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BIBLIOGRIND

The Life of a Wordsmith — Read … Live … Write

Archive for March, 2010

What’s for Supper?

I was talking with ViceHead the other day, and he mentioned that he was making tacos for his son that day. That got me thinking about Mexican food. There’s a good Mex place in Prague, but I wanted to make something at home. So for the chicken I bought yesterday, I stopped at the store and got some ingredients for fajitas, along with jalepeno peppers in a jar as a side dish, and two big Branik beers to chill down.

They were mouth watering, spicy, flavorful, and filling without being fattening. Cuz God-Allah-Yaweh-Beelzebub knows that I can’t stand to skip dinner.

Easter Gifts

Besides the celebration of Jesus’s resurrection and his subsequent canonization vis-a-vis superstitious beliefs, Easter is a time for finding colorful chicken eggs hidden by a mysterious rabbit, for eating (ham in America; hot crossed buns in Britain; lamb in Corsica; and in Poland white Polish sausage or bialy kielbasa), and for giving gifts.

I’ve combined this panaply by giving Asia a new cooking pan w/glass cover, something she said she’s needed, especially since together we hang out there (some people might say “shack up”) and making “Asia Toasts” requires a bigger pan so that the round bread both fits in the pan and can be completely covered so that they “toast” up real good.

Asia cookingOn Sunday, then (Palm Sunday?), she cooked chicken curry, first browning the chicken, then working in the sauce. She poured this concoction over un-toasted bread rounds (the center bread removed because, who needs all those extra carb calories? :-0 ). We both thought the sauce was just okay (store bought M&S’s … the last time for this), but the pan worked well.

Afterwards, Asia was so happy with the pan that she celebrated the old fashioned way: she brushed her teeth.

Asia brushing her teeth

How’s Your Mean Look?

As the saying goes, Looks Can Kill. But there are fates worse than death. One of them is the Mean Look. We all have one; we’ve all been leveled by one. They can hurt, mame, send you running, set kids to crying, dogs cowering. Some people practice their mean looks. Remember Travis Bickle, from “Taxi Driver” … he practiced his mean look in front of a mirror. Others can give a look just by feel: a squint of the eyes, bared teeth, sprung eyes, flared nostrils. One doesn’t need to be angry to throw a mean look; especially the naturally mean.

And then, there are these two:

The Mean Look

 

Question: Does the mean look have something to do with constipation?

Just wondering.

Students Playing Hookie

I mentioned today to the ONE student who showed up for the proficiency english class that it looked like everyone else (6 others) were playing hookie because of the nice weather. She said No, not hockey, but probably floor ball. Chalk one up for language/culture differences.

“No,” I said. “Playing ‘hookie’ … H-O-O-K-I-E … not hockey.” I explained the difference. She wrote the word down; another score for vocab building.

The best students, of course, actually TRY to improve their language skills. This one … I’ll call her Eva, because that’s her name … comes to class toting two oversized dictionaries. Often Eva is late, but always with an excuse. For example, “I was out running.” Well, you have to appreciate good ‘ole Czech honesty.

It’s a plus that I like to toss language questions around — synonyms & antonyms; slang; idioms; new words from MY vocab vault — and show my enthusiasm for the language. This gets the students enthused, mostly. The others … okay, so they complain that they haven’t advanced from their present level in four years. “Do you do homework?” … “Do you study more than once per week (i.e., in class)?” … “Do you practice in the real world?”

No, No, and No.

I persevere … I give them homework. Take that, you silly pre-int.

Images of 65 Degrees

first buds

First buds are showing their green faces today. People are out walking. Parks benches show smiling faces, once again. Springtime in Prague is hurrying along.

Food Dreams

For two nights running, I’ve had food-based dreams. I can’t remember Tues night’s dream, but last night is vivid:

I was in an army unit, or infiltration squad (guerrillas, maybe), about ten guys. We had come to a sort of valley in a deeply forested area, near a lake. Homes were on this lake, set into the forest. The unit entered a home, empty from the looks of it.We looked around, sat down, rested.

At night, we built a fire in a big pit by the side of the house, off its patio. Wooden lawn furniture lay about. The fire was a real blaze, and then died down to smoldering red-hot logs. It was time to eat.

