Everybody in the World is Celebrating Memorial Day

I remember working at the cemetery and everyone aways referred to Memorial Day as Christmas for cemeteries. I, personally, forgot this year, but, then, I celebrated in November.

I think it's funny when Slovak people refer to "everyone in the whole world". They think people are just like they are everywhere. I have to remind them that Slovak people are the weird ones, not the rest of the world. Then I stop and I think about how few cultures I truly know intimately. I know American and Slovak cultures and a little bit of French, but that's it. How is it that as americans we think the world revolves around us and that we're the normal ones? We're such megalomaniacs, but then I realize that that's normal. Even the Slovaks do it.

It's interesting and slightly dissimulating for a culture to value and even covet our products and certain elements of our culture and still abhor the culture in general. Chinese people love Nikes, Yao Ming and the NBA, but that doesn't mean they're anything like us in any way. We can't even imagine how different their values are. They certainly don't think we're right or that they shoud try to live the way we do. French people love to sample all cultures. When I lived in France, I was so frustrated because everyone wanted to go to Ethiopian or Chinese restaurants. I wanted French cuisine! However, I guarantee that doesn't mean they want any part of the American dream or blending races and cultures, and that's especially true if your skin is anything but pale, pale white. Slovak people love american movies and tv shows. I don't care how much they hate America, they all watched Dallas and 90210 with a kind of hysteria that matched our own. Milan knows those shows better than I do. They might also spurn America's use of bioengineering in our food, but they still refer to everything that's good as "America", but not usually to my face. The funniest part of that is that many Slovaks do not distinguish between North, Central and South America. Just like everything in Eastern Europe is Russia for us. Forget knowing anything about which countries used to be in the Soviet Union.

It's just become kind of funny for me how focused we are on our own cultures. No matter how into international travel you are or how you try to educate yourself on world affairs, you want to live the way you live, not the way they live. After a couple of days of weiner schnitzel in Austria or Germany or several months of saurkraut in Slovakia, or even several months in France eating baguettes, you're going to begin searching desperately for that hamburger or that peanut butter and jelly on soft, shitty white bread or a nice tossed salad. That goes for everyone, not just americans. Milan cooks Slovak food when he's at the lake because our food doesn't cut it for him. Steak every day wouldn't give him peace. No matter how hard someone studies English and how much they love america or how many "I heart New York" t-shirts they own, they still think the way they live is better, and for them, they're right.

The language... ha ha

I'm coming up on my second Slovak final in about two weeks. There's so much information. I'm so swamped. I feel like I can't learn it all. I've been memorizing and memorizing. I also have the added pressure of being the number one student in my class.

First time ever, and I have to brag because I only half studied last time because I was having some weird stomach cramping for like 4 days before (one of the many, creepy Slovak illnesses), and came in practically on my knees to take the test. I think it distracted me just enough so I didn't get test anxiety. I was too worried about my pancreas or something. Milan was so worried that he waited in the car while I took it and delivered me to the doctor immediately after I finished. Top score in the class. Wouldn't ya know?

And here it's something they announce to the class. They announce everyone's grades. They're not private. So, now the teacher is watching me very closely. I can see. She's trying to decide how hard to make the test. It's also really tough because there's only one grade for the entire semester. I've never dealt with that or being number one before. So, I'm pretty nervous.

Slovak is hard, dude. I'm going to start reading though. My summer reading program is Anne of Green Gables and Matilda, in Slovak. I'm going to come back to school in the fall and blow everyone away. I'm going to try to do everything in Slovak all summer. Milan and I speak mostly English, and I'm going to start changing that. It's not like I can't talk, it's that I'm usually too tired.

There's a new Japanese girl in my class, Tsuyako, and I have to kick her ass. She's a ballerina and you know what that means: perfectionist. She and her husband got married the same time we did, and he's Slovak too. They only speak Slovak together. I don't know how they ever decided to get married. They can't even speak the same language. She's beautiful and sweet though. All she would have to do is look at him and he would melt. I'm much more competitive about school now than I ever was in high school or college. Kill, kill, kill.

