YaHOO

Well… where to begin. Holy cow. I’m here. I’m actually here. I am sitting on a bed, in a room, in a flat, on a street, in Prague. There are noises outside, and those noises are Czech citizens walking down Czech streets and driving Czech cars while blasting Euro-pop Czech music. If I had a word to describe my current state of mind, it would most likely be:

Frenamanabawhoohay!

No, that is not a Czech word. I didn’t check, anyway. BTW, the whole “check” thing—not an intentional pun, but it’s probably going to happen a lot so start getting used to it now.

My trip to the Czech Republic was not an easy one. Here I shall attempt to recount my harrowing misadventures, and maybe now that it’s all over I can find the humor in it.

The first heart-stoppingly terrifying thing to happen to me was calling the Business Office the day before I left and discovering there was a hold on my account. If I didn’t submit all the right paperwork and junk by the end of THAT DAY then I straight up would not be able to board the plane. I wouldn’t be in the program, I wouldn’t be in Prague. I would be in absolute misery.

Fault: Mine, for not making sure all that crap was taken care of sooner. However, I’d like to qualify that with a

SERIOUSLY WHITTIER?? You weren’t planning on letting me know that you had your boot on my fragile little neck and you were just gonna WAIT until I was royally screwed over to tell me something was up? Not cool, Whittier. Not cool. However, thanks to the personable staff over in the Business Office I was able to get everything squared away last-minute. But still… there’s definitely some tension when Whittier and I are in the same room.

Anyway, the flight from San Diego to Chicago was a breeze. The only issue was typical Chicago weather being a little attention-seeking punk, so we had to fly around in circles in the air for a while until we were finally given clearance to land, making the flight about 3 ½ hours. I entertained myself by doodling. The woman sitting next to me really liked my drawing, and I think she tried to take a picture of it over my shoulder when she thought I wouldn’t notice, so I gave it to her when we landed.

Oh yeah. At one point we hit an air pocket and dropped about a foot in the air. I nearly pooped my pants. Although truth be told it was actually pretty fun, so I don’t really count that as a horrific misadventure.
Chicago to London was a little messy, just because the O’Hare International Airport is the size of yo mama. I had to take a shuttle just to get to my side of the airport on time. Other than that, it was fine. The outbound Chicago flight was about 7 hours. I just alternated between sleeping, doodling, reading, and wasting my computer battery on PC games. It wasn’t too bad, though it was an ultimate test of my endurance.

So what’s the deal with airplane food? I requested the “Vegetarian” meal option online in advance. Kids, heed my warning: never select the vegan-vegetarian option. The stewardess handed me a tray with tin foil-wrapped bowls whose contents looked something like this:



It was repulsive, to all of my senses. I couldn’t do more than a few bites. It was airplane food’s worst ever. I could’ve gotten better nourishment being segment C of the human centipede. However, British Airways does get kudos for pouring the red wine like its OJ. I felt very sophisticated drinking my red wine with my airplane food.

*delayed cringe*

So here’s where it reallys starts to suck. Perhaps the worst slip-up on my trip was missing my connecting flight from London to Prague. The layover was only an hour so I was really pressed for time, and I was all the way in the back of the Chicago plane. You know what that means. About 20 minutes of awkwardly sit-standing in your seat waiting to leave, but somebody’s having a wedding in the aisle or something because NOBODY IS MOVING. And then the Heathrow airport was madness. I imagine it’s what a factory slaughterhouse would look like if we ate people instead of cows. I was herded into queue after queue after R after S until I was told that I missed my flight.

“But it leaves in 20 minutes…”

“You missed it. Get another flight.”
“But if it’s not off the ground for another 20 minutes why can’t I—”
“I hate airports and I hate helping people and most of all I hate you, Jessica Miller. Right down to very core of my soul.”

“Oh.”

So I got another flight departing a few hours later, which isn’t too bad. All the same I was stressing hardcore. Someone play me a song on the world’s smallest violin: I was sleep deprived and malnourished, I didn’t have a way of contacting my family because my phone was dead and the charger is in the United States (Fault: Mine), I lost my little electronic translator to use for communicating with Czechs (Fault: Mine), and I was arriving in Prague late, which meant “CIEE representatives” would not be waiting for me with their “bright orange signs and blue banners.” Which meant I had to take a taxi to my flat.

Okay, what’s rule #1 of Prague? NEVER TAKE A TAXI. But I had no choice. And it actually worked out fine because I asked a representative at the counter to calculate a rough figure of the fare in advance, so I would know if the dude was cheating me. The taxi driver didn’t cheat me (he had a meter that I could watch, anyway) and I reached my destination safe and sound, if not slightly tardy.

Oh, did I mention the fun part yet? My luggage got kaffumpled with the whole missed flight ordeal (Fault: Anyone’s but mine), so my checked suitcase didn’t make it to Prague when I did. When will it be here? Sometime tonight, we’re hoping. It’s doubly difficult because since I don’t have a phone, the airport is going to have one helluva time contacting me to bring me my suitcase. But I gave them the director’s number… the only number I have… so I’m hoping to have the other 4/5ths of my junk by later tonight.
OKAY, so now that I’ve sweated all those toxins out, let’s talk about Prague. Speaking of sweating, it is a hot, humid day. It’s dusk now so the sun is pretty much gone, but it was out and it was beautiful. The city is so different. It reminds me a lot of London; a bunch of ancient buildings with breath-taking architecture all smushed together along arbitrarily-mapped cobblestone roads. We crossed the Vltava river to get to my flat complex, and the whole view from the bridge is beautiful. I saw the two famous dancing buildings, too:


Heeeeere's Fred and Ginger!
It was cool to see everything in person after stalking all of Prague on Google maps street view.
When I got to my flat, a full-time FAMU student helped me settle in and then a fellow Film Studies participant and I met up with the rest of our group in a nearby restaurant. It’s a really cool place; you go down a winding staircase into the basement, and it’s like a pub/restaurant. I forget the actual Czech name of the place, but apparently in English it means “The Hairy Ghost.” I have a feeling I’ll be spending a lot of time there. Especially after ordering the smoothest pint of beer I’ve ever tasted. I wish I could remember what it’s called… I have a hard time with words that are more than three syllables. What am I doing in the Czech Republic?

The flat’s sweet. I roamed around and took pictures. It’s not all set up yet, but I’m looking forward to doing that soon. Looks like I’m gonna have to make a few trips to Tesco.

Thank Bob I wound up accidentally packing a pair of basketball shorts in my carry-on. It feels so good to unwind! My body’s really confused because of the 9-hour time change, but I’ve got to be up early tomorrow for orientation so I’d better try to get some sleep tonight. Try.