Ugly Thursday, Eggs and Whips

What makes a great holiday? Religious references, bank and governmental closures are all nice things, but they do not make a great holiday. Extra money in a paycheck also helps, but it is not the key. A truly great holiday can mix all of these, overt sexual references and a national panty raid. In Japan, there are several interesting holidays. Some even might be excellent, but none are great. Japanese men by the hundreds ride down a hill on a wicker log in their underwear, during one of their excellent holidays. Certainly hundreds of naked Japanese men and their large grass phallus is not an academic try to be a great holiday. It lacks a magnitude that five million Czech men chasing women with their hand-woven whips has. The fact that they do it for the ladies’ hair bows; certainly sets a high standard.

Easter week, in Czech starts on Green Wednesday. Across the country all of the schools let the kids out. Traditionally, village men collect the branches and things they will need to build the noise makers and polaská. Polaská, the Czech Easter whips, are the way to start a good holiday. Polaská are made by the men of the village from several small limbs and vines woven together. The whips are usually up to 3 ft (1m) long. Like everything else, some men have bigger “whips” than others. Their description is more medieval sounding than the actually are, but they are far from harmless. Village men are not the only ones working, village women are busily collecting things to decorate eggs and make baskets.

Ugly Thursday, is the day the men help the boys weave their whips and the women help the girls make their baskets. On Good Friday, the boys walk through the villages at dusk offering to scare the bad spirits away by screaming, shaking their rattles and threatening them with their whips. If the boys do a good job, the family receiving their services gives them a treat or a coin. All day Friday the girls are still working on their baskets and eggs. Their eggs and baskets take a great deal of skill and time, and truly great eggs can not be rushed like the polaská.

Czech egg traditions are certainly something to be seen. Intricately cut eggshells died, painted or simply white are hand-made and displayed in houses and windows across the country. Women and girls decorate the countryside with colorful ribbons and eggs. In an intriguing display of equality, Czech girls do not just lie down and let the boys take the spotlight. The women and girls go their villages on Saturday, displaying the eggs and baskets. If she did a good job, then she gets a treat or a coin. In the smaller villages in Moravia, this is an important tradition to the girls and they put a great deal of effort into creating artistic and skillful decorations. In the bigger cities, it is not so common. Ribbons and eggs decorate the city, even if the idea of going from flat to flat seems particularly un-Czech.

What the Czechs do on Sunday seems kind of a mystery, but they probably go visit Babička and Dědiček, grandma and grandpa. The real proof for the “great” status of this celebration is on Monday. With so few national holidays during the year, they get as many together as they can. On Easter Monday, it is a good day to be a man. Conversely, it is bad to be a girl’s butt. Czech men and boys patrol town stalking the women. There are stories about how the polaska will chase the bad spirits out of the women.

A few playful swats usually scare the spirits away. Usually, it gets you a shot of Becherovka or slivka and the ribbon from their hair for your polasko. By mid-afternoon the whole situation degrades into roving bands of men and boys rounding up randy girls and women for a bit of playful S & M and lots of drunken laughs. If all of these traditions did not make it a great holiday, leave it to the Czech men to “raise the bar.” No real Czech man would ever leave his favorite girl with just scared spirits, it is just not right. The job must be finished properly; she needs to be doused to wash the last of the spirits from her. Any lake or fountain will do. The wetter she gets the more the spirits understand. They need to know who the boss is and that they are getting their walking papers until next year. By the end of the day, particularly successful village boys will have covered their polaská with hair bows. Some of the village girls have to buy extra bows, judging from some of the whips, whip sluts. We know they only wear their best bows on the days they know they will be “whipped.” How can a holiday with whips, eggs, grandpa’s slivka and mom’s řízek not be great?

Living and Dying by the Sr. Master Chief’s Rule

The Senior Master Chief’s Rule (SMCR), is probably one of the single most important theorems for a young man living abroad. Maybe it is the most important for a young man living anywhere. Unlike most rules it is simple and self-explanatory, “Never pass up a piece of ass. You will never get it again.” At the beginning, this seems a simple truth, until it strikes you that it is more than just about ass. (Not really.)

The SMCR shares many similarities to more famous life theorems, “Neube sub ube”, “Carpe Diem” or “Thou shall not covet thy neighbor’s wife.” Literary or philosophical criticism of the SMCR as a theorem is far from the scope of this document. It can never be a bad thing to keep this rule in mind. It will lead to many adventures hidden from revelries of tourists and even frequent visitors.

Since arriving, a constant stream stories about the activities of young and middle-aged locals bombards my ears and mailbox alike. Initially the stream was unbelievable, but now it is just the way it is. A common version of Czech monogamy is not defined as one partner for a long time. It is more closely defined as “one partner at a time.” This does lead to interesting interactions between people. Sex is more like a big hug than some mind-altering religious experience for which it is constantly billed in the USA. Those “randy” Czechs got it right.

In my experience, most sexual concepts and tenets are different than in the USA. I have not heard an abstinence argument in school, where a brothel (privát), tobacco shop (tabák) and a liquor store (also found in a tabák, Czechs have “one-stop shopping” too) have are on the way to and from the elementary school. Condoms are openly for sale on almost every street corner, public space and mass transit station. Do not misread this, but the average 15 year old Czech girl gets more action than Ron Jeremy.

Lucky for Czech boys, the girls want it almost anywhere, and are not shy about location, time or position. When these teenagers get older it does not seem to stop, and why should it. Maybe western women should take note of how it is done in Central Europe. It would make going to church on Sunday a lot more interesting and probably reduce the number of headaches on Wednesday night. Apologies to Advil stock owners.

A corollary to this rule does exist, “Never kick a drunken Czech girl out of bed.” It does not need explanation either. She will make it up to you in the morning.

