Dem Bones

A gothic church.  A pitch black trip through a tunnel.  A room full of 40,000 human skeletons. 

A horror movie?  A gothic novel?  Nope, just a day in Kutna Hora. 

This Saturday my program bused us all to the Czech town of Kutna Hora to see St. Barbara’s church, the silver mines, and the Ossuary, popularly called the “Bone Church.”  Here is a little breakdown of the day:

St. Barbara’s

I don’t think I will ever be able to get enough of gothic cathedrals.  This one was filled with little altars around the sides with frescos painted up to the ceilings and painted windows—a combination of religious scenes and stories of the town and the country.  The best part was the balcony.  The balcony was not part of our official tour, but my friend Andy figured out a way to get up there—for a small price.  Our broke, college student selves paused for a second at that.  But then the thought hit us that we were in Europe, in the second biggest gothic cathedral in the Czech Republic, getting to go on a balcony overlooking the organ while a little organ concert was going on—of course we were going to do it.  And it was only 10 crowns (about 50 cents). 

So we headed up and just stared down at the church, the windows, the organ.  I stopped taking pictures after a while because I wanted to just be there all day, or every day if I could.  It would be nice to know what it would feel like to not be a tourist in a church like that, to be able to just go there and not feel like you have to take a picture of every square inch of the place before your tour is over.  Maybe I’ll be back here someday and do that.

 

 

The Silver Mines

I think we should have caught on that this was going to be terrifying when they asked us repeatedly who wanted to stay above ground and seemed shocked when everyone wanted to go into the mines.  They kept saying, “Are you sure?  Not good for claustrophobia, very dark.”  But of course we just skipped right down under tons and tons of rock and didn’t realize what real mine darkness was like until we were in it.  We had flashlights and walked single file through wet, drippy, narrow passages.  We had learned a lot about the history of this town, which had been a major silver mining town, and the tough labor of the miners and their families.  When we got to a relatively big part of the passage in the mine, we stood around talking about how the wooden posts scattered throughout the little cavern were used by the miners to keep the rock from collapsing (um, what?  Please tell me those aren’t the originals).  Then our guide instructed us to turn off all of our flashlights to experience what the miners would have dealt with if their lanterns went off.  Absolute, unnerving darkness.  I think that cured us of any romantic, nostalgic ideas we had about Medieval European villages. 

 

 

The Ossuary

Shockingly, this was less scary than the mines—probably because none of us could seem to process the fact that we were in a room full of human skeletons.  And they were so beautiful.  This wasn’t just some creep cobbling together household items out of human bones, this was an artist.  The chandelier was probably one of the most impressive chandeliers I have ever seen—bones or no bones.  The walls were decorated, the ceiling was decorated, and behind wire fences stood pyramids of bones.  People wanted to be buried there so badly that they ran out of room in the graveyard, so the monks began digging up bodies and using old bones as to decorate the small church (there are a few different stories on the exact origins of this practice, ranging from insane monks to blind monks).  A lot of these people were victims of war, and a special case held the fragmented skulls of some of the people who had been killed by war wounds.  The feeling of the Ossuary is a strange mixture of a war memorial, a Body Worlds exhibit, and a Halloween store.  But overall, probably everyone’s favorite part of the trip. 

 

Headed to Budapest this weekend after the opera on Friday!  More posts to follow soon!        

Welcome to Praha

It is a tough battle to stay awake on a stomach full of Cesnacka polevka, but I fighting that fight in order update everyone on life in Prague…which is incredibly busy, for one thing.  I have been here a little less than a week, and I already absolutely love this city, and even though I know there will be a lot of frustrating moments, I think I am going to always want to come back here after I leave.  Here are a few main points about my daily life in Praha (Prague), before I get into any more detailed stories:

The Apartment.  I live at Kostnicke namesti 1 in Praha 3 (namesti means square).  It is pronounced kost-nee-ss-kay nah-mess-tee (excuse my complete ignorance to phonetically spell something).  It is not in the middle of town, but is an absolutely beautiful apartment.  We have two bedrooms, a foyer, a bathroom, a little laundry room, and a big living area with a couch, kitchen counter and table, and three giant windows that you can open like doors (I am sitting in one of them right now) and see the colorful buildings across the street. 

