind or a sudden inspiration to flash, the towel came off. The Brazilian shrieked behind me but the Europeans on the bus took the show with a bored look on their faces.

4. At the farm, I got attacked by a bee. It dived into my hair and claimed residency right away. It took a huge amount of energy to finally flick it out of my crowning glory. It then showed its annoyance by getting into my co-teacher's ear (the one who flicked it out of my head) and leaving a sting so bad she had to be treated right away.

5. Rudeness is common among shop assistants here. Customer service is nonexistent in some stores, especially this one near our school. I can't count the times I felt like smacking them but what do I get from stooping to their level?

Today I bought food for my cooking afternoon with kids. It was only worth 50kč. I asked the cashier for a stamp on my receipt (the school's accountant requires it if you use the petty cash) and he freaked out. He was like swearing and rolling his eyes and saying something like why on earth people need a stamp for a 50kc purchase. Worse, the tall, dark but nevermind man behind me started laughing. I was fuming mad but couldn't articulate hell in Czech so I fired back in English, calling him a fool and a rude ignoramus.

The nevermind man behind me wanted to show off that he understood English and said to the ignoramus, "She's saying it's alright."

"What alright are you talking about?" I was on the verge of swearing to them in Czech (this I can say fluently) but really what's the point? I can't change the rudeness, this attitude about work I can't define, by joining their game. So I gave them one last dagger look and marched out of the store.

There. That's how it was for me today. Now I'm sleepy so dobrou noc (goodnight) from bush-peeing, rude swearing, bee stinging, hair raising, and yet exciting Prague that I come to love.

"Zlatý Déšt´" in bloom

It's 22C in Prague today, the first real warm day without the clouds gate-crashing now and then. Earlier I was out in the garden with my kids soaking up the sun in just my shirt and leggings. Finally, no more bulky coats or jackets for the next few months!

And zlatý déšt'? It means "gold rain." It's a kind of shrub, called Forsythia in English, which blooms prettily in spring. They're blooming everywhere here now.

Joyride

A drive without a certain destination in mind, only for the pleasure of it. Online dictionaries may have different definitions, but this is how I say joyriding is.

Spring is finally here. The sun's been out and the sky's been blue since Saturday. To celebrate this re-birth, A and I went for a joyride last weekend. We ended up circling a part of Prague 4 called Šeberov.

Some snapshots taken during the drive:

Didn't I say before that I'm a sucker for sunsets? There's something romantic, at the same time melancholic, about them. It's like letting go of something you cherish yet waiting and hoping for something more beautiful to come soon.

Which way to go? To the left or to the right? Neither. We went straight ahead where we circled Šeberov for several minutes.

Less than an hour later, we headed home giddy with the experience. (Yes, mundane things done spontaneously usually make me giddy with happiness. ) We weren't ready to give up the day yet so we strolled around the apartment complex. We have been living here almost a year but it's only now when we knew that there's actually a mini park with this man-made pond just a few meters from our flat. At night, the view just gives you a feeling of peace.

Sunsets and spring. Happy days are here again!

Lesson learned

Are you a shopper who can't wait to get out of the store? I am. I don't even bother getting my receipt sometimes much less bother looking at it. I always dash off from the counter and out of the store in record time.

The other week I was mechanically shoving my groceries in a plastic bag when I glanced at the screen. Waitaminute, how come there were two boxes of fiber crackers listed when I only had one? And three cans of spicy sardines? I only had two! I groped for words in Czech and told the lady of her mistakes. She had to call somebody to help her delete those items.

On the bus on my way home, there was this nagging feeling that I was still a bit ripped off. I scanned the receipt and there it was-- "Norsky salat" for 25kč. I have no idea what it was and it certainly was not in my bag. Too late for me to complain, but for sure there wont be a next time for this. Now I monitor the screen like a hawk because hmmm, you'll never know.

Driving nostalgia away

"One day more

another day, another destiny..."

-Les Miz

Another year will soon be over. How did it happen so fast? Nostalgia just hit me like a powerful kick in the gut. I don't need to close my eyes to see flashes of many happy Christmases in Carrascal, and to feel again the loss of something not mine when another year had ended.

An ending or a beginning? The new year is often a mass of conflicting emotions, like a rush of excitement to open a present but reluctant to put the beautiful wrapper away....I'll better contain myself. Who knows what terrible metaphors I would end up writing here if I wont stop being nostalgic right now? Besides, with nostalgia comes melancholia and I refuse to entertain it tonight.

