Praze, Sweet Praze: SLU in the CZ

Unfortunately, we had to postpone the trip to Paris we had planned for the weekend of October 15, opting to heed the warnings from friends and the media alike that that particular destination was especially unsafe for American travelers. The message from the State Department and a family friend was that Paris, London, and a number of German cities have been identified as potential targets for terrorist attacks in the near future. That realization, and our eventual decision to call off our trip, drew our attention to an important topic we had not yet encountered: terrorism and being Americans overseas. The ability for an attack of any kind to shut down a city, a country, a region, or the entire industrial world is a scary prospect, one that has become a glaring reality to us. It was a tough decision, but we eventually decided that the potential costs of traveling to France that weekend outweighed the benefits. We were going to Paris to see all of the major tourist attractions-The Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, and the Pompidou, among others-and being in those types of locations with flocks of American tourists at a time of high security alert was not the most sensible option. Europe is enormous and Paris will always be there. We still feel incredibly safe in Prague and, until now, have not been hindered by reluctance in our travels.  

Our reservations about visiting The City of Lights didn't necessarily stem from the fear of an attack (we didn't even want to consider that), but from the real possibility of getting stuck in France with the French people for more than three days, which was just too intimidating. In addition, the country is also up in arms over a proposed change in the retirement age and unions had scheduled paralyzing strikes for that weekend. Terrorists and angry, mean French people constituted a one-two knockout combo enough to deter even the most confident traveler.

Instead, Molly, who was to meet us in Paris, came to Prague for a relaxing weekend in our home city. Our roommates were all traveling, so Molly, I, and our trusted third wheel, Tucker, got to spend some time really getting acquainted with Prague. Having not seen each other since August when she left for Madrid, some time together was perfect. She, of course, loved the city and all of its beauty and dove fearlessly into the Czech culture: eating a pork knee, ditching her smile, and shopping at H&M.

Molly, I, and our Third Wheel at Duplex, a 6th story club on Wenceslas. Tucker pulled some V.I.P. strings and got us a balcony booth.

Molly just couldn't get enough of Praha and was determined to try pork neck (the Czechs don’t hold anything back when it comes to identifying what part of an animal comes with a certain dish) and returned this past weekend. Emma Heuber, a close friend from SLU flew in from Florence, where she is studying for the semester. We all got to spend some more quality time with the Czech people, who have yet to warm up to us, or each other for that matter. As tolerant and understanding as I try to be, its frustrating when the entire country seems to be in a bad mood all of the time. Third Musketeer, Caroline Carpenter, also in Prague, completed the trio. The reunion in the airport was quite a spectacle, as Caroline and Molly went scrambling in chaos towards her general direction. Molly ended up sprawled out on the ground in the middle of the terminal with a few dozen spectators and I think the SLU D-Line has a new D-end. Needless to say, we spent the weekend eating cookie dough and reading Cosmo in the apartment. Not quite, but close to it...

The next day, we trekked to an observation tower on a hill above the city and enjoyed breathtaking panoramas of the city. It was a vantage point from which I had never seen the city; the weather was gorgeous and the visibility was incredible. Caroline's boyfriend Matt, also in Prague for the Fall semester, tilted the gender scale a little in my favor and the five of us walked around Old Town together, although Matt and I continually found ourselves in pubs waiting for the girls to finish their shopping. There are innumerable jewelry and scarf stores in this part of the city and apparently, they are all different because the girls had no problem visiting each one. After a long day of walking, we retired to the apartment to relax for a bit. Matt and I prepared dinner (although we revealed our true colors when Matt cut an entire zucchini instead of a cucumber for the salad and I melted the brie down into a slosh of molten cheese) while the girls video chatted with three other girls back at SLU in what proved to be the most unsuccessful, unproductive interaction between people I've ever seen. Imagine six absolutely elated girls screaming through one 13-inch computer screen...

The ladies on top of the observation tower. Matt and I spent the day warding off cheesy advances from sleazy Italian men, not enjoying the city.

We went to a restaurant on Saturday where each table of six has its own tap. A computer tallies the number of ounces poured at the table in a competition not only between individual tables at the restaurant, but between a number of restaurants all over the country. After weeks of training and an exhibition appearance at Oktobefest, the SLU Women's Drinking Team took first place.

The five Larries overlooking Old Town. From the left: Matt, Caroline, Emma, Myself, and Molly.