The Roommates.  I asked for loud, outgoing night owls on my questionnaire and I got them—and I love them!  They could not be any nicer and they are all about getting the most out of our time in Prague.  Brinda is from California and goes to St. Luis Obispo (it took me forever to learn how to say that), and Monica is from Chicago and goes to University of Denver.  We have already had a lot of Prague adventures and are starting to plan some trips. 

 

The Schedule.  Right now I have mostly just been trying to get to know the city and adjust to the time difference.  I am currently in my two week intensive Czech class, which is…intense.  We go there every morning at 9:30 and usually get out around 2:30.  Today we got out early so that we could go with our teacher to a Czech restaurant to try to order in Czech.  After classes we sometimes have a scheduled activity or tour, like registering at the police station or seeing the Prague castle grounds.  In the evenings we sometimes meet up with other people in our program and from other programs and hang out at different bars and pubs in the center of the city, either Wenceslas Square or Old Town Square (they weren’t kidding that beer is cheaper than water here…Czechs LOVE their pivo).

The Trips.  We have a lot of scheduled trips through the ISA program, the biggest ones being Berlin and Vienna.  Our first trip is this Saturday to Kutna Hora, which is a small town in the Czech Republic with a famous Ossuary, or “Bone Church,” which incorporates actual human bones into its architecture.  I am also planning to go on my own trips with roommates, people from the program and other programs, and my friend and former roommate Sam, who is studying in Florence.  We are trying to book Croatia, Budapest, and Ireland right now.  I would also love to go to Paris, Rome, Florence, and a few others.  A semester sounds like a long time, but are weekends are filling up fast!

Czech Life.  People here are very different than in the U.S.  They are extremely quiet and polite, but not very friendly.  They do not smile at you in stores, and absolutely no one talks on the public transportation, which—like all things Czech—is extremely punctual and well-run.  Even Czech dogs are polite, walking around with no leashes or sitting quietly on the tram.  The language is difficult.  There is a sound that is like a mixture of an r and a j that none of us can seem to get, and of course it is in the phrase “how do you say ___ in Czech?” (Jak se rekne ____ cesky?…it’s the ‘r’ and it normally has a symbol over it).  Apparently Czech is one of two languages with this sound—the other being a small and obscure African tribe.  Figures. 

This is barely skimming the surface of life here, but hopefully it will give you some framework for all the other stories I have to tell!

 

 

My cute window and exploring Old Town Square with the roommates...still can't get pictures off of my phone, but once I do, there will be a ton!

 

Kutna Hora Bone Church - http://www.outsideprague.com/kutna_hora/bone_church.html

 

Prague or Bust

Dobry Den from above the Atlantic. (I am just now putting this up...obviously no longer above the Atlantic.)

I am composing this post on a plane to London, which is significant because it means I am not doing a number of other things.  Like refusing to let go of my mother in the airport or hiding under a chair in Chicago O’Hare.  All of these dangers were avoided, though Mom and I did make a bit of a scene in front of the security line. 

Instead, I am headed to Prague.  I knew next to nothing about the city before I fell in love with the pictures in the ISA guidebook and decided to spend a semester there.  The funny thing was, once I decided on Prague, everyone and their mother actually had something to say about it.  My dad’s coworker sent me a guidebook and the name of a tour guide I MUST track down, my sister’s doctor swore it was the coldest and most beautiful city she had ever visited, and my Nana taped the Bachelorette Prague episode for me.  I still don’t really know what to expect, but here are a few things I’m hoping to accomplish:

1.      See art.  I am going to wander every museum and gallery I find.  Originally, this was just for my own interest, but now I have an added incentive: when I get back I am going to curate a hypothetical art show as an independent study with the head of the Rockhurst art department.  She suggested I lay the groundwork now by seeing as much art as possible, collecting pictures and postcards, and researching art blogs and curatorial essays.  Cool, right?

