Saturday, May 5

Reverse culture shock

It's a real thing. You get so used to living abroad that coming home ends up being a shock to you, sometimes even more so than going abroad in the first place. And it starts earlier - before you even get home.

There are two ways to view my going home, but I've had this image in my mind that seems pessimistic, which doesn't really reflect how I feel about the whole transition. I have this image in my head that everything I do now could be the last time I do it, like I'm pushing a big line of events off the end of a cliff (I get that way a lot during the last show of a play I'm in, like the lines I say are leaving my brain or something. Weird, I know). So I actually made myself kind of anxious about spending this weekend with the family. My mind is already focused, at least somewhat, on home. I'm getting ready to reenter. I'm thinking more and more about waking up in my bed in Chicago and LA, and I'm starting to feel some of those same feelings I get when I'm at home. This seemed like an unwelcome interruption into all that.

Yeah, so that was a fairly ridiculous state of mind to be in. The weekend thus far (it's Saturday evening) has been nothing short of fantastic.

We spent Friday making the relatively short drive down south, passing through the small town of Tabor (where I stopped on my epic journey to Česky Krumlov long enough to get off a train and get on a bus). We walked around a bit there, admiring the oldest manmade lake in Europe. Then we were off again, speeding along winding forested two-lane highways at about 100 km/h with the occasional slam on the brakes for a passing animal, oncoming car, or interesting/creepy abandoned chateau on the side of the road.

Our arrival in the small town of Slavonice was marked by my getting to meet an old friend of the family's, a man who showed up at the house about a month ago. I had no clue who he was then, nor did I have any idea that we were going to stay with him here (you may remember I keep my information about these trips to a minimum, and only partly by choice). This affable, forty-something year old divorcee with a thick beard, easy smile, and incessant bandanna around his head, is named Ivan.

Ivan's house is awesome. A large hundred-year-old farm house in the middle of the countryside about 500m from Austria, he's filled it with artwork from his two kids, hundreds of books, maps, and colorful paintings. He works as a translator - that's how he and Tomas met a bunch of years ago and became good friends (and also how he speaks really good English). After settling in and having some hot dinner, we were off into town for a night of drinking and debauchery.

It was as epic as you'd imagine. Highlights:

-I've decided that in my remaining time here I should teach Jonas some American slang, so last night I taught him the perennial favorite, "I'm not gonna lie to you," making sure to tell him the exact situations in which it's useful to help you emphasize a point. Well, several hours and drinks later, he turns to me and says, "Evan, I'm not going to tell you lies, but..." I just about died laughing.

-We all started trading stories and games we play while drunk. I learned the incredibly fun game of flipping coasters (whoever can flip and catch the most at one time wins). Then I taught Jonas about drunk dialing, and almost got him to make his first drunk dial to my friend Liz.

- Of course, it wouldn't be a night of drinking if it didn't involve being accosted by a Czech homeless man who hates President Bush. I found out as we were leaving though, the guy wasn't homeless. Jonas knows his nephews. He owns a building downtown here.

-At the end of the evening (beginning of the morning), after I had eaten an entire 98Kc quattro formaggi pizza that might be comparable to the finest night of endless lovemaking (I'll have another tonight...), we were walking back to the car when Ivan suddenly stopped. "Do you smell that?" I'm still getting over my cold, so no. We followed him up a small set of stairs to a wooden door and a doorbell. He rang it, but the door was open, so we just walked in. The smell was suddenly overwhelming. We had just walked into the town bakery, buzzing with the work of baking the following day's bread and pastries. Heaven? No, that would be later, when I had a bite of the still-warm doughnut we had just bought. So much lepši [better] when it's warm.

What a night. Today has been fun too - lots of sightseeing around this place, including a trip to the neighboring town of Telč (a UNESCO site, though not as cool as Slavonice in my opinion) and a tour of the castle there. Then lunch of some fried meat (probably pork, let's face it) and a walk around Slavonice in the (sober) daylight. It's a beautiful town - really reminds me of Disneyland with its pastel colors and strangely new-seeming facades constructed in old styles.

Tonight, who knows. More debauchery? A quiet movie night? Finishing my book? We'll find out soon enough.