Hi! I live at a shelter. Can you believe it? People pay lots of money for dogs just like me every day. All that's needed to take me home is $100 and a big heart. I live with my 150lb mastiff buddy in the same crate. We eat from the same bowl. He lets me sit between his giant paws and we cuddle when we go to sleep. We're like the best movie that's yet to be written. Melissa had to fight all her senses not to take us both home. I heard her crying as she walked away, but I know someone will give us a forever home real soon.

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'Tis the season

The season for fresh fruits and veg here in the States. Cukes, squashes, tomatoes, citrus, beans, all sorts of tasty treats await us in our gardens and at the grocery. This is the season of bounty because so many crops are ready for harvest in the Spring/Summer.

In my constant effort to live/eat/shop consciously I'm reminding myself to enjoy these foods now, when they're in season, because when the weather turns cold again and I start to see pale, mealy, watery tomatoes in the grocery I need to steer clear. In terms of carbon footprint "hothouse-grown" foods at your local grocery are a big no-no. The non-renewable energry spent on growing those foods, in addition to fuels burned in the transport, all add up to make those very bad choices at the market.

So go out and visit your greenmarket this weekend (you can find one by looking here), buy those local fruits & veg, support your regional farmers. Take a peek at www.eatlowcarbon.org to see how you can cut down on your food's carbon footprint. Check out www.sustainabletable.com to find restaraunts/shops/markets/bakers/butchers in your area that are committed to sustainable food practices.

I don't get it

3 hours have passed since it began. It's been non-stop. The news coverage, I mean.

I had just gotten back from Duke's morning walk when I turned on the TV. I tuned into TLC because that is one of my go-to channels and since this is my last weekday of time off before I start my new job on Monday I'm taking full advantage of daytime television. A rerun of A Baby Story was on, which means I was riveted from the first moment. Babies get me.

I decided to flip to the Today Show during a commercial and got up to make myself a latte. (Have I mentioned how great it is to get married and have people buy you amazing kitchen gadgets??) Halfway through pulling my espresso shot I heard the telltale chimes of a breaking news story cutting into the Today Show broadcast.

Grave situation, surely. A crane collapsed way uptown and crashed into a new-construction high-rise apartment building (as if we need another high-rise in this city), damaging it all the way down until it fell to the street. One person was killed (the crane operator - poor woman), 2 injured (construction workers), it's obviously a very sad story. This is the second crane collapse in NYC this year. The previous one was at a Trump building in mid-town and I believe there were fatalities in that accident, as well. It's a bad situation.

But let me ask this - does it warrant 3 hours of emergency news coverage? I'm not saying this because I'm dying to see what Hoda & Cathie Lee are talking about now, but because it's been 3 hours of the same images over and over, 3 hours of the same video footage on a loop, 3 hours of the same updates about the 2 injured workers' serious conditions, 3 hours of press conferences where city officials offer no new information and instead talk about how details will be forthcoming.

3 hours! I don't get it. I don't want to downplay the damage to the buildings or, far more importantly, the death of the operator or the injuries of the workers, but how much constant news coverage is enough? I hate to take emphasis away from these poor peoples' situations, but there are people who die every day in this city who don't get any coverage at all. How about the homeless guys who died at the shelter last night anonymously? The elderly woman who was found dead in her apartment weeks after she died because no one had visited her recently? What about the 20 animals that were put to death by NYCACC yesterday because they weren't adopted? There is no special coverage for them. They don't receive a headline. Why not? Because a handful of streets didn't need to be temporarily closed when they died? Is that what it takes to get people in this city to pay attention? Close a few streets? Inconvenience some Upper East Siders?

Identity, schmidentity

I did it. I changed my name. I'm officially a *Matthew's Last Name*. And it only took an hour. Amazing. Go team!

A little insight into the good times that await you should you ever need to go to the SSN:

(I walk up to the counter and see the woman behind the plexiglass.)
Me: Hi, how are you today?
Woman: What do you want?
Me: Uh, OK, I guess you're doing just peachy. I need to change my name, please."
Woman: Gimme your form.

See? Good times. Good, governmental times.