2.      Make friends and travel the continent.  I have been Facebook messaging one of my future roommates, and it turns out that she seasoned traveler and an adventurous spirit.  We have already planned to go to Oktoberfest in Germany and to make our way to Ireland for a weekend.  I am excited to meet new people and to see the world.  I know I sound like an overplayed Fun song, but there is something about being 21 and travelling to Europe that just makes you feel like you have a pulse.

3.      Take some “me time.”  I love to read—hence why I majored in English.  But the ironic thing is that I hardly ever have time to read for me because I am always reading for class.  Luckily, I’m that girl who likes most of what we read in class, but every now and then I want to indulge in the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo books or make some progress on the long list of things I always plan to read.  So I have a vision of myself perpetually parked outside some café, idly reading whatever I feel like reading.

 

To Mom and Dad – I hope someday I will be able to fully articulate how grateful I am for this opportunity.  To Sammy and Andrea – I am so proud of both my baby siblings and I miss you guys.  To my Rockhurst family – I can’t even list the good times I will miss with you all.  Try not to burn the place down while I am gone.

 

To everyone else – thanks for putting up with a long post, and saddle up for some Praha adventures! 
 

My roommates and I on the Charles Bridge

The Great Internship Hunt

Any college student who does not get have an internship would get chills reading that phrase. 

I am currently sitting in the office of my non-internship job listening to my boss talk to a lifeguard (I am a deck supervisor at a YMCA, among other things).  This lifeguard is only in high school, but my boss started talking to him about college and popped the million dollar question: What are you gonna do with the rest of your life.  He is happily telling her about his plans for chemical engineering (did I mention Rockhurst now offers engineering?  Maybe I’ll recruit this kid). 

But somewhere along the line in college that “this is what I want to do with my life” spiel turns into “how the heck do I make that happen?”  And one of the first major steps on that path is getting a good internship, which can be a daunting process.  During my junior year I decided I should keep any eye out for any good opportunities, with plans to go after a more serious publishing internship at Andrew McMeel in Kansas City senior year.  Luckily, English professors are constantly sending out emails to all English majors letting us know about internship or job opportunities they have heard about.  A lot of people I know have gotten internships that way, doing interview work for non-profits in rough neighborhoods, interning at the National Catholic Reporter, and other things like that.  In January I got an email from a professor about an opportunity that looked perfect for me: Business Blog Writing.  I could do it from home on my own time, which was great because I also worked at the Learning Center so it would be hard to go somewhere for several hours during the day. 

I emailed the contact person, frantically put together a resume and some writing samples, held my breath and crossed my fingers, and got hired!  I was so excited…it was blogging, I could handle that; I had experience with that.  The job involved blogging for other businesses who wanted to outsource their blog, so I would do research, include keywords, and write a post. 

I got my first assignment.  Plumbing.  It was for a plumbing company.  Like most 21-year-old girls, my knowledge of plumbing is limited to the small plunger that came in a handy little stand my mom and I found at Target.  I called my dad in desperation—tell me anything, anything, you know about plumbing!  No dice.  I was on my own.  It sunk in then that this is what growing up and figuring out your future is like, namely, an utterly ridiculous situation in which you just have to take your best shot.  So I wrote what I consider to be an incredibly impressive post on what to look for when purchasing a toilet (I could tell you all about green toilets and flush power if you asked me).  And that was step one.  After that came months of posts about office rental, hair highlighting, diet supplements, and all sorts of random things.  I’ve gotten it wrong a lot, but I usually figure things out, and I am ready for the next Great Internship Challenge. 

What I apparently look like while in the blogging zone.

A Digression....

Rockhurst is small.  I am fully aware of that.  And there are days every now and then when I wonder what it would be like to disappear into a comforting level of anonymity at a big state school.  But today is not one of those days.

