What I've been eating.

For a long time, I didn't buy any candy here besides chocolate. They have lots of hard candy, and a wide selection of Haribo and Trolli gummy candies, but since I'm picky about both of those candy genres, I shied away from them...until now. I divide the gummy genre into two categories: sweet and sour. I love sour gummies. I've eaten my way through two or three packages of sour gummy worms in the last month. The firm gumminess, the sparkling sugar, the tangy flavor... mmmm. I could go on. I also like sweet gummies, but I am very particular when it comes to this category because there are a lot of sucky sweet gummies out there--like Haribo gummy bears and happy colas. Who eats those things anyway? They're far too firm and I find the flavor selection lacking--pineapple, lime, lemon, and...cola? Blech. But now--now, I have seized upon the supreme and transcendent sweet gummy candy through a chance purchase at Kaufland on top of the hill.

They are Trolli gefullte Joghurt Fruchtchen. They come in four flavors: blueberry, cherry, peach, and lemon. When I first opened the bag, I couldn't believe the smell. It was like opening a container of super-sweet fruit yogurt. Each gummy is a hefty size, very soft, and consists of a white yogurty bottom, a colored and molded top, and a filling that's like a very thick and sticky fruit jam. What's more, each gummy tastes remarkably like the fruit it's supposed to taste like, along with a generous, creamy yogurt flavor. I even liked the lemon, which tasted like lemon meringue pie.

I have to confess that I originally bought these to send to friends at home, but they didn't fit in the box. Well, all the better for me, because I have just discovered my sweet tooth's new downfall. These things are delicious.



What I've been watching.

Having been raised on Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, I'm very excited about the opening of the new Indiana Jones movie (May 22nd) and I just hope I can still find a place to see it when I get home. Since it's been years and years since I watched the other two movies in the trilogy, I decided to start watching Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark in my office on our tiny American TV in between lessons to psych myself up. I think Indiana and Marion were in trouble when I last watched... oh wait, I need to be more specific, don't I?

I'm a little afraid that the new movie will fall woefully short of the legacy, but it's looking good so far, and the title has my name in it, so I'll keep the faith.

"Und zis iz how ve zay goodbye in Germany, Dr. Jones. *punches Indy with the head of his cane* "



What I've been doing when I'm not teaching.

Going on long, long, long walks in the beautiful weather, about 8 p.m. when almost everyone has gone in and the path is deserted to the twilight. Sometimes I find myself thinking: the longer I walk, the faster I'm getting home...

Like most people, I'm usually not grateful enough for what I have, and also like most people, I always crave more. But sometimes something gets through my skull and makes me stop and consider the great wealth I possess.

I wish I could translate the peace I feel right now to this screen. Today four of our friends joined Che and I for a bridal shower. We went to our favorite cafe and had drinks and a light dinner, came back to our flat and played games, ate strawberries and brownies, drank juice and champagne, and laughed a lot. After the girls left, I took a walk in the dusk and the white rhododendrons in the park and let my feet take me where my mind wanted to go.

Now I'm sitting in my living room/bedroom in the night breeze flowing through the open window. The sun has just completely set, and it's dark in our room except for the white Christmas lights strung over the mugs lined up on our bookshelf, and the pink candle flickering on the coffee table beside the fuchsia gerbera daisies I gave to Che. Che is playing her music, which is always a lovely blend of acoustic peace.

I'm on the downward slope. The year is almost over, and lessons will be more broken up from here on because of class trips and end-of-the-year entertainment. It's May, a month of promise and apple blossom air. The days are warm and the evenings are cool, and I fall asleep to folk music and the trickle of the fountain on the square.

Che and I use the phrase "I have peace" a lot here even though it sounds a bit unnatural, because it's easy for Czechs to understand. If we make a decision we're satisfied with, we say, "I have peace." If a problem has been resolved, we say, "I have peace." But sometimes, for no reason other than the simple fact that I am rich because I have been given the month of May, a warm bed, the sound of water and the breeze, I also have peace.


L-R: Sarah, Jonna, Che, Tammy, Me, Naomi

If you've ever been traveling the globe and noticed a shoe store with a big red sign that read "Bata" or "Bat'a," you may be surprised to discover that it's actually an old Czech shoe company.

From Wikipedia (be forewarned that the grammar is sketchy): "The company was founded in 1894 in Zlín (then Austro-Hungarian Empire, today the Czech Republic) by Tomáš Baťa whose family had been cobblers for generations. A large order from the army, military shoes and rising demand for them, during World War I started rapid growth and small manufacture turned into modern industrial concern, one of the first mass producers of shoes.

