Our last week of the TEFL course was a week of raw nerves and sleeplessness. As we were so near to finishing, it seemed like everyone was in a desperate scramble not to screw up. I even went so far as to impersonate my observer for my final lessons. I felt a little bad about it (it wasn't the most flattering of impersonations), but he seemed to love it. And after all of the madness of our first month in Prague, we turned in our final portfolios and set off to drink any memory of the class out of our heads.
We started our night, the last Friday of the program, at a brewpub called Pivovarsky Dum (which translates to "beer-making house"). They serve up these giant 4-liter cylinders of beer called "giraffes". We had a herd. And some dinner.
Our group then set off through the tree-lined squares of Vinohrady, crossing past the monolith of the TV Tower lit in supernatural red and blue. We walked parallel to it for some time, and it kept reappearing at the ends of blocks, like some relic of the arms race.
We found another place close by, U Sabu, which is a restaurant, pub, and 24-hour gambling parlor. It also has foosball, which kept our attention for a much longer time than it should have. The bar turned out to be a pretty popular expat hangout, and I ended up talking to a girl who had been teaching English for a year. She started off at a language school, but recently struck out as a freelance teacher. Of course, while telling me all this, she made a point to tell me how difficult the first months of teaching are. She told me as many times as she could. It almost felt like she was playing some weird game where the more she mentioned the terrors of TEFLing, the higher score she got. I told her that instead of teaching British English, I planned on teaching Ebonics to all of my classes. She told me I wouldn't last a month.
Our night soon spilled over into a bohemian club called Akropolis, which features not one, but two different dance halls of DJs spinning techno-reggae, and spinning it badly. If there is ever a great equalizer, it's dance. Czechs who would ordinarily look down their noses at us were the butt of every joke in the universe. Seriously, you try not laughing at soused Euro-trash (maybe Euro-trash is a bit strong, how about Euro-recycling?) dancing to bad reggae. There was, and this is not made up, a pair of what I can only hope were interpretive dance students that kept doing weird fanning motions with their hands and dancing with each other as if they were enraged salsa dancers.
Our night wound down with a fried cheese sandwich (exactly what it sounds like: fried cheese and mayo on a bun) and a night tram ride home. I awoke the next day to a slight hangover that blossomed into a low fever, which blossomed into a stomach virus. At first I thought that I had simply overdone it. After about four days of it, though, I realized that between the four weeks of stress, staying out until 4 a.m., and fried food from a questionable vendor, I had actually gotten sick. It seems like the number 4 is pretty unlucky here. Because after four days, the virus passed on to Lindsey, who had been nursing me back to health. So with our week off, we spent a lot of time lying in bed watching DVDs and drinking broth. Funny thing, though, I still haven't lost my appetite for fried cheese...
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Sunday, October 26, 2008
A Room of Our Own
For the first time (excluding the nights that Kate crashed on our couch in Lakeland or the month we stayed in Michigan before leaving) as a married couple, we found ourselves living with a roommate here in Prague. Alex, a native North Carolinian and suspected clone of Peyton Manning, actually flew to Prague via Dublin as well. His layover was a little under two hours, which meant he had to check into the flight, so I actually saw him before we met, or knew that we would be sharing a bathroom.
Alex is a year or so younger than I am, taking a year off of college and here for the same reasons that most of us are: mainly for adventure. As a result, he is, and was, often out of the flat and prowling the foreign supermarkets for the weirdest possible snack foods he could find. He came home one day with a pepper-flavored chocolate bar that was surprisingly good.
Our initial flat here was stunning. Lindsey, I'm sure, took some pictures of it. It belonged to a professional impersonator of German actress Marlene Dietrich. Possibly channeling the dramatic delirium of Ms. Dietrich, our absent host, who is really named Jana Heuer, took to decorating the apartment as garishly as possible. Candleabras and chandeliers stood and hung throughout the apartment, such as on the baby grand piano in the living room, and occasionally snuck up on us. For instance, upon spraying air freshner in the bathroom, I looked up to see that I had, on accident, doused a glass chandelier in a fresh lilac scent.
Our kitchenware was equally as substantial. The bowls were to the point where they could fit enough cereal to feed the Denver Broncos. Wine glasses bloomed from foot-high (hardly and exaggeration) stems. Our plates were only plates because we refused to call them platters. Even the toaster looked like something out of a space station.
