Czech It

I had so much fun last weekend in Prague I don't really know where to begin. The architecture was breathtaking. The ghosts of the communist era were haunting. The Vltava River is stunning and ephemeral. And the company was great. There was a sunset stroll over the Charles bridge, karaoke, becherovka, puppets and an international music festival in the park. Then there was dancing until 6am and watching the sunrise over the city; and a nice long lounge at the public pool. It were marvelous. My favorite thing about the weekend though was, without a doubt, the river. When Siobhan and I emerged from the basement of the club into the early morning sunlight and walked along the embankment watching the river flow peacefully below while Prague Castle posed majestically in the distance, I was mesmerized. In that moment the city stood still but the river, quietly and unassumingly, moved slowly onward. I couldn't keep myself from stopping every few feet and staring in awe and wonder. And though I couldn't explain it then and I can't now, it stirred something in me that I'll never forget.

Coincidentally, I've been reading The Unbearable Lightness of Being lately and came across this passage on the tube this morning: "She went outside and set off in the direction of the embankment. She wanted to see the Vltava. She wanted to stand on its banks and look long and hard into its waters, because the sight of the flow was soothing and healing. The river flowed from century to century, and human affairs play themselves out on its banks. Play themselves out to be forgotten the next day, while the river flows on."

And now I have three days to wrap things up in London Town and make my way to Magnolia Bakery...er, I mean NYC. I'm sad to be leaving. I think I could spend six more months here without a second thought but I'm excited to go home too. SF is calling. And not on an entirely unrelated point, did I mention it's been ridiculously hot here for weeks? Like over 100 degrees farenheit in the tube. WHERE THERE'S NO AIR CONDITIONING. Still, there's so much to see and do before I go I'm trying to just ignore the clear signs of heatstroke and get on with it. Yesterday I got to see an appellate court case being argued at the Royal Courts of Justice having to do with three of our clients in Guantanamo. After getting over how silly all the barristers looked in their robes and wigs, it made me a lot more excited about my international law classes this fall. Tonight I'm going to try and scrounge up a scalped ticket for Anthony & Cleopatra at the Globe. Tomorrow I have got to pack (or stay late and finish my report!) Friday my flatmates are throwing me a farewell barbecue in our garden. Then I catch another ungodly early flight on Saturday morning. But at least I'm comforted to know that lugging my heavy bags through the tube at that hour, I won't be packed in like a sardine and sweating with the rest of the restless hordes during the rush hour shuffle.

Brighton Rocks

Last weekend Lauri and I headed to Brighton for some sun-soaked adventure on the beach. We had a blast. I have to admit my expectations were not terribly high. I think it's fair to say the Brits are not particularly known for their beaches. Armed with my new favorite Finnish phrase - "Hei! Nimeni on Amanda. Olen Amerikkalainen. Tulen San Franciscosta. Haluan aamupalaa, heti!" - we found a little Brazilian cafe for breakfast then headed to the beach. I had the amazing forethought not to bring a bathing suit to England, so I opted for a bra and panties. (What are you gonna do?) And even though they may not have been all matchy-matchy, thank the goddesses of Victoria's Secret, my lime green bra and black panties looked pretty damn convincing, so I think I got away with it. Unfortunately, that also meant that parts of my body that haven't seen the sun in many many years, were exposed to the harsh coastal rays. Also, I'm not much of a tanning pro so I ended up with some pretty funny patterns like big white circles around my eyes and a striped neck(which you can see in the pic below). Let me tell you, it was hot!



After lazing on the beach for a few hours we headed to the pier for a beer and to check out the sites. When Lauri failed to win me a watch in one of those grabby machines he tried a more traditional knock 'em down in three tries game. But alas, no tiger shark stuffed animal for me or any of the other kids who had crowded around to watch. Once we had our fill of the pier we went to meet up with Clara and some of her friends at a bar on the beach, then we headed off to find some dinner while they went straight to the club. We ended up at an amazing italian restaurant downtown and took advantage of the comparatively cheap prices by downing a three course meal and a bottle of wine. Then it was off to meet Clara again at the club where her capoeira group was throwing an awesome samba party. Fortunately, Dita just taught me how to shake my booty samba style so I was ready to go. Clara comandeered one of the big drums, Lauri kept the drinks flowing, and I didn't stop dancing until the music stopped. After stumbling out of the after party several hourse later, we ended up sleeping on the floor of the Children's Music Workshop that Clara's friend runs, which was really nice because, well, because it was free. The next morning Anita, Fabrice, Clara, Lauri, the Mestre and I had a very groggy breakfast indeed.



Then Lauri and I headed back to the beach while the capoeristas went off to play. And you'll never guess what I ate for lunch before we dragged ass onto the bus to make our way back to London. I really loved Brighton. Lazy beach town with a very hip vibe. Sort of felt like the Austin of England. Now I'm working hard trying to finish this report for work before I leave London for good. In the meantime though, I'm off to Prague for the weekend to have one last blow out. We're going to have a three hour layover in Amsterdam and Dan has already informed me that we will definitely be taking the train into the city to...um, pass the time. As long as I don't get dragged into any more sex shows, I think I'll be okay. Rock.

