Arrival to Prague

I’m in Prague! It’s been a stressful journey because Prague does not feel anything like home to me. In the past when I have crossed the Atlantic it has been to go to England to visit my family or to Spain to visit my boyfriend, and in both locations I always feel very comfortable and can speak the language. However, in the Czech Republic, I know no one, do not speak the language, and, well, do I need any more reasons?? However, Prague definitely has its redeeming qualities. Firstly, my boyfriend is also moving to Prague, and he is my main motivation for moving here. Secondly, I have attained a job teaching English, which is something I have always wanted to do after graduating from college. Thirdly, I have heard nothing but wonderful things about Prague. I have talked to a handful of people who have visited, studied, or worked in Prague, and all have told me that they are just so incredibly jealous of me and will just have to come visit me while I’m there. So, I figured I can’t go wrong by moving to a city that all its visitors want to return to. According to them, and I will be confirming or rejecting this in a future entry according to my judgments, it is a beautiful, inexpensive city with incredible architecture, great nightlife, and fabulous public transportation. What can beat that? So making the decision to come here wasn’t much of a difficulty.

The major inconvenience for me in the Czech Republic is the language. I'm going to try not to be blatantly ethnocentric, but everything is in Czech! What is that about? I realize that it is the Czech Republic, and there is English occasionally on signs, like in the subway. But unless the food is an English brand, food in the supermarket is in Czech, so I spend a great deal of time eying food and reading Czech nutritional facts. So far I've learned fiber, calcium, fat, and protein. I'd translate them here but I've forgotten them already.

You knew there'd be a picture of milk in my blog. Notice there is nothing about skim, semi-skimmed, or anything. And the words in Czech on the front are not related to the fat content. I figured out that you need to look on the top of the carton for a percentage, A.K.A. fat content. Duly noted.


And here is the cereal I buy, with clear directions on the complex process of pouring cereal into a bowl, followed by the milk. The words above the picture say "Instructions for Preparation."

Oh, one more important thing to mention about the Czech Republic: the diet. As you’ll know from previous entries, it’s safe to say that I am a relatively picky eater, and do not eat meat or foods loaded with empty calories, generally. According to Lonely Planet’s guide book to Prague, the Czech diet is a “cardiologist’s nightmare.” Meat, dumplings, meat, goulash, fried cheese, wilted lettuce, with a side of meat. I have, however, read up on some vegetarian restaurants that I will be patronizing with frequency. But anyway, maybe this is a sign that I should start sharpening up my culinary skills and actually step foot into the kitchen to do something other than looking for snacks. Looks like it’s going to be a lot of boiled veggies and whole grain rice for a while.

Change of Scenery

I love the USA, I really do. I think it has a lot of great qualities, and it will always be my home first and foremost. The more I compare America and Europe, the more I think about how different they are. I am very happy in both places, but when I compare them, I start to see imperfections in America that I never noticed before. Until I studied in Spain when I was 20 years old, I thought America was perfect. I was quite happy with where my life was headed – I was an undergraduate student studying Spanish and enjoying college life. However, once I moved across the pond and started thinking beyond what new drink I would try at the bar next weekend, I realized that America has some serious flaws. For example, 45 million people are without health care because they can’t afford it. Another example – many Americans cannot afford to go to college, and thus do not attain an education level higher than high school and cannot make as much money as their more competitive peers who went to college and graduate school. These problems do not exist to nearly the same extent in Europe; there is more equality. I believe that America is oftentimes too capitalistic and inward looking, and has forgotten to care for the poor and hungry, or whatever shpeel the Statue of Liberty says. Life in the USA is not as good for many Americans as it was for me, and this bothers me. I want everyone living in America to live well, because that, to me, defines a perfect country.

So, I no longer believe America is better than any other country. It has some major flaws that could quite easily be worked out, if it weren’t for that obstacle we call politics. But don’t worry! I will still constantly be comparing America to other countries I learn about, more specifically, the Czech Republic, in the entries that follow. Why? Because I have moved to Prague! Read on for more details.

Trash Issues

Europe is great. Seriously. I love most things about it. There’s just one thing that keeps sticking out to me as slightly inconvenient: tiny trash bins. Why? Why are they so small? England, Spain, and now the Czech Republic all seem to have small trash bins in the houses. If they were bigger, it would not be necessary to empty them so often. However, they are very small, and I don’t know if this is just an optical illusion, but seem to be full a good 90% of the time, and thus need taking out way too often. Do Europeans just not mind taking out the trash? Perhaps they are just innately less lazy than Americans, who generally believe that having to take the trash out more than once or twice a week is a crime to humanity.

Trash, plastic recycling, and paper recycling in my apartment in Spain

Trash in Czech Republic apartment

That’s my rant of the week. Or, at least for the day.

Napkins: Less is Not More

Napkins in Spain are...different. In bars, at least. Bars in Spain, or at least in the southern part of the country, serve food with drinks, and thus there are always plenty of napkins around. However, they are about as useful as using a sheet of wax paper to wipe my mouth. Actually, I am convinced that they have a wax coating, because they are always so pretty and shiny. And they always thank me for patronizing their bar, how very polite.

I can see my reflection!

As there is always a huge supply of these napkins in bars, I never feel bad using many of them, as 8 of them use about as much paper as one normal napkin. Oh, and bonus! These napkins serve as toilet paper for women in bars, as there is never toilet paper in the bathrooms in bars and thus these napkins are the next best thing.

