Baby Jesus and the Brandy: A Czech Christmas Tale Part 2

So as previously discussed, Christmas is not exactly a standardized holiday. Between different nations and/or cultures, the day may be different, the events may proceed differently, the movies are different, et cetera et cetera. There is one rather large part I’ve left out. Food. As opposed to the expected US Thanksgiving, Christmas has no set standard of foods. Some people will prepare turkey (a feverish roll-over from Thanksgiving, I’m sure), but there’s also ham, roast beef, pork roasts, lamb, among others. There’s no one “correct” side dish either, compared to the expected cornucopia surrounding the Thanksgiving turkey.

To the same extent, there is little agreement on desserts, either. Gingerbread men, and maybe decorated sugar cookies? The rest is family tradition or history. Perhaps this has something to do with America’s multi-ethnic and multicultural history, but there isn’t any definitive “American Christmas meal” that I’ve ever known of. The Czechs, however, do have such a thing.

With Vánoce (again, the Czech equivalent of Christmas, please see above link for more clarity and background), their meal of choice is kapr, or, carp. A big ol’ fish. Continue reading

Baby Jesus and the Brandy: A Czech Christmas Tale Pt. 1

Christmas appears to be the one holiday that everyone has at least some kind of response to. For some it’s a wistful memory, some bitter hatred, or even an (often over-)emphasized ambivalence, be they theist or atheist, consumers or retail slaves, or be they human or ancient lizardfolk alike. It’s wildly inclusive if one looks at the whole scope of who discusses it, so I suppose it succeeds in bringing everyone together… at least in some tortured manner. The traditions and norms of Christmas aren’t universal truths, however. My “Christmas” is nothing alike that of a friend’s Christmas, nor is it likely the same for anyone outside of the US.

Christmas was never religious for me. Santa was Christmas. Of course, I wasn’t ignorant of the whole “Christ” bit in Christmas, but it seemed always secondary to my “beliefs,” amusing as that may be in the big picture of things. Continue reading

From Within/Without: A Non-Yo-Yoer at the World Yo-Yo Contest

In this world there are great number of societies and communities hidden far from the public eye. It’s sort of been a lifelong interest of mine to see into these esoteric circles, really, it was a large reason I became a journalist (or was trained as one, if nothing else). Seeing how different people live and work fascinates me, and one community I’ve become entangled with for around a decade is a great example of this. Yo-yoing. A few people who read this will likely be a part of this community, and even more so will at least know of my connection to it. Almost all of my friends in Europe are connected to this hobby/sport/lifestyle, or I’ve met people from people who are a part of it all.

Just a couple of weeks ago, the World Yo-Yo competition was in Prague. Over 1,100 people attended, all from an amazing assortment of countries. For three days, they played, practiced, and drank (when legally permitting, of course) as some kind of big festive family. I’ve never had the chance to see a “Worlds,” so this was a great chance to see what it was all like, perhaps one of the only times I’ll be able to in the near future (next one’s in Tokyo, sooooo). Most of my friends in Prague had a direct hand in planning, preparing, and promoting the event, so it was something much more than just a competition. Continue reading

Wine With a Roach

I arrived in Prague after a 12-hour train ride from Lugo, Spain to Barcelona. It was surprisingly pleasant, if you’d imagine such a thing, and it was made just so much better because I actually planned with some semblance of self-decency. I was not going to spend another night in an airport, as I have done for literally every trip since coming to Europe, but instead, getting a proper bed in a proper room in a proper hotel.

 

I don’t regret it for one moment. Continue reading