Praha 53, or A Simple Day Outside
Around 3:00 today, I realized that I'd forgotten to have lunch. With over an hour to spare before my next class, I left school and went to the klobasa stand down the street. I got a Prazeklobasa - a Prague Sausage - in a soft bun with lots of pale, mild mustard. I ate lunch while standing in the middle of the Vaclavske Namesti, looking up and down the square.
I saw the homeless guys taking naps in shifts on "their" benches. I saw dozens of tourists, a pack of impatient businessmen, a kid licking an ice pop. Somewhere about halfway through my hot dog, a caraway seed got stuck in my teeth, and it occurred to me that I'm going home soon. No more klobasa on the street. No more giant landmarks on my way to school. No more 600-year-old history everywhere I look.
You'd think I'd be sad about all this, but (as I put it to a friend this morning) I'm more excited than a puppy who's just discovered his tail. I'm going home. Home is the view of the Holyoke Mountains, the smell of my Mammy's kitchen, the sound of my mother on her computer late at night. Home is being able to choose between organic food stores, being picky and specific about my politics. Home is 80% vegetarian. Home is sleeping next to Chris, eating takeout Chinese on the nights I don't want to cook. Home is finding more friends than strangers when I go to the coffee shop. Home is farmer's markets and sharp cheddar cheese and not having to schedule phone calls ahead of time.
And yet, this nagging solemnity. It's eight days until I come home, and I still can't figure out if I really wanted to come or not, or if I'm glad I spent the semester here. Amazing, eh? I'm anticipating the Big Question I'll get when I come home:
So, How Was Prague?
And I have eight days to come up with something witty or distracting to answer with, like "well, it wasn't a vacation" or "more complicated than the genealogy of the Hapsburgs" or "here, try this, does it need more salt?"
But honestly? This question, this general, vague "how was it" - it's the worst question. Worse than "so what are you doing after graduation?" Worse than "what are you doing this summer?" Worse than "which is better, chocolate or garlic?" All of these questions have one thing in common: I can't answer any of them right now. But "how was it?" is the worst because I don't think I'll ever be able to answer it.
PS. Points to those who can guess the origin of the title of today's entry.
7 comments:
Used to be chocolate. Now, garlic.
I'll just stick with, "Happy to be home?"
[ducks]
Alice
mjEasy enough to answer.
A) Describe a moment that was emotional to you whether it's finding that Italian deli place for some parm cheese or taking pictures of Prague at night or coming "home" to Prague after a weekend in Vienna. You can give different answer each time... eventually some of these people will get together and share your responses to them and realize that the question wasn't so simple for you.
Or
B) Be a tour guide, give them a run-down of Prague's 10,000 year old history- they'll get bored and forget about asking you that question again.
As for the origin of your title, (A) is what I'm saying. How can you describe your experience in Prague when you're going about your daily routine of eating your sausage and doing people watching? That's why I don't bother posting about what I did from the moment I wake up- blah de blah. Life is life- why make the question more difficult when you're going through your daily routine 90% of the time? You learned to adjust so you could go about your life. That's all there is to this.
Besides, those who have been keeping up with your blog and sharing some of your entries with others won't bother asking you :) If they ask, just give thme your blog link and the titles of your entries will almost be self-explanatory.
another question: how was the rez?
*makes a mental note not to ask how Prague was*
Alice -
Really? I mean, if I was on a deserted island, I'd rather have garlic than chocolate, but if it's a choice of giving up one or the other??
Sara -
Do *you* eat klobasa on the street and watch the homeless guys protect each others' stuff?
My point - my everyday ordinary life is only my "ordinary life" when I'm here. I want to remember it when I go back to my other "ordinary life", so that's why I write about it. Something within me tells me that I'll savor those entries as much as I will the ones where I was feeling particularly intense about something.
Eyore -
Right on, kiddo. And you've got it harder - at least I'm not the only white girl in the CR around for 40 miles.
Fair enough. I'll just say (with great excitement), "Ohmagoodness, I'm sooooo happy you're home!!!!!" and give you a hug. :)
That sound ok?
well, i'm excited to have you coming home. you can watch me unicycle. also, i have a new goal in life: happiness. i think i lost track of that somewhere. i guess it comes with teenage drama :)
love mj dos
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