I also should mention that every other English speaker in the class has dropped it, given up. I feel like in devastating the competition, I'm representing and showing that there may be a lot of dumb Americans etc, but the smart ones can still kick ANYONE's ass, Bulgaria, Austria, Egypt and Japan. I talk big.

I've got a train to catch.

Prague: Go There

A month after returning from Vienna we received our first visitors in Slovakia as a married couple. On May 19th my aunt Margot, uncle Mark and cousin Courtney Pickett arrived at the Bratislava train station from Vienna. You might remember that Margot and Mark performed our wedding ceremony in Indiana. On Friday we feasted in Pezinok courtesy of Milan's mom. On Saturday we toured Pezinok and Grinava and then headed to Prague with five of us and about 600 lbs of luggage in our little Renault, but we made the three and a half hour journey without incident.


In Prague they do things a little differently than in the rest of the world. We stayed in two apartments in the heart of the old city. I was really pleased with our place. Milan is such a smooth operator. Prague is a really gorgeous city. It's really a miracle with all of its westerness surrounded by all this easterness. They even had cheese cake. I really had fun eating all those things you can't get in Slovakia. Quite possibly, it was even more western than Vienna. Although, that may have something to do with the fact that we were traveling with Americans. Honestly, it would have never occured to us to stop at an Italian restaurant or a French restaurant in Prague, but it was such a welcome pleasure!

Short aside: We had lunch the other day with a guy from Milan's bank visiting from Italy. He was dutifully eating some special Slovak recipe with pork and ham and cheese, but he revealed that in Italy, he pretty much only eats Italian food. I thought that was interesting and I told him that Slovak people are the same way. They really don't care about trying food from different cultures. Both Milan and Vincenzo agreed that it's because both countries have the best food in the world. They just couldn't decide which country's food is better. I can guarantee that he would disapprove of the Slovak method of making spagetti by overboiling the noodles and then squirting them with ketchup. No al dente here, boy. I just couldn't understand. Milan explained that there has always been tomato sauce in Slovakia, but Ketchup is something new, as of the revolution. To Slovak people, ketchup is something special. If you ask me, it's just something cheaper. If there's one thing Slovak people like as much as pork, it's cheap stuff. This, I found out clashes severely with my German blood. Germans are known for their high standard of quality. You just don't get that here very often. When you do, it's like a breath of fresh air, and you have to wonder what they're doing that's illegal.


Anyway, Prague, we plan to go back soon. But even besides the westerness in Prague (which is really only attractive to someone like me who's jones-ing for a creme brulee or a genuine margarita), Prague is a truly stunning city. We didn't see half of what there is to see. It's so full of old churches and towers and bridges and cool stuff that you have to go everywhere and they must be spending a fortune to restore it all. So, here's my little commercial for Prague: go there, spend money and help them pay for all the cool shit they have to restore.

Here's a link to plan your trip:
http://www.pragueexperience.com/sightseeing/sights_attractions.asp


Is it a coincidence that I married a man who is Slovak and moved to Slovakia which is right next to Czech from which my favorite artist comes? Milan will always wonder if it was him or Alfonse Mucha that lured me to the east. We didn't go to the Mucha museum while in Prague, but we did go to the Mucha gift shop, and we bought a big print for our bedroom. I can't wait to get that sucker on the wall. There was so much Mucha there. I've included a copy of "Dance" from his series I think is called "The Four Arts" and also an example of a kind of stained glass window he did for Saint Vitus Cathedral. I could write a whole email about what an amazing commercial artist he was. I wish I could be like him. I was in heaven. Much-a-Town, they should call it, not Prague...


I could also write a whole message about St. Vitus, provided that I had Margot's Fodor's from the municipal library in Raleigh-Durham (to which we are greatly indebted). It's a really cool old church that took about a thousand years to build.


I particularly dig this statue of the Pope or someone like good old King Wenceslas beating the crap out of some unfortunate Catholic, probably a woman. Come on, you've all seen DaVinci Code by now. But this particular chamber shown below was unique to me, which is rare after having visited almost every church in Paris, maybe 10 others in Europe and, of course, Second Presbyterian Church on North Meridian Street in Indianapolis.