UNRELATED: I want another dog so badly it's crazy. The rerun of Oprah's show about puppy mills isn't helping much. I just watched the part where the Ft. Worth Animal Shelter officer euthanizes that sweet pup because no one adopted him. Breaks my heart every time. Reminds me, this is my weekend to walk the dogs at the shelter. Yay! I love shelter weekends.

A Melissa by any other name would smell as sweet

Tomorrow is a big day. A day that will live in infamy. One that will go down in the annals of history as a day of changing tides and monumental shifts.

Tomorrow I will go to the Social Security Administration office to process my name change.

I've always said I'm not very attached to my last name. I'm a *Melissa's Last Name* in name only, I'm much more like my mom's side of the family anyway. I'm spunky like them, sarcastic like them, loyal like them. If I could have chosen my last name at birth I'd have chosen my mom's maiden name.

I digress...

I've known since Matthew and I met that when we got married I'd take his name. To me it's a unified front sort of thing. We're in this together. We're a team. We're going to have a family and our kids will have the same last name as us. No hyphenation, no mom has one last name and dad has another. When our kids are old enough to have school friends and they come over, they'll know that I'm Mrs. So-and-so (even though I really have a problem with kids calling me by anything other than my first name) and Matthew is Mr. So-and-so. None of this, "Hmm, what is Little Johhny's mom's last name again?" It's just not for me.

So, tomorrow I'll head to the Brooklyn Social Security Card Center (yes, there are so many of us in the NYC area that need cards [replacement, new, name change, etc.] that we can't all go to the regular SSA office, we have to go to a specific card office). I'll wait in line, however long it takes, and I'll change my name. Uncle Sam will have all the current info for which to track me and unlawfully spy on me. Woot!

Duke loves the suburbs. The suburbs are full of pet stores that sell things his people want to buy for him. Like his handy dandy new elevated bowl holder. He is our only child so far. Therefore, he gets all the stuff. He also scored a new bed and some vegetarian dog food which he thinks is better than crack.

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Weekend recap

Paddle boats. Dog in a lake. Lobsters at midnight. Shakespeare masterfully performed. Driving range blisters. New dog bed. Martinis and penang curry. Sunburn. Mani/pedis with Mom.

This weekend was a whole lot of awesome.

Again, with the talented friends!

I won't reveal too much in order to respect The Rover's privacy. What I will say is that he is such a great actor. I mean, I've known this since high school. He always stood head and shoulders above the rest of us in terms of real acting ability. But let me just say that his production we saw tonight absolutely blew me away. It blew us all away. My parents were astounded at how wonderful the show was and at how amazing The Rover was in it.

My mom keeps saying it was the best staging of this particular play she's ever seen. I wholeheartedly agree.

Made it.

So sleepy. Got in so late. Drive took ages. We arrived at 4AM. Duke is loving being in the 'burbs.

End of an era... and era of crap.

It's over. My employment with Awful Company is finished. I am dancing in my living room as I shut down my work computer. I can't wait to pack this crap up and send it back to them.

Tonight we leave for DC to see my parents and catch The Rover's play on Sunday. This weekend will be stellar.

It was only a matter of time

I had a feeling it would happen sooner or later. It's one of those things I knew would creep up on me and get me when I was least expecting it. I've thought about it in the past, but always shied away before I committed. Lots of my friends do it, so eventually it was going to spread to me, right?

The vegetarianism, I mean.

Here's the deal - in addition to having some animal-friendly guilt I have always advocated conscious eating. Read: be aware of where your food comes from, know what you're eating, if you can't pronounce it you don't want to put it in your mouth, respect the source, etc. I think most Americans' eating habits are deplorable, so for years I've been trying to eat healthier and buy local (hence my participation in a CSA), doing whatever I can to contribute to sustainable and respectable food practices not only for myself, but for the benefit of my local community.

Our culture of blind consumption is counter intuitive to treating ourselves and our planet in a way that encourages life. Right now we throw away more than 30% of all the food we buy. That's unbelievable. That means on average, you throw away $30 of every $100 you spend at the grocery. If we did that with commodities other than food it would seem outrageous to us, but since it's food we don't really notice. Think of it this way. If you go clothes shopping and you buy a new outfit, shoes and all, then you come home and throw the pants away before you've even worn them, that's the equivalent of what we do with food as a nation. Seems insane, right?

