Posts Tagged ‘Czech’

(the Ruskies are comin’, the Ruskies are comin’~)

It’s no secret I’ve been wanting to learn the Cyrillic character set for a while.

So I recently found the right occasion to do so right here in Belgrade on the twice-good Tuesday the 6th, and now I can read it. Just like that. The charset is no longer a mystery.

Thirty-three pesky little letters.

An hour to nail the entire alphabet, with about three more required for practice reading (1000 Russian words) with a diligent emphasis on improving my accent (I’ll make a video of me reading Russian so you can hear for yourselves).

Since I’m not bad in Czech for a non-local – especially compared to several dumbfuck American or British expats I know in Prague who still can’t string two proper Czech sentences together after living there for nearly a decade! – and since I’m formally trained in Czech grammar, I’ll succeed in Russian handily.

Incidentally, all Slavic languages find their roots in the tongue and alphabet bequeathed to them by the good Greek monks Cyril and Methodius. For that reason, mastering Russian grammar won’t be nearly as challenging (thank G.od!) as honing the Czech one was.

I’ve already gotten over my Slavic lumps (wink, wink), so to speak…

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(President Obama and Veep Biden – can’t you just feel the love?)

Travel around Europe often enough and you get a keen sense of what locals’ different attitudes are towards personal space.

Do they like reaching out and touching you or do they attempt to distance themselves from you as far and as often as possible?

Some cultures are inwardly-looking and insular. For example, I’m thinking of Germany and Austria, and most of the border regions in the new-fangled “Czech Republic.”

Others are more welcoming and adoring, roll-the-red-carpet-out-in-front-of-you kinds of places.

Some societies in Europe prefer to keep a safe (and wide) “reaction threshold,” so its citizens have more time to react to your (G.od-forbid) bold attempts to be social, while others don’t mind closing that gap and do so willingly and often.

Of course, you can classify the entire European caboodle according to region and the manner in which they deal with personal space. So let’s slot their willingness to get closer or further away from you as being in the Narrow, Medium, or Wide camps, shall we?

Since I’m presently in Belgrade, let’s compare the society I don’t know to the one I do. Let’s compare Serbs to Czechs (and, ew…Slovaks), using the following grid as a guide to the perplexed on how to navigate the rocky shoals of these two (or three, counting the Slovaks) long-standing neo-Slavic cultures, mixed as they are with the blood of other cultures which they have somehow appropriated as their own.

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If anyone hasn’t heard the big news, I’m back in Belgrade for Round Two of the Magical Serbian Road Show.

As is always the case here in the #exYU, one tends to hit the holy ground running. And if last night’s hurrah times are any indication, my “second coming” in Beograd ain’t gonna be any different.

(Nikola Denic in the darkness of Belgrade’s nightlife)

Yeah, I know. It’s a fucking hazy shitty picture I snagged,  but pictured above is none other than the ab-ab gentle colossus, “Knez” Nikola Denic, reclining at the sexy and hugely popular Belgrade splav (or floating nightclub), Freestyle (note to Nikola’s Slovak girlfriend: he wasn’t touching anyone, didn’t do anything other than suck back some beers, and was an overall well-behaved cat. One Slovak’s word to another, dobre?).

Duke Nikola is indeed a gentle giant and emphasis on the word gigantic (standing at a stentorian 2m high into da sky!). He’s also totally responsible for getting the other two of us into that big mess we got up into on the Danube and Sava Rivers and there’s plenty of dish to tell.

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(…catching the worm? Is it really as clichéd as it sounds?)

If you’re spending most of your mornings in bed, you just might be doing yourself a grave disservice.

Now I know, I know. I’m going to get raked over the coals by the “sleep peeps” and the “rest patrol.” You know, those “right-to-rest” types who remain resolutely opposed to living life in the fast lane. The ones who loudly claim that sleep deprivation is the number one cause of workplace stress, reduced quality of life, sexual dysfunction, intermittent appetite, frustration, and a possible shortened lifespan. You know, I’m talking about the French.

I believe, however, you can avoid the above-listed negatives if you just shifted your sleep patterns accordingly. If you’re not an early riser, friend, you might be missing out on a lot more than just several additional blissful hours of uninterrupted shuteye.

