So let's get you caught up on last week's hilights. First, in the running game, I decided to take a new route along the bike path beside the river. After a few twists, and after passing through Stare Mesto into Karlin, the path turns from cobblestone to gravel, which is the softer surface that my knees have been craving. Anyways, the view lacked the majesty of Letna, but I did get to see some of the modern, over-windowed office buildings in Prague 8 for a good half mile. Meanwhile, to my left spanned Ostrov Stvanice, an island in the middle of the Vltava. A whitewater kayaking course had been installed on my side of the island, though with the water a hair above freezing, nobody was using it. Anyways, the trail eventually leads out to the driving range near our first apartment here. However, before arriving there, it goes through a demolished former high school campus. As a rule, things are never really leveled here, just made unusable through a solid three whacks with a wrecking ball. So the quarter mile long stretch was lined with half standing skeletons of buildings that looked like havens for addicts, rapists, and maybe a golem or two. Really, though, I can remember when the mall (where Lowes is now) finally died, and was completely ripped apart. By the next year, it was a desolate stretch of parking lot. If that were in Prague, there'd probably be some ruins of it left, although I'm not sure that's a good thing.
An important discovery on my run was an actual court, sans astroturf! I organized a Friday afternoon game, as it was supposed to be in the forties and sunny. Unfortunately, when we finally headed out, it was about 30 and getting darker. As a result (and due to some unfortunate timing) our squad was the three guys of my flat and our Scottish friend, Nick, who's basketball experience was limited to "watching 'Space Jam'". After some shooting around, some Czech kids challenged us to some four-on-four, as they seem to enjoy defeat. I had the pleasure of matching up with a rather rambunctious kid who's repertoire included, among other things, the two-handed hand-check (also known as a shove), the unnecessary dribbling showcase, the bear hug, and a knack for calling invisible fouls. At one point, I caught the ball in the low post, backed him in and spun baseline and he called a charge (which it was not). I mean, come on, a charge in a pick up game? Anyways, he was talking a lot of trash the entire time, in broken English. Finally, at one point, after calling another invisible foul at the other end, he flew across the lane and essentially tackled me while I was going up for a layup. He then pretended not to hear when I called a foul (from the ground) and everybody was slightly stunned when he took off to the other end for a layup. I had the sense to chase him down, but was still several feet behind him when he took off (Screech-meets-Jordan-style). I think my footsteps made him a bit nervous though, as he took off way late, shot the ball into the bottom of the hoop, landed funny and smacked the post. To my horror, and secret joy, I thought it was his head, but I found out later that he'd just twisted his knee and punched the post in frustration. Anyways, the several times I tried to see if he was okay, he pushed me away rather curtly, and even went so far as to blame me for his injury. But I held my fists, and let my wit do the talking.
The following weekend, I corralled a bunch of friends to go see "Glengarry Glen Ross" in English. Once I had a final headcount, I called the ticket office to reserve a block of tickets. They informed me that they didn't take reservations, but if we showed up a half hour early to the performance there would be enough tickets to go around. When we got there, however, we were placed on a waiting list because they had taken so many reservations. How Czech! Suffice to say we didn't see the play but did make a reservation for Friday. Turning lemons into lemon-flavored vodka, we walked across Prague 1 to the James Bond-themed Bar and Books cocktail lounge where we enjoyed a decadent atmosphere, extensive library of German books (turns out I don't understand Ulysses in German either), and a few delicious libations. We parted ways with Lisa and Todd who had 9 pm reservations at a sushi place that Todd was reviewing for a magazine (and thus had a nice allowance to eat there). The rest of us TEFLers took the metro to Zizkov to meet up with a coworker who was DJing at a club called Blind Eye. Now, when we were sixteen, we walled off a room in my friend's basement (bless the patience of the Hesses) and strung it together with various blacklights, strobelights, psychedelic posters, couches that were held together with plywood, and streams of color both from neon tape and strategic, almost surgical, painting. I'd say the only difference between that room and Blind Eye is that we didn't have a full bar. The club is a decent place to relax and listen to some good tunes, but I'd imagine that if I saw it during the day, I'd be checking my medical records for my last boosters of hepatitis, tetanus, and polio. There could be some Plague left there too. All in all, though, it's my kind of place, a place clothed in unpretention where people can gather to be pretentious.
Our Sunday was a lazy and busy one. Despite our best efforts, we made it out for a walk, planned our week's lessons, and even managed to heat some dinner.
Next weekend we're headed with a group of nine to Karlovy Vary, but there'll be more on that later.
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