Turista, or Turistický: Part II

Reflections in brief; Reflections in the Vltava.

So, a man alone, walking along the street, is apparently not considered a Turista by most passersby. I have been asked directions multiple times, in multiple languages, by multiple types of people: large and small groups of senior citizens (they love me), young couples, families, etc. They all have one thing in common.

They clutch maps, and look desperately around for something they recognize.

They look too fast to really see anything, though. The panic of not knowing where one is in a foreign city. And then they see me, and they lunge. They say Excuse me and Where is... or Where are we... or Can you help us in a host of languages.

A man alone is no Turistický. But I am. And here's a photo of the Vltava River from one of many bridges.

And here is one of a dead end alley in Mala Strana at night. Yes, a Turistický would not know this was a dead end until at the end.

Yes... I am a Turistický indeed. And in this city, I find no shame in it.

Turista, or Turistický

I'm here for over 10 weeks, so I can be a tourist for a bit: turista, or turistický. In my first few days at Hotel Leonardo (ask me about this place – good breakfast, a sleeping loft so low short little me hit his head numerous times, and a great staff), I wandered the city on foot in the rain.

The rain was a heavy, constant presence early... and so on Sunday, I decided I needed to immerse myself in a museum. I chose Veletržní palác - Národní galerie. The National Gallery and the Collection of Modern and Contemporary Art. I rode Tram 17 on a rainy Sunday in late morning. At the Veletržní palác stop, I looked around and saw nothing. I hesitated. An older French couple clutching a map was doing the same thing. They looked at me, pointed to their paper which listed the same destination. I nodded and we half stood up, but didn't see the museum and the rain was coming down hard. The tram moved on, and we all shrugged, laughed. The next stop was the end of the line, and we had to get out, stand in the rain, wait for the tram to turn around and take us back one stop where we instantly saw the gallery this time. I smiled, they laughed, we walked to the museum together without speaking a word to each other the whole time. Language barriers at work, but a connection made. Every time I saw them in the museum, they'd smile, clasp their hands, and laugh.

The museum itself was immense. Over five floors of art in a vast echo chamber, an institutional, communist, space. Czech Art of the 19th and 20th Centuries, Czech Art of the First Half of the 20th Century, Architectural Drawings for famous buildings, International Art of the 20th and 21st Centuries (so close and completely alone with works by Van Gogh, Monet, Picasso, and more), and finally, Alfons Mucha's The Slav Epic – Slovanská epopej. 

Slovanská epopej is housed in a large, vaulted, dim space. It is a series of 20 (+) incredibly large, two story high paintings by Alfons Mucha that highlight Slavic and Czech history through the ages. These paintings have largely been criticized as overtly patriotic and not Mucha's best work (not to mention historically inaccurate), but to be in this space, dwarfed by the size of each painting alone, to read the history he attempts to address (or rewrite for his own artistic purposes) in each one, to understand the work and years, literally years, creating these pieces... it was a fantastic immersion into the culture I am about to live and work within... and highly recommended.

I spent nearly four hours inside this museum, and could easily come back, as with so many museums. I can't even begin to list all the art I saw, but some of my favorite odd-ball things were: a yellow soccer ball with spikes, 3-D models of sets for famous plays/operas over the years in Prague, costume design sketches over 100 years old, and a fantastic exhibit on Jan Kotík that I just happened to catch the last day of a 6 month long run. Providence in Praha, the fortunate turista.

Let the Prague Posts Begin!

Should I feel bad? I kicked the dog off his blog; it was easier to just rename this one than create another one. Besides, I ditched the dog at home and came to Prague for 2+ months. Two months without the dog (and that other little man) will be hard... but it's Prague. And it's an opportunity. An experience. A once in a lifetime chance to teach and live, for a blink of time, inside a completely foreign history.

A word about the city. There is an incredible volume of great literature written about, or created in, this city. I, in no way, will pretend to add to this or claim a part of it. Yet the names that linger here...Kafka, Kundera, Klima, Rilke, Brod, Hašek, Havel, and then in music, Dvořák, Smetana, even Mozart debuted work here. And these are just names people completely unfamiliar with this city might know. These names are raised by the wind off the Vltava River, and race through you. Their work certainly lives on in this city; it's everywhere.

This city that bridges more than just a river, but links history together; this crossroads between cultures; this city often occupied and living under foreign rule has given birth to art that lasts in all forms. And couldn't that be a definition for art? An expression that carries forward through time, without the burden of decade or century? An expression that leaps forward with the years, and yet stays relevant? So far in my life, I have achieved nothing of this magnitude. Yet, here I step through these same streets (also, through the mire of drunken tourists) and want to touch, to feel, to be slightly grazed even, by this bigger notion. I will reach for it. Or more likely, I will wait for it... and soon, I will be staying just outside that tourist zone, where perhaps, my moment in Prague waits for me.

Is it any wonder I want to focus on the concept of 'place' in the writing workshop I will teach here? This place, the city with many nicknames (Mother of Cities, City of a Hundred Spires, The Golden City), it will take hold in ways I don't understand on only my second full day and night here.

The story of this place is much longer, and more complicated, than a born and raised Seattle kid can ingest into his core. I cannot feign ownership. Still, I take my sneakers and walk on cobblestones, cross bridges, wind my way down narrow lanes, climb hills to castles, and perhaps, step through some narrow curtain, and into that history for a moment.

Hiatus

So I haven't been writing much lately. You see, I went through this spell. It's called the horrible two's. I know, dog years and all, so then consider this... I was two and a teenager, all at the same time. Discipline was not my strong suit. I played. I goofed off. I gave attitude. I did what any good, decent, rebellious retriever would - I refused to bring the ball back.