Let’s have a look at some of these advantages…

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Yesterday, I wrote about the Ten Things I Absolutely Dig About Czechs. Today I thought I’d bring you the ten things I just can’t stand about Prague’s locals, as a way of rounding out the picture.

(the Czech Republic’s finest?)

1) Czechs love to blindly adhere to rules, thereby avoiding creative solutions: And creative solutions, incidentally, don’t necessarily involve illegal maneuvering or otherwise breaking the law, my dear local friends. Creative solutions are all about looking for angles where none seem to exist. About finding cracks in the wall where there are “sleeping sentries,” where you can force your way – either by sheer wit, charm, or cleverness — into the gilded fortress. In a nation where such tremendous fear permeates the whole society, as in the Czech Republic, rules serve to keep its people firmly in line and in a perpetual state of stunned unquestioning servitude. That the locals don’t actively seek out creative solutions to their otherwise very soluble problems is indicative of a societal tendency to blindly follow rules. Sorry, but that makes you Germans, dear Czechs. And following the rules never got anyone anywhere…look what happened to the Germans. ;-)

2) Your personal space will be constantly violated in Prague’s public domain: Try walking down a busy Prague street and observe how (you won’t have to, since it will be up in your face constantly) hardly anyone’s gives you any quarter. You can’t build up a good head or steam as you walk along a cobbled sidewalk because people (of all ages!) will constantly cut you off as they go about their business, flying out of building or shop exits with zero consideration for who might be already prancing along their merry way, or suddenly stopping on a dime to check their cellphone display or look at something without considering who might be following in their wake. It belies a degree of selfishness, if you ask me, and I admit that I bump into people intentionally to prove my point. I let my momentum smack right into them, and I wait for the blows to fall, but they never do. ;-)

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So I met two new polyglots this week. After I finished talking to them (in Spanish) it dawned on me how both men and women are completely different when it comes to speaking tongues.

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So March 21-27, 2010 came and went…

It marked the absolute worst week I’ve had during this first calendar quarter and I’m frankly shocked I made it through in one piece. I didn’t think I would (h/t to you-know-who). I still haven’t recovered and don’t think I shall for quite some time yet.

I just hope it doesn’t take that long, though, because I think I’ve had about enough of eating crow. What I went through I don’t even wish on my enemies. It was hell. The worst hell I’ve been through at this stage of my life. I don’t even think I’m ready to put it into words yet, though I certainly have my share of horrible imagery. I’ll get back to ya…

I’m also loathe to report that it’s been something of an even more uneventful weekend. I’m limping into my upcoming two weeks off truly battered, bruised, and licking some very deep wounds.

For those who sent support and condolences by email and Facebook, I’m eternally grateful. I’ll always remember you for it. For those who didn’t, well allow me to share some of my unfortunate sadness with you now…

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After dwelling in Eastern Europe’s bizarre post-Communist galaxy for more than eight years now, I’ve observed a ton of radical changes in this region over that span of time.

In my case, Czech Prague has disturbingly evolved from a city of mystery and intrigue — one with an ominously dark brooding aspect, albeit with an unsettling checkered past — into a ho-hum sleepy mitteleuropaische burg which doubles as a transit point for all and and sundry who seem to exist here in a sort of transitional bubble. The only people who seem to have anything to do with the Praguers are the Praguers themselves. Even other Czechs seem to resent their big city cousins terribly, perhaps quite normal for most countries. Prague is populated by locals and others who are pushing westward from Europe’s post-Soviet, post-Bloc East in search of a more permissive European environment in which to fulfill lifelong dreams or hatch their mendacious schemes for lucre. There are also those hailing from the wealthy West in search of a post-collegiate drunken, drugged-out adventure and those reviled washouts, castaways from societies where they just couldn’t make the grade. Losers by any other name.

Alas, Eastern Europe – and in my particular case, the hapless, bumbling, drunk, and extraordinarily corrupt Czech Republic – is not the People’s Republic. The Czech Republic – not in dog’s years — couldn’t ever boast of China’s expansive possibilities or come anywhere close to promising China’s seemingly endless opportunities for advancement.

