An interesting Friday that I'll never forget.

So the concert on Thursday turned out to be absolutely awesome. It was Tomas's cousin, not his nephew, and he plays this incredible Baroque organ that's powered by two levers that the musician has to push up every so often to keep air running through the instrument. Add to that this sweet Baroque-era cello-looking-thing (which had like 4 extra strings on it to give it a higher range), an early relative of the viola that looked like a mandolin with a six foot neck, and a wonderful singer, and you had a recipe for success.

Friday I had a test in my Czech class, which I of course studied for...afterwards, I headed to Cafe Louvre for lunch and some Prague Post reading, which was the best decision I've ever made. That night I was planning to catch some films that are playing here as part of the One World Documentary Festival. There were too many things that sounded interesting, and all of them were playing yesterday!

So I ended up catching two movies. Out of Balance is about ExxonMobil's contribution to the global warming crisis (they're the only major oil company not to acknowledge there's a problem, and they're the largest private company in the history of mankind). And then at night, Dan, Jonas, and I (and just about every other English-speaking person in Prague) witnessed the heartbreaking, nauseating, wonderful film Jesus Camp. If you haven't seen it, please do. It was fantastic to be a Jew watching this film in a theatre filled with atheists (the Czech Republic is the most atheist country in the world, remember). I understand now, more than ever, how the most common stereotype of Americans is true. People here perceive us as a country of religious zealots. And, to varying degrees, we are.

After the movie Dan and I hung out a bit with a Four Card poker dealer (who robbed us), and then I had the most unnerving experience I've had to date. I come home late nearly every night, which of course means I often run into interesting people in my walk from the tram back up to the house. Last night, I emerged from the underground passage as I always do, and as I was about to cross the street, I heard a voice from the other side. It was a woman, in her mid-30s, very thin but mostly healthy looking in the dark, standing at the bus stop. She was wearing a pink button-down sweater, a long skirt with a slit in the middle, and a pair of boots. She was talking to herself.

A strange sight to be sure. No buses come to that stop late at night. I crossed the street, aware of her staring at me, and silently hoped she wouldn't follow me. So when I heard footsteps start up behind me, the cold clank of boots on cobblestones, I knew I might be in trouble. I kept walking, giving the benefit of the doubt, but figured it might be a good idea to test my theory by crossing the street and seeing if she followed. As I did that she got very close to me. I turned around to see her face, like a deer in headlights.

"Oh I'm sorry, I'm following you."
Heart pounding.
"It's ok."

Brief silence, we stand there, me about to cross the street and her waiting for me to speak. She was helpless.

"Do you need anything?
"Oh I dunno. Just a beer. And a friend."
"Okay"

Okay...I cross the street, her now next to me, and she tried to hook her arm in mine. When I recoiled a bit, she was visibly embarrassed, still trying to feel out the boundaries of our relationship.

She repeated, "it's ok, it's ok. We don't have to do that."
"I mean you no harm."
She laughs at this, relieved. "And I to you as well."

"Where do you live?" I asked, trying to keep her talking and take her mind off of killing me.
"Nowhere now. I am an exile, from Israel"
Heart pounding.
"Jewish?"
"Yes, I am Jewish"

I believe her, and her Israeli accent. We walk on and talk more (I honestly can't remember most of what was said; my mind was racing, and it was nearly 4am). I apologize to her,

"I can't give you the beer."
"Oh that's alright. I'm just trying to live, you know? That's not wrong is it? That's not illegal is it?"
"It's not illegal"
"No!" An unsettling laugh. "It's not illegal!"
"You know, there are places in the city center where you could stay for the night, shelters."
"No, they are too dangerous." She looks at me, right in the eye. "I know everything."

She talks about living in Jerusalem, spitting out her address like it's involuntary, telling me her brother's name and the name of her friend. She's trying to get back to Israel, she says. It's good to have friends, she says.

"Are you an agent of Mossad?" She says.
I don't know what to say at first, and she quickly answers for me with a nervous laugh, "Of course you are not!"
"No, I am American."
Silence.
"How did you end up in Prague?
"Oh...that is a very long story."
"You don't have to tell it then, it's alright."

We walk on, up the hill, and I know I can't let her see where I live, no matter how harmless she seems. So at the turn onto my street I tell her I'm sorry, but this is where I have to leave her. Thankfully, she takes to this well.

"But let me give you some money for a place to stay."
"Oh, thank you so much. That is so wonderful."

I fish the coins out of my pocket, knowing it's not much, but it's better than her stealing my wallet. When I hand it to her, I remember what Elizabeth always said about homeless people and touch - their lack of physical contact with people is often what drives them insane. So I make sure to take her hand as I give her the coins, softly dropping them. She is beaming. She kisses me on both cheeks.

We say goodbye, and she walks back down the hill, calling to me with a rambling monologue about it not being wrong to want to save your friends, and that's not illegal is it? No, it's not. I hear her voice fade away and the clank of her boots with it. I am breathing very heavily. Immediately, I call Dan. He asks if she was hot. We agreed that she must have committed some kind of crime and fled Israel.

So whats the moral of this story? What do I gain from this latest adventure? To be honest, I'm not sure. But I think I did something good last night. And I doubt I'll soon forget it.