Riding the Night Tram

Ex-pat life in Prague usually implies “life without a car.” An important consideration then becomes the night tram and bus lines. At the stroke of midnight, the metros stop running. It can be a scary feeling to face a cab ride home drunk. Foreigner cab fares are calculated differently than they are for Czechs. For sure, the rate per kilometer is different after midnight for everyone. The saving grace for the Czech mass transit system, Metro Hlavni Dopravy (MHD), is after the metro stops there are hourly tram and busses to fill in to keep the city moving. The Prague MHD is a good system, and a three-month pass is only 1150 czk. A bargain considering that four stops on the metro is 12czk per trip.

When you select a place to live it is important to keep things like the night routes in mind. Life will be easier if you know you can get home even if you have to wait in the cold for an hour on the next night bus. After a single party in Dejvicka runs over and you are trying to find a way home half bombed out of your mind on home-made Balzams.

The first place I lived in Prague was in the middle of downtown. So I never used the metro at all. It was a close walk from almost anywhere I needed to go and it just was an unnecessary expense on such a tight budget. My second place was in the second ring of town. Inevitably, I became a daily metro commuter. Sure it did chop down some of the party nights trying to rush to the metro by the stroke of midnight. An early night was better than waiting on the night bus in the 0F (-20C) weather.

Sometimes in Prague I have been lucky, and others I have not. When I got a place only two metro stops from work I was lucky, and that it was on the night bus line as well was doubly lucky. Life is never so easy. Hlavní Nadraží, main train station is the best known gay pickup place in Prague. It is pretty easy to find couples fooling- around in the bushes all around the station after hours. I am all for a guy’s right to chose how he likes to get his, but I am still not so interested in being a voyeur to such activities.

I should not be so upset to find the closest stop down town for my night bus is at Hlavní Nadraží. On one of my first trips home on the “Prague Gay Train”, I found out why I should have been more concerned. It turns out that the train station is not the pickup place, the busses that stop there are. After a few stops on the night bus, the hand on your ass probably will not be a pick pocket. It may belong to someone much harder to deal with. I have not had any violent problems with this crowd. Guys are guys, and horny guys have a hard time taking no for an answer.

Just do your homework and live near a night tram or bus line. Make sure that the half-drunk ride home will be no more exciting than you are expecting. There is no good substitute for adequate preparation, unless of course it is preparation-H. On my night bus, Preparation-H seems more like a pickup line.

Of Supermodel Farms and Czech Asses

One of the most striking things about the Czech Republic is the women. Everywhere has women; it is not that simply, a summer trip to Prague or Brno is an inspiring experience. You can barely cross the street without seeing a woman that will make you double check. Tourists are easy to see, they are the people on the street who look like sprinklers. Their arms raised turning slowly as they walk down the street.

I am not talking two or three, but it seems that Czech women have it in their “jeans”, sorry “genes”. They are tall, well-proportioned, thin and have amazing skin. It is almost funny to see a Czech woman with a tan because it is so unusual in the sea of alabaster. They do not eat anything special and by nutritional standards they eat pretty poorly, just like everyone else. Czechs eat a large amount of junk food, chips chocolate, pudding and they drink beer like it is going out of style. It is hard to believe that they can keep such amazing figures with such dietary regimens.

It is not to say that many Czech women do not have good dietary habits, many can give lectures on “How to be Full on Just one Apple” or “Yogurt and Beer: Healthy, Fruity and Full of B Vitamins”. The sheer number of these supermodels on the streets leads me to believe that there must be a secret farm in the hills of Moravia. On this farm, are herds of six foot tall women running from field to field waiting for the farmer with his yogurt truck and beer barrels. Once a year he selects the best of the crop seek their fortune in the major cities.

Yes, I know this is crazy. After a few summer afternoons around the swimming beach you tell me the strange conclusions you reach as you sit drinking your beer watching tens of barely clad, and sometimes not, beauties walk passed. It is certainly an interesting challenge to keep your composure after a few beers when a beautiful topless woman wanders up to you in a crowd and tried to start a conversation with you in Czech. Makes those free lessons at work seem a lot more valuable. 

Passages

Passages are a “Prague-thing” I think. The construction in most of Czech is old and inbred. Nooks and crannies fill every spare inch along every block. A Czech passage address deep in the alley between buildings undoubtedly defies the old real-estate adage “location, location, location.”

Slow walks along the main squares of Prague will amaze new visitors. Ancient architecture and constantly reconstructed corridors twist and writhe through town. Unlike these neophytes, experienced Prague navigators never take the map route from point A to B. It simply takes too long. More likely the passage (“pasaž”) route is faster and easier. Deep within these passages are hundreds of stores. Mostly these stores consist of little more than one person stalls with an underpaid, surly attendant. Real Czech stores do not cater to tourists, so the prices are “very nice”, but services might be lacking.

“Buyers beware” is the order of the day in many of these stores. If you do not understand the “czechisms”, then your experience may be less than delightful. All sales are final without the “rozitko”, the famed Czech stamp, and usually with one too. In Czech, there is a belief that a stamped receipt that has the name, address and logo of a chain store is somehow more valid when it has a blurry and smudged stamp on it. I understand that a receipt is forgeable, but a Tesco, a British Wal-Mart, stamp could easily be stolen too. Not that it really matters, but it is impossible to believe that a warranty is not valid if the receipt is not stamped.

Forget about trying to return anything to these stores anyway. Their inventory will be different tomorrow and next week the store itself may cease to exist. Even if the store still does the same business, there is some unwritten rule of multiple repair trips are required before they will return any cash for any reason.

The joke about an Erotic City replacing a favorite pub or store in the passage is not funny. It is however, not uncommon to see a “House of Beaver”, “Pussy-rama”, “Crotch world” or some other “high-class” sex shop spring up seemingly over night in a neighborhood passage you were eating pizza in the week before. Erotic City is a reputable sex shop as sex shops go. However, many dildo emporiums found in the bowels of a long forgotten passage, are exactly what you might expect to find in something’s bowel.

