Clara's Travel Tales: The Prague Edition (Part 2)

Off to explore the city!

The beautiful municipal hall

The Prague Astronomical clock

I hadn't even heard of this until today, yet was amazed when I saw it and heard the history behind it. Apparently the clockmaker Hanuš was blinded (with his tongue cut off to boot!), on the order of the Prague Councillors who were worried about him repeating his work in another city, and therefore causing Prague to lose it's glory and trade. He in turn took his revenge by throwing himself into the gears of the clock, and so damaged it, that no one was able to repair it for the next 100years!

The upper time plate has an astronomical dial that indicates the position of the planetary bodies, in addition to the "normal" time, while the calendar plate below indicates the days and months of the year as well as the zodiac signs. Best of all is the fact that when the clock strikes on the hour, there's a little animation that happens with it, truly a masterpiece of technology. Wikipedia explains it well.

"The four figures flanking the clock are set in motion at the hour, these represent four things that were despised at the time of the clock's making. From left to right in the photographs, the first is Vanity, represented by a figure admiring himself in a mirror. Next, the miser holding a bag of gold represents greed or usury. Across the clock stands Death, a skeleton that strikes the time upon the hour. Finally, the Turk tells pleasure and entertainment. On the hour, the skeleton rings the bell and immediately all other figures shake their heads, side to side, signifying their unreadiness "to go.""

Closer look, can you see your zodiac sign?

 

Random selfie, just because ;) 

Snake charmer?! Yes, those are real pythons. Got close enough to take a picture then fled! Can't come and go and be saying ngbati ngbati later, abeg telling "stories that touch" is not my portion jare.

Ran into this group, playing beautiful traditional Czech music in their traditional outfit. I posted a clip on my Instagram page, it was so lovely, I wish I took their name!

 #celebritytinz!

And I saved the best for the last, two incidents that made me go hmmm?!

First one happened today, when a family of Chinese tourists came up to me and asked for a picture. I was like yes of course I can take a picture of you guys, but what she actually wanted was ME in the picture #dontjealousme. I kukuma said yes, and gave her my phone to take one for me too...maybe I'm destined to be famous in China, or at least among that family's entourage lol!)

Second one happened yesterday while T and I were out. As you do when trying to find something, he wandered off, while I walked slowly behind him, all the while keeping him in my sights. Suddenly, an older "gentleman" appeared by my side and decided to "help" me find T. The following conversation occurred.

Older "gentleman": Look, he's over there, but why is he walking so fast away from you? 

Me: (looked at him strangely, then) Do you know where we can find X?

Older "gentleman": Let me show you Prague, I know all the nice areas

Me: (confused and bewildered gan, about the possible correlation) No, thank you. He (referring to T) has already shown me the city

Older "gentleman": I can show you the beautiful little villages around Prague, let me give you my number!

Me: (more insistent) No, thank you!

At this point, T notices and walks back, and the guy suddenly loses his balls and starts spewing some crap about me being lost and him kindly trying to help me #awonfakeknightsinshiningamour. I have kind of wondered if both incidents happened because I am an incredibly attractive young thing ;) but I fear the truth is likely to be more unsavoury. They probably occurred because I'm black, and the weird thing is, I'm not quite sure how to feel about that.

Clara's Travel Tales: The Prague Edition (Part 1)

It's that time of the month again, and as expected, this edition of Clara's Travel Tales takes place in Prague, my new favourite city. T moved here just over 6weeks ago, and this is already my second visit, because of course we like being together, but it's also because I really really love the city. When he lived in Brussels, although I sometimes felt it wasn't a beautiful city (poor little Brussels is no competition for Paris or London!), I felt right at home there. When he moved on to Vienna, everyone told me how wonderful the city was, but I was disappointed when I visited, because in spite of the amazing beauty of the city, I was never able to truly enjoy my stays. It just felt so...cold and unwelcoming, like something was missing, at least that was the vibe I got.

On to Prague. I love love love the city! It is beautiful, international and feels pretty calm, basically a perfect amalgam of my three favourite cities (Paris, London and Brussels). I could even see myself living here, were it not for the language which seems daunting and certainly out of my league (you try pronouncing some of the words on the signs below!).

