Yes, Part III of the Epic Christmas Saga is coming about a month late, but here goes nothing...
Did you know that Brad Pitt almost got run over by a train in Prague? Or that Paris Hilton hates the city and has vowed never to return? According to our tour guide, she was running from the paparazzi, tripped and fell flat on her face.
If those stories didn't warm you up to Prague, I don't know what will.
Erin and I got to Prague on Christmas Eve. We spent Christmas eating goulash, drinking mulled wine and watching It's a Wonderful Life with some people we met at the hostel.
After Christmas we still had another five days to see Prague. We did a lot of walking around the city, often with a woman from North Dakota named Michelle whom we met our second day while on a free tour of the city. Our tour guide recommended an ala carte-style Czech restaurant. The restaurant's selection featured a wide array of indistinguishable soups and "glops" and the women working there had all the charm of disgruntled school cafeteria ladies, but the glops were tasty and the price was right. We ate there every day.
The main sights of Prague in brief
:
The Museum of Medieval Torture Devices: I could only look at the first floor. After that I just waited by the door for Erin to finish like a kid waiting for his mom to finish clothes shopping.
Museum of Communism: Fascinating and conveniently located between McDonald's and a casino.
Chocolate Museum: The frist time I ever seriously considered committing robbery in a foreign country. Decided I didn't want to spend New Years in a Czech prison. Also the first time I had my picture taken with a giant cocoa bean.
Prague Castle: The exterior is more impressive than the interior, but I got to shoot a crossbow. I resisted shooting the snooty guy who was runnng the exhibit.
Jewish Quarter: Lots of synagogues.
Don Giovanni performed by marionettes: A-MAZ-ING.
Wenceslaus Square: Yes Good King Wenceslaus is from Prague, but don't believe the hype. Apparently he wasn't called "Good" King Wenceslaus until centureis after his death when some guy started inventing stories about him as part of a PR scheme. "Good" King Wenceslaus's family eventually died out due to their nasty habit of killing each other in power grabs.
Now we will magically skip ahead in time, through sleeping on the floor in Frankfurt airport, through the New Year's Eve concert in Málaga with the singer who only knew half of "I Will Survive" and switched to singing "la la la" for the last couple of verses, and past lazy days spent trying to keep warm in the glorified cardboard box known as my apartment. (It doesn't get too cold in southern Spain, but 40 degrees and raining feels a lot colder when none of the apartments have heat or insulation.) This magical journey thorugh time brings us to January 5th, the day before Three Kings Day.
Santa Clause isn't really a big deal in Spain. He's around, but everyone is much more interested in the Three Kings. After all, why have an obese senior citizen stuff presents in your socks when you can have three kings lay gifts at your feet?
I went to a Three Kings parade in Málaga. Everyone from the Nativity story shows up to party: Gaspar, Belthasar, Melchoir, Snow White, Ursula the Sea Witch, the Knights Templar, the Mad Hatter, a pharaoh and a couple of marching bands. Now, my bible knowledge must be a little hazy because I don't remember there being marching bands in Bethlehem, but the rest seems to check out. At any rate, it's hard to care about biblical accuracy when everyone is throwing candy.
Now, whenever I've been to parades in the U.S., the kids pick up candy while the adults stand back and secretly wish they could dive for the Tootsie Roll that just landed on the street. Spanish parades, on the other hand, are a free-for-all bloodbath. Adults and kids alike jump up and down, waving their hands in the air and screaming at the people on the floats. Otherwise friendly neighbors transform into candy-grubbing fiends. Life-long friends break into fist fights over 2-cent hard candies. Little old ladies in their Sunday best throw down in the middle of the sidewalk, bashing each other with their canes and leaving the loser lying in a pool of their own blood and fake teeth. (I swear the one standing next to me used to be in the WWE.) Luckily I had my brass knuckles with me, so I walked away unscathed with my pockets full of candy.
By the way--Belthasar, the black king, was played by a white guy in black face. With all the money they spend on the parade, they couldn't find one real black guy to play Belthasar? Really?
The rest of January was relatively uneventful. Last Friday I went to see a free movie at the University of Málaga with a couple of professors from my school. We thought we were going to see a Paul Newman comedy but found ourselves watching a film about a young boy from Iran who has to work as a "horse" for a rich kid with no legs. Nothing like spending a Friday evening watching a boy get horseshoes nailed to his feet. Lucky I had a party to go to afterward becase that movie made me want to stick my head in an oven.
Saturday I went to a national park called El Chorro with other professors from my institute. There was nature, a canyon, water--the works. Sunday I went to a park called El Torcal with friends I met through conversations exchanges. El Torcal is made up of giant rock formations that were created when the whole area was underwater. I felt like I was on the moon.
My French roommate went back to France, and my other roomamte and I decided to "amicably part ways," (I'm just too mean) so a Greek girl, Sophia, and a Bosnian/German guy (I'm not sure how to spell his name yet) moved into my apartment on Monday. It's Sophia's first time living abroad, so her mom was here to help her move in. To make a long story short, a friendly Grecian woman deep-cleaned and sterilized my apartment on Monday. It's comforting to know I could perform open-heart surgery on my bathroom floor in a pinch.
That's all for now. As always, thanks for reading and keep in touch!