Finally, Karolove most, Charles Bridge. There's no way to avoid it. It's beautiful at dusk. It's full of peddlers during the day. You'll see it twenty times if you go there; I know we did. Go to Prague. I know it seems really far away. I waited ten years longer than I should have. Go to Prague. It's more beautiful than ... Amsterdam, but then Amsterdam has other things to recommend it, doesn't it?

Easter - Just like Home

We've made several feeble attempts to travel in the past year and all have failed due to lack of energy and investments in our home that have included building two new offices and a closet for all my crap. We still have a laundry list of projects to complete including a new chicken house and a new front gate, but this time something else took precedence: getting the hell outta Dodge during Easter. Slovakia is pretty much the last place I ever want to be during Easter ever again. After last year, I was ready to throw myself off the balcony. Their quaint and pagan based rituals might be appealing to someone, but to the majority of women I know, they are offensive and their time has passed.


These traditions are as follows. The men and boys head out in the morning and visit all the women in their family and their neighbors, taking with them sticks and squirtguns and perfume bottles. They arrive at the homes of these women who prepare for them candy, colored eggs, sandwiches and beverages. The males proceed to dowse the women (in particular the ones of childbearing age) with water and then beat them on their asses with these sticks. You can draw your own conclusions as to what these symbols mean and from where they are derived, but the result is women and girls acting like giant teases resembling 6th graders getting their asses pinched in the hallway after lunch. They run away and return for more. Saying no and meaning yes. So, this is what Slovak people are teaching their little girls. Anyone who knows my mom and knows me knows that this sort of behavior is 100% unacceptable in an intelligent young woman according to my upbringing. I didn't suffer the nickname "Brutus Beefcake" for three years in middle school for nothing. If slugging anyone who even approached me with a creepy look earned me that name, I wear it proudly. Unfortunately, if you are like me and make it very clear that you have no interest and find it offensive, they love it more and you become the ultimate target. There was a big fight at our house last year, and I resorted to hiding upstairs all day while visitors came and went. This was equally maddening because I was the one being punished for their bad behavior. Hence, Vienna. I found out this year that there are many people who feel the way I do about the holiday. They leave town as well. However, a positive sign this year was that this year Milan's 6 year old niece, Dominika, also attended the festivities and soaked and beat the crap out of Milan's cousin Michaela. So, their opening it up to the little girls too. We'll see how this holiday evolves.


So, we finally made the grueling hour and half trek to Vienna that we've been putting off for the last year and a half. We stayed at a lovely hotel and ate yummy food. I saw some really interesting turn of the century artwork and we visited Schonbrunn Palace. We've already made plans to return to see live performances of Mozart and Strauss and the Lipizzan Stallions. We're starting to get into classical music. I have a Vivaldi CD that we can't get enough of. I don't really know anything about it, but you can bet I'll share my recommendations as I learn more.


Most people don't spend much time in Vienna. It's very expensive for Slovak people and most don't speak the language. For so long it was illegal to go there. I think maybe people from older generations have forgotten that it's there. I know I forget all the time.

Photos for the Year

There have been a number of photos that I wanted to share in relation to holidays and never got the chance. Starting with Halloween which is one of my favorite holidays. There's no trick or treating in Slovakia. We had a party for the kids and offered a prize for the best costume. They all showed up in great costumes and we created a haunted house for them. I played my "Sounds of Halloween" CD from the balcony as they approached the house. All the lights were off and there were only candles. We led them upstairs and made them put their hands in spagetti and olives and tried our best to be scary. Then we came back down stairs and had pizza and candy and juice. Even some of the parents dressed up.

Then on November 1st we celebrated the dead. I'm not sure what the name of that holiday was, but it produced some stunning photos. The cemetery about a block from our house that is full of everyone in Milan's family was lit up like Vegas. There was a ceremony and a lot of singing. Very lovely. We should do this in the US.


