Pancake Day, it's a real holiday...sort of...

On the theme of holidays that aren't really holidays I present Pancake Day, more officially known as Shrove Tuesday, that day on your calendar that you always wondered what the hell it was, but knew wasn't that important because you still had to work. Were it listed on calendars as Pancake Day I really feel it's popularity would peak, just a suggestion.

I suppose you are wondering what the association between pancakes and penance is and to be honest, it's a bit of a leap. Essentially because it is the day before Lent starts Christians figured they needed to eat something delicious to make up for the fact that they would be eating 'plain' food for the following 40 days (this tradition is considerably more mild now with people only abstaining from something they enjoy rather than everything, it's also not a requirement but something more along the lines of a friendly suggestion). Pancakes were apparently chosen to celebrate Shrove Tuesday because of their content - sugar, butter, flour and eggs - foods that were commonly fasted during Lent, although it doesn't seem like any one could agree on what was considered appropriate fasting back in the day with some ruling out all animal products and others refraining from eating anything at all during the day.

Now no matter what your religion it would be hard to turn down a holiday that celebrates eating pancakes even if you don't intend on shriving anything afterwards.

This year instead of making traditional pancakes I decided to go a different route and combine all the best things that are associated with pancakes, the outcome: Maple Syrup and Bacon Pancakes. And they are pretty marvelous.

They are so good I am posting the recipe:

Maple Syrup and Bacon Pancakes

2 c flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 egg
3/4 c milk
1/2 c maple syrup
2 tbsp melted butter
200g bacon

1) Cook the bacon to desired crispiness (I like it really crispy but whatever floats your boat, they're your pancakes), chop in to pieces and set aside.

2) Combine the dry ingredients.

3) In a separate bowl combine the wet ingredients. Mix well and then slowly add to the dry ingredients mixing until there are no lumps, add the bacon to the batter and mix. If it's too thick for your liking you can always add a couple more tablespoons of milk or maple syrup.

5) Heat a buttered frying pan (medium high heat - you can use oil if you like but butter tastes better). Pour or scoop the batter onto the pan, using approximately 1/4 cup for each pancake. Brown on both sides and serve hot.

Ta da!

Seriously, try and not celebrate now. Happy Pancake Day, everyone!

Valentine's Day

I always think it's interesting the really strong attitudes people have towards Valentine's Day. I mean you would never hear someone proclaiming how stupid Easter is, and if you did you may consider whether they are really worth being friends with, after all it is a holiday about bunnies and chocolate, and if you don't like bunnies and chocolate, then frankly we probably don't have that much in common.

But Valentine's Day has a special place in the resentful hearts of many. It's certainly not my favourite holiday, I mean for starters it's not even a real holiday, you still have to work, you don't get to run around gathering sweets and there's not even really an intoxication angle (unless you are single and depressed).

But even as a perpetually single girl I don't find myself in allegiance with all the haters out there. For me Valentine's has almost always been spent with friends, sharing food and wine, with the exception of a few years when I got take out and watched hockey instead. So what about this holiday turns up the bitter in so many?

Some people claim the self-righteous stand of it being "all about commercialism" which I find rather hypocritical considering none of these people seem to abstain from buying into Christmas just months earlier. Others wallow in their grief subjecting anyone who will listen to a tyrant of complaints about couples and love. But are quick to change their tune once they become one of the dreaded couples. While others take more aggressive and not so appropriate approaches like burning memorabilia, mild stalking and hate filled messages. I would not be at all surprised if the police were just as busy on Valentine's Days with disgruntled singles as they are at Halloween with firework-induced teenage rebellion.

My theory is that because it's supposed to be a celebration of love people somehow get caught up in only one kind of love, the girlfriend/boyfriend, husband/wife, mistress/cabana-boy type. But there's more love than just that of a significant other. The love I received on Valentines Day came in the form of a package from my mum, my students all aged between 3 and 5 shouting "I love you Tatina/Tatine/Katina/Katrine" and launching themselves at my legs in to a massive group hug and finishing the day off with dinner and yoga accompanied by Laura, Whitney and Dana.