Did you know that Brad Pitt almost got run over by a train in Prague? Or that Paris Hilton hates the city and has vowed never to return? According to our tour guide, she was running from the paparazzi, tripped and fell flat on her face.
If those stories didn't warm you up to Prague, I don't know what will.
Erin and I got to Prague on Christmas Eve. We spent Christmas eating goulash, drinking mulled wine and watching It's a Wonderful Life with some people we met at the hostel.
After Christmas we still had another five days to see Prague. We did a lot of walking around the city, often with a woman from North Dakota named Michelle whom we met our second day while on a free tour of the city. Our tour guide recommended an ala carte-style Czech restaurant. The restaurant's selection featured a wide array of indistinguishable soups and "glops" and the women working there had all the charm of disgruntled school cafeteria ladies, but the glops were tasty and the price was right. We ate there every day.
The main sights of Prague in brief
:
The Museum of Medieval Torture Devices: I could only look at the first floor. After that I just waited by the door for Erin to finish like a kid waiting for his mom to finish clothes shopping.
Museum of Communism: Fascinating and conveniently located between McDonald's and a casino.
Chocolate Museum: The frist time I ever seriously considered committing robbery in a foreign country. Decided I didn't want to spend New Years in a Czech prison. Also the first time I had my picture taken with a giant cocoa bean.
Prague Castle: The exterior is more impressive than the interior, but I got to shoot a crossbow. I resisted shooting the snooty guy who was runnng the exhibit.
Jewish Quarter: Lots of synagogues.
Don Giovanni performed by marionettes: A-MAZ-ING.
Wenceslaus Square: Yes Good King Wenceslaus is from Prague, but don't believe the hype. Apparently he wasn't called "Good" King Wenceslaus until centureis after his death when some guy started inventing stories about him as part of a PR scheme. "Good" King Wenceslaus's family eventually died out due to their nasty habit of killing each other in power grabs.
Now we will magically skip ahead in time, through sleeping on the floor in Frankfurt airport, through the New Year's Eve concert in Málaga with the singer who only knew half of "I Will Survive" and switched to singing "la la la" for the last couple of verses, and past lazy days spent trying to keep warm in the glorified cardboard box known as my apartment. (It doesn't get too cold in southern Spain, but 40 degrees and raining feels a lot colder when none of the apartments have heat or insulation.) This magical journey thorugh time brings us to January 5th, the day before Three Kings Day.
Santa Clause isn't really a big deal in Spain. He's around, but everyone is much more interested in the Three Kings. After all, why have an obese senior citizen stuff presents in your socks when you can have three kings lay gifts at your feet?
I went to a Three Kings parade in Málaga. Everyone from the Nativity story shows up to party: Gaspar, Belthasar, Melchoir, Snow White, Ursula the Sea Witch, the Knights Templar, the Mad Hatter, a pharaoh and a couple of marching bands. Now, my bible knowledge must be a little hazy because I don't remember there being marching bands in Bethlehem, but the rest seems to check out. At any rate, it's hard to care about biblical accuracy when everyone is throwing candy.
Now, whenever I've been to parades in the U.S., the kids pick up candy while the adults stand back and secretly wish they could dive for the Tootsie Roll that just landed on the street. Spanish parades, on the other hand, are a free-for-all bloodbath. Adults and kids alike jump up and down, waving their hands in the air and screaming at the people on the floats. Otherwise friendly neighbors transform into candy-grubbing fiends. Life-long friends break into fist fights over 2-cent hard candies. Little old ladies in their Sunday best throw down in the middle of the sidewalk, bashing each other with their canes and leaving the loser lying in a pool of their own blood and fake teeth. (I swear the one standing next to me used to be in the WWE.) Luckily I had my brass knuckles with me, so I walked away unscathed with my pockets full of candy.
By the way--Belthasar, the black king, was played by a white guy in black face. With all the money they spend on the parade, they couldn't find one real black guy to play Belthasar? Really?
The rest of January was relatively uneventful. Last Friday I went to see a free movie at the University of Málaga with a couple of professors from my school. We thought we were going to see a Paul Newman comedy but found ourselves watching a film about a young boy from Iran who has to work as a "horse" for a rich kid with no legs. Nothing like spending a Friday evening watching a boy get horseshoes nailed to his feet. Lucky I had a party to go to afterward becase that movie made me want to stick my head in an oven.
Saturday I went to a national park called El Chorro with other professors from my institute. There was nature, a canyon, water--the works. Sunday I went to a park called El Torcal with friends I met through conversations exchanges. El Torcal is made up of giant rock formations that were created when the whole area was underwater. I felt like I was on the moon.
My French roommate went back to France, and my other roomamte and I decided to "amicably part ways," (I'm just too mean) so a Greek girl, Sophia, and a Bosnian/German guy (I'm not sure how to spell his name yet) moved into my apartment on Monday. It's Sophia's first time living abroad, so her mom was here to help her move in. To make a long story short, a friendly Grecian woman deep-cleaned and sterilized my apartment on Monday. It's comforting to know I could perform open-heart surgery on my bathroom floor in a pinch.
That's all for now. As always, thanks for reading and keep in touch!
Always amazing reading about your encounters with the foreign kind!
ReplyDeleteWhats in glops? The name isnt very endearing, but you say they are tasty.
oh and I'm a little behind, so I read the last posting as well.. and yes I am going to get all Freudian on you. :-)
Was Valentines Days celebrated there?