Veselé Vánoce! Merry Christmas!

In recent years, I've been less and less inclined to "do" Chistmas. Case in point, after my flatmate Dan left for a party early yesterday afternoon (after a few unsuccessful attempts at playing Christmas music to us on his computer), flatmate Grant, Rebecca and I prepared both dinner and cookies to the delightful melodies of Metallica's "Death Magnetic" and "Kill 'Em All". Some people carol. We were more in a headbanging sort of mood. But, as neither Grinch, nor Scrooge, nor shredding guitar solos can prevent the holidays from coming, I decided to blog about what Christmas means in this country.

The holiday season is heralded in on the 5th of December, when Mikuláš (the Bohemian St. Nick) comes to town to ask the children whether they've been good or bad little boys and girls. Unlike in the 'States, where a toddler gets propped up on Santa's knee, may or may not burst into a spontaneous screaming fit, and the "elves" secretly place bets on which child will pee on Santa's red snowpants, the stakes are slightly higher here. Mikuláš comes to town not with the "little helpers" we're familiar with, but with an angel and a devil. Mikuláš (so I've heard from a few students/parents) actually appears to cross-reference children's responses in a large book he carries around. If the child has indeed been good they'll get some sweets from the angel. If not, the devil, who is armed either with a sack or a chain will give the kid a good fright by mimicking a holiday hostage situation.

Christmas proper is typically celebrated on the 24th. The Czechs fast for the day, between dawn and dusk (which really isn't all that bad, considering the general lack of sunlight hours). The mother gets all the fun of cleaning the house, decorating, and preparing the meal (I'm not making this up.. discussing the Christmas traditions was actually the topic of my last Czech lesson of the year). Dad's job is essentially the secret placement of the gifts under the tree. When the time is right, he rings a bell somewhere in the house, which signals to everyone that Ježíšek (literally, "the Little Jesus") has come to their home and left presents. The children are then allowed to run screaming into the room and tear into their gifts. This part sounds refreshingly familiar.

What do they eat, you might ask? Well, I'm glad you brought it up, because for the last week leading up to Christmas, one main ingredient is unavoidable: the Christmas Carp ("kapr"). According to one of my students, this tradition was started either in the 15th or 16th century, when the Church controlled the fishponds. But in this day and age, you can find carpmongers on every other corner in the city:




While they are more than happy to sell you a piece of Carp, part of the appeal is buying an entire fish. Alive. So what does one do with a 26-inch live Carp a week before it meets its fishy maker and gets breaded and fried? Why, it lives in your tub of course! I'm not sure what this means for the general hygiene of the family (I didn't ask) but everyone does tend to agree on two points here: 1] carp is not the tastiest fish in the world to eat, but 2] the kids love the temporary bathtub pet. So this tradition is usually reserved for those with small children. One of my students admits that he dislikes carp so much that they set the fish free and eat pork instead. This culinary emancipation reminded me of my aunt buying a live turkey to set it free for Thanksgiving.

So there you are, Czech Christmas in a nutshell. However you celebrate, I hope you all have a good day. Veselé Vánoce!

Wooden Elevators, or How I Gave Homework to the Director of ČSSZ

Because my classes are so frequently canceled as the Christmas holiday rapidly approaches, I took a pair of [90 min] substitute classes this previous Tuesday. Both were at the headquarters of ČSSZ, the Czech Social Security Administration, a somewhat erratic collection of 5 buildings (and I gave Pavlina, my guide, due credit for describing the company layout as a "labyrinth" in her quite passable English).

My first class was with an elementary student in a not-so-elementary position: a Mr. Joník, who, if my information serves me correctly, is the Director of the Department of Law Enforcement regarding insurance claims ("..odbor vymáhání a právního zajištění pohledávek"), and a graduate of the Charles University Dept of Law. We had a very pleasant lesson over coffee (which his secretary brought me from the adjacent room), and as we began the final exercise Pavlina arrived to collect me. I handed him the photocopy I had made from the workbook and suggested one last exercise so he could practice. "Homework?" he asked me. "Domácí úkol," I smiled back.

My second class was far less interesting, although there were 6 students and the average proficiency was slightly higher. It passed more or less as I had planned, from a brief introduction of the grammar point to the chatty interaction at the close. Pavlina, again waiting for me outside the door at the close of the lesson, remarked that it was nice to see them cooperating.

She led me back towards the main entrance (inserting the labyrinthine comment here), and we passed a set of very bizarre wooden elevators. I had heard rumors of these in the teacher's room at the school, but until this point hadn't ever seen them. Picture this: adjacent doorless openings in the wall wherein the elevator boxes (yes, constructed out of wood) are in constant motion. You simply step into them, and out of them. I told Pavlina that in the US you'd never find something like this: it's a lawsuit waiting to happen. Sensing my intrigue, she took me for a ride on them (after all, why take one flight of stairs downward when you can ride this claustrophobic wooden deathtrap?). Just trying to get on was a thrill.. making the mistake of stepping onto it while the box was flush with the floor, I ended up less-than-gracefully dumping my bookbag-laden body inside. "Imagine in the morning when millions of people are all trying to get in," she said. I did, and 'deathtrap' came to mind again.

Good thing all of them probably have really good social security.