Between the hot, mulled wine and the pork knee, Molly had her fair share of Czech culture. I was proud considering she won't even try seafood back in the States. If you look closely, you can see in knuckles...

Comrade Molly at H&M looking for some headwear worthy of the North Country.

Caroline showing off her firm grasp on European fashion. With a few minor changes, most notably dying her hair black, she hopes to turn this same outfit into her Halloween costume for our trip next weekend to Madrid: Trinity from the Matrix.

Everything on the home front continues to go well. The academic intensity of my classes has increased a little, but after a four month summer some intellectual activity isn't necessarily a bad thing. We've started to explore the second of 40 cases in the Czech language, so we're making light work of the grammar. We have a cleaning lady that comes weekly, before any of the spore colonies in the boy's bathroom have enough time to multiply into a real problem. Brisk days now vastly outnumber their warm predecessors as Autumn has set in. The leaves are in full color and the only thing we are missing to bring full circle the fall atmosphere is some warm cider and pumpkins. Hot wine (a Czech thing) may have to do for now, although it is utterly disgusting, somewhere between hot cough medicine and flat Coke...

Vayamos a Espana en el proximo fin de semana! 

When in Turkey...

Unlike the European destinations we have visited thus far, where the local populations share a similar genetic history and physical appearance to Americans, Turkey was a distinctly different place. Exploring a country where 99% of the population is Muslim and foreigners are easily identified because of obvious physical differences was an incredible opportunity to experience a culture and people that are exotic (for lack of a better term) to us. As I've discussed before, each country and region in Europe offers its own set of unique cultural characteristics. The "old man returning cold soup at a deli" vibe that emanates from Czechs is different than the easy going ora of the Swedes, which also contrasts to the rather intense, motivated nature of Germans. But, despite lingual and historical differences, most European cities have a certain feel that surely results from their geographic proximity. Turkey, on the other hand, is completely different. It boasts a tremendously rich culture, an exciting, bustling one that was strikingly foreign to me. It is an energetic city, beaming with vibrant music, hearty food, and interminable character. Although 15 out of the Turkey's 74 Million inhabitants live in Istanbul, it does not serve as the political capital of the country.

We had several drinks on the rooftop terrace from which I shot this video. The Bosphorous Straight, with dozens of boats, ranging from small fishing vessels to the largest tankers in the world, lit up the horizon. Behind us, the beautifully lit Blue Mosque during the evening Call to Prayer. There were several other Mosques in the area and they all seemed to be competing, outdoing each other with volume wars for the loudest song-prayers. 

Traveling to a predominantly Muslim nation challenged the misperceptions and stereotypes that I, as most Americans in what has become a dangerously polarized world, hold about Islam. Despite the fact that there are over 3,000 Mosques in the country and all but 1% of the population are practicing Muslims, the Turks are a far cry from fundamental extremists that our media gives disproportionate, undeserving attention to. They are a smiling, outgoing, helpful, energetic people who had few, if any problems with Americans. There was no great Clash of Civilizations, rather a fun, friendly society that could have been found in New York or L.A. Extremist Islam is scary to the average Turk and represents a danger to their far more liberal way of life.

It was impressive that they were able to perfectly preserve their culture in the face of thorough Westernization. Despite globalization and a flourishing pop culture, American pop legends the Hansen Brothers and Vanilla Ice are still untouchable by Turkish wannabes. Nevertheless, girls, wearing the same boots that are all the fashion rage in the U.S. smoked water pipes and drank tea while listening to traditional Turkish music. I also quickly learned that the Turkish and Arabic people are completely different, and despite the unifying force of Islam between the two ethnicities, they don't get along well. I was under the impression that because the Koran is read and studied solely in Arabic, that any Muslim would at least have some elementary grasp of the language. Misguided, I tried using the little conversational Arabic I had from my few semesters studying it at St. Lawrence, but most people (in near perfect English) quickly asserted that they did not care for Arabs or thought I was a U.S. soldier going to Iraq, which was not the persona I wanted to have in any Muslim country, no matter how liberal. Needless to say, I hastily abandoned that approach.

Tucker and I with a group of Turkish kids who thought Tucker was James Van Der Beek, teenage heartthrob from Dawson's Creek and Varsity Blues. They were rather disappointed, however, when they found out he wasn't the American pop culture superstar and Turkish hero they so admired. You be the judge...