Angel of Haarlem

The days have been speeding up lately as my time in London draws to a close - sometimes even seeming to rush by in a blurry haze - like I'm standing still but the rest of the world is on super-fast forward. Then again, that could have been the absynthe Elina brought from Prague a couple of weeks ago when she decided to surprise me by flying into London for Euro Pride. We had more fun and misadventure than I can recount. When a million or so people descend on the streets of London for a giant gay street part, crazy shit is bound to happen.

Last week Dita stopped by for a few days in town too. We took in LOTS of world cup football, she taught me the samba, and we got our nosh on in Chelsea among other things. It was so wonderful to get a chance to spend some quality time with Dita. Our lives have had some strange parallels this last year and she's been an incredible source of comfort and support via telephone. So it was good to hang out and let loose, freeing ourselves from the need to process or cry in exchange for booty shakin' and football cheering.

Friday morning ,or rather Thursday night, it was off to Amsterdam. I don't know if I've mentioned how ungodly early it gets bright here every morning, but by 4am the birds are singing and the sky is looking more yellowy-rose than blue. FOUR IN THE MORNING, PEOPLE. Anyway on Friday morning, I got up before the sun did, which is just not right in any hemisphere. I had to do it again today to get back for work and I'll probably spend the next week recovering. But in the meantime, here are some of the fun things I did in Amsterdam:

1. Consumed more food than even I thought was humanly possible.
2. Got chased out of the red light district by a scary looking pimp/bodyguard type who just kept walking behind me repeating, "You're looking for trouble. You're looking for trouble..."
3. Was made to feel very uncomfortable during a sex show when a random couple in the audience decided to stare and smile at me instead of the naked people on stage. For like, 45 minutes non-stop. (I think they were a couple of swingers looking for fresh meat but Elina was convinced they were tripping hard on mushrooms and were mesmerized by my aura.* Uh huh. Either way: creepy.)
4. Learned first hand that sex shows are anything but sexy. Of the six or seven performances I saw, the sexiest one by far was the belly dancer who pulled fluorescent love beads out of her ya ya. The fat couple in druid costumes? Not so hot. (See what I'm saying?) Of course the fact that I somehow ended up in the front-freaking-row may have had a little something to do with my reaction. It was a little too up-close-and-personal if you catch my drift. Especially during the "banana dance" where the gorilla who was pretending to jerk off the dildo attached to his costume, squirted water out all over the front row. Good times.
5. Lounged in the park and lingered at the van Gogh museum. Amazing collection.
6. Napped and drank lots of Heineken
7. Visited the Anne Frank House. I don't even know if there is a word to describe the experience but I have wanted to go there for a long time. In spite of the hour and a half long wait, the hundreds of tourists, and the two-year-old that really just wanted to run around screaming and hitting things, being in that space was even more powerful, sobering, and real than I had anticipated. It was really hard to stay present to it all. I think my instinct was to try and distance myself from the emotional weight of it, but once you step through that secret door behind the book shelf, it gets really real.
8. Watched the Wimbledon final. Go Federer! (You looked simply adorable in the white jacket, Rog.)
9. Watched the World Cup Final! I'm bummed France lost and all, but I'm especially upset about all this scandal surrounding my boyfriend. I mean seriously, it was no easy task consoling my german boyfriend after they were knocked out of the finals. And now all this hysteria over Zizou? It's a tough job keeping my boys happy, but it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make for the good of the World Cup Community.
10. Found an awesome reggae club. As if Elina and I wouldn't have?
11. Developed a nervous tick that's triggered every time I think of that freaky druid couple.
12. Strolled through neighborhoods and around the canals ogling the charming dutch architecture.
13. Almost got run over by bicyclists approximately 24 times. Until last weekend I was convinced that I would meet my demise in London due in no small part to the fact that I look the wrong direction every.single.time I cross the street (Yes, I'm an idiot). But in Amsterdam I was not only totally confused about which way I should expect traffic to come from, but on top of that there were cyclists everywhere coming from every direction. And given that my fine motor skills, average response time, and general ability to comprehend what was happening at any given moment were a little inhibited at times, suffice it to say it's a miracle I made it back to London in one piece.

So there are some of the highlights. I can't believe I only have three weeks left. On the one hand I'll be happy to be home. I miss my kitty so much it makes me want to ralph. But on the other hand I've really settled in here and could definitely see myself staying on a more long-term basis. I suppose those kinds of thoughts will have to wait a couple of years at least though. For the foreseeble future, it's back to San Francisco (my first love). I'm really excited about my fall schedule so far though: Constitutional Law, International Human Rights, Public International Law, Administrative Law, and I'm waitlisted for Alternative Dispute Resolution. And want to know what the best part is? No classes on Friday. I'm just gonna wait a sec and let the reality and deliciousness of those four words sink in for you too.

Done?

I know it's difficult to read these words through the tears of jealousy that have just formed in your eyes. But try and be happy for me. In reality, I'll probably spend those days couped up in the library or doing free grunt work at a local agency so I can add one more thing to my resume anyway. Or hell, get a paying job so these fantasies I keep having of winter break in the Caribbean might possibly come true. But regardless, right now just the thought of a four-day week is oh soooo sweet.

*Elina also thinks it's more disgusting to stick your hand in the garbage disposal than to castrate a goat.