So let’s draft a brief outline of the typical profiles of the ones who formerly flocked to these landlocked shores during the Golden City’s heyday, those wild post-Wall Fall 1990s:

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Mr. Erik Best of the Fleet Sheet normally cops to having the so-called “final word,” yet something I’d recently read in his October 21, 2009 “Final Word” e-dispatch entitled “Back to basics” got me pondering the last line in his thought of the day:

A better outcome to the [financial] crisis than a new world order would be a back-to-basics movement that revives the obsolete notions of fairness, honesty and hard work.

Moving on from that clever bit of woven wisdom, I made an executive decision that today’s final word rests with Yours Truly, not the eminent Mr. Best, as I parse out those final three fragments of Erik’s words as they relate to life in the Czech Republic’s HLAVNÍ MĚSTO. Of course, I welcome any and all feedback from you, as per usual.

Thoughts On Fairness:

Is it possible to be fair in a place like Prague? Have the bitter abusive lessons of our urinated-upon past been so ingrained into the culture and the attitudes of the locals that it’s nearly impossible to imagine an outcome where our society suddenly behaves equitably towards one another?

How can we possibly think about being fair when the actions of our non-clerical leadership cause us to look like the laughing stock of “New” Europe? When we’re given the conch shell of pan-European diplomacy for half a year, yet we don’t have the inner-fortitude to make it to the end of our allotted 6-month gift term? Or how about this zinger: how an inexplicably chronically overweight (is it glandular, Mr. Paroubek?) prime minister connives to undermine his taller, eminently better-looking, richer, and better with XX Chromosomal Units opposite number, drawing and quartering him behind the astonished gaze of our Brussels conferes while the rest of Europe waits with bated breath what will eventually befall us here in our Central European statelet?

Let’s come down a notch from the rarefied air of higher office. So how about fairness as it concerns the Czech hoi-polloi? How do locals treat each other in our nation’s largest city?

On balance, I’d say Czech interpersonal relationships can be better. Am I too pollyannaish to think that a day might soon come when our jealous backstabbing peers would revel in our personal successes? That, say, if I’m surging in my chosen field of professional or personal endeavour that those who are closely observing (ostre sledovali) me — like my so-called “friends” and colleagues — will loudly laud my various efforts, rather than conspiring to tear me down to stomp all over me, taking no prisoners and walking over dead bodies?

Hrm…

Perhaps I am in fact slightly “Prague-jaded,” given how I’ve had a mixed bag of experiences in this burg. Still, I continue to find it amusing how some here prefer to maintain their relationships on a more adversarial tip, relishing opportunities to have endless shoutfest go’s at hapless Magistrat bureaucrats or, even better, the chance to put the anxiety-ridden shakedown on yet another local employee/student/subordinate because that’s “the way things have always been here, so why should I act any different?”

Hrm…

Thoughts On Honesty:

A toughie, because anything I may write here about how dishonesty reins supreme in Prague Town might be equally applied to a host of other nations, cities, and environments. I’ll avoid slagging off on the Golden City, per se, because  although I’m of the opinion that mild criticism is healthy, baseless critiques land the critic and those who are the object of the former’s censure nowhere fast.

Nevertheless, I find we could make a heck of a lot of improvement on the honesty front. If only I had 50 hellers for the number of times I’ve heard young Czechs tell me — in Czech, of course — that “nejak bojim se o cizincu“/”I am somehow scared of foreigners” — I could cash those obsolete pieces of pressed tin in for some crown notes, my friends. Notes!

I find that the honesty proposition here has a different radically application to those hailing from outside our nation, something that has a staying power which defies logical explanation.

This is no idle armchair observation! I know on good information that there exists a double-standard against non-Czechs in the CR, because I’ve lived with Czech roomates in the past — not to mention having dated Czech XX Chromosomal Units before as well, my favourite — and on many occasions was flatly told epithets like:

• “I never tell foreigners the truth. I just tell them things they want to hear, usually nonsense, because it helps me get what I really want.”
• “I don’t care about other languages (read: English) because foreigners are usually stupid, and besides, I’m not going to be living anywhere else anyways in life other than in the cesky bordel so what’s the point in making an effort?”
• “There’s no way a foreigner is cleverer than a Czech. No way in hell.”

I realize the above lines read patently ludicrious — and if I were told these myself over a chilly half-litre of beer chat I’d concur — but seeing as I’ve heard these all myself you can take my word for it. Honest. This is the raw felt Czech daily reality.