Part of our over-consumption is wrapped up in wasteful practices that go into producing the food we eat. For example: it takes 2,000 gallons of water to produce one pound of ground beef. That's the same amount of water you can save each year by installing a low-flow shower head or smaller capacity toilet tank. 2,000 gallons! For one night's meal of taco salad! I just can't justify 2,000 gallons of water for a taco salad dinner anymore. And I loves me some taco salad, people. All that water, all that grain/corn (and the land needed to grow the grain/corn) that goes to feed the cow that lives a short and cramped life so that I can later eat him in a completely detached way has become totally unappealing to me now.

From an animal-lover's perspective, eating meat has always brought some conflicting emotions. My dad hunted when I was a kid, and it was always for food, not for sport. He taught me about guns being dangerous and only for hunting. He made sure I went with him to the butcher a few times when he took the deer in to be parceled out into the multitude of white butcher paper wrapped packages that would eventually fill our freezer. I stepped over dead deer that were being prepped for butchering and was filled with a sense of respect that those animals had been killed for us to eat. It was my first introduction to my very own food source. Rather than seeing an anonymous venison steak or burger on my plate, I knew that meat came from the deer my dad and I took to the butcher. There was something important about that experience. It showed me that meat is not only food, meat was once an animal that had a face and a mother and a life.

The humane reasons for not eating meat were never quite enough on their own to make me become vegetarian. However, the environmental impact of meat production is exactly enough to push me over the edge and change my ways. It's a personal decision. Personally, I simply can't justify my meat consumption anymore. I don't begrudge anyone their steak. I will miss cheeseburgers in a way that is best described as "demented", but that's not enough to make me ignore all the other parts of mass meat production. My eyes have been opened and I can't "unsee" what I've seen.

Geekout

I beg your pardon, I need a literature moment:

"Happiness is like a butterfly which, when pursued, is always beyond our grasp, but, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you."
— Nathaniel Hawthorne

I found this quote today. (OK, OK, Real Simple magazine emailed me the quote, I found bupkiss) He wrote the Scarlet Letter. Not exactly the epitome of glee in literary form. Granted, it's my favorite book of all time (the link shows my Scarlet Letter - look closely, the "D" is for Dreamer), but I don't love it because it makes me happy. I love it for what it says about love and perseverance and overcoming circumstance and social constructs.

To think that Hawthorne had thoughts about happiness kind of blows my mind. He led a fairly miserable life. He hated Puritanical society, yet he was engulfed in it well before he started his job at the Customs House. He made Hester Prynne a woman who found joy in small things, even in spite sometimes, amid her sad social standing as an outcast. The personal writings I've read of his (letters, etc.) aren't very chipper.

I guess this goes to show that even if you don't lead a life of bliss every day you should still find ways to honor your spirit and look for the happiness, however small, wherever you can find it.

Artsy Friends Rule!

Look at the awesome necklace I bought from Retro Girl's Etsy shop! I had a much cuter pic taken with an actual camera, but the camera has decided to stop talking to my computer, so now we're stuck with this dumb cell phone pic.

I got super cool magnets for my fridge, too. She makes really great stuff. If you're looking for handmade gifts for yourself or your friends you should check out her shop. Her stuff is great, prices are totally affordable, she ships fast, plus she's doing this to make a little money for the fund she & her husband will use as they go through the adoption process. Exciting, no?

5 days

This week is going to either fly by or drag like an old, blind snail with a limp.

It is my last week of work with the Awful Company. These are the last 5 days I'll be working for the organization which has done nothing but screw up my job for the past 8 months.

Remember when they announced they were closing the office and gave us all an end date for our employment? Psych! How about a month later when they asked some of us to stay and work remotely? Then the office closed and no provisions were made to move everyone's equip home, so Matthew drove into the city and moved 4 people into their home offices in Brooklyn without so much as a "thanks" from the company. Good times. Oh yeah, what about the day that I found out the useless woman who stole my plant got a massive promotion (yes, you read that right - a grown, professional woman stole my plant)? I especially liked the day we had a stress management seminar... which was so poorly done it was hilarious. I clearly remember the day they were supposed to pay me my bonus and then didn't, which meant I had to scramble to figure out how to pay for our wedding.