My brother just got home from Freshman Welcome at the large state school he will be attending in the fall.  Now don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against state schools.  I am one of maybe two family members not to go to one, and I have grown up visiting my parents’ alma mater’s campus for football games.  My brother picked a state school because he wanted that kind of big-school-with-killer-sports-teams experience.  And I respect that.  And he picked a fine school where he will get a top-notch education—if he can actually find a way to actually take the classes. 

There was the catch he hadn’t been looking for.  Sam (my brother) is majoring in engineering (probably civil).  Housing at his school is a nightmare (they have more freshmen than they can house), and the engineering living community filled up before he ever had a chance to register (and he was only the second Welcome group).  So on to the general housing option, but that filled up, too.  Which means that he had to pick housing with some other major. 

Fine, not a big deal—but actually the point of these housing groups is that you take classes together, which is a fine idea in theory, but not if you are living with people who aren’t actually in your major.  So Sam is wondering why he is scheduled for Classical Mythology when he really needs to be in Calc 3—which he was informed will not have room for him—or at least Calc 2—which he is not allowed to register for until his AP scores arrive in July, at which point it will also be filled. 

I was incredulous when my mom filled me in on all of this. 

“Please tell me you pitched a fit over this?”  I was only half joking.  My mom is one of those people who is an expert at spending hours on the phone slashing through bureaucratic red tape.  And if it was clearly not Sam’s fault that he had to live with non-engineering people, then surely the school would make an exception and not make him take these random classes. 

My mom was quick to assure me that she talked to anyone and everyone about this problem, but got absolutely nowhere.  People told her she was out of luck; computers would not allow the entry of certain classes.  The best she got was that Sam would be allowed to drop one of those classes (see ya, Classical Mythology) to take something else. 

I was shocked.  There are plenty of registration issues at any school, but nothing at Rockhurst that I have not been able to solve with a quick trip to my advisor’s office (who knows me personally and has taught two of my classes), or to the Registrar (I am on first name terms with one of the ladies who works there because she is the moderator of the Random Acts of Kindness Spreaders).  Heck, I am creating my own minor!  And it is possible because Dr. Bicak knows I’ll do the work, and Anne Pearce is creating an independent study for me, and the list goes on. 

A little digression this week?  Perhaps, but I had to take a moment and say thank God for small schools like Rockhurst. 

Sam and I on a family vacation (to Colorado, not a cemetery)

Backwards…

            Did I mention I am going to Prague in the fall?  I will be spending my first semester studying abroad at Charles University in Prague (which, for those of you who are as geographically challenged as I am, is in the Czech Republic).  I have been preparing for this trip since last October, but it is just now sinking in that I will not be at Rockhurst in the fall (fear not, I will still be blogging from Prague so you can see what the experience of a Rockhurst student studying abroad is like).  So before I tell you all about Prague and everything I am looking forward to, I would like to take a look back at Rockhurst and tell you about some of the things I will be sad to miss in the fall:

Orientation.  The funny thing is, not many people appreciate orientation as freshmen.  This is the perfect week to do basically nothing, and all of the coolest people are usually involved in orientation (I have a roommate who is a coordinator…think I’m a little biased?).  I never got the chance to be a leader because I thought family vacation would interfere, but I have hung around for a few and I can tell you there are very few funnier sights than your orientation leader friend running across campus with a full cheesecake to bribe an orientation judge, followed by his gaggle of freshman, or everyone covered in bubbles at a foam dance party.

 

Mass of the Holy Spirit.  Probably the only time classes are officially cancelled for something.  It is a huge mass in September at St. Francis Xavier, and EVERYONE is there—students, professors, administrators.  The Church is packed, everyone wears red, and you get a ticket for a free lunch that day on the quad if you go.  When the weather is beautiful, there is no better way to spend a Tuesday morning.