Okay, just a little self- indulgence then. I will allow myself to travel down memory lane of 2007 but will only have four stops for moments or stuff that still crack me up. Happy happy, joy joy. :)

1. That woman who stole a tray of potted tulips along Francouzka here in Prague. As if the choice wasn't hilarious enough, she wore a pair of high heels for the job. Click here for the full story.

2. Hitchcock's movies. In just two months we covered 15 or 16 of his movies. No matter how packed with suspense they are, there are often scenes or lines that would make you howl with laughter. Unsolicited as it is, I do advice one who appreciates droll humor to see his movies. Start with "North by Northwest" and you'll know what I mean.

3. I've never read a book that is a masterpiece of unparalleled humor other than Roald Dahl's "My Uncle Oswald." One time I was reading some pages on the metro and I was trying so hard to stifle a laugh I was red-faced and near tears. I probably looked like someone heading for a mental facility.

4. The Fantomas* Chronicles. I have a kid at school, whom I will hide in the name Fantomas, who used to poop in his pants almost every day for one or two weeks straight. He was three at that time. The funniest thing about it was that he immediately bent like an acrobat with his palms planted flat on the floor everytime I wiped his bum. Regardless of how many times I told him he didn't need to, that I would see the target perfectly, he still bent as if his life depended on it. This never failed to crack my husband up. Usually A's first line when I got home was "So did Fantomas s*+@ in his pants again?" or "Did he bend 360 degrees again?" I probably have a weird sense of humor because for something that other people consider gross, I actually found those pooping episodes hilarious.

There, those four somehow drove nostalgia away. Happy happy, joy joy again. :)

*Fantomas is an old French movie that is dubbed in Czech and has been shown on TV here so many times. The absence of hair on his (Fantomas') head made A give my kid this monicker. And since we are on this topic, here's another funny moment with my little Fantomas at school; I made them listen to Simon Says and they had to touch whatever body part Simon was saying. When Simon said "touch your hair", my Fantomas didn't do anything. I asked why he wasn't touching his hair. He replied " Because Marielle, I have no hair."

I love this kid.

Feeding the world

Hit by a cooking bug is how I am since learning to cook edible meals. I never pictured myself holding a spatula, not even in my wildest dream. So what happened to me? No one, not even myself, actually knows. I only know there's a force within me which drives me to whip, stir, steam, etc, as if I was on a mission to feed the world.

A few days ago a friend now residing in US left me a message on Tagged. I mentioned to her a day before the dinner I hosted for my friends last Monday. "Ug makabalo na diay kuno ka moluto ron?," she incredulously asked in Cebuano. (And you can cook now?) Well, I couldn't blame her for being skeptical. I was known in our circle as someone who couldn't even hardboil an egg. So Mama, below is for your eyes to feast on. To see is to believe, eh? He-he

Upper Left: Cassava cake. I found some grated cassava at the Thai/Asian food shop along Francouska. Upper right: "Bola-bola" is Philippines' answer to meatballs and Czech's "Sekana."
Lower left: "Siopao" or steamed pork dumplings. These are similar to Czech's "ovocne knedle." The difference is we stuff the dumpling with meat, they stuff it with fruits. We steam it. They boil it.
Lower right: The nameless starter. Maybe we can call it M's toast, hehe.

I also cooked fried rice but forgot to take a pic. Chef Lokreng prepared a very yummy tuna pasta enough to feed the entire Praha. Also not pictured are the chocolate muffins I baked. Two ended up in the bin later because the appointed resident pacman, A , couldn't eat them fast enough before they hardened like a rock.

How many were invited again? Only four and a 1/4 people. (Tekla has a 3-month-old baby.) Only three and one-fourth showed up. One was MIA so Mia missed the siopao!:)

Hambugera kaayo noh? hahahaha....

Mightier law

A told me a few weeks ago that the law on getting a permanent resident permit here in Czech Rep will change soon. No longer will spouses of Czech citizens be instantly eligible for permanent residency. He also said something about eight years of continuous residency in the country before one can have a maroon card. (EU passports are maroon in color.)

Yesterday while browsing for Italian restaurants in Prague, I stumbled on an article about this law. Here's an excerpt:

Presently — as the law stands — spouses of Czech citizens are eligible for immediate permanent residency (trvaly pobyt) and within five years are eligible for full Czech citizenship (without voting rights, naturally). Newcomers to Czech society in this way merely have to demonstrate a passive knowledge of the Czech language in order to qualify for that same citizenship.