Aside from the moment when Laura's private student proclaimed '26?!? It's marry time! You must find a husband!" The fact that I am single wasn't even acknowledged, I suppose that's partially because they don't actually celebrate Valentine's Day in the Czech Republic, but I'll take my victories where I can find them.

My point is, it's a holiday that nobody genuinely knows anything about, including why it started, it has no important significance and it's only religious tie is to numerous Saints from history named Valentine that as far as anyone can tell were no more romantic than any other Medieval men. That whole bit about Saint Valentine secretly marrying people is just a legend that people commonly mistake for fact. So, who cares? If you want to celebrate it, do, and if you don't, don't. No one will judge you unless you start turning in to the mildly creepy bitter single that should be cautiously avoided at this time of year.

And if you find yourself in that category then maybe you should consider holidaying in Malaysia next February 14th, where you can be jailed for up to 2 years for celebrating.

some of my homies...

Sometimes I find it really bizarre that my two lives are so separate, there is me at home with my family and old friends, high heels and perfume, walks along the ocean and reading at coffee shops and then there is me abroad with friends who become best friends within days, broken shoes (damn you impractical cobblestones) and cheap perfume, aimless wandering through new cities and long hours spent at pubs with a mix of nationalities that would impress the UN.

Yet the two rarely merge, every now and again a friend from home will come and travel with me and it's only then that I feel that they really get a chance to fully understand me, to see me in my element, natural and vulnerable like you would never be at home.

So upon this reflection I decided that I should write a quick bio of the people who are the most involved in my Czech life this year. People that through photos and stories you probably feel like you already know something about. It feels important to somehow document them since for most of you they will never be more than a face and a name.

So here's some fun anecdotes about them:

Laura is from Boston, USA. She loves cats, like in a weird cat lady way, viral cat videos (shocker), robes and nighties. She also inexplicably loves the UK and would like to marry a British man, preferably with a beard and a cat. Contrary to the crazy middle aged woman you are probably envisioning she is actually a young, fashionable woman who hides her crazy well. She's kind of like a female Chandler, she's awkward, funny and lovely all at the same time.

Whitney is from Rhode Island, USA. She's ginger, loves to sing and takes a really long time to get to the point when telling stories. She often makes rash decisions (like say, getting two kittens from a woman at the museum or buying a violin that she doesn't know how to play) but she is also one of the bravest people I know and she genuinely likes meeting new people (she may or may not have given her phone number to bus drivers - note the use of the plural - and Mormons peddling religion on the street). She is essentially Giselle from the film 'Enchanted', she is sweet to the point of naivety, in a wholesome 'people really are lovely' kind of way.

Lisa is from somewhere in or around Birmingham, UK. (Like when I say I am from Vancouver because no one knows where Victoria is.) She doesn't have a Brummie accent though (thankfully). She loves tea (obviously, I mean she is British) and curry (again, seriously stereotyping her culinary interests based on her nationality, but if the shoe fits...) She has hidden talents like playing the piano and she can name every country in the world. She is funny when you least expect it and loves owls (not like Laura loves cats though...) And can also speak more Czech than she lets on...

Gabi, is from Jablonec, CZ, which is the next city over. She loves hockey and beer (hence why we get on so well) and plays a sport called 'Florbal' (essentially floor hockey) which she is quite good at. She is cute and sweet and seemingly innocent, but get a couple of pints in her and she has a very sick sense of humour, which I adore. She is drop dead gorgeous and doesn't know it which of course just makes her more lovely (as if that was possible) and is engaged to Jirka, whom I refer to as Tom Cruise because of his similar profile (not because of a fall from epic to kinda creepy). Jirka is wildly inappropriate a lot of the time and has the funniest English, which actually improves when he drinks. He told me he learnt some of his vocab from porn (at least he's honest I suppose) and at times has shocked me to the point where I've spat beer out, which if you know me well, you know is a feat in itself.

Lani is from North Carolina, USA. She also loves hockey and beer, in fact she is even still playing hockey and has her gear over here which deserves respect, hockey bags are big and heavy. She loves to bake cakes, especially when stressed, and also shares my passion for bacon, even though she's Jewish (which she is clearly not very good at). She's super smart and has amazing curly hair and she calls toques, toboggans, apparently that's a thing where she is from, but who am I to judge, I thought everyone called them toques until I left Canada.