Homecoming.  There is an entire committee dedicated solely to planning homecoming.  All week they are out on the quad giving away t-shirts or hosting events like a hypnotist.  If you sign up fast enough, you can be one of 200 students who get a free dinner before homecoming.  One year it was at Fogo de Chao, and it completely redefined my definition of all you can eat (you don’t even order!  They just keep bringing you food!).  And the dance itself is a great chance to hang out with friends in all different classes. 

 

SAB Events.  Student Activities Board pulls out all the stops in the fall.  From game show events like The Price is Right, to biweekly comedians or musicians, events like these are the perfect opportunity to put the homework aside for a few hours and engage in one of college students’ favorite activities: getting free stuff. 

I could go on and on about missing seeing freshman wear their lanyards for the first month of school, the excitement of reuniting with friends from Omaha or Kansas City that I’ve missed all summer, or how beautiful the trees on the quad are when they change colors.  I know I will love Prague, but Rockhurst has been my fall home for three years, and even as I am wandering through fabulous European museums, I be wondering what the trees on the quad look like after the Mass of the Holy Spirit. 

Homecoming/Homecoming Week celebrations throughout the years

Bleeding Arts

The first time I ever tried to give blood, the Red Cross worker told me she had ethical issues with extracting blood from someone as green as I was.  I was seventeen years old, I hated needles as much as I did when I was 5 and needed recovery cookies after shots, and I about keeled over when they pricked my thumb.  In case you can’t picture this, here is a photo from my first “about me” post (http://allisonbody.blogspot.com/2011/09/fabulous-life-of-allison-marie.html) showing my bravery at getting my ears double pierced:

Now picture that, but instead of a half a second, fifteen minutes of blood draining.  It wasn’t happening.  I thought that I was destined never to be a donor, but I discovered in the second to last week of my junior year of college that I am capable of giving blood.  Motivated by some combination of bravery, altruism, and pure nerdiness, I traded my blood for a ticket to the play Little Shop of Horrors. 

It all started a week earlier when Dr. Miller, my mentor for the Rockhurst Review, offered me two tickets to a piano and violin concert at UMKC (She wanted to go but was hosting a fabulous dinner party for another group of performers—how I envy the life of Dr. P.C. Miller).  I went with a fellow culture lover, Ryan, and we discovered that Little Shop of Horrors—a musical I had always wanted to see and one of his favorites—was playing at the Kansas City Repertory Theater.  Unfortunately, tickets were $20, and we are broke college students.  Undaunted by this setback, some fierce Googling turned up a potential option: if you participated in a blood drive hosted at the Repertory Theater, you could get a free ticket.  Somehow, Ryan and our other friend Colin talked me into doing it with them, assuring me that it wasn’t that bad, I was a big girl now, yes I could have a cookie when I was done, and yes they would hold my hands if I wanted. 

So we went.  I made it past the finger pricking part, which I considered to be a hugely successful step, but I turned a little green when they actually started to prep me.  All of the workers were so amused by my attempts to conceal my panic.  I was totally playing it cool.  It must Ryan and Colin’s concerned looks every 30 seconds that gave them the impression I was scared.  When the moment came to stick the needle in, my nurse directed me to talk to another nurse sitting nearby.  I casually inquired if any other donors ever got a little nervous.  It came out something like this: “DOES ANYBODY ELSE CHICKEN ME DONATE?!”  To his credit, he just smiled and nodded, and the needle was in!  Besides a panicked moment where I informed the nurse that my entire body was tingling, the rest of the donation went smoothly.  I was a little nauseous afterwards, but I happily munched my Nutter-Butters and Sprite (when there are two weeks left in school and you inexplicably only  have green peppers and oatmeal in your kitchen, you do not turn down free food under any circumstances) while texting half my phone book that I had survived. 

So I got my ticket—close to the stage even!  The show was great—one of the many reasons why I am so glad I go to school in a city like KC. 

So there is my tale.  Either a success story of an altruistic girl overcoming her fears, or an example of an arts nerd willing to trade blood for culture.  I like to think it is a nice combination of the two.