Under cover of the slower holiday season, Parliament is attempting to hustle through ammendments to the existing law. No longer will spouses of Czech citizens be eligible for instant permanent residency. And under the current proposal presently kicking around the Czech Senate for final approval and signing into law (following President Klaus’ rubber stamp), it will now take prospective Czech permanent residents eight years of continuous residency in the Czech Republic to qualify for citizenship with Czech language fluency.

Eight years is a long time. Then again their country, their law. Besides maybe eight years is the minimum time you need to learn their language. I've been here for almost three years and without a proper course in it I'm still struggling past hi and goodbye. Two more to go and I will be eligible for citizenship. The ultimate question now is-- to be or not to be?

Paid to be silly

We had our first concert at school last Wednesday. When I say concert it means parents of our kids will come to watch them sing and dance, do fingerplays and say rhymes. They (the parents) are still raving about how cute the kids were and how they enjoyed the show. Well, 3-5 years old kids (the age bracket I'm teaching) can never do wrong. Everything they say or do always earns them a chorus of "ohhhh, she's/he's so cuuuuuute."

Our director jokingly said A should come watch me and my kids next time we "perform." Not a bad idea. A once said I have a great job as I get paid to be silly. So true. Oh the inumerable silly things I do everyday at school to make my kids get into it. Though sometimes I feel like a glorified nanny, preschool teaching is actually a lot of fun. So if you want to join the pack, I'm sure there are a lot of teaching jobs posted here.

In the land of women

When women are together, they usually talk about food, men and fashion. I have no problem with that. I love food, I love my man, and fashion, well, I'd like to try wearing those black leggings that just refuse to die. Problem is, in between these immortal topics, gossiping rules. Sure I do gossip, I'm a woman after all. But I prefer not to do anything about it.

I work in a place ruled by women. Naturally, the gossiping also just refuses to die. I couldn't care less if people gossip about me because I know my worth. What I don't like is being the sponge of all these talks about each other. It gets pretty boring when nothing is new except another round of "she did this and said that." It gets annoying when your patience is hanging on a thread and your hormones are making your moods go ballistic because of bad energies surrounding you.

What to do about this? Sign up for yoga with Monica again? Re-read Thich Nhat Hanh's "Peace is Every Step" to get enlightened? Ignore it? Scream shut up when I feel my daily dose of gossip is coming? Women! Oh well, I'll better get back to my laundry and sleep on it. For now.

Davis Cup Weekend

Yesterday we dashed off to Sazka Arena from work to watch the one and only Roger Federer play against Radek Stepanek. Prague is host to Davis Cup's World Group play-off between Czech Republic and Switzerland. The match was predictable at first-- Federer won the first two sets without much sweat, but Stepanek made the match more entertaining when he beat the world no. 1 in the third set; 7-6. Federer finished the match in the fourth set in another tie-break.

The Czechs cheered hard for their own though they knew that beating Federer was wishful thinking. To his credit, Stepanek fought hard to the end, earning the loudest cheer from the crowd after the match.

I can't wait for tomorrow. Federer will play against Czech's number one, Tomas Berdych. I'm sure it will be one h of a match.

Life for rent

Tonight as I was on my way home from school, a small accident happened. I was sitting on a bus looking at the window when out of my peripheral vision I saw a big man coming to sit next to me. He was desperately trying to balance his way as the handrails were plastered with people when the driver hit the brakes so suddenly and sent what must be close to two hundred pounds of a man to come slamming all his weight on to my face so hard my world went blank for a second. The back of my head made a loud crack as it hit the back of the chair I was sitting on. I literally saw stars. Hundreds of them.

I was still reeling from the impact when I got off the bus. I carefully crossed the street with three other people when a loony driver marginally missed us. I know he already saw us from the distance but didn't even bother braking, much less slowing down.

This world is swarming with idiots.

When I related the whole thing to A, it was only when I realized I could have been in serious trouble if I was an inch taller or if I wasn't slouching on my seat. It could have been my nape which hit the back of the chair. Also, I could have been hit by that darn car if I was a bit slower and it was a way faster.