Suzanne is from Iowa, USA, because apparently everybody in the Czech Republic is American...(seriously, there are so many of them here.) We met randomly at a cabin in the mountains (which sounds super dodgy but isn't, I promise) during my first days here. Suzanne introduced me to Strahov Monastic Brewery, the Lennon Wall, Bohemian Bagel, langoš and trdelník, and together we discovered Beer Cheese, one of the BEST inventions ever. She loves coffee (which we drank lots of in Turkey when we travelled there together last spring) and is just a genuinely lovely person. We refer to each other as Habibi (Arabic for 'my beloved'), a word taught to us by an old Saudi Arabian man at our guesthouse in Istanbul, while he was trying to seduce Suzanne in to becoming his 4th (and final) wife. Legit, it happened and I didn't try to stop it at all, in fact if you listen to her version of the story I was encouraging it...but why would you believe her, right?

While these are definitely not ALL of the people who have had important roles in my Czech life, they are a sampling and honestly I am just too tired to finish...so maybe this will just have to be Part 1...

Photo left to right: Gabi, Lani, Whitney and Laura

Want to see the animals?

Last year between Christmas and New Years Eve I spent a few days in the south of Czech Republic in a city called České Budějovice with my roommate, Jana, and her family. Jana's parent's own a pub there which is conveniently attached to their home. How amazing would that be to just go pull yourself a pint whenever you fancy? Amazingly dangerous me thinks...

On my first full day at her house, Jana and I were chilling in the pub enjoying some delicious food her mum had cooked us and some nice cold beers. When we finished up she turned to me and asked me if I wanted to see the animals. Being an animal lover I said that I did, I figured that they must have a backyard with some farm animals, maybe a small barn I had missed since I had arrived in the dark.

Well, not exactly.

It turns out the animals were, um, not so alive. She opened the door proudly to bunnies, deer, a wild boar, ducks and pheasants all hung frozen in the -20 air.

And I just...stared.

A poker face has never been my strong point, I have very obvious facial expressions when shocked, I recover quickly, but the damage is done by that point and it's plain where I stand. And let's just say, I was shocked, I was expecting Charlotte's Web and ended up with a nightmare from the Enchanted Forest.

'Oh. Wow.' I said trying to convey interest, this was my first time ever being up close to dead animals that were not packaged neatly, I mean we put my dog down when I was 19 and I was there, but that was different.

Hunting isn't really something I have given much thought, I know the stereotypical Canadian is supposed to wear plaid and run about killing moose (and no the plural of moose is not meese), and I am sure this generalization is no doubt founded on fact in some regions, the truth is I have only ever wielded one gun (an AK47 at a shooting range in Vietnam) and only ever been served wild animal while abroad. So I don't really fit that stereotype, I'll just put it out there right now that I also hate the cold and don't say aboot. In fact I don't know anyone that says aboot. But I digress.

The more I thought about hunting the more OK with it I was, I mean at least these animals led natural wild lives unlike the very unnatural factory farms popping up the world over. These animals weren't missing beaks or eating off conveyor belts, they were just out for a pleasant stroll in the winter sun when they were taken out by a predator, or something like that. I suppose the gun aspect isn't exactly natural, but you can't very well expect people to run about karate chopping deer and let's be honest vegetarianism is definitely not for everyone, especially Czechs whose traditional diet is basically just meat, meat and more meat, in fact the only vegetarian option offered at most restaurants here is fried cheese or tomato salad, which is quite literally a bowl full of tomatoes. Nothing else. Just tomatoes.

So the idea of hunting is rather refreshing when you think about it, which I was, when Jana pointed out which animals we would be eating for dinner. Turns out that night would be my first ever taste of venison and wild boar, both of which were surprisingly pleasant.

So I guess the moral of the story is you just need to be open to being surprised, because as it turns out Bambi is rather tasty.

Vampires, Herpes and Pork

Filip was sitting in the dining room smoking a cigarette beside the open window,

'Can you hear the vampires?' He called to me casually.

I was sitting in my room, right off the dining room, reading. But this made me stop.

'What!?' I asked as I stood and walked out of my room.

'Listen, you can hear the vampires.'