I will finish this week no matter how fast or slow it goes and then I will take a well deserved week off. I know I just took a honeymoon, so it might seem silly to say the time off is "well deserved", but I need this time. I need to, paraphrasing Lynilu here, shake off the crap before I start anew. I want to start my new job fresh and ready to jump in and get my hands dirty, not exhausted and frazzled, still coming down from the frenzy of Awful Company.

Ball & Chain

I love being married. It's new. It feels great. There's this sense of wonder that accompanies my newly married status. My relationship with my now husband hasn't really changed. We were living together before. We were totally committed to each other. We planned on a future together that includes kids and the whole nine yards. We are each other's family. Getting married didn't make a difference in the way we see each other or treat each other.

But something is different. Something is more important. Seems like there's this part of us that is officially "in it" now. It's strange. I used to think getting married wasn't a necessary part of life for me. I didn't think that the piece of paper with the state seal on it made much of a difference if the commitment was already there.

But then I married my husband. I married him and realized that this is what I wanted all along. It's an amazing feeling.

An aisle I don't have to walk down

(Random picture: I think Kristie & I look like we're up to something.)










The Hubba Hubba Hubby (thanks, Kristie!) and I are off to Rhode Island this weekend for Kerri's wedding. It's going to be great. She & Chris are awesome and their wedding is going to be loads of fun. She's going to be a breathtaking bride and I can't wait to see them take the same step we recently took.

It's been 3 weeks since we got married and this is the first wedding we'll go to as a married couple. It's funny, I'm so thrilled for Kerri, but I'm also a little jealous because I know how amazing my wedding day was and I wish I could relive it. This is the first of 3 weddings this summer. We're going to love going to other peoples' parties. We didn't have to plan them. We didn't have to pay for them. We get to celebrate the union of people who are fantastic together and that's always a good thing - above all else - it's a celebration of love and that's the best. Now... what to wear???

Nevermind

It's raining and gross outside. I love those New Kids and all, but standing in the rain with half of Jersey (no offense) in Rock Plaza isn't my idea of fun right now. We'll see more on TV anyway.

** UPDATE **
I'm not sure what I was expecting. Not sure if I was expecting a total let down or a smashing medley of all their old hits that sounded perfect. It wasn't a total let down. However, those guys might need to rethink this whole new record and tour thing. They weren't exactly "Hangin' Tough", if you know what I mean. "Step By Step" they might get back to their previous glory, but I doubt it.

Everyone gets older.

Even Joey McIntyre.

NKOTB

Playing the Today Show tomorrow. We're going.

Doing the "I Quit My Job" dance

I'm not sure what the steps are, but I'm dancing up a storm here in my living room/former office. I did it. I gave my notice. My last day is next Friday. This feels so good. I have my dear friend, Martine, to thank for getting my foot in the door.

For the record, this was a photo taken on one of our last 3:00PM Dance Parties before the office closed. Yes, that's a big bottle of Russian beer. Yes, those are tiny cups. No, there's not really a disco ball in that office.

Check, check... 1, 2, 1, 2

This and this and this all display varying degrees of my lack of patience. As if I needed to make it just a little more obvious...

It's only 9:28AM and I started checking my cell phone obsessively every few minutes around 7:30 just to make sure I haven't missed a phone call from HR at the company I hope will be making me an offer today.

I am pathetic.

At least I am aware of my own pathetic state. That might constitute progress on some level.

The previous sentence might constitute an utterly ridiculous attempt at justification.

Maybe.

**UPDATE**
I GOT THE OFFER. I got the call and the offer was superb, better than I'd hoped, actually. I've called my old NYC boss and told her about my resignation, but I haven't been able to get in touch with my current boss because she's been in meetings ever since she got online this morning. I'm making next Friday my last day and I'm not starting the new job until 6/2. That means I'll have a full week off between jobs. I've never done that before. I've always ended on a Friday and started the next gig on Monday. Not this time! This time I essentially gave myself a hefty raise, better benefits, and a week's vacay. I'm feeling pretty good right now.

Patience is a virtue... which I lack.