Infinite excitement is not the only benefit of passage shopping. Often they are secret thoroughfares through the city. Minutes can be saved by cutting through metro stations and linked passages. The oldest parts of town are worm-eaten with these passages. Beware they are rarely straight and constant reconstruction often obscures yesterday’s path or landmark corners. The only thing that I have not seen or heard in these passages is the Romany girls plying their trade. If constant night-time propositions are not your style, you might consider the back way and stay off of the main drags.

Party Boats and Mašinka

During the summer after the “Velka Voda”, the 1,000 year floods, I realized that summer life in Prague revolved around the boats. No, there is no hidden sea in the middle of Europe, but the constant flotilla along the Vltava is the closest thing to a Riviera Prague will ever see. There is always a theme to these summers and the constant weekend trips down to the river seemed to make a different kind of water-borne Mašinka.

“Mašinka” is Czech for the “little train.” As party songs go, “Jede, Jede Mašinka” will never be as big as something by “Las Ketchup”. In Czech, Las Ketchup is not mentioned in the same breath as Maximum Overdrive and for good reason. Three beautiful Spanish girls certainly come up in separate conversation to three heavy-set Czech men. The first time I heard it, I was riding the Mašinka down the Vltava. Downstream the flood destroyed so much, but by summer was hard to tell there was ever a problem. The same three hour tourist cruise that costs twenty or more euros during the day is only 100czk and a whole lot more fun. A floating dance club is not my first choice, but cheap beer and overly friendly women do have their appeal.

Czech language is more than challenging. Many ex-pats do not attempt to learn more than some obligatory phrases. Well that is unfair. It is not uncommon to hear people in the market barely able to utter the most basic polite requests. I was amazed when one of my friends walked up to the DJ and asked to hear “Jede, Jede Mašinka”, “Go, Go Little Train”. He was trying, but was finding great difficulty picking up Czech. Mind you, his problem was with the Czech language not the Czech girls. We did call him the “Pantsman” for a reason. He started a ruckus when Maximum Overdrive started with “… all of the drunken guys on the train…” It was clear he knew Czech party songs.

The boat that leaves from Palackeho Most is always the most fun. Palackeho Most is the bridge at the “Dancing Building”. Over the summer, the boys from the office cruised on most of them. The boat that docks on the upstream side of Palackeho Most had the most lively crowd and lots of women. Most concerning was the range of beer prices. The PM has 20 czk glasses, but on some of the other boats the price was as high as 30 or 35czk. Hmm maybe there is a correlation. While an explicit statistical analysis of the price of beer on a booze cruise in Prague and the ratio between the sexes remains beyond the scope of this paper. I would venture a SWAG to say that it does.

There are many stories to tell about these boat trips. Alas that would incriminate too many people. We had an amazing time and only once were we disappointed on the Čekov Most boat. Lazy cruises along the Vltava are the Bohemain equivalent to the American college “meat markets”. No doubt, the Praguers understand the meat markets, judging from the staggering count throughout the city. None are as much fun as the boats, not even “Nejitstota.”

Setting the Stage

Some of the first things I can remember about the Czech Republic are probably the most indicative of my time here. I found a place to live on the second day of trying. A bit painful but it was settled. There are many people in Czech fishing for ex-pats. The worst part is not the price difference it is that they do not follow basic business tenets that they would follow in their country. I will not say that they cheat or steal from you, but they do with impunity, because the Czech authorities are not known for their effectiveness or concern.

That is not to slur the police. The police are for the most part professional and pretty much do not bother you if you let them eat their pečivo, baked goods. The key to the Mětské Policie, city police, is not to appear to speak any Czech. If you do not they will hassle you for your passport. A wise choice in Prague is not to carry your passport, because you can not leave the country without it. You must comply with all police instructions. All you have to do is to tell them that they have to take you home to get it. However, they understand not about wasting time with something that is going to take them far from their beats. Mětské are great they can tell you in German, French or Czech where something is. Thankfully, they rarely speak English.

I lived in New Town, Nové Město, which compared to Old Town, Staré Město, was new, but I lived in a historic building which is short for “no services available.” Modern services are all available a block away. I lived on the historic block where the city of Prague sells movie companies space to shoot. It is a convenient place to shoot since there are tram rails and wide streets for their trucks and cameras. After living there for a while, I realized that historical means really long time between repairs.

When you really look around my old neighborhood, you see that there are lots of things going on. There are several restaurants, bars, three schools and many shops only a short walk from my door. A block away is a 400yo convent and at least three internet sex companies, a meat-market bar-dance club and two brothels. Just in case you can not talk someone into coming home with you at the bar. There are always friendly girls a little farther down the street. Yeah, my shop neighbor hood had ultra-convenient one-stop shopping for poon’tang. On Saturday night, there were more than a few places to “sew your wild oats.”  My neighborhood had an end-to-end solution, however unsavory the final state may be. If your Saturday night is good enough and you wake up praying for crop failure. By Monday morning, then there is a place to seek salvation or a new name and a job as a friar.

Rarely is a stack of old rocks and wood that makes the memories. I realized that  I was not in Florida, when I noticed something moving in the shadows against the wall of the local meat market. As I approached I saw that it was a pair “coupling”, for lack of a better term, against the wall. Trying to retain a modicum of American dignity, I tried ineffectively not to watch. After a moment or two,  there I was gawking from 15ft (4.5m) away. Making eye-contact with her shook me from my malaise. Unphased, they continued against the wall, her bare thigh in his right hand her arms under his shoulders. I became self-conscious when she blew me a kiss. So I walked into the club.