The pit was the size of a kiddie wading pool. A cooking grate fit over the top. There was enough space for five hundred hamburgers. Four of us began to cook. I used two dishtub-size pans to heat oil, and then dumped in a half-dozen whole fishes whose flesh I had scored with a chef’s knife. I was reminded of the movie “Eat, Drink, Man, Woman” and was telling the squad the storyline while the fish fried in the pans and I flipped them over and moved them around.

At the other corners, the three cooks were preparing steaks, corn-on-the cob, grilled vegetables, pork chops. We were cooking food for an army, but we had less than a party here. We were also getting noisy, and the neighbors, whose houses could’nt be seen in daytime, were lit up around us through the trees. We could see heads in the windows, watching. I tested the fish. It was done.

I woke up, but now am not hungry. I do have a craving for fried fish, though.

March Lesson Merry-go-Round

This month of March has not been a good for making money. Too many cancellations; lost classes; privates have flown the coup.

There is a bright side: I’ve taken the free time and poured it into writing Of Sirens & Muses, getting 60+ pages down in the last two months. Unlike the happless unemployed do-nothings who feed off the system (pick a country, any country), I’m using what talents I have to make myself feel productive in this crumbling world.

Have a nice day!

Eng vs. Czech: ignorance is bliss

One terribly nice advantage of living in a foreign country, and not knowing its language, is that I don’t have to notice the chatter going on around me in cafés, on the transit lines, or sitting on a park bench. This Czech gobble-de-gouk is simple background music, white noise, birdsong (if the bird is in the midst of being strangled, that is).

I notice this lovely phenomenon only when I suddenly hear English speakers.  To wit:

Yesterday at the library café, while sipping a cappucino and eating a PB&J, I suddenly overheard two Brits talking shit across a table on the other side of the room. They were loud, loutish, and completely without sense. Their conversation reminded me of a time when Jimbo and I were teens, and having this fantastic “ideas” conversation while stoned to bejesus: we figured out that, with the proper auto transmission, the speeds reached by cars is limitless, even while using a simple four-cylinder engine; the one-thousand-gear transmission! Stupendous! Revolutionary! And also complete shit. The next day, we realized that, Yeah, sure, such a transmission is possible, but it would need to be the size of a house, and thus weigh 100 tons.

I can only hope those Brits will have such a think, today.

Concert at Obecni Dum

obecni dum_1

Anne got tickets to a classical music concert from a student who could not use them. She asked me to go, and so we went tonight to Obecni Dum (Municipal House) at Namesti Republiki. This is a famous concert hall that has three restaurants, two coffee shops, and many many state-rooms for dignitary gatherings and whatnot. Mostly, the majority of these rooms are closed to the public.

Tonight, the Prague Symphony Orchestra played Wagner and Strauss. Wagner’s Tristan & Isolde opera introductions were smartly played. And after intermission, a Strauss medley that lasted 40 mins gathered some of his greatest hits, including movements from a couple waltzes, and a smashing ending that makes you think, “Now this is classical music!”

On a Tuesday night, people were dressed for the evening … lots of black dresses and jewels and suits and ties. It’s a real treat to live in a capital city and partake in the cultural programs around town.

obecni dum_2

At the break, we had a glass of champagne, and stood in the marble hall, with its thirty-foot tall pillars, chandeliers, and red-carpeted stairways. People were happy; spring is here.

Our seats were in the balcony, center stage. The accoustics are amazing in this hall, which looks onto a stage whose background is an enormous organ. I’m a classical fan, so the music is beautiful to me, inspiring, and something to witness as you find 68 musicians on stage working their instrument in concert with their conductor, and belting out enormous sounds that somehow all work perfectly together.

Still Amazed, mostly

Today I walked out of the library, heading toward Old Town Square, through which I pass at least once a week to get to an English lesson. I saw in the background Tyn church’s steeples, and on the left St George’s, and on the right the old clock tower, and all the Baroque & Rococo buildings. And I thought, “I still can’t believe I live here!” … Prague, Europe, outside the world and culture of the United States.

I tried to explain it to Asia the other night, because she asked. While the reasons came out, when I thought about them I realized there was really not much difference b/w Europe and the US, when you look at the whole. But when the bits and pieces are taken separately, I see the cultural differences, the architecture, family life, city life in this small world capital, food & drinks (and their costs), and other things. And even this list doesn’t quite capture The Why.

Which means there is no answer, really. It’s just a feeling.

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