Tucker and I met his Dad and business assistant on Thursday night and because they had meetings and obligations throughout Friday, we went on a tour of the city with a private guide. Several years ago, the Daugherty's spent two weeks in Turkey traveling across the region with a guide, Mahmet, who quickly became a close family friend. Mahmet, who owns a travel company in Istanbul, had everything arranged for us, which was spectacular. Tucker and I spent Friday with a 26 year-old guide, Ulkul, who showed us not just the important sites, but everything about the city and culture from a student's perspective. Tucker's Dad and his assistant, free from work for the weekend joined us Saturday and we all got to spend the day with Mahmet, our own expert/comedian. I hesitate to use the term "tour" to describe our experiences with Mahmet and Ulkul, because it was so much more than that. What we learned in two days not just about the city, but about Turkish culture, history, politics, and religion was remarkable. Talking with Turks about American politics, the Armenian genocide, The War in Iraq, and a number of other topics gave us an insight that no traditional tour or travel guidebook could have possibly scratched the surface of. Simply put, Mahmet was the man. He was passionate about the city and its history, intelligent, and most importantly a lot of fun.

The five of us in front of the Blue Mosque. From left to right: Myself, Liz, Tucker, Mr. Daugherty, and Mahmet.

The sites in Istanbul are spectacular; although the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sofia are the two iconic superstars of the city, there are a dozen other mosques of comparable grandeur and beauty. We saw several palaces and visited some incredible museums all the while constantly diving into the culture with Mahmet at the helm. Although Prague and other European cities have an incredible history, the story of Istanbul/Constantinople, is so much more encompassing and majestic. The rise and fall of civilizations and the biggest empires human history has ever seen all happened here at this intersection of Europe and Asia. Byzantine walls from 700 years ago now support traffic signs. Mosques from 1400 still hold regular services. Stories of expansion, betrayal, crusades, and some of the most epic battles on history's grandest scope all took place in what has been the capitol of both the Roman and Ottoman Empires. Every new construction project in the city is invariably halted by excavation projects because the entire city sits atop several thousand years of history. Where a hotel might aim to place an addition hides a Byzantine compound from 400 AD.

Tucker and I inside the Ikea store in front of the rugs we bought for Hewlett suite 307. Not quite, these were Turkish rugs from the 17th Century that probably took years to create. Right after the picture was taken, Tucker sang "I Can Show You the World," from Disney's Aladin.

Before you dismiss me as some creep taking pictures of little kids, the cats in this photo are all stray. I thought it was interesting how there were tons of dogs and cats that roamed the city, and that they were all fed and cared for by the people who lived there. Big muts harmlessly roamed the streets, getting attention and food where they could. I was reluctant to put this photo up, not because I could face pedophile charges in a Turkish criminal court, but because my mom may very well change the destination of her November airline ticket from Prague to Istanbul, adopt a dozen or so of these little guys, and spend the rest of her life in seclusion with no contact with the outside world...

A shot from inside the Grand Bazaar, the largest covered bazaar in the world. It's complex system of halls and corridors house some 4,000 shops and all the scarfs, 'I love Istanbul' shirts, and knock off FC Barcelona jerseys you could ever want.

Tucker and Mr. Daugherty in front of the Blue Mosque at night.

The view from inside Hagia Sofia, which is now a national museum. Originally a church, the Ottoman Turks made some improvements of their own after taking the city from the Romans in the mid-1400's. Mosaics of Christian scenes were covered, minarets were added, and the whole place got a splash of Turkish flavor. The mosaics have since been uncovered, which reveals an interesting intersection between the two religions.

I continually find myself looking for synonyms for adjectives like "unbelievable" or "remarkable," because everything I've had the opportunity to experience in the last three and a half weeks has been such. Coming back to the Czech Republic after our weekend adventures is always comforting (although returning after Bratislava was considerably more so). Prague continues to amaze me and although we've all acclimated well and been here for quite some time, I'm still infatuated with the city. Hopefully, in light of several State Department warnings, our trip to Paris next weekend will go smoothly.

