My oh My. Apple Pie.

Prague Thanksgiving- Success.

One of my favorite home videos is our first Thanksgiving in Minnesota.

We had just recently moved into our new house and it was the first time my parents had ever been away from their families for the holiday. This being the case, this was the first Thanksgiving meal my mother had ever cooked on her own. My dad pans the camera out the window to reveal new fallen snow (or maybe old fallen- it was always snowing there). The house is quiet except for the noises of my mom in the kitchen. My dad then zooms in on the time on the microwave clock- very late at night. He continues to scan the house- first my mom at the stove, laughing, and then onto 2 year old me, passed out on the couch. He makes note that Meghan is up in her crib. The 15-minute video is basically my parents laughing at the fact that they have yet to eat their Thanksgiving meal and that I tried hard to stay awake for it but couldn't. My dad, being supportive, encourages my mom's cooking skills in between the laughter. She is 31 at the time.

At 20, eleven years younger than my mom at the time of her first Thanksgiving away from home, I found myself in a just as humorous and enjoyable experience. My little cooking skills were forced full speed ahead, as I somehow managed to cook, from scratch, two apple pies, a turkey, mashed potatos, and stuffing (our guests/other roommates further contributed to the "eclectic" meal). We literally began cooking 24 hours ahead of time, because our small Prague kitchen and lack of dishware would not have made for a smooth Turkey Day preparation if done the day of. This 24-hour prep period quickly became one of my most memorable abroad experiences, as it provided a time of heavy laughter, the singing to various versions of "O Holy Night," added cooking experience, and oh-so-cheesy roommate bonding.

Though not quite nearing midnight, the 25 of us did sit down to eat later than expected- about 8pm. I don't think my smile left my face the entire evening, as I couldn't help but feel proud of what we had accomplished. I love hosting people in my home and watching everyone enjoying themselves made it that much greater. It is so easy to forget the true meaning behind holidays sometimes- buried beneath the commercialism that has built upon and around them. But in our small Prague apartment that night, thousands of miles away from the familiarity of home, and in the company of people who were not-long-ago complete strangers, I was once again reminded of why we give thanks. I was all the more appreciative for what is waiting for me when I return home in a few weeks, and all the more appreciative of what God has allowed me to experience while abroad.

Bird Search.

At 8:30 this morning, my nieghbor Cassie and I began our search for a turkey. For the past week, we have been planning a big Thanksgiving meal between three of the CEA apartments- hosted by us. By now we've gotten used to hard supermarket searches- shocking, I know, that I haven't managed to learn fluent Czech yet. However we knew that turkey was going to be our toughest quest- not so existent in Czech lands. The majority of turkeys that were rumored to be in the city were those bought by expat restaurants to host Thanksgiving meals.

Regardless, we wanted to try our luck. We first tried Tesco, the Super Wal-Mart of Europe, but all they had was duck and chicken. Refusing to settle for such mediocre holiday birds, we kept on. We were going to try the international specialty food store, but before we got there we stumbled upon a Butcher Shop. And what do you know? Hanging in the window, neck still attatched and all, was a giant raw turkey. Before going inside, an old Czech man came outside, smiled, and said something in Czech to us. The word "anglicky?" rang from our mouths, which followed by a laugh and a "get out of here" wave from the old man. He walked away.

We went inside, contemplating how we were going to order this bird in a small shop where clearly no one spoke English. We went up to the first register and pointed over to the dangling bird in the window. The lady smiled and motioned for us to go around the corner to the next counter. We went around, but because we were around the corner we could not motion to the turkey in a way that the woman could see. All of a sudden, the woman from the first counter came over and began translating for us. In the process, she tried to teach us some of the words she was using- unfortunately none of which I can remember now. She motioned for us to look at the scale and see if they had measured out the correct amount. The shop did not have a whole bird available- just cut sections, so Cassie and I decided on two large pieces. We later determined we ordered about 7lbs. The woman literally took the pieces off the scale, and without wrapping them up threw them into a plastic bag. We waited to laugh at this until we were outside on the street. The two woman smiled at us and said goodbye.

