Holding On

I recently visited Slovensky Raj (Slovak Paradise) National Park. The main draw of the park are its hikes through green, waterfall-filled gorges. In order to successfully climb up these gorges, the average human needs a little help scaling the slippery rocks and making a vertical ascent. For this reason, the Slovak National Park Service built a series of "technical aids," (ladders, steps, and chains), that, as long as you don't fear heights, lead to a smooth, easy hike up the gorge.

While clinging to the side of one of the ladders, I got to thinking that I like this idea of "technical aids." How great would it be if, when the going started to get tough and when everything began to look steep and insurmountable, a technical aid would be there to grab on to?
But then I realized that you, my friends, are my technical aids. Only you're better than ladders and chains because, besides being sturdy and reliable, you can share inside jokes and eat ice cream and go on ridiculous adventures with me.
Thanks for helping me climb.

Slow Learner

As a language learner, there's nothing more frustrating than realizing that you still haven't mastered the little things-those simple yet important words that can often mean the difference between eating a delicious meal or eating intestines, disembarking the bus at the town center or the suburb 15 kilometers away, or showing up for a coffee with a new friend on time or an hour late.
The most embarrassing little word that I've yet to master is one that is written on the door to the entrance to my language school-TAM.

As with any non-revolving door in any building in any town in any country in the world,there are only two options for opening it-pushing or pulling. Tam (literally meaning "there" and pronounced "Tom") would be push. So why do I, two times a week, always pull that darn door? I've resorted to some of the oldest language learning tricks in the book to remember that TAM is push-association and visualization, and they seem to be working. I must apologize, Uncle Tom. Now, each and every time I walk through those doors, I imagine pushing you down. Resorting to violence against ones own godfather in order to learn a language? By whatever means necessary.

Stay tuned: The Best of the Wurst

Birthday Besos

May all the kisses you receive in your 32nd year be at least this passionate...Happy Birthday, Anna B!

What´s Cooler Than Being Cool?

The weather around here, to put it nicely, has been less than optimal. The five sweaters that I brought along and am completely sick of should have, in my opinion, been retired long before mid-May. But the thermometer doesn´t seem to want to budge much past the 13 degree mark, and my T-shirts lie in wait.
While talking about the weather (one of the few topics about which I´m relatively comfortable discussing in Slovak) the other day, I was informed that we were in the midst of the days of the Ládove Muzi, the Icy Men. In Slovakia, as in many countries, each day of the calendar year is assigned a name (often that of a saint), and May 12, 13, and 14 are assigned to Pankrac, Servac, and Bonifac, respectively. These men apparently are the harbingers of cold weather, and, like a less-rodenty Goundhog Day, it is believed that if temperatures drop below freezing on these days, the threat of a cold spring and summer looms large.
Let´s hope that Pankrac, Servac, and Bonifac choose Bermuda shorts over long johns this year and let me put my tired sweater collection to rest.

Stay tuned:Too Old For This

May Babies

Happy birthday to you, you're still young. Age is just a number. Don't you stop having fun. This is your day.... NKOTB

I may not have a biological sister, but ten days after I arrived in the world arrived someone who would be like a sister to me. Happy birthday Jules!

Never Underestimate the Power of a Post-It

I'll admit that the fairytale debacle got to me. By the time I went to bed that night, I was convinced that I was not smart enough to learn this language. And, anyway, weren't most Slovaks I met telling me that I shouldn't bother learning it in the first place? That I should learn something useful like Mandarin or Arabic?
But with the morning awoke renewed optimism and the certainty that what I really needed in order to learn wasn't a more disciplined study regimen or more private lessons. No, what I needed were office supplies. So, after a trip to the knock-off Office Depot (grrrrr..)to buy index cards, markers, Post-Its, and scissors (I'm not exactly sure yet whtat the scissors are for), I am once again ready to conquer the Slovak language, at least until the next homework assignment.



Stay tuned: Museum Mayhem

Kde bolo, tam bolo or Beaten Down

This week, my Slovak teacher decided to shake things up a bit and, instead of the regular fill-in-the-blank with the correct conjugation homework, gave me a reading assignment. Maybe some adult learners would have been offended if assigned the likes of "Obusok, von z vreca," a board-book fairy tale whose original audience was most likely 4 to 7 year olds. But not me. I was happy for a break from the textbook and excited to read a traditional Slovak story. Plus, I'm a kindergarten teacher. I've read a million fairy tales and their variations. (The Three Little Jabalies? Read it. The Runaway Latke? (a Jewish Gingerbread Man) Own it. Seriously)So how much different could this Slovak tale really be?
My first clue to my comprehension difficulties should have been that I had to look up three of the four words in the title (the only one not needing loking up being the one one-letter word) The second clue should have been that one of the three words that I did look up translated to "baton." In the field of reading instruction these days, one of the buzzwords is "schema." If you can get students to activate ther schema, or what they already know about a topic about which they are about to read, it follows that their reading experience will be easier and more enriching. My problem was that my schema around fairytales involved things like castles and princesses and beanstalks and frogs. Batons were filed away somewhere else in my brain, maybe with the police or possibly parades.
Anyway, like the good student I am, I continued reading, and searching the dictionary, and reading, and searching the dictionary, confident that, as an avid reader and the holder of a Masters Degree, I could figure out the plot of this story, baton and all.
I was wrong. With each page, less and less made sense. Why did the cabinet-maker give this young Slovak boy a large magical baton? Why was the innkeeper holding his brothers hostage? And that large goose upon which everyone is feasting at the end of the story; where did that come from?
I closed the story book in defeat, embarrassment, and annoyance. In a country chock full of castles, I had to be given a fairytale about a baton?

Stay tuned: Gypsies

Dunajska Ulica or Open Your Eyes

Near my apartment in Bratislava is a sculpture of a famous Slovak comedian, Julius Satinsky. He sits on what appears to be a bicycle, has his hand cupped at his ear, and is pointing toward something above. Since this sculpture is on my route to school, to the grocery store, and to the main square (and basically anywhere else worth walking), I have probably passed it at least 250 times since I moved here in January. So imagine my amazement the other day when, having approached the sculpture from a different sidestreet than ususal, I realized that I had, for the first 250 times, not seen half of it. It turns out that what Julius is pointing to is a giant ear, right there on the side of the building. If a giant chrome ear can be that easily overlooked, even when a giant chrome man is pointing directly at it, I wondered about what else I've been missing. How do our routines blind us to the obvious, the absurd, the beautiful? I need to traverse the sidestreets more often.