Later, she returned to the club sans her friend. When I made eye-contact again with her, I saw I was in over my head. I will not say she was a pro, because that is not nice. I will say that everything I knew about the way the world worked was being rewritten as I stood there. After a few minutes speaking to her she was certainly someone new to “talk to” and maybe she could “show me around town.” Needless to say, the first week in Prague set the stage for many new experiences. None of which happen to most of anyone I have ever heard of in America. Unless you think the stories in the skin rags are true.

Bohemia

Bohemia is the northern Kraj, kingdom, of the Czech empire. It has been the center of Czech power for the last thousand years. The “Center of Czech Power”, seems a bit of a difficult call to me, but it is certainly the site of their greatest resurrections and home to some of their delightful treasures. Prague’s hidden treasures can always be found throughout the millions of passages through Old Town.

There are so many tiny, secret places in Prague. Prague’s forefathers meant her to be explored over and over again, after two years it is hard to say I know more than a small fraction of the alleys and passages in Old Town. As fast as a little pub behind the old Synagogue springs up, Czech business skills will have renovated (rekonstrukce) it. Its next reincarnation will no longer be the first church of the foamy topped delight, but an underwear shop, or better yet, another Erotic City.

A Good Job

Good things are not all the same. One of the big lessons to learn over here, is that a good life is not always the same as it is at home. There is no less understanding of the American dream. Mostly, it is the same. Czechs have a proverb, “Muž potřebuje tři veci, Rodína, Dům a strom.” ”A man needs three things, a family, a house and a tree.” Not so different in my opinion, and likewise in Latvījan there is a similar saying.

There is a good feeling knowing that you can provide the things that you need, even if there is a problem. Hardships have a different meaning to me these days. Not many people in America have a boss “like a tiger” that only “give me fifty dollars for all month and Christmas.” Sure, I know there are lots of poor families in Appalachia and all over the USA, if someone would just take a look.

That is an ugly secret of capitalism. One time sitting in the “Black Cat” with my dear friend Natasha, she enlightened me about what good economics meant in Latvīja. To tell you the truth, I was mortified. All of those discussions with family and friends came flashing back, why you would want to stay there. Her grandiose vision of a good job pays 450Ls (US$ 800) per month, and very good money is around 600Ls (US$ 1200) every month. I assume these numbers were before taxes. Although I get the impression that she does not pay many taxes.

At that minute, I knew that the future of our relationship ended right there. The future that I saw in her eyes became impossible. I tried to remember what to compare that to. First, you have to remember that I plan on living longer than one month and to have a self-sustaining situation beyond that as well. So when numbers are tossed at me on a monthly basis I have to pause to think about how much that is on a scale I am more familiar with. When I considered that a 3.8L of gasoline was 1.30Ls ($2.08), a one-room flat was 50Ls per month and that a flight home was more than several months salary, the world all came crashing down. It is not cheaper there, some things are cheaper (mainly labor), but am I ready to give up everything I know on a gamble? What about on a situation that does not immediately add up?

I knew I could not come out and tell her that I paid that much for my car. Or that at my current salary, that seemed ever so painful every month was more than double what she thought was a good amount of money. Likewise, the 1500Ls (US$ 2300) I earned in Czech is an unavailable salary in her town. My investigations indicated positions for which I am qualified would only pay 40% of what I was making in Czech. Which simply put was less than I made in high school.

It is really not that I did not try. I considered several businesses and several situations in Rīga with her. It is a “math problem” as we said in college, that meant that the engineering was done and that the design either worked or it did not. At thirty, I am not ready to say that I have lived so much that I can step back and say that life would not be good with her there. However, any life there in Latvīja comes with such a price that I am just not willing to pay it now.

Flowers

I am not an expert on this, however when you arrive in Latvīja, you should always give your host or his wife flowers. This seems simple, but in Latvīja special care must be taken so that you do not offend. I can not tell you all of the flower buying rules, but here are some of them:

• Never give an even number of flowers, even numbers are for funerals or negative occasions.
• Red still means love or feelings.
• Yellow; be careful, they mean that you are making up for something that you did to the receiver.
• Only give spring flowers to a new mother.
• Always bring a Latvījan with you to the flower market so that you can get all of the rules correct. This will usually require several phone calls and some counsel with the flower lady. Do not be alarmed.

Who knew a dozen yellow roses was not a good thing to give someone. Size also matters and from what I understand only the biggest longest stems will do if it is a truly special occasion. 