Surprisingly, I am unscathed from the incident except for a light bruise on my left cheek. I'm still alive! I can't help to think life is like something for rent. The only difference is you'll never know when your contract expires. Mine is obviously still valid but I have no idea for how long. I only know I intend to have a rockin' life til my bones break and I can rock no more.

Domestic Disasters

I find my memories of my first few months here in Prague quite amusing. I got my mother's obsessive-compulsive nature especially when it comes to cleanliness but she never had the chance to prepare me how to be a domestic goddess without having a single strand of my hair out of place (She died when I was 15.) so the outcome was, I had my share of domestic disasters for several weeks after I arrived in Prague and assumed the role of a wife.

The washing machine in our first rented flat became useless as I didn't know how to use it. A was equally as clueless as I was. We couldn't find its manual so I had to wash clothes by hands. Thankfully the huge bathtub provided a convenient place to do it except that my feet had to be soaked all the time I was doing the laundry. No amount of lotioning can rehydrate them after each session in the tub.

Next to doing the laundry, the dilemma of where to hang the dripping clothes came in. There was probably a way of letting them drip in the bathroom but I wasn't using my head then. I devised a plan of wringing the clothes so well though common sense told me not to do it. Common sense neglected, I wringed them up. I then covered the living room floor with a gazillion plastic bags before covering them with a gazillion copies of old newspaper and hanged the worn out-looking clothes on a rack above them. The clothes dripped anyway, of course. The next day my stupidity came crashing down on me with a vengeance when what supposed to be a sturdy parquet beneath the plastic bags and newspapers curled up like mini waves after the water seeped into it. When A saw it, he went ranting and raging at how much we might have to pay for the floor to be redone......Okay, I tend to exaggerate, hehe.

The worst performances of my life happened in the kitchen. Several times I stood infront of a stove with a growing sense of panic. How to use it, which knob to turn, which way to turn?.... extremely easy stuff which a three-year old can probably figure out but which left me close to tears. How to use the stove was just the tip of an iceberg, the ultimate question was, how to cook? A was of no help. The only thing he can cook is porridge, which I love, by the way. But porridge is just porridge, it has no soul to keep your body going for long. As for me, eggs were my only specialty-- hardboiled, scrambled, sunny side up-- you name it, I can cook them anyway you like. We ended up alternating eggs with sausages, salami and ham between trips to several fast food restaurants. After weeks of eating killer foods I suddenly declared to myself and to A " I'm having enough of this!"

My first attempt of cooking an adobo was a complete disaster. The meat turned black, apparently from too much soy sauce. A ate it but I think he was gagging behind my back. Then came my very pale-looking pork and beans. I was traumatized at how much damage the soy sauce brought on my adobo that's why I deprived my pork and beans with even a single drop of it. It turned out edible but if I'd cook it again I'm sure I would be reminded of those days when I was chanting this question in my head ---why oh why did I leave my life in Cebu?

It took me a year to gain confidence in holding any cooking utensil. I still have my awkward moments now in the kitchen but I don't get paralyzed by the mere sight of a stove anymore. I comforted myself in this mantra before that not all women were born to chop onions and grate cheese and I was one of them. Then I realized I wont lose anything by learning how to chop, grate, slice, drain, and everything else that concerns cooking. Now my greatest challenge is to include "bake" among the growing list of things to do and accomplish.

Wish me luck. I will need a lot of it.

Losing my cool

I can be very patient with kids but I have zero tolerance with adults without manners. The following account happened last Thursday and is in no way embellished. It was also one of my most embarrassing moments. One way to exorcise my own ghost is to talk about it, so here I am. I have to say though that Czechs are generally polite and friendly. After all, I am married to one. This post is not intended for the readers to have a generalized view of how the people here are.

Prelude to Thursday.
We share the school building with a Czech preschool. We also share the huge playground behind it and mostly kids from both schools have the same playtime in the garden. It's a common knowledge that they are fond of toilets as dictated by their overactive bladders so there's one outside that all of them can use. There's also a huge shower smack right in the middle of the garden that kids can use in spring and summer.

Scene 1, Mid Spring 2006.
My co-teacher and I were sitting on the grass enjoying a beautiful sunny day while our kids were frolicking in the shower just a few steps from where we were sitting when suddenly one teacher from the Czech school passed right by us and unceremoniously herded our half-naked pack out of the tiles. She then told her kids to hop into the shower while ours stood bewildered on the side. J, my co-teacher, and I felt utterly stunned by the blatant rudeness but a few seconds later J snapped back to earth and tried to confront her in his broken Czech. He was completely, absolutely, rudely ignored.