Tourist information signs

Anyway enough chitchat, as I have only a few hours left, I'm just going to do a picture heavy post of the yesterday and today's wander round the city so you can see for yourselves. Even though I did a guided tour, I didn't take many pictures of the tourist attractions, instead I was fascinated with the architecture, the beauty and the elaborate work on ordinary residential buildings. Oh and before I forget, I as usual had some funny incidents happen (I seem to be a magnet for such things!), but I'll talk about them things in part 2. Enjoy the pictures, and please click to enlarge.

Pictures taken all over the city

Pictures taken around the Old Town Square

Statue of Jan Hus, the Christian (protestant) reformer

Clara's Travel Tales: The Belgian Edition

It is just over 3months since I packed up my life in Paris and decided to move here, so for this month's 15-for-15 post, I've decided to talk about Brussels; the good, the bad and the downright strange.

 

On my walk to work

 Grand Place

One of our many Tuesday meeting snacks

Snow glorious snow!

The Bizarre (to me)

Children drinking coffee. The Nigerian/British/Parisian "bush geh" that I am, was shocked the first time I saw this happening, but it's apparently quite normal here. I was like is this a good idea for some of our already hyper children? My colleague just looked at me as if I was weird and started to pour out the coffee...still not convinced about this though. 

Kisses: I am British and we do NOT do kisses, so Paris was already enough of a culture-shock, but I had to recalibrate again my brain when I moved here. The first thing that surprised me was the men (cheek)kissing each other! In Paris, this only happened in woman/woman or man/woman duos. And the fact that Belgians give one kiss instead the Parisian two has almost put me in (as Ibibiogirl says) a hot of pot ogbono soup a few times. So many awkward situations have resulted from this, such almost lip-kisses (with colleagues and my boss!) and my cheek hanging out in the air as I waited for the second kiss!

The "Bad"

Belgium is a small trilingual/tri-cultural country which is deeply divided along linguistic and geographic (north-south) lines; the French speaking Walloon in the south, the Dutch-speaking Flanders in the north and the tiny German community to the east. Brussels being the capital of both Flanders and Belgium is in a weird position, since it's smack bang in the middle of Flanders and officially bilingual but in reality, French is the lingua franca here. This drives the Flemish community crazy, as everyone knows how important Brussels is to Belgium and even Europe. So they decided with lots of compromise, discussion etc. that the solution was to have 3 bus lines (one for Brussels and then one each for the French and Flemish communities), and different library networks, schools etc. You can imagine how confusing this can be for the newly arrived expat who learns that her bus/library pass works in certain places and not in others...I was so mad because this cost me so much money in the beginning.
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Even the hospitals in Brussels have 3 different funding systems! My hospital for instance is completely francophone and was funded by the French community which is now trying to force us to choose the bilingual funders (from the capital, Brussels). This would in theory be a good thing as it means we'll have more resources, but the trouble with being funded by them is that we will have to become completely bilingual; accept Flemish children, re-write all our stuff and get bilingual staff. However, the law also says each person has the right to choose what language to live/work etc in....so freaking complicated and pointless for an outsider looking in.

A few weeks ago, I myself experienced the animosity that exists between the Flemish and French communities, when I called the Flemish university in my good deeds post. The guy on the phone refused to speak French even though I could tell he understood me! In the end I asked if we could speak English and it was only then that he started responding.

The Good 

Snow, and so much of it! Coming from Gravesend where it hardly ever snows, Brussels is a welcome change because I really really love snow and the way it makes the world look. Luckily for me, my work which is only a 20minute bus-ride from my flat seems to be in a particularly snow-prone and beautiful area of Brussels. 

Learning new Belgian words and using French in a different way. Now I say things such as "gai" and "chouette" which sound very informal and almost childish to my Parisian ears. I'm also learning to say "GSM" instead of "portable" (mobile phone), and "à tantôt" instead of "à tout-à-l'heure" (see you later). The funniest thing though is the fact that the Belgians say "je sais" (I know) instead of "je peux" (I can). So for example, instead of saying "tu peux me donner..." (can you give me...), they say "tu sais me donner..." (do you know how to give me...). In the beginning I wondered why they seemed to spend so much time asking me if I knew how to do even the tiniest things! Luckily a colleague explained it to me, and I realised it's really just like Yoruba where we sometimes replace the verb "to be able to", with the verb "to know" e.g. "mi o mo bi wo se'n je ijekuje" (I don't know how to eat rubbish), to mean I don't (can't) eat rubbish. Yeah, Brussels is making me into an amateur linguist ;) On top of this, the fact that everything is both in French and Dutch is helping me learn Dutch and by extension German by osmosis.

