Another go at it

Alright, for all three of my devoted readers, I apologize for such infrequent posts. As it is the new year, I thought I'd try to renew my blogging efforts and actually write more than twice a month. Note that this is not a resolution, as I break resolutions like my Dad breaks pretzels (the three of you should be in on that joke).

My newest addiction, thanks to my roommate, Alex, has been to download podcasts to my mp3 player and listen to them on my commutes. I've been listening to a good number of economic programs from NPR and The Wall Street Journal, as well as the Bloomberg podcasts. They have made my trips to Rakovník and various spots around Prague much more enjoyable.

Anyways, yesterday was one of the stranger days of the new year. My only Thursday class is an 8 a.m. one-on-one lesson with the sales manager for the Czech branch of Ratiopharm. Jan, my student, works in Prague, lives in Brno (a two hour drive), and is concurrently the acting sales manager and getting his Ph.D in pathological medicine in Brno. He is my most eager student, by far, and ever since I fist-bumped him on our first class, has been giving me knuckle on a biweekly basis whenever he does well.

Now, for those of you not keeping up with the state or history of the European generic drug market, Ratiopharm was owned by the German billionaire Adolph Merckle, who owned, among other things, HeidelbergCement. Facing massive losses in speculation in Volkswagen stock, Merckle killed himself on Monday. I hadn't heard the news until Jan, in the middle of our lesson, stopped me and explained the situation. Jan heard from his superiors that Merckle jumped in front of a train. We suddenly went from discussing modal verbs to talking about the effects of Merckle's death, the economy, and the future of Ratiopharm. He seemed concerned that Ratiopharm would be downsizing at any moment, and suggested that we go out for drinks next week, just in case. I'm not sure how this would help anything except his English speaking and perhaps his head, but I agreed, and so I have a man-date with the Ratiopharm Czech sales manager next week.

On my way home, listening to the "What's News" podcast from TWSJ, I heard about Merckle. According to the news, he died in his home and not under a train.

My afternoon was given over to running in the still-freezing Prague, which is like running on a ice-rink covered in sand since the cobblestones are slick and covered in snow. Lindsey then came home from her Thursday circumnavigation of Prague, and we spent the afternoon being a young married couple: chatting, drinking coffee, taking a nap (which is hard to do after drinking coffee).

Our afternoon was not perfect though, as the Caledonian School, hereafter referred to as the ninth circle of hell, sent out another threatening email. This one, unlike last month's, did not promise massive layoffs (which never happened) but effectively lowered the salary of new teachers (not us) and required that any teacher with fewer than 20 teaching hours per week (also not us) must pick up substitutions or new classes, or be relegated to a part-time contract. As it stands, we're not affected by this, however part-timers are not reembursed for their travel passes and do not get any health insurance. After hearing that, I could help but wonder, "Would this be a bad time to ask for a raise?"

Lindsey teaches most nights, and with my SOA 1 exam looming, I took my study manual out to the Tynska Literary Café to study. The place was packed with red-faced-chain-smoking academics laughing over pints and debating whatever it is they debate. I sat in the corner nursing a beer and performing double improper integrations of multivariate equations which are used in calculating joint probability. Trust me, I know that is one crisp pocket protector from uber-nerddom (instead of super-nerddom). And trust me, that is not my usual behavior in such establisments. As far as productivity goes, though, its easier to take the studying when I'm out and about.

Lindsey and I finished the night with paninis and the worst bottle of Czech wine ever concoted. I think if we were to translate it, the winery would be called "Outhouse Cellars" or "Urinal Cake Valley". But that's part of the fun of living abroad, you've just got to brave things. Sometimes you take a bite of a strange looking cake and it's the tastiest thing you've ever eaten. And sometimes you find an inchworm peeking out from one of the slices.