Scene 2, Late Spring-Early Summer 2006.
One day we found the outside toilet locked and we still didn’t have a key. Our headteacher had to seek the same angst-ridden teacher to ask why it was locked. Her reason: because our kids only made a mess inside, e.g. didn’t flush it, made the floor wet, etc. Our point: it wont take up all her time to tell us to remind our kids their toilet manners, right?

Anyway, the outside toilet again made headlines when they didn’t want us to use it for a week during our school’s summer camp. Their reason: Nobody would clean it because they wont be there. Did I say we’re talking about 40-something women here?

The day I threw away my Ms. Congeniality crown.
Thursday was a freezing day. Winter has arrived very early. We were outside around 11am for less than ten minutes when one kid asked me to go to the toilet with him. I was standing by the door laughing with him because the toilet cover kept falling down when from the corner of my eye I saw the same teacher marching towards me, screaming with all her might at me. Yes, screaming at me as if I had done a terrible crime. She was livid, screaming smack into my face in Czech about the toilet not having water.

Honey, first of all I didn’t know about that. Second, nobody has the right to scream at me. With these in mind I screamed back at her. "Stop screaming at me!. Don’t you dare scream at me! If you have a problem, talk to our headteacher!" She went on in her rat-ta-tat Czech anyway so I marched away from her to S, our headteacher, who was talking to my other co- teachers several meters away. By this time I was furious at having been screamed at for no apparent reason at all. I yelled at S, "This woman is screaming at me! I don’t know what her problem is! Get her!" I marched back to the toilet to get the kid but he was already running back to play with his friends. Still raging from the woman’s rudeness, I ran back to where she was screaming also at S. S walked out of the whole scene since it was useless trying to put sense into the demented woman's head. The woman went stamping towards the other direction but this time, I had no intention of letting her get away from it all.

Picture this: she’s around 5'9" and I’m a midget next to her in my 5'2" height. She was already a few steps away when I yelled at her and was half-running to catch up with her. " Hey, I am not done with you yet!" When I finally caught up with her I went wagging my gloved forefinger up to her nose and screamed at her for all I care. " You are very rude! And you call yourself a teacher? Next time you should teach yourself some manners first!!!" Having said my piece, I stamped back to where my stupefied co-teachers were standing. I was always the Ms. Congeniality among us and to see me absolutely lose my cool was a shock to them.

When the raging inside of me died down, I regretted screaming back at her infront of a kid. The only consolation I had was the rest of the kids were too busy playing and running around to notice what was going on. It was also embarrassing in the sense that people I work with learned in such a way that I wasn't as laid-back as they thought I was. But I don’t regret fighting back. Sometimes you just have to or people will step on you.

I don’t know if this teacher understood a word of what I said. One thing for sure, I know she got the message. Nobody is going to let her get away with anything next time. Not me. Not anymore.

Trick or treat!

Halloween isn't such a big thing in the Czech Republic. Sure they do celebrate All Souls' Day like visiting the cemeteries and bringing flowers to the dead but the all-American way of celebrating it---trick or treating, carving a pumpkin, dressing-up in costumes, and all that jazz--- are still quite a novelty here.

At my school though it's the next big thing to Ježíšek (baby Jesus giving gifts to kids on Christmas eve. Santa Claus to most of us.) Halloween was introduced by an American teacher a few years back and it became an instant hit among the kids. This year it's the same. For a week everything at school revolved around skeletons, witches, ghosts, the works. I remember when I was their age I was so scared of such things especially ghosts. Our kids are exactly the opposite. They would tear the dummies between themselves to be the one to solely play with them. A Casper effect, it must be.

Yesterday we had our Halloween party to culminate the week that was devoted to it. The kids came in costumes. They went trick or treating inside the school knocking on doors while us the teachers were hiding behind them holding bags of candies. Not exactly the real thing but it was the closest we could do. It was fun and I guess that's what it's all about.

Possessed and the week that was

My tagboard has been possessed by an evil spirit for several days now. It wont display the messages and just last night it started asking for a password. I use only one password for everything I have online but for a reason beyond my imagination the possessed board rejected it. If it wont be exorcised soon I might as well delete it from my blog. Their loss, not mine.