Finally, I'll tell you a little bit about Ples Season. According to Eastern European tradition, during the months of January and February, various organizations, charitable and otherwise, sponsor Formal Balls called Ples. We attended our first ples this year given by the hunting association that Milan's cousin, Michaela belongs to. Yes, she's a hunter. Her whole family hunts. The ples raises money for the organization and gets everyone blasted drunk in a high school gym. There was a live band and a giant raffle as well as a dinner. Unfortunately, Milan and I went with empty stomachs. We spent the first hour drinking only wine and gin and tonics and the result was a somewhat early evening. We enjoyed dancing and the food was very nice, traditional Slovak food, but I fell asleep before they finished the raffle. I remember though that some people actually won pheasants (dead ones with the feathers and heads etc.) I was glad not to win that one. I would have probably run screaming from the room. So, the photo is bad, but you get the idea. I thought I was fancy, but some people really went all out. Doesn't Milan look gorgeous?

Christmas Message

Slovak Christmas was great for us this year. Last year was tough for me because no one was prepared for my American expectations. This year, however, we all worked together to make it a wonderful holiday.

First things first. We got a real tree this year and we put it up on December 10th. It was the nicest tree I saw all year. We're very proud. Slovak people usually put up their trees on December 23rd. I hate that. I want to enjoy my tree throughout the season. Enough said. New traditions for everyone.

We continued with a day of Christmas cookies on the 20th. The kids came and helped cut and decorate gingerbread cookies. Next year, we're attempting a house. Milan's mom and I also made a wreath together. Wreath making is very common in Slovakia because they make them for all the funerals. She made one, what I refer to as "American Size", and I made a big red bow and picked up some decorations at the hardware store. She also made an Advent wreath. It was so Christmassy at our house!

I'm lucky because Slovak people generally enjoy American traditions. Their traditions begin with dinner at home with your immediate family on Christmas Eve (which for them IS Christmas), a trip to the cemetery where we placed candles on all of our family gravestones, then opening presents (because "Jezizko" visited while we were at the cemetery and brought gifts), then to church. This, personally, was quite a shock. Hearing the priest refer to "Jezizko" (translated that would be "little Jesus") bringing gifts to all the good little girls and boys. It was just a reminder of how weird my life has become. However, in defense of this tradition, Slovakia already has a holiday right before Christmas called Mikulas(h) when the angel, the devil and Mikulas(h) come to give candy and money to all the good girls and boys. If you're bad, you get charcoal in your shoes. Sound familiar? For some reason, I think it might be that they think of St. Mikulas(h) as we think of St. Nicolas and since St.
Mikulas(h)'s name day is December 6th, that's when they should celebrate this tradition. Milan has tried to clarify for me how this happened, but it's a mystery to him too. At any rate, by their rationale, I suppose, "Santa" has already come. He can't come again on Christmas.

Milan also points out that Slovakia is so completely Catholic and traditions have been passed down without history or explaination for so long that most people don't even know about their VERY OBVIOUS Celtic ancestry. All the old women in our neighborhood look like witches with their long skirts and head scarves (no pointy hats, but lots of witch's brew). It's almost like a uniform. The way Milan's mom stores balls of string, feathers, spices and plants is so witch-like that it's kind of cool. The way our chicken coop looks like a vodo torture chamber and the fact that all the women make these bizarre brooms from branches from a special tree that resemble something Harry Potter would ride, all speak to the fact that these people used to have their own set of Slavik Gods and you can bet Christmas trees have been a tradition far longer than our 12th century church has existed. It's funny because this all goes on in spite of the very harsh realty that western Europe has invaded. Woefully, the only furniture you can buy here is ultra-modern, minimal, VERY European furniture - a lot of it black. We're still shopping. (Update - March 2006 - We found some really lovely furniture in March, but we wanted a dresser and all they had was dining room furniture in that style.)

Back to Christmas...
Dinner here includes fish. See, as Catholics we aren't supposed to eat meat on Christmas. Don't tell anyone in the US that we're all going to Hell... Between December 15 and December 22 the grocery stores all have giant fish tanks outside in the parking lots where they have giant fish you can buy. It ocurred to me last year that they stop selling them long before anyone actualy eats them on the 24th. When I asked what these people do with these fish until then, Milan replied, they put them in the bath tub... I suppose people with houses probably put them in the yard in a giant vat of some kind. Then there's Sauerkraut soup (my personal big loser of the season), mushroom soup, potato salad, big round cookie wafers about 1 mm thick that taste like ice cream cones (the cake version, not the sugar). We dipped them in honey. We actually broke tradition this year and Milan's brother, Ivan, and his wife, L'uba, invited us to spend the holiday with them. She's an amazing cook and everything was wonderful. We were so stuffed and happy and drunk by the time we stumbled into Church... Jezizsko... Santa... George Bush... whatever...