Tomáš Baťa was recognised for his social conscience, establishing housing, cinemas and advancement programmes for his employees. The phrase "work collectively, live individually" is one of his sayings. Baťa recognised the potential of large-scale production, and was often called the "Henry Ford of Eastern Europe." He saw technology as a means of progress, and wanted to make the shoes as cheaply as possible so that the greatest number of people could access them."

The biggest Bat'a store (that's pronounced BAHT-yah) is on Wenceslas Square in Prague and has seven floors. You can buy Bat'a shoes all around the world, but not, incidentally, in the USA. Maybe they're boycotting us or something. Furthermore, Bat'a makes great shoes. They're soft, well-made, smartly designed, and functional. Yesterday I was proud to purchase my first pair of Bat'a shoes. (The first pair isn't the traditional Bat'a brand, though I bought them in the Bat'a store.)

Now that I've reeled you in with beautiful photographs, I bring you the story of my weekend.

Several weeks ago, Sarah informed me that she and Nicole (a non-ESI teacher in Cheb) would be traveling to Rothenburg, Germany for a few days and wondered if I'd like to go along. It sounded mildly interesting, and I said I'd think about it. Well, soon Sarah and Nicole visited and force-fed me Flickr photos of Rothenburg, and I was sold.

We left Friday afternoon and made the 18,000 connections in little German towns that it took to get to Rothenburg (I was quite pleased, really, that it was out in the middle of nowhere) and started going head-over-heels as soon as we wandered through the old town gate and found our hostel (pictured below). From the various photos and German texts hung around the place, we determined that it had been a mill, and you can see the original rock floor and a few of the stone cogs in the basement. The dining hall was located in the main room, and it served a splendid breakfast of rolls, meat, cheese, tomatoes, cucumber, cereal, yogurt, fruit, jam and Nutella "tarts", and a variety of coffees every morning. The view out the girls' shower room window was the medieval wall and the beautiful, old warped rooftops of the town. Despite a few naive (and consequently annoying) roommates, our accommodations couldn't have been better. We chatted up the friendly German receptionist and plotted to snatch the jar of free Haribo on the desk at every opportunity.

After dropping off our bags, we wandered the town as the sun went down, and reveled in the beauty and the solitude, because there weren't many tourists out then. Nicole was aghast as we rounded every corner and discovered another photo opportunity that endangered her limited supply of film (yep, she's still one of those ). We found the gardens bordered by the original stone wall that rose over the valley, the walkway along the medieval wall surrounding the town, and cobblestone street after cobblestone street lined with toy shops, backerais (bakeries), zimmer freis (free rooms) and glowing cafes.



Saturday we awoke bright and early (not by choice; see "naive roommates") and took a morning stroll on the wall, which was the best way to see the city. Although Rothenburg milks its medieval beauty for all the tourist dollars it's worth, there's a surprisingly large residential section even inside the wall. The rows of wood-shingled, A-line roofs were breathtaking in the early light, as were the many personal gardens and restaurant courtyards.



We went to the Criminal Museum, which is dedicated to cataloging every possible means of punishment for criminals (and "criminals") in medieval Germany, including locking quarreling women together by their necks and hands in the same wooden contraption until they had solved their differences, and submerging the bakers in the moat if their bread didn't meet stringent weight qualifications. There were many far more beastly disciplines which I shall not mention here but which European museums seem particularly fond of recalling. (Ask me about the torture chamber in the Loket Castle sometime.)



One of our Saturday priorities was to sample the schneeballen (snowballs), the pastries I posted a photo of below. Rothenburg is famous for these balls of pie dough sugared or dipped in chocolate, and they looked well worth trying. Unfortunately, they were terribly disappointing. The dough is dry (even though it's soaked in plum schnappes before it's fried), and the coating doesn't reach very far. Each of us ended up peeling the dry, crumbly cores out of our snowballs and eating the dipped pieces. On Sunday we found a place that promised snowballs mit fullung (with filling), but that one (we were smart and shared this time) wasn't much better. So much for the schneeballen.

Throughout the weekend we partook of a variety of cuisine, mostly stopping at the cafes for a drink or pastry, most of which were delicious. On Saturday night, we found a biergarten near our hostel that was populated mostly by locals, and ordered pepperman's steak with potato dumplings (me), bratwurst and sauerkraut (Nicole), and cheese spaetzle (Sarah). It was probably the most traditional German meal I'll ever eat, which is a good thing, even though it was delicious. We were excited that they actually made their salads with lettuce.



Later on Saturday night, after most of the tourists had turned in, we sat outside a beautiful restaurant/pub and sipped drinks by candlelight on the cobblestone street. This is the Europe I love.

Our ride home was uneventful, except for the 12 extra Euro (each!) we were charged for accidentally getting on the zippity train, and the beautiful weather followed us to CZ...until today, when it rained all day. It was a fabulous weekend. Full photo album HERE.

Konec. (The end.)

