a pak se dala do pláče - "and then she began to cry"
Kinda fitting for the last couple of days, although I sucked it up quick. My first week of work had a few seriously hectic moments, which was to be expected, and one unexpected humbling one. Yesterday in particular was a farce of brilliant things and shitty things happening in waves. First in the brilliant category, I spent the morning at a press conference for a Euro film festival, held at Czernin Palace, the current seat of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The palace is open to the likes of UN ambassador Angelina Jolie, and President Bush (who met with a bunch of dissidents there last year, strangely enough), but not the general public. So I got to hang my coat among some wonderful art, visit a spectacular bathroom, and hear French translated into Czech translated into English for two hours. This bathroom was one of the best I've ever been in. Light and airy, low marble sinks, a giant pot of lilies on the floor, and a view of exquisite garden out of the window. (I keep forgetting to mention that Czech bathrooms so far are super-private. Each stall is a little room you can lock yourself in, totally sealed off. And there's never anywhere to hang your coat.) The sitting area outside this bathroom had a massive crystal chandelier and chairs made of gold (a word I'll use often on this blog and hereafter meaning, "or something that looks like gold") and light green velvet. Beautiful! Here's the outside of the palace:
Next came my humbling moment at work. That's it. I give more space to the brilliant things, see. At 7:30, I ran to meet my boss at the Rudolfinum concert hall, the seat of the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra. They weren't playing; he had tickets to a series of modern classical performances and an extra one for last night. There were four pieces and I loved each one. They were tumultuous, emotional and stormy, what I always want from classical music but don't know how to look for. The final one featured an opera singer who was a vision in this floor-length red dress with billowing sleeves. People audibly sucked their air in when she came onstage, even before she sang. Here's something lovely outside the Rudolfinum:
Afterward we went across the street to the U Rudolfinum pub, the first one I've been to where you order the beer as traditionally, by showing a thumb for one and a thumb and forefinger for two. How many you have is kept track of on a slip of paper, and they keep pouring more for you when you're starting to get low. Smoke is everywhere. A scraggly artist is holding court at a large table, surrounded by hangers-on, and all his previous sketches are on the walls of this pub. The men at the cigarette machine say "Dobry vecher" (good evening) to me in solicitous tones.
My lovely night was then ruined by getting a fine on the tram for having an expired ticket. I've been so dilligent about that ever since I got here, but my "I didn't mean to" was futile to the ears of The Man, who took my weekend money on the spot, for me being 20 minutes past. !~^%@!^%#$ I had planned to go to this drum and bass party. I really enjoy some of this guy's productions:
But now I'll take my book and park it in some cafe. Have a great weekend :)
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