Work. I am learning a lot about psychoanalysis! There is a different school of thought in France where psychoanalysis is being discouraged but here in Belgium, it is neither encouraged nor discouraged, although they say that there are no scientific bases for it. However at my hospital, it is very important and in fact our whole philosophy is based on psycho- analysis and therapy, so I'm having to learn very quickly. Luckily we have regular seminars, meetings and training days.

I also love the family setting at work, for instance, at Xmas there were presents for children and adults alike, the children are well cared for and the staff go out of their way (bringing/buying stuff for the kids, looking up info on their days off, etc). We have lots of parties and are always celebrating something, for example, they celebrated my first day there with wine/cider/champagne...I was like what manner of place is this?! The management also trust staff noting their own hours, and they feed us loads! Eating at work is encouraged, and I sometimes have breakfast, lunch and sometimes even dinner there. This really helps me with budgeting and saving.

It is hard-work, working with the kids physically and often-times emotionally too, but I love the job and I can see why no one seems to leave the hospital (one of my colleagues has been here for 30years!)

Ma Vie Amoureuse: The Valentine's Day Edition

This is my weekend off when I'd normally visit Vienna from Friday to Monday, however I arrived here last night because all the valentine's day celebrating couples had basically caused Ryanair and all the other airlines to massively increase their fares. I had no choice but to use up one of my precious annual leave days to make sure I could get the cheaper ticket for yesterday, and because I was leaving earlier than normal, I had to make sure I finished all the things I needed to do at work. On top of this I've been quite ill, so I decided to skip my weekly language review post this week. Ironic isn't it, that I caught the flu over the weekend, just after having put up the post about being in a better state health-wise. Apparently this is what happens when you start working in paediatrics; my colleagues keep telling me that I just need time to strengthen my immune system. On the plus side, I think I've discovered the troika that is the ultimate cure for flus: rest, fruits and fluids in massive quantities, and anti-inflammatories. I recovered very quickly and I'm happy to know that I'm slowly developing immunity to every virus or bacteria known to man.

 

Ok, on to today's topic. It's the big V this weekend (valentine's day to those who have been living under a big fat rock), so I thought I'd share the story of the one and only time I "participated" in this feast of love and lovers. Hang on a minute Clara, I hear you say, only once? But Clara you are 30, how is this possible? Well I am here to divulge all. See I was that geeky girl that had zero interest in boys all through secondary school; I can remember even getting a letter from a neighbour boy and being very embarrassed about it. I was 16 at that point and hadn't even noticed that said boy was on the same planet as me and attended the same church! I remember reading it quietly in my dormitory, then laughing at his poetic use of language, I believe one of the lines was about feeling obliged to reveal his emotions "just as women had to reveal their pregnancy after 9 months." In the end I think I shared the letter with one or two friends then destroyed it. To my eternal shame, I then went back home and either fled or completely ignored the poor boy each time I saw him. 

Later, newly arrived in England, I went to school for the first time and met Dave who told me he lived near me, volunteered to help me settle in and would walk almost home everyday. It was only in our second year of A levels that I found out he lived nowhere near me, and that he'd actually had a crush on me. Me I just thought all English kids were kind and well-brought up lol! Apart from Nick, my very close friend with whom I went swimming and who I had a brief crush on, this was the extent of my amorous life until I turned 22 and went to live in Stockholm for the year. I arrived in August, met  Finnish H in September and started my first ever relationship almost immediately. Now there is a stereotype about Scandanavian men being cold emotionally, but I think the poor boy met his match in me. I remember the first time he told me that he loved me, and the horrible silence that followed, before I managed to gather myself and reply very primly "thank you." I am not the demonstrative of people, so as you can imagine, we were never on the same page in that aspect of things.

Anyway February soon rolled by, and I recall walking back from Uni after classes and seeing all these dressed up men, rushing around with varying sizes of bouquets. I clearly remember wondering who had died? Imagine my surprise when I got home to find H waiting for me by my door (having not called me to ask about coming over), holding a single rose. My people I looked at the boy strangely and asked him why he was there? Anyway long story short, he reminded me that it was valentine's day and we needed to do something yada yada yada.... I sha felt so bad about the whole thing that I rushed out the next day and bought him an inappropriately expensive perfume, in order to assuage my guilt. After that, I made sure I always sent a short "happy valentine's day" message to whoever I was dating, but that is it. I honestly never want to experience that feeling of guilt and embarrassment again.