Old Women and Their Socks

A proposition when done properly; can be a sexy and exciting thing for both partners. There are many easy ways to spice up your relationship. It is not always however, so sexy. After telling this story, I always think of this joke, “What does it taste like when you go down on an octogenarian?” ”Depends.” In Rīga, I have had many interesting interactions with the younger crowd. Standing under Milda, the Lady of Latvījan Freedom, waiting for my Rīga friends, I have been offered everything from oral sex to a place to stay for the night in Helsinki. Helsinki is almost five hundred miles from Rīga, I guess I am not good enough looking to get the plane flight there too. The things that happen on a snowy night in Rīga are an interesting aside to any trip to Latvīja. There was one day, I was waiting in the rain. I imagine it was the Latvījan spring, even though the rain did not seem so different in the spring than it did in the fall. I was walking along the mall in front of the Monument to Freedom toward the Lajma Clock. One of the many old women was standing on the bridge trying to sell something. At the time, I did not think much of it. There are many of these people all over the Centrs. Centrs is the Latvījan word for downtown. I guess there is no one thing that made me stand out. I am an American and it is nearly impossible to hide this fact. I was stopped on my path by a nice elderly woman asked me something about buying something, in Russian. After a few tries, I understood that she had nothing left to sell. Her hunger was overpowering to look at; she obviously had not eaten well in several days and or weeks. She was trying to sell me her clothes. Not specifically her clothes but her socks. Not a new pair either, she was trying to sell me the socks she was wearing while telling me that I looked like a Latvījan king. When she became truly despondent, I broke down. Nothing in Rīga seems like a lot of money, but everything seems so expensive. Partially, because I have never been able to feel relaxed in Rīga, but that story is later in the chapter. I broke down and asked her to follow me. She understood that I wanted to help her and tried to put her boots back on. We walked over to the “magazina.” I gave the cashier three Lats. I tried to say for the old woman to buy food, not alcohol. Maybe the alcohol is what she needed. Forgetting her world might have been the best thing for her. I think someone to help with some potatoes, cheese and cabbage might help her for a little while. I remember later, when my friends and I were together. The old woman who had desperately tried to convince me that I was a Latvījan king with one of the one–legged male beggars they were huddled over a fire in a garbage can eating something. I think that it was a good thing to do, but it will not fix anything. In the long run, there is nothing to do for these people. Especially, if the President of the country says that these people are remnants of the occupation. “They are the cross that must be born by the Latvījan people”, a harsh statement from a leader of a soon to be EU country who spent her life in Toronto. The funniest thing is that it certainly sounds like the impassioned pleas of the Dixiecrats of the 1940’s, but this time it is coming from the more “socially aware” Europeans. At least someone besides the Dixiecrats could see the differences between the peoples they wanted to separate. I still can not see the differences between them in Latvīja. Seven Times around the World One of the coolest things that has happened to me in Latvīja was during a walk around Kengarags. Kengarags is a district on the outskirts of Rīga. It was warm that day, and the sun was out. The snow was still dark with weeks and weeks of footsteps and I guess the best I could say was kind of dirty. What else is there to do, they do not talk about the dreaded “Russian summer”. I must have walked almost back into Rīga when I saw the sign for a bicycle shop. So being the ever so interested biker, I ventured in. Even on my best days I can not utter more than a pair or three Latvījan words. I hoped that I would find someone who spoke English, maybe not. When I walked in the shop, there were maybe eight bikes carefully arranged on stands and all polished to perfection? I was a little impressed, but realized that the shop was an anachronism. They did fix and sell bikes, but none of the high-tech race frames I was accustomed to would ever hang from his stand. It was run by an older gentleman, who had to be in his seventies. He had a big smile and a light voice. Even, I understood the Russian coming from this grandfather. We started talking in my best Russian and we actually understood some of what the other had to say. After a little while, he had had no other customers and not even a single browser, he went into the back and returned with two bottles of Vanagas. Vanagas is a dark Latvījan beer. We sat there with his scrap books and he told me stories that for the most part were absolutely lost on me. I could tell from the hundreds of medals and flags on the walls that he was a champion cyclist. His scrap book confirmed that he was a five-time Soviet Champion. He told me stories about races through Kazakstan, Uzbekistan and the glories bestowed upon him in races from Riga to Tallin. I am not sure exactly where it was, but when we got to the pictures of the 1968 Russian Championships in St. Petersburg, it was clear he was telling me how grueling the race was. He had technical problems, but in those days, racers had manners. They would wait for you so that you could take your place again in the pack. He showed me a scar well tanned on his knee where he fell in Moscow riding in the race where he met his wife. She too was a Soviet champion. His stories lasted for two or three beers and through seven or eight scrap books. I wish I understood him better. I know that the man who got fourth one year in the Tour de France, brings his daughter’s bike for him to fix and even lets him ride his race bikes sometimes. He was most proud when he showed me the certificate from the Soviet Cycling Federation that showed he had ridden more than seven times around the world. I can only imagine the pride he must have felt after such a long and glorious career. I hope that his life running a simple bike shop in the basement of a Kengarags panelak was a fitting retirement. In his best days, he probably could have ridden circles around me, maybe even kept up with Armstrong, Cippolini or Merck.

The Red Army’s Secret Beggar Corps

Panhandlers can be found in every country. There is no such thing as a perfect situation, especially between people and money. I have a soft spot for some of the male panhandlers in Rīga. A friend told me a story that many of the beggars on the streets of Rīga are former members of the Latvījan Corps of the Red Army. Not only were they conscripted to do the things they did. Now they are not even rewarded for those years of service. Even the best of them does not have the niggardly pension promised them by the government that they outlasted. One time I was chatting with one of the Marine Corps guards at the embassy, he confirmed the story about the Red Army veterans that have been reduced to beggars. I now have a little respect for the guy wearing a Sergeant’s stripes on a faded red army field jacket.