His face was deadpan so I knew something had to be amiss, my first thought was that if he could hear vampires that we really ought to close the windows and grab some garlic.

'Vampires?' I asked, hoping that my tone would convey equal parts humor and horror at the prospect of vampires vocalizing themselves outside our window.

He nodded, so I listened. Tilting my head towards the open window I stayed quiet until I heard the screech.

'Oh! BATS!' I exclaimed, Filip nodded like that's what he had been saying all along.

This is my entertainment, just as I know Czechs find my inability to speak their language comical, which is discernible every time I attempt it, the minor slips of words in otherwise coherent English sentences is my simple pleasure.

One of my favourite parts of speaking to people for whom English is not their first language are the translations. It's not even that the sentences or words are necessarily incorrect, it's just not the first word you would use if it was your first language. Like how my boss, in her late 50's refers to her dad as her 'daddy', a term generally only used when you by small children or when you want something.

Last year one of the children at the kindergarten, David, had a cut on his lip. When I asked him what had happened. He stopped and thought about it and then replied,

'It's opar.'

I looked to Petra the Czech teacher for help. She thought about it for a moment

'It's like a cut, but not...'

Unable to explain it further she grabbed the Czech-English dictionary and looked it up.

'Herpes.' She stated matter of factly.

'Herpes. It's a Herpes.' David repeated in a sing song tone, happy to have learnt another word.

I burst out laughing, trying hard to compose myself.

'No, no, no....well, technically yes, but no... Cold Sore. It's a Cold Sore.' A six year old proudly announcing that he had herpes, I thought shaking my head, dear Lord I hoped he didn't go home saying that to his mother.

Well herpes is the correct medical term it's not exactly something you would run around broadcasting if you were a native speaker, if you know what I mean.

Last year my roommate, Jana, and I were on a walk in the mountains just outside of Liberec, as we wandered through the woods, I wondered if there were any large animals in the Czech Republic and more specifically these very woods. Where I come from the idea of a cougar pouncing out to taste you isn't entirely implausible, so I figured I should ask for good measure.

Jana responded, 'Pork, before it's pork.'

Well luckily it's before it's pork, it would be awfully frightening to be taken down by a rack of ribs or an army of bacon. Of course you don't say that, so I just smiled and suggested,

"Pig?"

"Yes! Pig!" She confirmed, laughing. Jana speaks English very well, the comment was made because of a momentary lapse in memory not because she knew the word pork and not pig, although knowing the Czech diet that wouldn't entirely surprise me.

She warned me that while that didn't sound overly threatening, that the wild pigs were in fact rather aggressive and not something we would like to encounter. Indicating with her fingers that they had small tusks. Apparently due to zealous poaching, large predators such as bears, wolves and lynx have disappeared from the Czech forests. And so we are left to roam amongst the vampires and wild pork.

Not quite Cinderella

Friday night was supposed to be a rather uneventful night at the movies, but around lunchtime on Friday I received a text from Lani asking me if I could be convinced in to going to her school's ball instead. My answer? Why not?

Balls are a pretty big deal here, even having an official "ball season" that starts in January and lasts through until Lent.

Now, when you hear the word 'ball' you probably envision men with waxed mustaches acting chivalrous and women dressed in huge ball gowns and impractical glass shoes waltzing around. Sadly, this is not so, men wear suits and get drunk and though some women sport gowns straight out of Disney films, the general feel is like that of being at a rather large wedding. Basically it's just a party where you happen to dress nicely, buy a ticket and have a live band that alternates at random between traditional and mainstream music.

The one that we were attending was a Maturitní ples (Graduation ball), celebrating the students last year of Gymnasium (comparable to a British Grammar School or a U.S. College Prep High School, not just the end of gym class as the title suggests).

Normally, balls are formal attire but last year I attended an "Inside Out Ball" where the men dressed as women and the women as men. So I was interested in the idea of attending one where I actually got to wear a dress instead of an eyeliner mustache. I flipped through my closet, quickly realizing that while I did in fact have a dress I could wear, I was missing a rather important detail. Shoes! Somehow I had managed in a moment of sheer stupidity to bring ALL of my high heels back to Canada leaving me with a pair of rain boots, skate shoes and winter boots, none of which are ball-appropriate.