The search for the new flat took place during the crescendo of the course (week three). Somehow we found the time to email landlord after landlord and arrange viewing after viewing. After parading through half of the apartments in Prague, we settled on a spacious, if underfurnished, flat a few blocks away from Starometska Namesti. The ceilings are high enough to allow a mild game of touch football. However, there are enough giant windows to keep us from actually playing. In addition to keeping Alex, we have adopted another married couple from Boston (or they have adopted us), Patrick and Cornelia. Pat and Nell. Thus we have all moved into our three-bed, three-bath apartment smack dab in the center of Prague. And through some nifty negotiating, we are paying just under 84% of the asking price, which means that we should have a few extra pennies for a beer on the weekend. Maybe two.
Alex is a year or so younger than I am, taking a year off of college and here for the same reasons that most of us are: mainly for adventure. As a result, he is, and was, often out of the flat and prowling the foreign supermarkets for the weirdest possible snack foods he could find. He came home one day with a pepper-flavored chocolate bar that was surprisingly good.
Our initial flat here was stunning. Lindsey, I'm sure, took some pictures of it. It belonged to a professional impersonator of German actress Marlene Dietrich. Possibly channeling the dramatic delirium of Ms. Dietrich, our absent host, who is really named Jana Heuer, took to decorating the apartment as garishly as possible. Candleabras and chandeliers stood and hung throughout the apartment, such as on the baby grand piano in the living room, and occasionally snuck up on us. For instance, upon spraying air freshner in the bathroom, I looked up to see that I had, on accident, doused a glass chandelier in a fresh lilac scent.
Our kitchenware was equally as substantial. The bowls were to the point where they could fit enough cereal to feed the Denver Broncos. Wine glasses bloomed from foot-high (hardly and exaggeration) stems. Our plates were only plates because we refused to call them platters. Even the toaster looked like something out of a space station.
The search for the new flat took place during the crescendo of the course (week three). Somehow we found the time to email landlord after landlord and arrange viewing after viewing. After parading through half of the apartments in Prague, we settled on a spacious, if underfurnished, flat a few blocks away from Starometska Namesti. The ceilings are high enough to allow a mild game of touch football. However, there are enough giant windows to keep us from actually playing. In addition to keeping Alex, we have adopted another married couple from Boston (or they have adopted us), Patrick and Cornelia. Pat and Nell. Thus we have all moved into our three-bed, three-bath apartment smack dab in the center of Prague. And through some nifty negotiating, we are paying just under 84% of the asking price, which means that we should have a few extra pennies for a beer on the weekend. Maybe two.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Of Course
Settling into Prague for me was less about being in a foreign country, and more about redisciplining. After a relaxing summer off, I found myself, within four days of moving to Prague, bombarded with syllabuses and orientation forms, lists of assignments and mounting expectations. Our first day of class was therefore given over to scaring the shit out of us with every single thing that could stand in the way between us and a successful completion of our certification. We went to the pub immediately after class, as if we were all filing into a field hospital.
The course itself featured two distinct phases. In the mornings, we were subjected to two hour-and-a-half long information overloads called lectures. They covered everything from the linguistic history of the Angles to what to do when your students cross the line from polite to downright creepy. The afternoon activity, started from our second day of class, was a trial-and-error experiment in teaching. Dubbed "Teaching Practice" or TPs, we had the pleasure of teaching some very eager students, as well as watching our fellow classmates attempt to do the same. Then, we faced the business end of a harpoon as our instructors listed (usually several times for emphasis) every single thing we did wrong, right down to the way we gestured when giving instructions. It was exhilarating and humiliating.
Of course, all of this was supposedly in good fun, but that didn't seem to trickle down from the instructors to us students. Instead of dutifully preparing lessons, I often found myself pounding away on a keyboard at night and thinking, "What am I going to do wrong tomorrow?" Lindsey, ever the eager student, took to consulting her instructors regarding the content of her classes, the structure of her lessons, and even scripted some of her lines for the class. I took the opposite approach. Often I was as surprised (or confused) as my students about what had just come flying out of my mouth. For example, alluding (incorrectly) to Marvin Gaye's expression "get it on" as a phrasal verb.
As a result, Lindsey passed with flying colors and top marks. I passed. The end.
One thing I will say for the course is this: it made it easy to make friends. It was a rallying point among our classmates. Seriously, nothing brings people together better than something that we can all bitch about. It is the single most unifying force known to man. As a result, we forged some pretty quick, and supportive friendships with people we probably would have never even considered existed. It's shocking and a bit dramatic, having gotten to know these people, to think of it that way. Nonetheless, here I am in Prague, having supported, proofread for, consoled, critiqued, and even hugged a group of twenty complete strangers for a full month.
The course itself featured two distinct phases. In the mornings, we were subjected to two hour-and-a-half long information overloads called lectures. They covered everything from the linguistic history of the Angles to what to do when your students cross the line from polite to downright creepy. The afternoon activity, started from our second day of class, was a trial-and-error experiment in teaching. Dubbed "Teaching Practice" or TPs, we had the pleasure of teaching some very eager students, as well as watching our fellow classmates attempt to do the same. Then, we faced the business end of a harpoon as our instructors listed (usually several times for emphasis) every single thing we did wrong, right down to the way we gestured when giving instructions. It was exhilarating and humiliating.