That Bathroom is Just Bad News in a Plain-Paper Wrapper

When someone goes out of their way to help you, you should in turn try to accept their effort gracefully. Well, sometimes cultural standards do come into play. I really try to keep an open mind, but housing standards are different in Latvīja than they are at home. They are even different from those in Prague. Czech has panelaky too, same as Latvīja. Panelaky are the Russian style modular apartment buildings. Panelaky or panel buildings are constructed in sections stacked one on top of another. They are not known for their efficient or luxurious construction and are usually seen as a bad thing. Russian housing standards were exacting and dense, but never would they be accused of being pretty or good. On the opening day, a panelak would be said to be high-density, low cost and good for the people. Sadly, the people living there have other more colorful phrases for them. In Rīga, I have had the opportunity to live in one of these apartments on the outskirts of town, Kengarags to be specific. Every other person I have met in Rīga has a differing opinion than that of my friend who made the arrangements for me. Kengarags is a rough neighborhood and is seen as a place to be avoided in general. The nice thing about housing on Visku Iela, was a T-Market and relatively easy if lengthy “micro-autobus” trips to the Centrs. Use van, microavtobus, Route 236 to go to Kengarags to Milda. My first opinion of the flat at Kengarags was not really so high. In fact, my first opinion was not positive at all, but I really had no other option due to the high cost of hotels in Rīga. It had a kitchen and a working refrigerator, and I found that bringing my laptop was the only way to overcome the boredom of life without a tv or a radio. I lived there for a week and for a few weekends. It is a small flat, I am told it is the size for a whole family. There is one room, a kitchen and a bathroom. My mom would panic if she had to use that bathroom. I did not want to offend Natasha who thought it was a normal apartment. The main room is decorated in a typical family way with several closet cabinets, glass-faced cabinets filled with antique flatware and book shelves lined with well thumbed Russian literature. There was a table; a couch and what appeared to be clean bed linens for the couch. The place was clean but had not been cleaned in quite a while. Judging from the blackness of my feet after walking around on the floor for a few minutes it had not been mopped or vacuumed since the change of government. For the 15Ls ($28) per night price it was not so bad. It was just below a standard that I would keep my own house in. So there is some level of disappointment when I found out that I was paying for a “normal flat” as claimed by Natasha. A simple kitchen, I did not really expect the latest in Viking appliances and a walk-in freezer. The freezer worked and thanks to Natasha I knew where the gas shut-off was. Just on general principle I would never touched the large red handle on the wall. For those of you, who are considering renting personal flats as hotel alternatives, do not forget something to light the stove with. That is all I can say for the kitchen. I found nothing exciting or dangerous there. The bathroom on the other hand is a different story. All of the stories about Russian plumbing are true. The first thing that I do not understand is the “crap ledge” in the toilets. In European and American toilets the toilets essentially are a pit with a jet to push the materials down into the sewer. Russian ingenuity has developed a system that just does not seem to work without some help. Russian toilets suffer from a pretty disgusting design flaw They have a ledge onto which you excrete your waste. When you flush the jet is supposed to push the material off the ledge into the trap and then out to where ever dead goldfish go. This may not be an obvious mistake but a single use will demonstrate the complete failure of this design. American waste is just far stiffer stuff than the Russian “design-to” shit. I have stayed in this flat for a few weeks now and I can say that I have always had to help the material down into the trap because the jet is not strong enough. Yuck. Enough about that, but maybe you should talk to your wife when you think about replacing your toilet seat with an unfinished piece of plywood. The bathtub was just not my choice for bathroom furniture, but there is no way to keep a tub clean with that much silt and iron in the pipes. A normal Latvījan apartment is something below the Czech standard. I will not berate anyone for their effort to help me, but I will say that there must be something better than this. I can not believe that after that many years that the situation was just so bad that you could not clean the place or make basic replacements. It is a sad thing to say when the standard is so far below any reasonable hygienic standard. It was just yucky. It was also so far out of town that it was difficult and expensive to get to and from on a regular basis. I think paying twice the price for a single room on Caku Iela is a better situation for me. Especially, when the people I go to visit still do not invite me to stay with them. It is probably another one of those cultural things that can not be understood or explained.

Lajma, Three Men and a Woman

There are three major landmarks in the Old Quarter of Rīga. Milda, the woman of freedom with her stars held aloft. The next is the Lajma Candy Clock, which is on the other end of the mall from Milda. Finally, are the three red men on the banks of the Dagauva River next to the Museum of the Red Occupation. Old Rīga is not so different than Old Prague. It is filled with narrow alleys and quaint buildings of differing styles from the different ages that the city has survived over the last 800 years. When thinking about Europe from the stories Americans hear, I imagined most of it being less like London and more like Rīga. Old Rīga is cool. Tales of nineteenth century spies trading secrets in the blinding snow seem to abound from these narrow alleys. Or the clip-clop of mounted Teutonic knights as they rode their chargers into town. If you listen closely you can almost the shouts of Latvījan generals to burn the villages to cut off Napolean’s retreat. Milda is the elongated figure of a woman who stands atop the monument to freedom. She is holding three stars that signify the three regions of Latvīja. From a newcomer’s perspective she is an interesting figure. She has an almost deco look to her. Milda’s elongated, smooth but angular form which is common to recent Latvījan sculptures. These features are the hallmarks of this style. The statue of the tree men, I assume the three men also symbolize the unity of the peoples of provincial Latvīja. They are hewn from red granite in a style similar to Milda. Even though they are used as a bus stop these days, they have a more socially defiant feel. This stalwart, defiant stubbornness is a commonly noticed trait of Latvījans. Latvījans are a warm people, but outwardly they have the coldness of Russians and the shyness of Czechs. Unlike the other two easy monuments in Old Rīga, the Lajma Clock is just fun. Its odd shape and lit façade makes it a great meeting point between Old Town and the hotel district just on the other side of the Rīgas Dom. Lajma makes great candy in the traditional Latvījan style. Regarded as one of the few businesses that survived the occupations, it is a nice treat after a walk through park or before the opera. Micro-Autobuses Are Safer I guess I got used to the well managed integrated mass-transit system in Prague and in Czech in general. Riga has a different take on mass-transit. It has electric and diesel busses, avtobusy. They have a train system, Riga rail, and they have a million vans. Many people use the vans, micro-avtobusy, because it is well understood that the pick pockets work the busses and the train pretty continuously. It is harder to pick your pocket if you are sitting on your wallet in a 12 passenger VW or Ford cargo van. An interesting fact about the Rigan system is that the vans are all maintained and operated by private companies. At last count there were five companies running the system and they seem to each cover their part of town. It seems like some sort of line-sharing deal amongst the companies. Trips in the vans are not expensive, usually 0.20Ls (US$ 0.40) during the day for any trip one way and 0.35Ls (US$ 0.70) at night until midnight. Considering the wages in Latvia, it seems pretty expensive. Do not lose the ticket the driver hands you, they do have a transit police that does check from time to time and it is a 20Ls (US$40) fine if you lose your ticket, payable immediately. I still am not used to police officers that you pay directly and who make change out of their wallets. During the winter, the micro-avtobusses, are certainly warmer than the regular busses The vans seem to run more often than too. Most of the lines can be picked up within a block of the park surrounding the Rigas Dom Cathedral. Be careful to remember the number of the van you want, because the vans only stop for a second to let people in and out so there will not be a lot of time to read the map. In Riga, use Russian or Latvian language. There are almost no English speakers and always say thank you, spasibo. . Courtesy is always appreciated, but do not expect it back. When you want to get out try to give the driver a landmark to stop at because it is tough to pull over in traffic. Lnadmarks help if you are not so sure if you mispronounced the Russian. Drivers will go out of their way to pick you up near the stop and try to drop you off close to where you want.