Chirstmas Day is for watching fairy tales on TV. They have a million stories that have nothing to do with any of our traditions or Christmas for that matter - like a million versions of The Wizard of Oz (which no one has ever heard of). It's so funny to see grown men sitting around taking about how much they love this fairy tale or that. We made some additions to traditional Slovak Christmas for my sake. I made stockings for Dominika, Rado, Tibor, Milan's mom and Milan. We invited the kids over to open gifts on Christmas morning. Then, Milan, his mom and I sat down to a family dinner which included ham, creamed spinach, mashed potatoes and, of course, sauerkraut soup, fish and potato salad.


Family visits are also traditional for Slovak Christmas Day or sometime there after. We visited family for a glass of champagne and official wishes of happiness, money and health. Upon our arrival at Milan's dad's house, he offered us champagne and goose... okay... We politely declined the goose, but he insisted, went over to the china cupboard in the living room and pulled out a fully cooked goose in all its glorious dark meat. That probably wins the prize for the weirdest thing about Slovak Christmas this year, but he swore up and down that L'uba had given it to him as a Christmas gift... and he'd just stuffed it there for a minute...

We closed the evening with a party at our house for family and friends. It was not a big affair, but we enjoyed ourselves as we always do when we're together.

Hope the Holidays were good to everyone.
You were in our thoughts and prayers.

Den vdakyvzdania - Day of Giving Thanks

December 27, 2005 - This is when I sent this - not necessarily when I wrote it.

So, our "domace" turkey arrived last night. It was as disgusting as I expected, but not as bad as it could have been. I guess the main awful thing was there was this awful neck hanging off it that Milan dutifully cut off to spare me the pain of looking at it. There were also quills and feathers. They never quite get them all. Milan's mom quickly went to work on those, but it's not likely she'll get them all. It's too big for our pan and our oven.

I'm beginning to understand why Slovak people don't have big family meals together. First of all there's the money factor. We are the "rich" relatives, we're trying to have the whole family for Thanksgiving, and it's financially tough to do. There has been extreme inflation here over the last 15 years. When a carton of milk goes from 1 koruna to 30, what can you do but cut back?

Then there's the preparation factor. The second problem with this 22lb. turkey is that it's too big for our oven and every other oven in Grinava, I imagine. We're trying to figure out which limbs to remove and where. It's too long, but it's also too tall. Milan tried crushing the ribcage enough to get it into the oven, but we don't even own a pan big enough catch all the juice I'm expecting from this bird. It's sort of shocking because the legs are stuck out like a Barbie. They're not bent close to the body like American turkeys. Milan was wrestling with it on the floor of the kitchen trying to get the rigor mortis to give in to bending to fit, but they didn't want to. So, we're going to chop the sucker in half and forego stuffing it. 3 hours per half in that oven and no meat thermometer. We don't have self basting. So, we've shoved butter in the skin along with some sort of bacon.

Then there's another element. I don't think we realize how convenient Kraft, Pepperidge Farms and Butterball make Thanksgiving for us. There's pie and stuffing and biscuits and... Let me list all the things that don't exist here:

We do not have stuffing. So, we're drying the bread right now.

We also don't have chicken broth. We'll do what we can without it. I found a kind of sauce that you can put on chicken.

We cannot buy biscuit or crescent roll dough from Pillsbury. I can make them from Bisquik, but Milan's mom is a biscuit genius. I tried a couple of unsuccessful attempts; it's harder than it looks.

We do not have frozen pie crusts. We don't even have pie. No pie tins either. So, I have a recipe. Wish me luck.

We couldn't even figure out a word for pumpkin in the Slovak language, and you cannot buy a pumpkin, let alone pumpkin puree anywhere. However, we have some from Milan's dad's garden this year, and we're saved. Milan's mom is preparing the puree today. I'll prepare the pies tonight. (update May 2006 - tenkvice=pumpkin. We're growing them in the garden this year and canning them ourselves.)