Oya over to you blog-fam. What are your most memorable valentine's day stories? Please share. Thank you/Oshey/Merci/Grazie/Danke Schön!

Funny Happenings...

So my baby sister, hereafter known (in the words of our brother, as the "dirty little rasta" of the family), was allocated this as her university email address T.A419. Abeg blogfam, do you think this is a coincidence, abi na just him papa people wey follow am reach administrator's office? ;) Answers on a postcard please. As for me, I'm on nights this weekend, so I'm off to sleep work!

Ein schoenes Wochenende/Have a fantastic weekend.

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished!

On Tuesday, being sick/missing my mum's cooking and craving Nigerian food led me to joining Nairaland, a Nigerian community online. I created an account and put up a post asking people for suggestions on where one could find naija food in Brussels. Almost immediately I started getting lots of  emails, none of them responding to my question, but all asking how to get a visa to Belgium. I replied a lot of them, telling them that I had no clue about immigration issues but in spite of this, received quite a few life résumés, with people telling me their stories. I began to feel really bad about being so useless at helping, so I deleted my profile. However, just before that, I got an email from someone who's problem seemed straightforward and easy enough to resolve. It was from a guy in Dubai who wanted to come to Brussels next September for his Masters; he just needed someone to pay in the application fee of 50€ for him. Since the whole thing seemed above board, I agreed to help. 

He sent me the money via Western Union yesterday, and I did the wahala to go out in the cold to collect it.  When it came to paying the fee, I asked him to come online (whatsapp) because I was worried about making a mistake and wanted to be able to double-check every detail with him. From the payment point of view, everything went smoothly, but we had to wait to get a confirmation from the University and/or my bank that the money had gone through. It was during this waiting period that the bobo realised that he needed a girlfriend! He started asking me some strange questions and as I could see what direction he was headed in, I quickly cut him short by telling him that I HAD A BOYFRIEND. 

My people, the man no gree free me o. He started going on about how the good ones are always taken, how he just needs to get here and I would fall in love with him and so on...you know all that bullshit that men sometimes think girls like to hear. I was like thank you but NO! He sha kept going on, even talking about divine meeting gan. Me, I was like God forbid bad thing! Then he started boasting about how he's gone out with lots of white girls but as his parents would never accept them, he'd decided to come home to someone who would know his culture. I just yimued and asked him wetin concern agbero with overload? All that history was none of my business! Eventually sha, he asked and I  answered him truthfully, saying that no I wasn't with a Nigerian. However I also told him that I did not choose my partner (or friends) based on the colour of their skin but on their character...that's when he started saying loads of stupid stereotypical crap. Trying not to be too rude, I told him off mildly, and he took that as an invitation to start sending me pictures. One of him being and I quote, "a hot nigga," another with one of his "white" girlfriends who was actually Filippina I think. At that point I realised that I was chatting with an idiot, and was just waiting eagerly for him to confirm that the transaction had gone through before blocking him. All the while he continued "trying to woo me" by denigrating non-nigerians, talking about how we'd be married by the end of the year and how our meeting was divine intervention. Me I sha told him bluntly that I rejected his claims IJN, and that as soon as I recieved confirmation, I'd block and delete him sharpish. As if he didn't have ears, he then started asking me for me pics! I was like no, never. I don't know you and as I said, I have a boyfriend and this is purely me doing you a kindness. He kept insisting and even asked me to give him back his photos. I was like na me send you? Pictures that I deleted almost immediately! My phone's memory is not limitless so I can't afford to keep rubbish on it. 

Anyway long story short, I told him that he was beginning to sound like a broken disc and asked him to change the subject. I started asking him about his studies and other things, and that my friends is how the conversation fizzled out. No longer willing to wait for the confirmation, I decided to just block him and delete his number. A bit harsh I know, but abeg the guy was just so inconsiderate. You ask a stranger for a favour like this, then you start adding other errands (he got me to call the school sef) and then as if you haven't abused of their kindness enough, you decide that you'd like to break up their happy relationship and ruin their life into the bargain. Stupid alakoba! My favourite cousin used to call this kind of people "awon aye, a nirun lahon." Everyone always says I'm too trusting, and maybe it's true, but I've just learnt another unfortunate lesson...be careful who you help.