Word on the street is that I'll be getting a job offer as a result of that kickass second interview I had yesterday morning. It's not official until I have something in my inbox or a phone call, but it's coming. Lucky for me, "the street" the word is on happens to be my own since my dear friend and neighbor is the one with the insider info.

Trick is, I'm fighting with myself every second that passes not to quit my job. I don't have an offer yet, I can't quit my job without an offer. But man, oh man do I want to!

I know 2 weeks' notice is customary. I have usually given more - typically closer to a month. I like my employers to be prepared and to have ample time to get my replacement up to speed before I haul ass out of there. This time, though, I don't think I'll do even the full 2 weeks. If I get an offer tomorrow, I'll give my notice and make next Friday my last day. I can't stomach this company for longer than that. It's a courtesy and since they've shown me none to speak of I think a week & 1/2 is ample time.

Grey Monday

(Matthew did a marvelous job with the photo I took of an old clock in Paris)

If I'm being honest (yes, that was a Simon Cowell reference) I'll say that today I'm a little bummed out. Today is just a day. Just a Monday. It's raining. It's cold. This kind of damp cold sets into my bones and chills me through until the next warm day appears.

This plain, rainy Monday holds none of the giddy anticipation of the wedding planning days. It doesn't have the buzz of the Monday we left for our honeymoon. We're not setting out for Berlin's Checkpoint Charlie tomorrow. Nothing. Today is simply today.

How is it that before the wedding that was good enough and now it seems so lackluster? I think this is what people mean when they talk about the post-wedding blues.

Silly if you think about it. I'm getting blue because I feel like there's no big something looming on my horizon to look forward to. I know that every day can't be my wedding day, and to wish it were is preposterous. Still, that doesn't stop a small part of me from longing for that excitement again. That small part is big enough to hold sway on my moon on a rainy, plain Monday.

I have much to be thankful for. I have the most loving husband and the best friends I could conjure up. Plus, "all signs point to yes" for my chances of getting an offer for the job I had a second interview for today. Those are all wonderful, bright, shining things. I'm glad to have them.

But, today is still a rainy Monday in the end. So, when my husband comes home I'll open a bottle of champagne and we'll dance around the kitchen and pretend that it's the end of a very exciting day. He's my fairytale prince, afterall. No harm in a little make-believe.

'Nuff said

I love you, Mom. Thanks for teaching me, guiding me, making me laugh, laughing at me, bandaging scraped knees and bruised pride, scolding me, hugging me, putting me to bed, waking me up, loving me and helping me become who I am.

At my wedding when a group of my friends told you how much they love me you said, "She's pretty awesome, eh? She's the me I never was." And you smiled from ear to ear. I told you as we got ready that evening that I'd never seen you look more beautiful. Truth is, you're always beautiful to me.

Snore

Jetlagged. Sleepy. Tired. Can't get moving. Ugh.

The thought of working on Monday makes me want to jump out the window. Lucky for me I don't have the energy to do it... besides, we live on the ground floor.

Ego = reason to know good photogs

Here is what I've learned: if you want to make yourself feel really good, just hire a pro! Our photographers for the wedding were so damn good, I can't tell you how much I appreciate them. They made me feel beautiful all day long. I mean, I clean up nice and all, but I don't look like a model. These photos make me feel like one, though. I can look back at these when I'm 80 and wrinkled to bits and remember how vibrant I looked and felt on my wedding day. I married the most amazing man I know and we both looked smashing. Everyone looked smashing. We honestly had the most beautiful wedding in every way. In look, in sentiment, in the vibe of the room, everything was filled with a beauty I didn't expect.

The most spectacular library you could imagine. These are our nearest and dearest... they call came together for us and thinking back on it makes my eyes tear up. People came from all over just for us. Amazing.

Listening to the toasts given by our best man and maid of honor. To say we were grateful and touched more deeply than we ever thought possible would still leave room for more praise for those 2 wonderful people.

P.S. I did my hair & makeup in 30 minutes. I was pretty proud of myself.

Recap

Honeymoon recap in photos:

Voltaire is buried in here. Victor Hugo, too. Both Curies. Even on our honeymoon we soak in the history of wherever we are. Lucky for us, Paris is chock full of it.

