Praha, Pivo, Prosim

In a feat of bad English instruction I bring you some information about Czech hookers…

First, allow me to explain…

Last week, somehow the topic of prostitution came up in a lesson. Yes, you read that right. No holds barred in my classes.

Anyway, prostitution is legal here. That is, from what I had heard, prostitutes are legal if they operate within a brothel. I asked my student to confirm said knowledge. My student didn’t know the word ‘brothel’ so I provided a synonym: whorehouse. From there, I broke down the word further…. a whore = a prostitute a ‘ho’ = slang for a prostitute (I also said it is unwise to refer to a woman as a HO unless of course she really IS a ho)…. (Random: Czechs love learning American slang! They might not take many notes in class but if I preface some terms by saying they are ‘American slang,’ they quickly grab their pens and get to work.)

So, of course the student remembers the slang term HO which he used in a correct form today. I was so very proud at that moment and I expressed said pride in the knowledge that he now knows about hos.

Anyway, back to my story… so yes, it is true that prostitutes are required to conduct their business from a brothel. However, that’s not to say there aren’t your run-of-the-mill street hookers and jacked-up, one-toothed, peg-legged, crackwhores wandering the dark alleys of Prague. I’ve walked down Vaclavske Namesti numerous times at night and I can say I’ve never noticed a street ho parading her ass around the sausage stands for a fresh John. Maybe they don’t dress like your typical American street hooker complete with fish nets stockings, busted teeth and clear-heeled ho boots. I also don’t know how much the local and state police monitor the ho stroll so I sadly can’t report any hilarious hooker arrests involving flying shoes and spitting. Too bad–it would be a good blog.

So anyway back to my point…. my student told me that yes, they are supposed to work in the whorehouse but there is a famous stretch of road here in the Czech Republic that has some internationally famous hookers. No, I don’t mean that they are famous individually for any special or unique hooker skills they might possess. I just mean to say that from what Valer told me, there is a stretch of the E55 highway littered with Czech-speaking blow job queens. Somehow I find the prospect of being a highway hooker quite depressing. Of course I’m not suggesting that I think the life of a regular city ho is anything glamorous. No sir, I’ve seen Sally Jesse and Springer; I know how that shit goes down. But man, selling your ass for a quickie in the back of a semi truck hauling zucchini to Berlin must really be scraping the bottom of the proverbial pride barrel. Dang, y’all.

**I was going to provide a link but if you Google ‘prostitutes on E55,’ you’ll find some interesting stuff.

12:34 56s 7/8/9A bottle of Becherovka, shots & a one second party under the horse’s ass of the King Wenceslas statue at Vaclavske Namesti. Check. Done.

More Becherovka. This time add Wii, shake & stir. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. James Lipton & Lou Gossett Jr. play baseball.

Workshops, Visas, & Zivnostensky lists OH MY! *Note: it was ’suggested’ that I present some kind of timeline for getting a work permit/zivno/visa. I tried to explain that’s nearly impossible due to the government bureaucracy but alas, they think I’m an idiot and just making this more complicated. They’ll realize soon enough that it’s a nebulous process and there is no speedy and painless route. You’re welcome in advance before you even realize it. Just be thankful you didn’t have to deal with R.J. on this one. It’s neither easy nor cheap. Remember I told you this.

Rain rain go away, why won’t you bring summer weather with you to this fine city?

1) Awake at 7:30am on a Sunday morning. 2) Laundry done by 9. 3) Hang laundry out window to dry. 4) Grocery shopping by 9:30. 5) Wait, WTF to #3?

I like public holidays although I don’t get paid. Good or bad. I can’t decide. Both?

Chili cookoff round 2. I’m the only competitor. I win & so does my stomach. Close race. Ahh. All mine!

I broke my quasi-good headphones last week. I stepped on them. The cheap replacement is such an inferior piece of shit. I miss the old ones.

FOOD and FOOD

I enjoy cooking. No mistake about this; I blog about it often. Anyway, I’m a ‘cook what you have’ kind of person. What do I mean by that? Well firstly, I do follow recipes. However, I don’t follow recipes all the time. I think the idea of a recipe is to have a base. If you know how to make some basic things, you can riff off the tenets of what to do and ingredients and various quantities. If you cook for yourself, you know what you like. So, if you think something will ‘go’ together in a dish, fuck it, throw it in. In other words, if it’s in the kitchen, for God’s sake use it! You aren’t a restaurant critic, you can always toss it and start anew.

1) Budget shopping. As much as it sucks, it must be done. I’m on a shoestring budget here and I’ve learned what to buy and what is cheap. Certain staples are key. Potatoes and onions are always on the cheap. Loaves of bread are usually a good deal. Eggs are fairly inexpensive too.

2) Unless you are boring and just love bland and flavorless food, you need to buy some herbs/seasonings. Fresh herbs are a bit harder to find here but there’s a fair amount of individually portioned/bagged dried herbs & seasonings readily available. They’re a good deal, too. Well-flavored food can make an otherwise lifeless meal a bit more interesting.

3) Fresh fruits & vegetables… the selection isn’t what it is in the U.S. but generally speaking, carrots, cabbage and occasionally tomatoes are on the less expensive side.

I love breakfast food. Always have. This will not change. Lately, I’ve been making larger ‘American style’ breakfasts on the weekends.

Why did I just mention all this stuff? So I can share with you my most recent morning treats! Keeping in mind the points I just covered, here’s what I made last week:roasted potatoes & onions with misc. herbs, omelette with ham, cheese & tomatoes, and some nice hearty thick-sliced Czech bread.Vitamins!

