Happy Canada Day. I suppose I should be taking the day off, but there’s still a lot of work to do on the Russia vs. Chechnya book, and I still have a couple of smut mags to translate by Mondayâ??
So I got my dream jeans – a pair of Lee bell-bottoms. The flares aren’t quite as big as I’d like them to be, but, hell, they look good.
While shopping for my jeans, I couldn’t help thinking about that infamous black-and-white Levis advert featuring an skanky ol’ Trabant zipping around the centre of Prague and stopping in Old Town Square (as I recall). A young man dressed only in a shirt and boxer shorts steps out of the car and there’s text that reads “Reason 007: In Prague, you can trade them for a car” – ‘them’ being a pair of Levis 501’s.
The ad was aired in 1995, and before I came to the Czech Republic in 1996 a few of my friends advised me to stock up on 501’s before coming to “Czechoslovakia”. When I went back to Ottawa for a visit in ‘98 (or was it ’99? Damn, it’s been too longâ??) one friend (whose life consisted, and probably still consists, of pot, TV, video games, movies and big tittie magazines) asked me if I had stocked up on cars in “Czechoslovakia” without a trace of jesting in his tone or expression. If I were to meet him tomorrow, I’m certain he’d ask me the same question in all seriousness.
I recently spoke with a friend’s mother, who asked me how things were going in “Czechoslovakia”. Considering how much attention this country has undoubtedly received in my home and native land owing to international hockey tournaments (grrrâ??), it’s always a bit surprising that they still use this appellation.
Perhaps I’ve seemed a bit haughty thus far, so I’ll defuse that with a confession: before I moved to Brno in the summer of 1996, I too thought this little crumb of land in the heart of Europe was called Czechoslovakia. And when my friend Monika suggested I come to the Czech Republic to teach (I was checking out schools in Korea and not too thrilled with the prospect of teaching there, but I felt I had to get out of Ottawa somehow), my initial reaction was one of bug-eyed shock. “What?” I blurted, “that’s insane! Isn’t there, like, fighting going on over there?”
Now it was her turn to be shocked. Turns out Monika’s parents were Czech. “You have got to be kidding,” she said with a roll of her eyes (her beautiful eyes), “have you never heard of the Velvet Revolution?”
“Ummâ??”
She didn’t bother giving me the basics, she just told me that everything would be fine, that it would be a nice year off. I did a bit of research, applied for a teaching job with a school that happened to be advertising in the University of Ottawa’s English department and a few faxes and phone calls later I had a job teaching for CZK 80 per forty-five-minute lesson at the Boland School in a little city called Brno.
It was indeed a nice year off, followed by another nice year off, then another, then another, thenâ?? well, you get the idea. It’s also been one hell of an education – I’d say that right now I’m working on my PhD here.
Anyway, once again, happy Canada Day. Oh if only I could get my hands on a few quarts of ice-cold Labatt 50 (or even better, a two-four of old-school stubbies – see photo) or Molson Export and a pack of DuMaurier kings, and convince Jitka to let me blast The Tragically Hip all day long (every album in succession, from their eponymous debut EP right up to In Between Evolution, then spinning both Day for Night and Trouble at the Henhouse once more for good measure), I would be one mighty content Canuck.
Jul 1, 14:49 (Filed under: Personal )
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