I am uppity and yuppity and no longer a puppy, so less people stop and say hi to me. This, however, is their loss and not mine. I live in a townhome near the Arboretum. When I walk by French restaurants, the people working there run out to say hi. They know I'm a star.

And sure, due to my unique stumpy, I still stop traffic. Cars slow and people stare. Then a smile. I shrug it off and trot along. I can't make everyone's day. It's too huge a burden, even for me.

And hey, I got a prosthetic device. It took a bit to get used to (my dad's yelling at me right now, "That's an understatement!").  So, it took a lot to get used to... therapy, exercises, a new doctor who is a rehab specialist, lots of adjustments, and now I'm on Stage 2! Stage 2 is cool because it has Skulls & Crossbones. Bad. Ass.  So yeah, with this thing on, I'm stopping traffic regular. Check it out!

I get tired even thinking about it all, so it's Trip...and I'm out. 

Rapid Fire Updates from 2011

Birthday, Sounders, Trips to Portland and Whidbey Island, Playing ball and not playing ball, in-home dog training (but not really because she said I was so good already and said she felt bad taking my dad's money), being a star pretty much everywhere I go... and even a party at my house. It's been a good year.

You saw my B-Day celebration, and below you can see me sporting a Seattle Sounders jersey before our trip to Portland. Ha! I've got serious style.

This was my bigger event of the year, the trip to Portland. We stayed at a hotel right on the water, which is different water than we have here in Seattle. This water is a river. There are a lot of bridges across rivers. There was a nice park and a river walk and lots of people to say hi to me. But, the real joy of staying in this hotel?

I could go anywhere! And I did. I rode the elevator. I ran down long carpeted hallways. I hung out in the lounge. I rocked the lobby. And best of all, the revolving door! Oh my god, this thing was freaky at first, but once I figured it out, it was so cool. This is how you do it: you dive right in the first open space, and then you hop along with the spinning glass, and then it opens up for just a brief second and you must dive face first out, and presto! You're outside. Amazing. Amaza-balls as some might say.

Dive in. Hop along with the spin. Dive out. Magic. This pretty much sums up my year, but in case you need proof, here's some pics! This is Trip, and I'm out!

Birthday!

It was my birthday and I didn't even know it! But, my family sure did and they helped me celebrate in style! I had SUCH a great day. It started a few days before when they kept saying things to me, "It's going to be your birthday soon." "Someone's turning one!"  I didn't know what they were talking about, but when the day came, I learned birthdays are not something to be ignored.

Birthdays are like Christmas but only for you and no one else!

I got toys, treats, and yes... dessert! Frozen Yogurt made special for dogs like me! It was yummy and nummy and all things good for my tummy. Sigh. Birthdays are nice.

I even got Birthday hats! I started with one, but by the end of the night, well, I looked like this! Lesson learned – you never know what you'll look like at the end of a day-long party!

I'm so pooped (literally and metaphorically), all I can say is, This is Trip and I'm so out!

New Hood, New Parks, New...

It's been a whirlwind my friends. A literal whirlwind. I live in a new place with steps galore! It has nice wood floors and though I slip and slide on them, they feel good on your belly when you get hot. There are three floors here, and I can go anywhere I want! My favorite pastime is to sit at the top of the stairs with a ball in my mouth, and drop it. It bounces and bounces until I just can't take it anymore, and so I race down the steps after it! Rinse. Repeat. This is how fun should be described in the dictionary.

When you're a dog and you move, there is much to get used to and explore. Inside is just part of it, and really, I'm fine anywhere my dad is... I mean, I pretend like he's nothing special, but if he wasn't there, I'd probably freak out.

Outside is where I find myself most excited about the new place. I get new smells, new dogs to meet, new places to pee and poop, and new parks to explore. On my morning walk, there are three parks I go to sometimes:

1. Play structure park. It has a human name, but in dog words, it's play structure park. It has a play structure and when my dad walks me and no one is around, he lets me off-leash and if I climb the steps to the top of the play structure and look out, he hands me a treat from below. This never gets tiring. I'm always up for it when he says, "Go to the top!"  Sure thing, pops, just give me a treat! This is the park we go to most everyday.

2. When we first moved in to this place, we often went to "Muddy River" park down the hill in the low part of the valley.  There was a great place to run off-leash here as well, but I kept finding dirty Kleenex to eat and presto! – Dad stopped taking me there.

3. On special mornings, I get to go an extra hill up and take a lap through "Strange Statue" park. This place has a weird little vibe, and at first it sort of skeeved me out. Now, I am used to it. We have a routine when I come here. I sit right by one of the strange statues, and dad takes the leash off. I stay, under repeated stay commands (I really only need to hear it once). And he walks all the way around this curve in a strange wall and then holds up a treat! I tense, and wait...wait...wait for it... "Come!"  And I'm off to meet him and get my treat and then we run crazy circles and figure eights in the grass until he calls me back with another treat. This usually only lasts a few minutes, but it's fun. And I like walking up the extra block because on the way home, I trot along the busy street and people in cars stop and stare. I pretend not to notice, but it's kinda funny how people smile when they see me.

Here's a pic of me with one of those strange statues. See what I mean?

New smells, new morning parks, new great afternoon parks (another entry to come), new baristas at new coffee shops (another entry to come), and new places to play ball. Moving is a lot to figure out, but once you get it down, you feel pretty good. You feel like you accomplished something, and that right there, is a good reason to take a nap. So, my people, I nap! This is Trip and I'm out!