Two months! I win the prize for worst blogger. But life has been busy. Here I am:
Except I’m in a cafe, and there is a pianist playing a violent version of “Memories” from the musical Cats, and the tap water costs 400% more than the beer so you can guess what thirsty me ordered when I arrived.
My Czech is so bad all I can say is thank you, and I’m sorry, and excuse me and yes, please, which, I realized, is a good majority of the vocabulary I use out loud in daily life anyway.
It’s strange to be in an old city–in Minneapolis we organize double-decker bus trips to see a building from the 1880’s–but it also feels very natural to be here. You can live fairly easily in a city without a grasp of language or literacy. Because we all want the same things: food (point to the menu or learn the word “goulash”), a bathroom (say “toalety” or grimace), and long walks alone, without anyone to disrupt our perfectly ordinary thoughts that don’t manifest in either English or Czech, but rather in squares of color and textures from our childhoods.
Oh, dear. A man selling roses went to every table but mine because I am all alone. Now I feel like an outsider.