Cursing myself for my lack of foresight I put together a not all together ball like outfit by borrowing a skirt and shirt from Laura and ankle boots from Lani.

After a quick dinner of spaghetti and meatballs and a few glasses of wine we set off in to the night for my first formal ball in Czech Republic.

My accounts of the ball are a bit blurry but the highlights I can recount are as follows:

1. The boys were drinking peach vodka
2. Brian Adams was played. Numerous times.
3. I was kidnapped by a group of mothers who fawned over me, incidentally this resulted in my misplacing Lani for the remainder of the evening.
4. Lani's headmaster took every opportunity to creep on her
5. There was an abundance of male shoulder pads.
6. I agreed to go bowling with someone. Details, including whom, are hazy at best.
7. A number of the dresses would not have been out of place in Barbie's early 90's prom wardrobe.
8. We both fancied a kebab, but were too lazy to leave and get one.
9. Somebody was being insolent with regards to the Canucks so I smacked him in the head

And last but not least:

10. There was a dance off at the beginning between all the graduating students, including a rather elaborately choreographed Swan Lake number, tutus and all, I would like to take the time now to point out that only 3 of the graduating students were female and that none of them partook in this specific dance. Beautiful.



Photo: Lani and me ready for ball

Stolen TP and Dinner

There is no food and no toilet paper in our house.

Well, there's a stick of salami, about 2 tbsp of butter and a litre of milk in the fridge and our pantry is stacked with canned goods that we can't open because we don't actually own a can opener. So essentially there is no food in the house.

Top that off with the fact that between Laura and I we have a combined total of 19Kc (approx. $1) and there isn't much that can be done to help our failing situation.

Thankfully we were spared eating buttered salami when Laura opened a package from her sister that included 2 boxes of KD (known to Americans as Kraft Mac & Cheese). Between that and chocolate we have left over from Christmas we should make it through the next couple of days on a rather unbalanced diet.

I am so exhausted from travelling yesterday that I may be too lazy to even cook KD. I am currently scheming how I can trick Laura in to doing it, though that is looking unlikely and I am not even motivated enough to put much effort in to my plan, I suppose the scheme is more just wait until she gets hungry enough that she offers to cook, not much of a scheme really...and it's quite possible that she is contemplating the same thing.

I have only had 8 hours of sleep in the last 42 hours. I left Victoria in the afternoon of the 1st but because of the time difference (9 hrs) and the fact that it took 22.5 hours to get here, I didn't arrive back to my house until nearly 9pm on the 2nd. I suffer from a complete and utter inability to fall asleep on flights unless drugged, but the last time I did that I stole the blanket off the guy in the seat beside me and have cuddled strangers more than once. So to avoid that uncomfortable situation I just stay awake.

Even if I could sleep on flights I never would have been able to since I was sitting beside a guy with toilet breath who slept with his mouth open, breathing rancid air in to the small area I occupied between him and the window, when he wasn't sleeping he had the charming habit of reading over my shoulder while I directed uncharitable thoughts at him. By the third flight I was so tired I was nauseous.

It was after this and an additional 2 buses, a metro and a tram ride that I encountered Grandma, the old woman who lives downstairs, on the steps outside our door. As far as I could tell from her broken English and my broken Czech along with hand gestures and noises, there was some sort of old face in or on Whitney's radiator. She also partially acted out a story about one of the cats jumping off the top of the fridge on to her head and something about a radiator that the cats turned on with a coconut? She finished by handing me some homemade Christmas cookies with a smile and a wave and returned downstairs leaving me alone and completely bewildered.

It's during these exchanges that I wish I had put more of an effort in to learning Czech, though I am still not sure I would have been able to follow that conversation.

Our radiators seem to be fine as far as I can tell, which isn't saying much since I am not very technical, essentially this reads, I poked the radiator and it was warm, so it works, but I remain wary of the potential radiator ghost.

I also had a stern talking to with the cats about turning on the radiators and playing with coconuts and now it would seem our only remaining dilemma is the toilet paper, which will be dealt with tomorrow by us all participating in petty crime through TP theft from various bathroom stalls. A glamorous life I lead, I know.