It's the weekend again. Nothing much exciting to tell about the week that was. Still consumed by the daily routine and the depressing cold, misty, dark mornings that greet me the moment I get out of our flat. Below is a photographic evidence of such mornings:

At 7 o'clock in Prague the morning is cold, misty, and still in deep slumber.

I'm in a ranting mood right now probably stimulated by my tagboard's dementia so I'll rant some more. We're seriously considering buying a flat somewhere in Prague 10 and yes, we want to buy it when it's still no more than just a blueprint. It will be finished in autumn of next year. The assurance is it's with a big and well-known company. I doubt they would bother to run with the buyers' downpayments and risk decades of rock-solid reputation. Thing is, we need the bank's help to shoulder much of its cost and this is where the problem arises. A has been seeing people, mostly the so called financial advisers, to get to to the bottom of whether we could get a loan or not but all we've got so far is the terrible ambivalence of maybe and then maybe not. They give installment and inconsistent infos at the expense of our time and emotion. Sometimes you can't help but think that people are just after what they can get from you. "Advice doesn't come cheap." Worse, it doesn't come for free.

Which brings me to wondering where this world is heading if we keep on blood-sucking each other. I still have faith in the goodness of many yet experiences like this makes me question how long I could hold on to it.

Scrambled thoughts

A cottage in the woods.
Almost everyone I know in this country has a cottage or a weekend house tucked near or in the middle of the woods. One Czech thing is to rush to the countryside after office hours every Friday. I found this amusing at first. Why would they want to escape from the city or town when you can hardly see people or cars in the streets and the malls are seldom crowded? I mean, isn't it the main reason why we flee to the beaches or to the mountains or to the woods, to escape from the maddening crowd, from the dizzying bustle of commercialism and consumerism? Later I learned from A that the main reason for the perennial presence of cottages in this country is the fact that most people live in flats in the cities, therefore they have no space for gardens or lawns. Simply put, having a cottage in the countryside provides all the must-haves of living that city dwelling can hardly give.

Fall.
Today is the first day of autumn. Wait, I'm writing this past midnight so that makes it yesterday, September the 23rd, as the first day of the season. It gives me mixed emotions when the leaves start to turn yellow or orange. Fall gives me a blend of highs and lows, a sense of romance and melancholia. I guess it's because I'm aware of its beauty yet I dread the coming of winter. Yet it's here again so one might as well savor it.

Jesus on a cross.
I hope it's politically correct to say that most Czechs don't go to church. The Catholic church, that is. Ironic in the sense that churches are everywhere in this country. The kids at school don't even know what praying is. One of them thought that the gesture of praying is due to cold hands that need to be rubbed together especially in winter. I grew up in a very strict Catholic upbringing yet I don't find faults in people who have different beliefs from mine. Just that somebody please explain to me why there are crosses everywhere along Czech roads? From frequented highways to less travelled roads you can bet you'll see several of them along your way. Stations of the cross? Hardly people go to church let alone go on a procession. So what do they stand for? And yesterday when A and I were looking for hazel nuts in the woods, there was even one there. Right, right in the middle of the woods.

There has to be an explanation for this.

My parents-in-law's cottage, a place A and I love to visit especially in spring and summer... One of the many crosses you can see along the Czech roads...Fall is here.

It's late, I gotta catch my beauty sleep. Tomorrow is Sunday and the weekend will be over soon again. Oh well, some good things just never last...

This week's calendar

Monday: Mamka’s birthday. We gave her this orchid as she didn’t want anything else. She had to work in the afternoon so A and I drove to the cottage in Svatoslav to hunt more mushrooms in the woods. We filled a basket of these hríbků. We arrived back in Prague late in the evening.

Tuesday: Cleaning the flat, washing zillions of clothes, ironing zillions more. Doctor’s appointment in the afternoon to check if I still had the allergies from wheat, barley, rye, etc,etc. A summer thing, it seems. Nobody else in the waiting room except moi. The nurse opened the door and called my name and just assumed I wasn’t the one she was calling for and closed the door again before I could react. Of course, my Asian looks and my Czech name didn’t connect for her. She had to send the doctor to the waiting room to ask what I wanted. Thank God my doctor speaks English. I'm reminded I have to learn Czech.

Wednesday: Back to work. Holiday’s over. The days of getting up at 10am are so faraway now, like a tiny dot in the horizon. No kids yet. Just planning and lots of cleaning. Talk about multi-tasking. Met Mrs. Consul at Palac Flora while killing time. Very friendly one. Yoga with Monica and Lara in the evening.