What I've been eating.

For a long time, I didn't buy any candy here besides chocolate. They have lots of hard candy, and a wide selection of Haribo and Trolli gummy candies, but since I'm picky about both of those candy genres, I shied away from them...until now. I divide the gummy genre into two categories: sweet and sour. I love sour gummies. I've eaten my way through two or three packages of sour gummy worms in the last month. The firm gumminess, the sparkling sugar, the tangy flavor... mmmm. I could go on. I also like sweet gummies, but I am very particular when it comes to this category because there are a lot of sucky sweet gummies out there--like Haribo gummy bears and happy colas. Who eats those things anyway? They're far too firm and I find the flavor selection lacking--pineapple, lime, lemon, and...cola? Blech. But now--now, I have seized upon the supreme and transcendent sweet gummy candy through a chance purchase at Kaufland on top of the hill.

They are Trolli gefullte Joghurt Fruchtchen. They come in four flavors: blueberry, cherry, peach, and lemon. When I first opened the bag, I couldn't believe the smell. It was like opening a container of super-sweet fruit yogurt. Each gummy is a hefty size, very soft, and consists of a white yogurty bottom, a colored and molded top, and a filling that's like a very thick and sticky fruit jam. What's more, each gummy tastes remarkably like the fruit it's supposed to taste like, along with a generous, creamy yogurt flavor. I even liked the lemon, which tasted like lemon meringue pie.

I have to confess that I originally bought these to send to friends at home, but they didn't fit in the box. Well, all the better for me, because I have just discovered my sweet tooth's new downfall. These things are delicious.



What I've been watching.

Having been raised on Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, I'm very excited about the opening of the new Indiana Jones movie (May 22nd) and I just hope I can still find a place to see it when I get home. Since it's been years and years since I watched the other two movies in the trilogy, I decided to start watching Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark in my office on our tiny American TV in between lessons to psych myself up. I think Indiana and Marion were in trouble when I last watched... oh wait, I need to be more specific, don't I?

I'm a little afraid that the new movie will fall woefully short of the legacy, but it's looking good so far, and the title has my name in it, so I'll keep the faith.

"Und zis iz how ve zay goodbye in Germany, Dr. Jones. *punches Indy with the head of his cane* "



What I've been doing when I'm not teaching.

Going on long, long, long walks in the beautiful weather, about 8 p.m. when almost everyone has gone in and the path is deserted to the twilight. Sometimes I find myself thinking: the longer I walk, the faster I'm getting home...

Like most people, I'm usually not grateful enough for what I have, and also like most people, I always crave more. But sometimes something gets through my skull and makes me stop and consider the great wealth I possess.

I wish I could translate the peace I feel right now to this screen. Today four of our friends joined Che and I for a bridal shower. We went to our favorite cafe and had drinks and a light dinner, came back to our flat and played games, ate strawberries and brownies, drank juice and champagne, and laughed a lot. After the girls left, I took a walk in the dusk and the white rhododendrons in the park and let my feet take me where my mind wanted to go.

Now I'm sitting in my living room/bedroom in the night breeze flowing through the open window. The sun has just completely set, and it's dark in our room except for the white Christmas lights strung over the mugs lined up on our bookshelf, and the pink candle flickering on the coffee table beside the fuchsia gerbera daisies I gave to Che. Che is playing her music, which is always a lovely blend of acoustic peace.

I'm on the downward slope. The year is almost over, and lessons will be more broken up from here on because of class trips and end-of-the-year entertainment. It's May, a month of promise and apple blossom air. The days are warm and the evenings are cool, and I fall asleep to folk music and the trickle of the fountain on the square.

Che and I use the phrase "I have peace" a lot here even though it sounds a bit unnatural, because it's easy for Czechs to understand. If we make a decision we're satisfied with, we say, "I have peace." If a problem has been resolved, we say, "I have peace." But sometimes, for no reason other than the simple fact that I am rich because I have been given the month of May, a warm bed, the sound of water and the breeze, I also have peace.


L-R: Sarah, Jonna, Che, Tammy, Me, Naomi

If you've ever been traveling the globe and noticed a shoe store with a big red sign that read "Bata" or "Bat'a," you may be surprised to discover that it's actually an old Czech shoe company.

From Wikipedia (be forewarned that the grammar is sketchy): "The company was founded in 1894 in Zlín (then Austro-Hungarian Empire, today the Czech Republic) by Tomáš Baťa whose family had been cobblers for generations. A large order from the army, military shoes and rising demand for them, during World War I started rapid growth and small manufacture turned into modern industrial concern, one of the first mass producers of shoes.