Cassie and I left elated. We had never encountered such nice service in Prague. The fact that the one woman left her own work to come and translate for us is an incredibly uncommon occurance, one which we have had yet to occur until today. And perfect timing- on the day we Americans give thanks. So to the employees of the anonymous butcher shop- thank you for your help and thank you for your bird.

Thanksgiving Blog Entries to be continued...

Revolution.

Happy Revolution Day!

Today marks the 19th anniversary of the Velvet Revolution in the Czech Republic. The Czech Republic, as well as other countries in Eastern Europe, recognize this day as their freedom from communism. Up until 1989, communism ruled in the Czech Republic since 1968.

Just a fun fact for today.

Beauty in the End.

Soon before I left for Prague, a friend bluntly told me, "Go live your life." A simple phrase that I've taken to heart with each day I am abroad. With each new experience and with each new lesson learned, this phrase comes to mind. So thanks friend, for your lasting words.

With five weeks left in the semester, I think it's only natural that home comes to mind more often. It's a place and an idea that is becoming fresher in my mind. It's a place that I am becoming more anxious to be back in. The other night, I came to the conclusion that I am content with my abroad experience- that I could hop on a plane home the next day and be okay. I didn't say this out of homesickness or unhappiness. Like I said, I think it's only natural that feelings like these would start to arise, as I begin to see a definite end to my time in Europe.

But when these thoughts surfaced, I was quick to tell myself that I didn't want such ideas to reflect in the time I do have left. There are so many new and exciting things in store and they deserve equal energy as did everything that has happened in the past two months.

I was encouraged by these words via email this morning, and they are words I would like to hold close to my heart, as I have with "Go live your life."

"Hey guess what? You woke up this morning and you're in Europe. You only have five weeks left though, so take advantage of today...You'll have plenty of time to enjoy Clemson and Maryland, but the chances of you returning to your current situation are slim. So enjoy it...And don't forget to spend time with the one who allows you to experience this, and who has blessed you so much. You're there for a reason."

I should not, and will not, ever be "content" with my abroad experience until I board that plane back home. That day, is not today, so I keep going and keep enjoying.

Lost...and not found.

I'd like to think I've always been an organized, responsible human being. However, the past two months in Prague are causing me to doubt this personal analysis.

The following is a list of the things I have managed to lose while overseas:

1. Vodaphone- on a Prague Art&Architecture walk; cost of a new phone? 1100 czk.
2. My beautiful amber ring from Chesky Krumlov (aka- the ring my granddaughter was one day going to wear)- Berlin hostel;
3. My mittens- at Claire's cousin Oliver's house in Ireland. I guess I can always get these back?
4. Prague Moleskin- didn't actually lose this, but for a good 10 minutes I thought I did.
5. Favorite Clemson long-sleeve tshirt- Galway hostel; great, now I have to go donate more blood to get another one! just kidding.
6. Backing to my diamond earring- walking out of a restaurant.
7. Bobby pins- I can to Prague with a lot; now I have four?
8. Blow dryer- I didn't lose this, but I fried it the other day. Good move Kelly.
9. Eyeliner pencil- I know right? The worst one of all!

I'm sure I could add more, but now I've annoyed myself thinking about these mishaps.

In Memory.

I will always remember the falling leaves. They flew and fell in groups, large groups, proving difficult to single out one from its comrades. Still, it was obvious that these leaves, blown together, had originated from all over the area- from different trees, different colors. They were blown so effortlessly off the trees by the persisting wind, so swift and sudden- as if they didn't even know they had been plucked and carried away...

People surrounded me, but a silence permeated the air. No original inhabitants in existence. It smelled of sweet autumn, but not of history. The skies were some of the bluest I've witnessed since I've been in Europe- an abrupt contradiction to my expectations. And the cobbled ground was hard on my feet, though nothing as I imagine it was in its early years.

Arbeit Macht Frei. Work Makes You Free. Or so they were told. Or so they believed- some all the way up until their final walk. I myself walked under these words, but no tears came. Just a heaviness.

