fall break/yom kippur

lovers in the Old Town Square. artsily overexposed.

I'm here in Prague for fall break, one of the few who stayed instead of jetting off to Greece or Italy. Plagued by my chronic FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) and riddled in rationalizations, it is ultimately this: I came to Prague to make it my home, and the past few days have been quiet, unremarkable, and totally beautiful, because, after a month, I'm feeling comfortable.

I spent Friday walking from my building to Wenceslas Square, maybe an hour long walk but punctuated by trips into thrift stores (two new, cute, cheap dresses!) and fruit stores (I am a sucker for oranges) and gaping at parks and clocks and churches and reading Kundera to feel pseudo-intellectual/pretentious, to get a sense of place and history.

a balloon flower for a young fan

Wenceslas Square was as bustling as ever, and above is a band that played medieval European songs to the cheers and tips of tourists. (Note the McDonalds golden arches in a banner above their heads). It's amazing to read about the communism that was once here, and see it replaced by such vibrant capitalism, for better or worse. During the communist regime, bands were commissioned by the government to ressurect folk tunes and create a national pride through cultural "authenticity" (in fact, they were also commissioned to write "folk" songs about the greatness of communism, and modern farming and working songs that would never be sung by the farmer or the worker and would simply be used as propaganda). Now, the culture and the music are capitalist products, bait for tourists looking for something Czech.

The longer I stay, the more I'm able to avoid what it is obviously manufactured, and get closer to the heart of the actual people. I'm making Czech friends who show me restaurants and clubs and exhibitions that are for the people who live here, living examples of a culture, not just something designed for tourist expectations. My lack of Czech language is hard, though -- the second I struggle, the other person usually switches to English, and I feel a palpable lack not being able to communicate in the native language of the country.

But it's made me realize that often, less is more -- I asked a woman in the thrift store if the dress was too small for me (in Czech) and she responded in Czech that it was small, but fit me well. I don't think she knows how much her smile and simple compliment brightened my day -- proof that I could communicate, even simply. Another thing I often ask is the name of someone's dog (and dogs are everywhere here, especially big dogs, even on public transport) -- which often launches into petting the dog, smiling at the owner, a totally mundane interaction that feels like magic.

there is probably a joke about communism here

I sat by the Vltava River on Saturday, trying to read and write, appreciating the last stretch of sunshine before the cold autumn. I watched a lot of young families, throwing bread at the swans. The swans really get up in your face -- they expect to be fed. One got so close to me I figured he was sick of bread and was hungry for human flesh.

I found two vegetarian restaurants this weekend, and found familiar hippie vegans -- tattoos, dyed hair, snark -- and enjoyed being able to eat everything.

it may not look like much, but everything on this plate was indescribably delicious. also pictured: pretentious book

And now I'm not eating. Yom Kippur, and my final meal before the fast was a fried cheese sandwich. Delicious.

I should be taking this time to deeply consider my year and my life, and my goals for the upcoming year. I guess right now I just feel guided by optimism. Not every day is flashy and glorious, not everything is perfect, but every day brings with it beauty, and I try to see beauty in everything.

Three Weeks In and Happy New Year

Mea culpa. I have been busy, crazy, lazy, and lost, but here I am, back just in time for the Jewish New Year with a picture post and some reflections.

First, welcome to Cesky Krumlov:

Located somewhat south of beloved Prague, this medieval town is a haven for bed and breakfasts, puppet enthusiasts, castles, and, of course, bears.

Our fantastic tour guide: "Bears are a big part of the history of Cesky Krumlov. We've got bears in the moat, bear rugs in the castle, and, of course, the annual bear feast."

I didn't eat any bear, but I did have my first experience with that legendary Czech food, fried cheese. It was listed as the sole vegetarian option, so, naturally, I tried it.

The fried cheese is the stuff on the left. The stuff on the right is potato pancakes. The fried cheese broke my heart (as well as clogging my arteries) a little, but this slight was remedied a couple of days later, when I got a fried cheese sandwich from a snack cart in Prague, and fell deeply in love.

The next day was rainy, cold, and incredibly gorgeous. I sought shelter in the Fairytale House/Puppet Museum, where the sounds of rain falling against the roof lent a creepy atmosphere to the already terrifying BUT AMAZING marionettes.

We spent our evening dancing like maniacs to a local Gypsy band.

While I love the thrill of the city, it was great to escape to this little slice of history for the weekend. I am now officially the Student Correspondent for my program, and so I've gotta be more diligent about blogging.

After three weeks, I feel somewhat settled here. I am comfortable in my flat, know my way around the neighborhood by my school, but still feel, most of all, like a ghost, drifting through an old city, listening to a language I can't speak, seeing but never really touching what's going on around me. There are too many tourists, but infinite nooks and alleys full of intensely beautiful, quietly magical moments. I went to a fantastic used bookstore, picked up a bilingual copy of Tom Sawyer, and shared a wordless awe with the owner, who showed me pictures of how he turned a dismal basement into a gorgeous shop.

I talked to the man running my internship at the Nova Skola, an afterschool program for children from lower income homes, and discovered a common passion for theatre and expanding young minds. We went to Praha 7 and looked in a bunch of theatre fronts, and I am ecstatic to start going to shows here.

My subway stop is my middle name, Flora, and garnets, my birthstone, are prevalent here. It is a place of small pockets of magic and fate, and a chance to figure out a lot about myself. I sit in cafes and read almost every day (currently Milan Kundera, a Czech writer), soaking up the energy of something I can't grasp, learning to negotiate how to live among new people, searching for things like vanilla extract and peanut butter in the grocery store, everything mundane about life at home possessing a new meaning and purpose in another place. It is late now, and I'm feeling the affects of an allergy pill and several cups of aromatic tea.

I am, above all things, a writer, someone who takes little bits of life and edits them into something personally profound. I'm taking it all in and have yet to make any judgments -- just reaching a point where I am comfortable enough to be open to limitless possibility. I mostly just walk, think, explore, exist, and try to enjoy the ride.

Shanah tovah, happy new year, and here's to a year of the paradoxical divine union of peace and adventure.

First week, first post

Praha!

Friends, family, interested parties, lend me your ears and eyes for Volume 1, issue 1, of the adventures of Lisa, an American girl let loose in Central Europe, a superhero with the awesome powers to study and take off-center pictures.

Kafka!

My first week has been incredibly busyawesome, including tours of historical districts, a klezmer concert, a Shabbat service, about 10 cups of kava (coffee), and many trips to the grocery store. I've mostly taken pictures of buildings so far, because otherwise I feel uncomfortably touristy taking out my camera. I need to just get over it, because there is cool stuff everywhere you turn.

This guy was juggling fire for tourists, until the police and the restaurant owner came out to make him stop. He blew them out one by one, very theatrically, then bowed, and went on his way.

My school group went to this amazing and controversial art exhibit called ENTROPA, which is a huge sculpture depicting all the countries in Europe, but in really obscene ways. You should Google it. It's brilliant.

The Old Jewish Cemetery on a gorgeous overcast day. I put a wish rock on the grave of Rabbi Low, who made the golem, and then contemplated taking a rock from the ground, but returned it because I was afraid of a curse.

I'll write and post more later, but I am very tired after an outrageous week, so na shledanou (goodbye) for now!