Of course, all of this was supposedly in good fun, but that didn't seem to trickle down from the instructors to us students. Instead of dutifully preparing lessons, I often found myself pounding away on a keyboard at night and thinking, "What am I going to do wrong tomorrow?" Lindsey, ever the eager student, took to consulting her instructors regarding the content of her classes, the structure of her lessons, and even scripted some of her lines for the class. I took the opposite approach. Often I was as surprised (or confused) as my students about what had just come flying out of my mouth. For example, alluding (incorrectly) to Marvin Gaye's expression "get it on" as a phrasal verb.
As a result, Lindsey passed with flying colors and top marks. I passed. The end.
One thing I will say for the course is this: it made it easy to make friends. It was a rallying point among our classmates. Seriously, nothing brings people together better than something that we can all bitch about. It is the single most unifying force known to man. As a result, we forged some pretty quick, and supportive friendships with people we probably would have never even considered existed. It's shocking and a bit dramatic, having gotten to know these people, to think of it that way. Nonetheless, here I am in Prague, having supported, proofread for, consoled, critiqued, and even hugged a group of twenty complete strangers for a full month.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Finally
After over a month of anticipation and procrastination, here it is, my blog from Prague (too soon?). Disappointing. Completely.
Lindsey and I arrived in Dublin on the September 8 on a gray Monday morning, over packed and exhausted. Due to the sheer genius behind the logistics of the Dublin Airport, we ended up waiting in line for nearly an hour to get through passport control. Our only entertainment was watching newcomers to the line as they walked to the back. They would turn a corner, expecting to see the last few people, and their faces fell pretty quick when they saw another hallway lined with red-eyed impatient travelers. I certain that at its height, people had to be bussed to the back of the line.
Our stay in Dublin was brief. I, especially enjoyed walking the same streets I walked when I lived there. That's essentially how we spent our days. That and catching up on sleep. Even in a twin bed, I found it hard to wake up. Once we hit the town, though, we walked for miles, stopping at some of the old haunts for lunch, a pint, or a desperate search for the Internet so that we could let our loved ones know we were still alive.
Our host, and my former roommate, Richard, was no longer the giddy schoolgirl he once was. Now working at PWC and taking his CPA, he has transformed into a disciplined workaholic. He's fine as long as he's got workahol. All the same, he showed us a few new spots, including a so-so Mexican restaurant (when compared to Lakeland's Tapa Tio's) and a pub so trendy there was no sign for it. I think there may have been a secret knock to get in.
While it's not the easiest thing to say bye to people, the more I travel, the easier it gets. Especially since most of my friends are adventurous and unmoved, goodbyes (for more than three months) have come to seem more like one of us is stepping out to the shop to pick up some eggs, instead of drawn out hugs. I like the first way better.
From Dublin it was on to Prague, and I'll post more on that soon.
Lindsey and I arrived in Dublin on the September 8 on a gray Monday morning, over packed and exhausted. Due to the sheer genius behind the logistics of the Dublin Airport, we ended up waiting in line for nearly an hour to get through passport control. Our only entertainment was watching newcomers to the line as they walked to the back. They would turn a corner, expecting to see the last few people, and their faces fell pretty quick when they saw another hallway lined with red-eyed impatient travelers. I certain that at its height, people had to be bussed to the back of the line.
Our stay in Dublin was brief. I, especially enjoyed walking the same streets I walked when I lived there. That's essentially how we spent our days. That and catching up on sleep. Even in a twin bed, I found it hard to wake up. Once we hit the town, though, we walked for miles, stopping at some of the old haunts for lunch, a pint, or a desperate search for the Internet so that we could let our loved ones know we were still alive.
Our host, and my former roommate, Richard, was no longer the giddy schoolgirl he once was. Now working at PWC and taking his CPA, he has transformed into a disciplined workaholic. He's fine as long as he's got workahol. All the same, he showed us a few new spots, including a so-so Mexican restaurant (when compared to Lakeland's Tapa Tio's) and a pub so trendy there was no sign for it. I think there may have been a secret knock to get in.
While it's not the easiest thing to say bye to people, the more I travel, the easier it gets. Especially since most of my friends are adventurous and unmoved, goodbyes (for more than three months) have come to seem more like one of us is stepping out to the shop to pick up some eggs, instead of drawn out hugs. I like the first way better.
From Dublin it was on to Prague, and I'll post more on that soon.
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