Czech Language

The “Big Book of Lists” ranks the Czech language as the hardest human language. Certainly, that is a believable claim having studied it with reasonable intensity for two years. Yet, reading anything more than basic advertising and the large print on newspapers is all but impossible. A bit of history, Jan Hus, a Czech hero in many ways, wrote the modern Czech language system in the 15th century in fourteen volumes. He used this system to translate the bible, much to the dismay of the Papacy. In turn, the papacy excommunicated him and later waged a war to kill him. Jan was not an angel. He ran a group of religious reformists from a city outside of Prague, called Tabor. In Jan’s time, as the name implies Tabor was more of a camp than city. To make a long story short, Jan and his Tabor boys would make the most fanatic English Lager Lout seem a church mouse. The Taborites were known to burn churches with the bishop and priests inside and routinely steal from church coffers. That was the state of the art in fifteenth century church and government reform in Europe. Maybe, it was the best way to change things, but that is a decision for the history books. A thug’s life seemed to appeal to the Taborites for almost fifty years after Jan himself had been killed by the church. It may be a little unfair to judge Jan, who only burned and pillaged during his free time. A guy has to have hobbies when his life’s work is translating the bible and penning the systematic approach to the Czech language. Until I started studying Czech, it did not seem sensible that a language was not understandable with a good dictionary. American English is complicated, but decipherable with a dictionary. Most words are possible to find in a linguist’s dictionary and with some practice many of the idioms are understandable. Czech on the other hand, has a math problem and cuteness working against it. Engineering school taught me that a math problem is solvable, that is the point of a math problem. Systematic cuteness is more difficult. If Czech language is a math problem, then I just alienated most Czech linguists in a single sentence. If the linguists are not already breaking out their markers and poster board for their protest they are just refusing to read this book. They are refusing because I said that the Czech language is a math problem, and they in general do not like math. Czech has four genders, seven cases, three tenses (past, present and future), and two verb forms (perfective and imperfective). They actually do use them all in nearly every day discussions. Czech language uses two male genders (animate, inanimate), female and neuter. There are rules that help with knowing the gender of a given word. Usually the rules work, but they work they have exceptions. It becomes particularly important to use the correct genders because the rest of the grammar may have a different meaning if the genders of the nouns are wrong. In English, it is not what you say, but how you say it. Czech has to be careful because the case system makes word order less important. Free word order sentences make it really hard to read for English speakers. Academically, we can get passed a different linguistic system. German language has similar issues; it is known to have impossibly long sentences with half of the verbs in the clauses and the other half at the end of the sentence. As we said in High School, “Coach! Let me play!” Czech is the “run-on sentence” king. Sentence length is not determined by the complete statement of information. A simple rule that no sentence should be longer than four lines, they can be shorter but why? In Czech, all you have to do is add a comma, and you get a whole new sentence, there is no need to put a period at the end, reading a newspaper can become complicated when the world’s longest run on sentence must be deciphered, yet the sentence may actually be a whole paragraph.” So we have come to the math problem part of the discussion. If you want to say something will happen in the indeterminate, near future they have the perfective and imperfective system. The perfective and imperfective system roughly doubles the number of verbs. This system generates verb pairs for each contextual verb, such as; to give dát / davát, to handle vyřidit / vyrizovat, or to return vrácet / vrátit. Add to that, there are three tenses each with its own rules. English uses fifty-two prepositions with each verb. Czech has roughly 104 verbs with the same non-sensical system as English. After you memorize 104 ways to cut something, you realize there are several meanings for “to cut.” Each verb has its own perfective and imperfective verb pair. If that all seems to make sense, each of these verb families have different conjugations for nouns with different genders. Gender-specific conjugation is not uncommon in Slavic languages. What is truly alien to English-speakers is the idea of declension and palettization. Palettization is the practice of changing the spelling of the word to make it easier to say. If they are making it easier to say, why do they still have words like prst, Krč, and rozzařit? So giving something to your wife, manželka, is not “k manželkě”, but “k manželce”. It gets more complicated with their beloved dogs, psy. If you are talking about one dog it is pes. If you have to talk about dogs as a topic, it is psů. However, if you are looking for your lost dog, you are looking for your pesiček. Just imagine what happens if you want to look for your “girl dog.” Like all Slavic languages, Czech also uses cases with numbers. Even something as universal as the number “1” actually is declined three times for the gender of the noun of which you have one. If you would like one sandwich, you want jeden sendvič. Today, you are pretty hungry, so you do not get one menu, you order jedna denní menu. Still, if that was not enough one feather, is jedno pero. Realizing that Slavic numbers are based on a hand does not make things easier. There is a case for none, a different case for one, likewise for two – four and a final case for more than four. They do not only change the endings, sometimes it is much worse. The number 100 in the dictionary is sto. Understanding that the endings move, you could guess that 200 might be dvě ste, 300 as tři sta, but probably guessing 500 as pět set would be out of your league. There are few exceptions to this, but it becomes complicated if you have words with ambiguous gender. The impossible of Czech language is that they do not normally use the dictionary word for something. In a restaurant, a free seat would absolutely be a volno místo. Beware that it will not be uncommon to look for a volna místička, which also has a different gender and a different declension. The declension of words is not a “cute” thing. The 225lb (100kg) man in the office who is almost 6’6” (2m) tall will ask if you received his fax, faxička. Or he might say that the girl in the street had cute breasts, pekne prsičky. No there is no such thing in Czech as harassment, it is almost considered rude to not say something to her. It does not make sense that they would change fax to faxička or prsa to prsičky. There is a system to the declension, just be aware that it is not bad to have a krasna prdelka, but understand that a small cable, kabel is not a kabelka, purse. Czech is not impossible. It is however particularly difficult. A reasonable understanding of conversant Czech feels overwhelming even after two years. After almost two years of study, we have only just finished the basic case system. They say that at this pace we will be almost conversational in three or four years. At least that is something to look forward to; pity we still will not be able to read a newspaper.

