So the day started off normal: I jumped on the Internet at school for a moment before heading to Czech language class.  But that is when the normality ends.  The day before, I had signed up to go to a lecture at the Romanian Embassy on the recent cartoon issue in the newspapers.  I didn’t know anything about the lecture besides that each of the study abroad schools in Prague where invited to send about 10 students and that it fit well into my schedule, as I had a long break in between classes and not too much to do.  After class, I headed north to Mala Strana (Lesser Town, or the area just below Prague Castle) and strolled across the Charles Bridge to reach ‘Embassy Row.’  I was running late because of my class beforehand, but I didn’t think too much of it as I was expecting a large lecture hall and a few speakers at the front, so coming in late would be fine. 

It was incredibly nice out the other day, about 50 degrees and the bridge was empty, as it was the middle of the week.  Anyway, after some searching, I found the Romanian Embassy and stood outside of it in awe for a moment before I went in.  My thoughts at the time basically consisted of: 1. why is the Romanian Embassy so large? (it spanned about half a block) 2. am I seriously just nonchalantly about to ring the bell at the Romanian Embassy? 3. what happens when you knock on the door of an Embassy in central Europe?  I guess I was expecting a more formal entrance, open to the public, like a foyer to a library or post office or something, not just an eighteen-foot door and a giant old-school knocker on it.  So, anyway, I knocked and a man answered, checked my name of the list, and then he and two others escorted me throughout the embassy.  I had only a few moments to sneak a look into the rooms.  Everything was incredible; decorated in beautiful old Romanian and Czech art and furniture, every corner absolutely sparkling clean, and just a feeling of authority.  I put on a nametag and was taken into the conference room by security.  Well, it turns out that this isn’t so much a lecture as a roundtable discussion.  I squeeze into the meeting about 20 minutes late and took a seat besides another study abroad student, the ambassador of Finland to the Czech Republic, across from the Israeli ambassador to the Czech Republic, a Washington Post writer, and a guy who I think was the Czech equivalent to a U.S. Supreme Court Justice.  Meanwhile, I was fully convinced I would be a fly on the back wall, so I’m dressed in sneakers, jeans, and a hooded sweatshirt.  Also in the room are about eight other ambassadors to or from the Czech Republic, a handful of former ambassadors who now just are referred to as ‘world diplomats,’ and 40 or so study abroad students.  When I wasn’t sitting in awe of the place I was in, I listened to some very intelligent and knowledgeable people discuss the Muslin world in Western society and the hidden implications of the cartoons power.  The discussion ended with the ambassadors moving into the next room for a lunch and a few study abroad students were able to join.  I put my hand up, but unfortunately the event organizer just choose the people seated directly near him.  It was a great experience I won’t soon forget.

A friend and I walked around Lesser Town for a little while as it was so nice out, grabbed a quick lunch, and then I headed back home.  For my Alternative Czech Culture class, we meet one day in the classroom and the other on a field trip.  That day, we were meeting on Wenceslas Square at five o’clock and then walking over to a secret jazz hangout.  The place was definitely hidden.  It was about 2 blocks off the square, in an apartment building, and identifiable only because of a tiny, 1-inch sticker on the buzz-in panel along with the fifteen or so names of the apartment residents.  We buzzed in, walked up six flights of stairs, and ended up in a bar on the top of an apartment complex.  The place was like a speakeasy of the 20s.  It had a tiny CD and record store, community chess sets and board games, and a backroom full of Czech music and culture magazines, each title dating back fifteen years.  One the great aspects of the class is that on these trips we basically sit around, people watch, drink beer with the professor, and discuss what we are seeing at the moment and what clubs or pubs we have been to since we last met.  Our professor usually always begins class by writing on the board the names of the week’s big shows, greatest clubs, and secret spots that only she knows about.

A few of us skipped out early as we had scored tickets to Don Giovanni from the school.  Some people, who pay a lot of money, only have the opportunity to see the ceiling of the Estates Theatre, we, however, have the opportunity to see and feel the ceiling of the Estates.  That is the best way to describe our seats.  We had the nose-bleeds of the nose-bleeds, but we were seeing Don, Mozart’s most famous opera, in the exact theatre in which he premiered the show 200 years before for about $8 (well free because CIEE paid).  It was a very traditional performance, and the subtitles on a flat screen above the stage made it very simple to understand.  The show was great, a little long, but very well done and the theater was of course incredible.   

A bunch of us headed out to a new Greek restaurant we had found a days before after the show and then called it a night.

So all in all, a pretty great day.  I don’t know the next time I will have such a diverse day culturally.  From sitting next to ambassadors and diplomats, onto have a drink with my professor at a secret jazz hangout, and then straight to a Mozart opera, I can’t claim.  I’m in Prague for the next 11 days straight until I head off to Bratislava, Spain, and Ireland, and I can’t wait to keep exploring the city.  So many great art exhibitions are around, particularly as April 1, the official start of the tourist season (a dreadful day for me), comes around.  Have fun and enjoy.