We do not have baby carrots. I spent last night preparing 16 giant, Slovak sized carrots for a kind of ginger, lemon, butter, recipe. Again, I hope it doesn't suck. (update April 2006 - found baby carrots. We find new things almost every week.)

Anyway, overall, we've found most of what we're looking for. I'm happy that Milan's mom is willing to help. It'll be the biggest party they've ever had as a family, I think. I feel very lucky for my Slovak family as well as my new life with Milan. As many problems as we have, we're very happy. We seem to be able to manage no matter what happens.

I miss you all this Thanksgiving, but please know that I am giving thanks for all of you, and you are all in my prayers.

Inverted Speech

November 10, 2005

I was reading about Edward R. Murrow. He had an inverted speech pattern that he picked up from his mother as a child. It's not the kind of thing you think about unless you're a linguist. It means he would say, "This, I like" instead of "I like this."

It's also not something you change about yourself. You live with it. Well, Slovak is a lot like how Edward R. Murrow or maybe Yoda speaks if you translate it directly. They do it in an effort to emphasize the most important parts. "Have it, I (do)." "(The) best, it is." Only they don't say it the way Frank Oz does. It's absolutely nothing to them. Yoda sort of presents his sentences like every word is a little morsel of wisdom. Slovak people say it with much more nonchalance and a certain conviction, like there's no other way to say it. They have no idea there is. It's hard to explain. They just roll through it or even mumble it, which is always nice for me.

I read that Edith Wharton lived all over Europe growing up, and I have such a huge appreciation for how she writes that I get very excited at the prospect of one day developing my writing in similar ways as a result of my exposure to foreign languages and cultures. I just want to include a quote from The Age of Innocence. In describing Mrs. Manson Mingott she says, "The immense accretion of flesh which had descended on her in middle life like a flood of lava on a doomed city had changed her from a plump active little woman with a neatly-turned foot and ankle into something as vast and august as a natural phenomenon. She had accepted this submergence as philosophically as all her other trials, and now, in extreme old age, was rewarded by presenting to her mirror an almost unwrinkled expanse of firm pink and white flesh, in the centre of which the traces of a small face survived as if awaiting excavation. A flight of smooth double chins led down to the dizzy depths of a still-snowy bosom veiled in snowy muslins that were held in place by a miniature portrait of the late Mr. Mingott; and around and below, wave after wave of black silk surged away over the edges of a capacious armchair, with two tiny white hands poised like gulls on the surface of the billows." That just cracks me up...

First Post

November 10, 2005

Welcome to Slovakia. I'm posting a few previous posts that I didn't post here. This should be fun because I've been sending messages, without Images, but now I can consolidate.

See below:
First 6 Months
Of course the reason I left New York was Milan. The best thing that ever happened to me. Of course. But I didn't have to go to Slovakia. We could have done the immigration thing just like everyone else.

Sometimes I think that I left New York because it was too hard for me. It's so hard to know one's true motives. I was slowly wearing down. My path was never easy and it took a toll on me. My energies were depleting. My friends were moving away from me. I came there too late in life. I was too well formed before I got there. My life was evaporating, and my desire to maintain it was waning.

One might say I left because I was afraid - afraid of what New York was doing to me, what it might do to me, what I was going to do without that energy and ambition I once had, stagnation.

Or one might say I left because I wasn't afraid. This place, Slovakia, isn't just "najlepsi zabava" (big, fun, the best party). After evaluating the reasons for why I MIGHT have left New York, sometimes I think that the only quality I have left to recommend me is my bravery. I am so limited in my physical activity right now. My energy is sapped by illness, injury, weakness and translating everything all the time. I do very little. I have not regained my ambition. I'm getting hit with the big, ugly "life stick". My path is not easier here; it's just different. I'm waiting to recover and then move forward again. Everyone gives me a year before I start to get it together.

I tend to desperately cling to the idea that I'm here because I'm NOT afraid. I'm not afraid of being poor, loneliness, change, isolation, failure, illness... All of these touch my life every day, and I accept them by choice because I desire deeper knowledge of my husband and of the world. I desire to see the world from another view. On a conscious level, I desire to live my life fully, without fear.