Tomáš Baťa was recognised for his social conscience, establishing housing, cinemas and advancement programmes for his employees. The phrase "work collectively, live individually" is one of his sayings. Baťa recognised the potential of large-scale production, and was often called the "Henry Ford of Eastern Europe." He saw technology as a means of progress, and wanted to make the shoes as cheaply as possible so that the greatest number of people could access them."

The biggest Bat'a store (that's pronounced BAHT-yah) is on Wenceslas Square in Prague and has seven floors. You can buy Bat'a shoes all around the world, but not, incidentally, in the USA. Maybe they're boycotting us or something. Furthermore, Bat'a makes great shoes. They're soft, well-made, smartly designed, and functional. Yesterday I was proud to purchase my first pair of Bat'a shoes. (The first pair isn't the traditional Bat'a brand, though I bought them in the Bat'a store.)

Now that I've reeled you in with beautiful photographs, I bring you the story of my weekend.

Several weeks ago, Sarah informed me that she and Nicole (a non-ESI teacher in Cheb) would be traveling to Rothenburg, Germany for a few days and wondered if I'd like to go along. It sounded mildly interesting, and I said I'd think about it. Well, soon Sarah and Nicole visited and force-fed me Flickr photos of Rothenburg, and I was sold.

We left Friday afternoon and made the 18,000 connections in little German towns that it took to get to Rothenburg (I was quite pleased, really, that it was out in the middle of nowhere) and started going head-over-heels as soon as we wandered through the old town gate and found our hostel (pictured below). From the various photos and German texts hung around the place, we determined that it had been a mill, and you can see the original rock floor and a few of the stone cogs in the basement. The dining hall was located in the main room, and it served a splendid breakfast of rolls, meat, cheese, tomatoes, cucumber, cereal, yogurt, fruit, jam and Nutella "tarts", and a variety of coffees every morning. The view out the girls' shower room window was the medieval wall and the beautiful, old warped rooftops of the town. Despite a few naive (and consequently annoying) roommates, our accommodations couldn't have been better. We chatted up the friendly German receptionist and plotted to snatch the jar of free Haribo on the desk at every opportunity.

After dropping off our bags, we wandered the town as the sun went down, and reveled in the beauty and the solitude, because there weren't many tourists out then. Nicole was aghast as we rounded every corner and discovered another photo opportunity that endangered her limited supply of film (yep, she's still one of those ). We found the gardens bordered by the original stone wall that rose over the valley, the walkway along the medieval wall surrounding the town, and cobblestone street after cobblestone street lined with toy shops, backerais (bakeries), zimmer freis (free rooms) and glowing cafes.



Saturday we awoke bright and early (not by choice; see "naive roommates") and took a morning stroll on the wall, which was the best way to see the city. Although Rothenburg milks its medieval beauty for all the tourist dollars it's worth, there's a surprisingly large residential section even inside the wall. The rows of wood-shingled, A-line roofs were breathtaking in the early light, as were the many personal gardens and restaurant courtyards.



We went to the Criminal Museum, which is dedicated to cataloging every possible means of punishment for criminals (and "criminals") in medieval Germany, including locking quarreling women together by their necks and hands in the same wooden contraption until they had solved their differences, and submerging the bakers in the moat if their bread didn't meet stringent weight qualifications. There were many far more beastly disciplines which I shall not mention here but which European museums seem particularly fond of recalling. (Ask me about the torture chamber in the Loket Castle sometime.)



One of our Saturday priorities was to sample the schneeballen (snowballs), the pastries I posted a photo of below. Rothenburg is famous for these balls of pie dough sugared or dipped in chocolate, and they looked well worth trying. Unfortunately, they were terribly disappointing. The dough is dry (even though it's soaked in plum schnappes before it's fried), and the coating doesn't reach very far. Each of us ended up peeling the dry, crumbly cores out of our snowballs and eating the dipped pieces. On Sunday we found a place that promised snowballs mit fullung (with filling), but that one (we were smart and shared this time) wasn't much better. So much for the schneeballen.

Throughout the weekend we partook of a variety of cuisine, mostly stopping at the cafes for a drink or pastry, most of which were delicious. On Saturday night, we found a biergarten near our hostel that was populated mostly by locals, and ordered pepperman's steak with potato dumplings (me), bratwurst and sauerkraut (Nicole), and cheese spaetzle (Sarah). It was probably the most traditional German meal I'll ever eat, which is a good thing, even though it was delicious. We were excited that they actually made their salads with lettuce.



Later on Saturday night, after most of the tourists had turned in, we sat outside a beautiful restaurant/pub and sipped drinks by candlelight on the cobblestone street. This is the Europe I love.

Our ride home was uneventful, except for the 12 extra Euro (each!) we were charged for accidentally getting on the zippity train, and the beautiful weather followed us to CZ...until today, when it rained all day. It was a fabulous weekend. Full photo album HERE.

Konec. (The end.)