Thursday: Got a raise. Just a bit but delighted for it. Better than nothing. Finally met Lillian at Eva’s in the afternoon. The darleng prepared meatballs, cakes and pancit for us. Stomachs aching after laughing so much about the myterious and hilarious Enday. Checked-out a flat at Prague 4 in the evening. Nice, relatively spacious—A and I were thinking of taking it.

Friday: Neverending cleaning and rearranging of everything at school. Another flat to see in the evening, this time at Chodov. Much better than the previous but still undecided, as usual.

Saturday: Up early for the picnic at Lillian’s weekend house. Beautiful place, beautiful people (she and husband Jiři). Eating galore. A playing football with Bait. Hiked up to the next town with matching picture-taking with Lillian, Eva, Angie and her daughter Leah all the way and back. A and me falling in love with the place with its river and hills, dreaming of owning a cottage there someday which will probably remain just a dream. Met Sir Felix, another Filipino, a diplomat. A blast of a day.

Sunday: That’s tomorrow. I guess I’ll just stay home the whole day and cuddle with A *wink* in between him meeting his deadline to translate 11 pages 'til Monday and me, well, I don’t exactly know what I will do tomorrow. Maybe laundry or cleaning again. Maybe nothing. We’ll just see.

Mistaken

Maybe it’s my fair skin, or maybe my big dark eyes have a hint of a slant. Maybe it’s the way I dress, or maybe these are the new generic names for Asians. Whatever it is, I often get mistaken as somebody from the Philippines' neighboring countries....

While about to disembark from the Supercat in Cebu, a voice from the middle of what must have been a hundred of Japanese tourists asked: " Excuse me, excuse me, are you Japanese?" It took me seconds to realize he was asking me. " No, I’m not." Unbelievably, a voice from the Chinese group behind the Japanese flock rose on a rebound. "Are you Chinese?" I turned to several hopeful (or helpful, they must have thought I got lost from my pack) faces. Their expressions told me they completely forgot they were in the Philippines and that there might be a chance that I’m a Filipina traveling alone....

Sitting on a bench inside Andel mall in Prague next to two elderly Czech men, one of them suddenly said, "Japanese?" Oh Lord, here we go again. No, I said while rearranging my grocery in a plastic bag. "Chinese?," the other one asked. Wait a minute, I probably look like Lucy Liu ha-ha! Wait, is Lucy Liu Chinese? No, I said to them, snapping out of my Charlie’s Angels dreaming. I’m a Filipina.

"Ah, Filipiny!," they chorused. "Nice!," they chorused again. "Do you live here?," one of them asked with his index finger pointing to the floor. Yes, I do, my husband is Czech. "Nice!" That word in a chorus again. I wonder what they meant by that. Did they like my new Zara white shirt?

Going around a Vietnamese store in Tisnov in the South of Czech Rep.;

Vietnamese man to me: "Ayshukmjshgltughglhyhsothayg.dhtehsg!"
Me: "Pardon? Oh no, sorry, I don’t understand. I’m not Vietnamese."
Vietnamese man: " Thglsthgphggpowugytpsabter. Hflgpitgaoght!"

Ladies and Gentlemen reading my blog, forgive my very poor knowledge of Vietnamese language. But I think you got the point.

In Andel again while sitting on a bench and happily examining my new purchase, a business-looking man came to sit on the opposite side. "You must speak English,"he said. Thank you, Lord, no Japanese or Chinese line this time. Yes, I do, I answered. "Are you Chinese?" Not again!

And since we are on this topic, last summer A and I were in the woods near his parents' cottage (weekend house) to pick mushrooms when out of nowhere this huge golden retriever came charging towards me. He immediately started pumping his hotdog on my leg, his paws pinning my arms close to my body immobilizing me almost completely . Mind you, he was drooling. A tried to shoo him away to no avail. He only let me go after his master’s voice came calling for him from the other side of the woods.

A year later, just a month ago, A and I went back to the woods. We wanted to pick wild strawberries this time. On our way to the clearing I saw this golden retriever several meters away walking with a family. Oh no, I hope it’s not the same dog, I said to A. But it was. He came charging towards me again the moment he saw me. The pumping of the hotdog, A trying to shoo him, everything was a repeat of what happened a year go.

This time I wasn't just mistaken for a Japanese or a Chinese or a Vietnamese, I was mistaken for a dog.