My husband is a goofball. How do you say "goofball" in French? J'adore mon goofball.

Saint Wenceslas (of Christmas carol fame) has many things named after him in Prague. One of those things is the cafe we had breakfast at twice (yes, beer with breakfast is totally normal, apparently). Here's the Saint himself. He went to high school in Madison, Wisconsin and was a very nice kid.

We got a ticket on the subway from a mean inspector in Prague.

We don't care. We go to Berlin tomorrow!

Train to Berlin from Prague. The guy in the dining car gave me a bottle of champagne when I told him we were on our honeymoon. Very sweet man. Everyone here is so kind.

Even in Berlin (the home of the Berliner - jellydoughnut) there are American fatty food joints. I had to eat a heart shaped donut. I mean, it was my patriotic duty. Wasn't it?

Happy couple. Happy married couple. Matthew refers to me as "wife" a lot. It's rather disgustingly cute.

We love the biergarten near the Berlin Zoo. The best schnitzel and the best beer! You know you've got a huge meal when the plate makes you look skinny. It's accessible only by bike or foot. There are colored lights strung above the tables. The communal tables lead to fun and interesting conversation and the locals don't seem to mind helping us with our pathetic lack of German language skills.

2 pairs of American feet standing where the Berlin wall once stood. Right here a wall was put up that separated families from their loved ones, employees from their employers, friends from friends... freedom died here, and was later resurrected in the same spot. If that doesn't make you think and appreciate your life I don't know what will.

Buried in history

The Germans have a way of acknowledging history that is blunt, honest, and factual. It's noticeable and respectable. They don't tiptoe around topics that are sensitive. They don't craft their words in a way that is condescending or flowery.

Example: the Monument to the Murdered Jews of Europe (the Holocaust memorial). It is a carefully designed full city block in a very desirable section of Berlin. This is high-priced real estate and the city decided that was the appropriate place for a memorial. That's pretty amazing.

It resembles a cemetery on undulating ground. Large, smooth cement blocks arranged in rows. It looks sort of like a cemetery that's floating on gently waving water. It's haunting and beautiful.

Guten tag !

So, here we are in Berlin. We've been to Paris and Prague and then made our way to Germany. What a trip. We had mostly clouds and rain in the 2 Ps, but so far Berlin has been nothing but sunshine and lovliness (so much sunshine and lovliness, in fact, that woefully white Melissa is now pink with sunburn).

I'm not used to the German keyboard in this internet cafe (letters in different spots and lots of corrections needed on my part), so I'm just posting quickly to say hello and let everyone know I' alive and well. I'm having the time of my life with Matthew. We've been married for 11 days now. Woot!

P.S. There isn't much that's funnier than hearing the song 'Forever Young' by Alphaville in a second hand clothing shop in West Berlin. That made my morning today.

schürfste

Travel blunder of the day: booking a hotel in Berlin for incorrect dates.

We decided to go back to the hotel yesterday afternoon so Matthew could read up on Berlin and I could take a nap. I just had laid down and curled up when I heard Matthew say in a slightly concerned tone, "Uh, baby? What's the date today?"

I sat straight up. The only reason he'd be asking me about the date is if he realized I made a reservation for the wrong day. Since we were getting the early train to Berlin the next morning I knew I should be concerned. "Uh, it's the 4th."

"OK, that's what I thought. Honey, you booked the hotel for 5/6 instead of 5/5."

Shit!

Luckily, one quick phone call to the nicest German dude ever and it was all cleared up. He switched some bookings and got us a different room for the nights we needed. This hotel is the best! Friendliest staff ever and the coolest rooms. Location couldn't be more perfect and all for only 80 euro a night! And yes, those are 16' ceilings and huge windows.

It's time for Berlin

Today we decided to take the subway to see how real Czechs get around the city. We like to experience the places we go as authentically as possible. Sounds like a good idea, right?

Wrong. It resulted in a 700 crown ticket for each of us. That's about $85. Long story. Bottom line is this: if you ride the trains in Prague, make sure you get a stamp from the obscure looking green box after you buy your ticket. Without that stamp, regardless of whether you have paid the right amount of money, you can get a ticket from the eerily communist looking inspector.