I propose that were our society — our Czech society, that is — to employ a more honest approach in interpersonal dealings…not in business, where one of course is compelled to behave honestly otherwise I’ll cease doing business with you and besmirch your reputation to my personal network and colleagues with no chance of recovery (just kidding!)…we’d all be a lot better off for it.

The perennial — and oftentimes false — stereotypes about “Eastern Europeans” being untrustworthy crooks with handy access to easy-come-easy-go dirty cash would come to a final resounding end. I look forward to that day, don’t you? (One proviso to the above: as concerning Romanians, the Eastern European stereotype still applies).

Thoughts On Hard Work:

Yet another toughie…not just any sort of work, but hard work. In summary:

Czechs have:

• tremendous technical prowess. What I have previously referred to as being “Czechnical.”
• the mysterious physical fortitude to somehow commence their working day at obscenely early morning hours (those drill bits sometimes sound off at 6am and I’m still convinced that there’s a huge time savings from the typical cultural avoidance of a morning shower).
• burdensome social pressures to conform, ergo, they don’t have the tendency towards sloth, slacker-type attitudes given their fear of social ostracism due to remaining unemployed (“You don’t have a job, Honzo?! How can this be? Everyone does! It doesn’t matter what sort of job, just a job…Comrade?).
• once a job is started, it normally gets completed.
• pride. Do not mess with a Czech person’s pride on pain of suffering…your suffering, actually.

I’m going to get crucified in the comments section…again…for saying so, still I think Czechs working outside most MNCs and corporations can expend a heck of a lot energy than they presently wish to. Full stop. Think about it what you will…

You need examples? Well head out onto the streets of Prague during one of your end-of-week celebratory benders (every weekend is a cause for celebration in Prague), say, on a Friday night, to observe just how reticent the cops are to break up the rare Prague fisticuffs or in enforcing a measure of decorum in the City Centre, like silencing a group of druken British/Irish/Scottish stag travellers who are cruising for a punitive spanking. I’ve leaned against walls waiting for late night trams with my colleagues marvelling jaw-agape at how Prague “beat cops,” the police who patrol the streets by foot, are reluctant to tell visiting British rowdies to cool off, or else…this kind of stuff would never happen in other European cities (egs. Copenhagen, Brussels, or even in their native London, Glasgow, or Edinburgh).

I realize in the cops’ case it’s a matter of how paltry they’re getting paid, but for a Prague police officer who still lives with his parents or in one of those inherited panelak (panel) apartments which cost 3,000 CZK/month to rent from the City (approximately 115 EUR) or were inherited from the former “all-knowing” State for free, how bad is a 20,000 CZK/month (770 EUR/month) salary? What the heck is a cop going to spend it on that it’s apparently “not enough?” Cops don’t travel…so why can’t they enforce the law at the rate at which they’re being compensated? What do they need? A few beers, some food, and the occasional trip to the Eastern Colony (read: Slovakia) or to Croatia’s Adriatic Coast (aka “the Czech beach”) can be more than adequately covered on that amount of public tax money.

Personally, I’d like to see a lot less of the following here:

• drinky-poos at 11am on a Tues. workday.
• short Friday workdays ending somewhere around, um, 10:45am (so that drinky-poos can promptly commence at 11am stat).
• kvetchy complaints about how those who really want to excel in the globalized economy “work too hard,” are “chasing after America,” or “take no time for themselves.” This is our modern form of “Communist thought” which dogs the marketplace of ideas…still.
• complaints about one’s lack of linguistic abilities (just learn whichever language you need and get on with it! Stop the navel-gazing!).

I want to see young people excited about entrepreneurship — truly the only way to thrive in today’s chaotic economic times — aspiring to do greater things than serving at the foot of the next “fearless leader,” even if that leader is a foreigner with deep pockets. I want to see less breaks, and more concerted efforts when sitting in front of the computer, and more harnessing of the intelligence, grit, and strength which is the inheritance of this truly survivalist race at the heart of Europe.

To Conclude:

So there you have it, ladies and gentlemen, your final word of the day. Sometimes, I just have to have the final word.

Fondly,
ADM

DISCLAIMER: I do not work for the Fleet Sheet, nor for Erik Best, nor for the FS Final Word, and Erik Best did not authorize the above editorial. But this indeed is your Final Word of the day.