Today’s meal: toast, roasted potatoes & red pepper with thyme, oregano, basil, paprika, salt/pepper, olive oil, three cheese omelette (Hermelin, bleu cheese cream cheese & Moravian cheese–similar to Parm), a nice sliced fresh tomato…. sprinkle more fresh cheese atop and voila! I wouldn’t normally use those kinds of cheese in an omelette but it follows my ‘use what you have’ mentality. Cheese, eggs, potatoes, bread & butter are some of my favorite things!

Some random images from iPhoto!

a) Fine wine of the week. A well-spent 49Kc at Albert. b) I spilled Ranch on the floor. In a land where it’s unavailable, this pretty much went down as the following–Oh shit! Man down! c)Let’s call this the slicer of death. I was at a party at a colleague’s flat in Zizkov a few nights ago and this rusty old Eastern Bloc instrument of torture is about 3 feet from the front door and in plain view of anyone in the kitchen. I inquired about said death tool. It looks like an antiquated meat slicer; you know the kind that the guys in the deli would use. No, this is a bread slicer. Or so I was told. According to my colleague (flatmate of the proprietor of said device), this was affixed to the counter in this spot so when slicing bread, the crumbs will just fall into the sink. Our query, ‘Who the fuck slices bread like this?’ Buy a knife, dude.

I imagined purchasing a ticket and subsequent return here would be a big hassle and a pain in the ass. To my surprise, there was no line and the ticket agent spoke English. Hooray for me & my dumbass monolingual self. Like most modes of transport here, I can report that the trains are efficient (aka on time) and really very nice. The car I was in had approx 12 other people so it made me feel like I spent a bit more than 1176Kc. I’m not suggesting that they were plush accommodations with a complimentary foot massage and bottle of Moet but it wasn’t a sub-standard Eastern European shitty railcar filled with stinky people. Quite nice so color me impressed.

 

RANT:  I was up at 530am and for some GD reason the Finn and his girlfriend (who I NEVER saw and she was here for a WEEK) were both up at the asscrack of dawn, too. That never happened. Dude usually likes to sleep. Anyway, as per his usual messy ass, he promptly went into the kitchen to prepare some vegan breakfast extravaganza that included a gross kind of paste from a tube. Here’s a question: Ok, so vegans and vegetarians don’t eat meat but they eat ‘meat substitutes’ and stuff that kind of ‘looks’ like meat…why? Isn’t the point of being a vegan/vegetarian the AVOIDANCE of meat so why bother with foods that give the meat illusion. Own your fucking status.  So anyway, he was toiling away with the toaster (as he always did) and cut up some vegetables and, of course, left them all sitting out on the counter with the cutting board, knife, loaf of sliced bread and crumbs all over the fucking counter and floor. Let’s hear three cheers for cleanliness. WTF. Good thing he hauled his ass back to Scandinavia. 

 

Profiling? Racist? Never. Here’s an interesting observation–or at least I found it to be…

 

At the last stop in the C.R., the Czech police stroll through the train just looking at people and I suppose checking random papers/passports. Nobody on my car was checked. Then, the overhead p.a. system throws out the ‘thank you’ announcement and the train crew switches over to a German one. Once in Germany, the German police stroll through the cars going through the same process. Again, they walk right past me and everyone else. No wait, they randomly ask for the paper of the Indian family sitting a few rows back. Racial profiling? You decide. Good thing they didn’t find the 4 kilos of hash & heroin packed away in my laptop. 

 

I arrived in Dresden at 11 with 2.5 hrs to kill. What to do, what to do? As it turns out the Czech Consulate is super close to the Dresden-Neustadt station  so that was no problem.  The Brits bombed the shit out of Dresden in WWII. But, in recent years apparently many landmarks have been refurbished/reconstructed so Dresden is really nice. I walked around a bit and was a total tourist. 

 

Consulate appointment at 1:30. There was an American college student trying to get a visa and I thought she was going to have some kind of mental breakdown. Apparently she didn’t have the right insurance papers and I was really sure the girl was going to flip the fuck out. Why? Not only did she not have the right papers but also if she did, they would be in English and since the foreign police are the ones who accept/deny/process your papers, the stuff needs to be in (big surprise!) Czech. She begged for permission to use a fax and the very patient woman behind the counter at the Consulate had to explain multiple times (and quite nicely) that it wouldn’t matter if she got a fax because of the ENGLISH on the document. Anyway, this dumbass girl went on her merry way and probably cried her way back to the train station. 

 

 The interview. First, the Consulate official asked the other people to leave the room as the interview was ‘private.’ There was a series of questions but none of these were terribly personal. She didn’t ask when I had my last period nor did she ask what color underwear I was wearing. Alas, the interview was over shortly and I GOT MY STAMP which is what I came to do. Of course, I’m still not here 100% legally but at least I am permitted to stay longer than the alotted 90-day run from my initial Schengen entry date. The Czech foreign police have 90 to 120 days to approve or deny my visa application so I’ll be here (at least) for a little while longer.

 

The train back to Prague was better than the first. All the cars on the return run were private (6 seater) compartments only. These are the ones you see in the movies. I didn’t even pay for an actual ’seat’ on either leg of the journey but this train was rather empty as was the dining car. The dining car was nice. Real nice. I promptly headed to the dining car and to my dismay there was no Capt. Steubing or ‘Julie Your Cruise Director’ waiting for me at a big table. But then I remembered that I wasn’t on the fucking Love Boat. Damn. Oh well, at least they served beer. Glorious beer. I love you.