We're so happy to be going to Berlin in the morning.

Prosim = please

Prague is mobbed. The whole universe is vacationing here this weekend. Every street is crowded beyond capacity. Every site is crammed with people. I think half of Germany is here. Let me say something snarky - Hey Germans, stop being such dicks! You cannot take up an entire sidewalk and act like you don't see someone who needs to get past you and your schnitzel-eating fat ass. What is it with Germans and awful tourist manners? And English, don't get so bloody drunk that you stumble, trip on the cobblestones, then create a pile of idiots groaning about whatever football team you're into in the middle of New Town Square. Stag weekends are not excuses for foolish and offensive behavior in a foreign country simply because you can afford the beer here.

The beer here is remarkably good. People drink it with breakfast, and no, I am not kidding at all. We had one with eggs this morning and we'll probably have another 2 with lunch. Pivo, prosim!



That being said, Americans, can you please learn some Czech before you fly all the way over here? Please, thank you, excuse me, good day.... those are not literary marvels that can only be mastered by a linguist. It takes only a moment to utter a phrase in Czech and it makes the biggest difference to the people who live in the city you've just invaded. So far, you Americans haven't been an embarrassment. I've been pleasantly surprised, I must say. But this language thing is irritating. Just learn a few words, ask a local how to say something - then say that same thing to the next person you talk to. It's brought a smile to the faces of everyone I've spoken to so far.

Nerozumím

How do you handle seeing people who live in conflict while you're supposed to be having the time of your life? Here we are in Prague. It's our honeymoon. We're being all romantic and mushy and adorable. We love being married, we have big plans for our lives, we look forward to the future. We are lucky and we know it. We live in New York, our generation hasn't had to deal with governmental upheaval (the Bush regime notwithstanding), we have lived charmed lives for the most part. We know it. We largely take it for granted, though.

I know there are people in our very own neighborhood who need help, who can't pay their power bill and feed their kids in the same week, who go to bed hungry, who need a hand up. I'm not ignorant of that at all. But there is something inherently possible about the States. It's hard to articulate the difference between seeing someone at home who is in need and seeing someone on the other side of the world who is in need, but it feels different.

Today, as we walked back up Václavské náměstí toward our hotel I saw an old woman standing behind a huge sign advertising a new sandwich at McDonald's installed on the sidewalk in front of a glittering, new storefront. Tourists from all over the world whizzed past her, chatting away in many tongues, loudly, happily. She was frail, her skin was pale and translucent, her very blue eyes had seen things I can only imagine. You could read it in her face. That face told her whole story.

She'd seen communism, she'd seen revolt, she'd seen the government turn their backs on her people. And, more recently, she'd seen a new way of life taking over Prague. She'd seen American imports like McDonald's and Coca-Cola begin to replace the local stores she knew before. She'd seen tourists like us start to flood her city every year in increasing numbers. Sure, those crowds bring a much needed influx of money, but at what cost?

Her white hair was covered by a brown scarf. She wore a fraying sweater over a floral blouse. The elastic band of one of her knee-highs had slipped down and was visible just under the hem of her wool skirt. She held 2 roses in her hand. She had been selling them on the street to the passing tourists. She looked tired. She looked like she could be my relative, my grandmother. She had been on her feet all day selling delicate flowers to loud tourists who don't speak her language and most likely look right through her.

This city's not too distant past is evident everywhere. It's beautiful here and the people are friendly, but the generation who witnessed the communist party overtake their homeland and dictate their way of life are an ever present reminder that their way of life is being changed once again... this time not by government, but by economy. Tourists are the powerful group here now.

That woman is what I'll remember most about Prague. She wasn't invisible to me. Děkuji.

A tout a l'heure

Last night we went to the recital of a young pianist in a 15th century church off the beaten path near the Pantheon. He played Chopin - 7 pieces of Chopin - all by heart. No sheet music. It was impressive. We were definitely the only tourists in attendance and it felt good to have found something that was so local and quiet and beautiful.

We fly to Prague today. Mixed feelings. Glad to go somewhere new and experience new things... sad to leave this place. Paris is Paris. That's all I can say.

P.S. If you're ever near the Hotel de Ville you should ride the carousel. It's fun.