The Great English Migration

Well, I've made a fun little observation about English people. And while I can't bash them too badly, because I am 50% English, I must comment that they are a strange race. They are rather sun deprived, because England tends to be cloudy and rainy. They do have completely sunny days, but they are far and few between. As a result, many English people like to head to the beaches in Spain for a quick sun bathe. I noticed this phenomenon when I myself was making this same trip, except I started in Spain and flew to England to visit my grandmother. The route is Leeds to Málaga, and it is flown very cheaply by Ryanair, a low cost European airline. This route is flown almost entirely by English people. Thus, English people will dig out their long-lost swim suits and make a nice weekend out of the southern coast of Spain. However, they are a bit over eager and end up soaking up too much sun. It's funny how if a culture does not have enough of something, they make sure to take full advantage of it when they have the opportunity.

Too much of a good thing

This is a picture of English people waiting in line to check into their Ryanair flight back to Leeds, where they can pick their sun blisters in peace.

Gooooooooaaaaaalllllll!!!!!!!!!

Spain brings home the gold for the first time in history

Well, living in Spain during the World Cup is important, despite the fact that I came over here without the slightest clue that the World Cup was happening, and without really knowing what it is. As I now know, and most of your reading this already know, it's basically the Olympics of soccer. I think.

Spaniards here get really really really excited about soccer. It's Spain's main sport, without a doubt. Americans have football, basketball, and baseball, and of course golf, tennis, soccer, hockey, etc. But for Spaniards, it doesn't get any better than soccer.

It's like the rainbow threw up red and yellow everywhere

When I watch a soccer game with my boyfriend and his friends, as soon as I step into the room my face gets painted with the colors of the Spanish flag (red and yellow) and loud, obnoxious noise-making balloons are thrust into my hands. The environment is pretty similar to what one experiences at an American sport event. Everyone will go to a bar to see the game or to someone's house, pass around the potato chips and beer, and chaos ensues.

Soccer isn't my favorite sport, I've always been more of a basketball fan because, uh, points are actually scored, but for me, at least half the entertainment of watching a soccer game is watching the Spaniards watch the soccer game: yelling profanities at the players of the opposing teams, jumping up and down and shrieking as loud as their vocal chords will allow them when Spain scores, muttering "ooooh-eeeeee" when the opposing team almost scores a goal, and falling to their knees 3 inches in front of the television screen when Spain is attempting to score a goal and pleading, "For your mother!!! Get it in the goal for your mother!!!" I mean, you can't buy live entertainment like that.


In America, many people fly the American flag on their houses and apartments, and no one thinks twice about it. In Spain, if you spot a Spanish flag waving outside a place of residence, you can count on that residence being big Franco (former dictator of Spain from 1939 - 1975) supporters, a.k.a., possibly fascist. However, during the World Cup, all bets are off; everyone waves their flag proudly so that there is no doubt which soccer team they are supporting.

World Cup season: the one time every four years when waving the Spanish flag outside your home doesn't scream "I love fascism!"

I was in a small village in Spain when Spain won the World Cup. This was a HUGE moment for Spain. Soccer started doing the World Cup in 1930, and it takes place every four years, and Spain has never won. Brazil, Germany, and Argentina have won most of the recent World Cups.

Red and yellow everywhere

So, needless to say, Spain partied long and hard to celebrate the event. It was amazing, a unique experience that I will probably never have again. I'm not Spanish, but I felt Spanish that night! The people were so united and happy, it's amazing how a sport can bring a nation together. Cars were driving in the street, honking like there is no tomorrow, people screaming and waving their Spanish flags, and of course, the obnoxious-beyond-belief vuvuzelas, the South African plastic blow horn. It's a great way to make noise, but then again, it's also a great way to lose your hearing at a young age.

I'm wearing earplugs the next time Spain wins the World Cup in South Africa

My First Experience with Civil Disobedience...Kind Of

I love Spain, I truly do, but the lack of food that I want to eat is starting to become an issue.

My boyfriend and I decided to go to lunch one day at a bar that serves a "menú del día" for 3 Euros. This means that there are 3 plates selected for you, one after another, and you eat what you get and pay 3 Euros. Each day the food that is served is different; the day we went, the first plate was salad, the second pork, and the third, pudding. I had a feeling that this lunch was not going to go as smoothly as one might hope.

You can't beat these prices with a stick

We arrive to the restaurant and I see that pork is the middle plate that is offered as part of the meal, and of course I cannot eat this, what with the whole vegetarianism thing. The salad looks edible, so I ask the bartender if I can just have the salad for half the price. Nope. I can pay the full 3 Euros for a wilted salad, so I decide it's not worth it. My boyfriend orders all 3 plates and I decide just to sit with him at the restaurant, as I'm not very hungry anyway. The bartender sends us to the back of the bar, where there are tables with just one place mat, and one chair. My boyfriend looks puzzled and pulls up a chair for me. I am mid-sit when I hear the bartender angrily state that I cannot sit down if I am not ordering anything. My boyfriend suggests that I order a drink, and the bartender replies that it will cost 3 Euros, which in Granada, is an absurd price for a glass of Coke.

We leave. Angrily. This has never happened to me before, and this is in no way representative of Spanish bars, or bars in Granada. This bar was...different. The owner of this bar wanted to make sure that every chair in his bar was filled by a person who paid 3 Euros for something, even if it isn't the 3 course meal. Many manual labor workers go to bars like that for lunch. It's a good, quick, cheap lunch break, and it fills their stomachs. Well, I'm not a bricklayer, and I don't eat like one, so I guess that it's not the best locale for me to search for nourishment.

Lesson learned! In English we have the saying, "You get what you pay for." I've now learned that this sometimes also applies to the service you receive.