Oktoberfest: Goodbye Comrades, Hello Frolines

Think Disney World, with its crowds of excited children, smiling and energetic, their imaginations overwhelmed by the real life characters they've grown up loving. Picture the cotton candy stands, the waterslides, and the sunny Florida weather. Now change the setting form Orlando to Southern Bavaria, replace the children and families with a few hundred thousand hammered adults, swap the soda and ice cream with 7 Million liters of beer and several hundred thousand chickens and pigs, and then substitute the friendly Disney characters signing autographs with grown German men in lederhosen. Now, you have the 200th Anniversary of Oktoberfest, the biggest party on the planet. Last year, over 6.5 Million people attended Oktoberfest, an 18-day festival that embodies every aspect of German culture, from the drinking songs and food to the traditional garb and waitresses that can carry a dozen-1 Liter steins (mugs) at once. It was the happiest, most jubilant atmosphere I've ever been a part of, with people from different nationalities, ethnicities, and every age group imaginable connected by one unifying factor: that it was 10:30 in the morning and they were drunk on the most delicious beer in the world.

The festival itself resembled a big carnival with rides, games, food and souvenir stands galore, perpetual hordes of people, and neon lights. The defining characteristic of Oktoberfest, however, are the dozen or so massive "tents" that house most of the fun. These enormous, iconic structures can fit close to 10,000 people each and have their own unique flavor and crowd. Getting a table in any of them is the only stressful component of the whole Oktoberfest experience and inevitably means reaching the park by 7 or 8 a.m. The tents close at 11:00 p.m. Consequently, it's not unusual for seasoned festivalgoers to drink for 15 hours straight. It was no surprise, then, that all 10 Larries at the festival were down for the count by dinnertime on our first day. Busch and Keystone Light are apparently no match for heavy Bavarian beers that reigned supreme at this venue. With hindsight and experience on our side the second day, we paced ourselves accordingly and survived through the end of the night. Throughout the course of the day, I lost track of how many random people I shared a cheer or a song with. Because of this powerful camaraderie, the next Israeli-Palestinian peace summit should be at the 2011 Oktoberfest; I'm convinced that's a foolproof plan towards lasting peace in the Middle-East.

Everything about the weekend screamed Bavarian culture. We started referring to our roommates as "Froline," especially after they braided their hair and learned a number of German drinking songs (at least the mumbled, slurred yells that we thought resembled the lyrics). The number of 1 Liter mugs the waitresses could carry defied all the laws of physics, and I've already sent Coach Mahoney an email suggesting this new off-season training program. Who needs deadlifts and dumbbells when you have steins? 

Our attempt to be culturally tolerant towards the Bavarians and their ways. They were a strange people, but I think we finally figured out their peculiar behavior.

The crew from 25 Ve Smechach early Saturday morning at the Hacker-Psschor beer garden.

Tucker and I with our new Peruvian friends. After a lot of yelling, cheering, hugging, and bad spanish, I think I've found my wedding party...

Indiana Jones inside the Hofbrauhaus tent at 10:30 p.m. It seemed that the whole country was drunk-kind of like Superbowl Sunday, but every night for three weeks times one hundred.

Tucker with Froline Emma and Froline Lana in between verses of Beatles songs and table dancing.

 

Tucker and I rented a car again for this expedition and by driving on the Autobahn, I was able to check another item off my adrenaline junky to-do list. Despite all the power under the hood of our little Skoda Mobile, we had a hard time keeping up with the BMW's and Porches that would scream by us (even when we were consistently traveling at speeds over 120 mph). I guess Czech muscle just isn't all that it's cracked up to be. 

On a more serious, more responsible note, classes began this past week. The material, professors, and other students all seem to be really interesting and I'm excited about the semester. Because this is a "study-abroad" program, a sentence or two dedicated to my course load seemed appropriate. In addition to a mandatory course in Czech, I'm taking a course about Post-Communist era Eastern Europe, one about the EU, another on Non-Democratic Regimes since World War II, and a fourth on the Holocaust. The class rosters, which consists of only 10-15 names, are composed of half American students and half European students. We all signed up for a program coordinated by CERGE that pairs its American students with Czechs that can provide a local perspective and wisdom about urban life in this country. I think a lot of the guys were hoping for some sort of Czech dating service and were disappointed in their male assignments. Our Czech buddies, however, are all awesome and will hopefully become close friends.

Tucker and I pushing the German Secret Police to the edge of their tolerance for American tourists. We eased off when he threatened to make us disappear. Unfortunately, the picture wasn't a candid snapshot of two American heroes. Rather, it was staged and the cop was actually a really nice guy. We won't, however, try to befriend the Turkish Police this coming weekend on our trip to Istanbul...