Shy People

Czechs are a wonderful and sharing people. I just wish they were not so eager to share their emphysema and chain-smoke. Maybe that is more than a little unfair. One of the most noticeable traits of Czech people is there almost universal shyness. It is their nature. A random woman on the street in Prague or Brno probably speaks four languages. Beware she probably speaks passable, if not fluent English. She is kind and caring, but too shy to talk to you. If you at least try to pronounce “Dekuji” or “Dobry Den”, you will see the ice chipped away from all but the quietest Czech wallflowers. The ex-patriot (ex-pat) legend says that the Czech Republic is the only place in the world where you can find a woman, who loves to clean, loves to cook, speaks three languages, has a master’s degree and is the best lover since Lady Chatterley all for 200 dollars per month. That seems like an awfully tough standard to meet, but if American girls have to fight the perfect vision of womanhood that is the new “Drunk in the Park Barbie”, I bet Czech girls will survive. To all of those 10 year old 140lbs (65kg) American girls, the simple way to win one back against the evil minions of the “Barbie Perfect Figure and Grooming Society” is to step away from the Twinkie. Just go Czech; grab a six-pack of Schlitz and some yogurt and sit back and relax. Czech girls can show you how to fit into a size 5 dress even when they are pregnant without trick photography. I bet if you look closely that you will find more than a few Prague grannies in Prague donning thongs in the morning. Next time a Czech woman checks you out; do not believe for a second that “shy to strangers” means anything more than that.

Latvījas Rebpublīkas

Flag Description:

three horizontal bands of maroon (top), white (half-width), and maroon

The Latvīja s Republikas is one of the defiant Baltic States. Occupied sequentially by the Nazis and then by the Soviet, Latvīja  stood defiant unwilling to bend to the iron fist of one occupier or another. In 1991, they gained their freedom from the Soviet Bloc and have not looked back since. I have been to Latvīja  many times and I can not say that it is all fun and games. 

Česká Republika

Flag Description:

Two equal horizontal bands of white (top) and red with a blue isosceles triangle based on the hoist side (identical to the flag of the former Czechoslovakia)

In the Beginning…

“It serves me right for putting all my eggs in one bastard. “  - Dorothy Parker

In the beginning, always seemed like a good place to start something. It feels so big. Maybe it seems so big when the real details of life are small in comparison. Life in Middle Europe taught me that everything is small in comparison. My decadent American lifestyle will never be the same. When this adventure began, my eyes were wide shut. Life is never so easy.

“I loved my job, hated my boss…” this is how I refer to my position at the university. It is a bit unfair to say that I hated him. Hated implies that I would actually dwell on my feelings about our relationship, but it does not really happen. I can probably only count on one hand the people for whom I hold more contempt.

Time and again, he made me feel small. As if there was little good I could contribute to his organization. Except my small contribution to the whole, “it works every day thing.” The best I can think of for him is that he will get his.

I wanted to buy a house or at least some real-estate. No, my life was not perfect, but this would have been a good investment and maybe a step in the right direction. I had saved almost half of the money I needed for the down payment. Just one more consulting contract and I would have been able to buy a nice place.

I know, I must have seemed a real piece of work to him. I know quite well I did all of the leg work and had simply generated a report that regurgitated the existing plans to the obvious contingencies and handed it back to him. That did make him look a bit incompetent. For my hard work, I got nothing. I guess, I should have understood when he took my part of the money. What I did not realize was how right the little bird on my shoulder was when it told me to fill out the conflict of interest forms before the project began.

Losing the house money in the consulting job was hard. Having my boss accuse me of stealing was the last straw. I was on the next plane after I received the opportunity to move abroad. It was not my best idea ever, but I am here. Maybe, it was worth the trip? Life has taught me more about myself than I would have learned dancing nights around a brass pole at the “Pinch and Tickle.”

Prologue

“A simple and creative opening line…” is how a public address should begin. A deeper question is how to start a book? Maybe a Confucian approach would be best, just to begin. These are my adventures in Eastern Europe. I mean, Central Europe, well it is not that either. Only someone from Eastern Europe would say they are from Central Europe to avoid being from Eastern Europe. What is the difference? Together these experiences certainly changed my perspective. Life is no longer full of the infinite and grandiose pleasures of unchecked consumerism.

Rarely a place makes memories. There are many beautiful things and places the world over. If you could possibly remember something about each of them, you probably would forget a joke, a flower or a scent that made another smog-choked city any different than the next. Surely a stack of sticks and stones does not make a place worth visiting. The people you meet there are more important than any old building. Adventuring with someone tells you a lot about them. These are many of the experiences I have had traveling alone and with many people.

For those who remember these stories first hand, I hope that this book reminds of you of some of the adventures that we shared. Some of the details have been changed to tell a better story. Hopefully, any changes are minor and do not incriminate the guilty further. For all of the others who are just reading about them for the first time, maybe it will be good for a laugh or at least show you something from a different perspective.

Tak Malo Času

Many have asked for me to write it all down. This began about six years ago, and I never really went after trying to make it into a book. I will start posting a few of these stories a week so many more can read about the trials and tribulations of ex-patriot life. Some of the details have been changed, but for the most part they are all true. These are not epic tales of love and life, but more about the things that you can experience if you want to try to learn something new. The most important things are learned after you know you learned it all.