We walk the halls of barracks. We walk the basement cells. I stand in the center of the Execution Courtyard. I scan the grounds from an old observation tower. I see the vastness of my confined surroundings. I walk through a still standing crematorium; I stand in the same spot that so many perished before me. But I walk out alive. I step back out into the sun, the blue sky blanketing me once again, and I am free.

Tears come only now as I write these words. They did not exist on the day I visited Auschwitz-Birkenau. All that existed that day was that heaviness. An indescribable realization that I could not possibly grasp the emotion and feelings of those who passed beneath those deceiving words over 60 years before me. I will never know the weight of their pain- it is unfathomable to any human who did not experience first-hand- though I naively and innocently came believing I somehow could. An important wake up call for all of us that day.

The sights. The sounds. The smells. The people- all has changed. The closest thing to any full understanding of what took place on those grounds seems to exist only in the falling leaves. At least in my mind, they told the story best that day.

photo credit: William Alquin Granberry

-Charging- Power up.

I don't think I prepared myself well enough for the day-to-day change in homesickness level. Some days, I'm so ecstatic to be here, amped on life, yadda yadda yadda. And other days, I want nothing more than to be back in Clemson, back in familiarity. The shift in homesickness level can be sudden, as it has been over the past couple of days. But, just as quick as it came, today is was lifted once again.

I had every intention of visiting the *free* Czech Museum of Fine Art this afternoon. But surprise surprise, I found myself lost. And where is that oh so special place that one somehow always manages to end up at when they are lost? That's right. Old Town Square. It never fails. Normally I am frustrated and annoyed by this pattern, but today the square provided me with the revival I needed. My awakening? The Salvador Dali exhibition. It's one that I've wanted to stumble into since I arrived here (though, mind you, I knew little about Dali other than his surrealist melting clocks), and today I finally decided to drop the 70 czk to go in. It was well-worth the koruna (moulah), because I found myself challenged by his work. In order to obtain any message, you have to expand your mind and think. As with all art, each person that looks at a work can grasp a completely different meaning. It's as if Dali was allowing me into the creative process. As homesickness set in the past couple of days, so has discouragement about why I chose to come to an unfamiliar place, and not only that, but on my own. But like I said, Dali's work brought me relief today. It is reminding me that I am looking at this experience too concretely. I'm fixated with the things that are making my days here so standard. I need to look deeper. There is so much more to this city than I'm seeing on the surface (school, Bohemia Bagel, unhappy tram riders, Tesco...). I need to search for that alternative essence- I need to feel Prague in ways I haven't already done. I need to discover the obtuse and trust it. I have the opportunity of a lifetime to make Prague my own. So it's time I set the ordinary aside, and start repainting this picture.

Today was arguably the most beautiful day I've experienced in Prague yet. While we had many a nice day when I first arrived, those days brought along heat. After leaving the exhibit, feeling newly awakened, I walked down to overlook the Vltava River. I sat down and sketched the scene a bit (mind you, I'm not artist, but I tried). I then proceeded to walk the couple of miles home, paying close attention to details I seem to pass over on a day-to-day basis. I watched people more closely, I wandered up alleyways, I read posters (well, sort of. They were in Czech). I payed attention to decorative details on buildings and restaurants. I stumbled into a bookstore...

And finally, my day has come to an end, at almost 6 in the morning, having just come home from watching the Presidential Debate. A new favorite hangout, The Globe, broadcasted the debate from a movie screen beginning at 3 this morning. It was a unique atmosphere, probably the most non-CEA Americans I've been around since my arrival. The majority of the room were clearly Obama supporters, though a few drunk Republicans managed to voice their stance. Coffee was served, hence why I'm wide awake and blogging at this atrocious hour, as was popcorn (?). Allie and I took the metro home at 5, where it was reiterated that Pragians (my word) are crazy and don't ever sleep. At 5, the train was comfortably filled with people, some of which had shopping bags. Shopping bags!? Where do you shop in the early a.m.!? Oh well, you gotta love it.

Endnote: to anyone reading this that has sent me a message, whether via email, skype, or facebook, in the past few days, thank you so much. It meant a lot to hear from each of you and helped me feel better. You're loved so much, so much!