asi bych měla vodejít...
i usually find something useful in Slate, but it's never in their travelogues. it might be something about how i'm against travelogues on principle, or that somehow Americans' perspectives on places foreign [no matter where the place is] end up sounding the same, or i just don't like things that mix expository and personal writing [which rules out my blog, as well as 70% of all other blogs]. anyway, yesterday they published another standard American rumination on encounters with European history:
Frankly, I don't enjoy living in the shadow of history. I don't like to be sitting at a sidewalk cafe, enjoying my coffee, when I suddenly flash on the image of Nazi boots tromping through the intersection. Each time this happens, I feel heavy with meaning and guilt. I can only take it in small doses. Give me some newborn American soil, with its blank slate and empty memory. History may be a nice place to visit, but I'm not sure I want to live there.
oh my god, how boring. especially considering my impressions of being in Europe were exactly the opposite [ok, i was in Prague and Berlin and this guy was in Amsterdam, but when we're talking about Europe like this, we're talking about Europe as a concept, all of Europe, in opposition to America]. the whole time i was there it was clear that i, the American, was the one with the burden of history. the Europeans were remarkably unserious, unideological about everything. the first time i walked into the hostel in Žižkov, there was this big, shaved-head American guy standing with some little American chicks by the front door, emoting in a sort of defensive, high-pitched voice: "well i'm not going to say i'm not proud to be an American. there isn't anything wrong with being proud to be an American." all the little blonde American girls nodded, not really understanding that nobody else cares.
i've been on this since Prague, really. it's been one of the main themes of the trip. maybe i'm destined to write a new, postmodern novel about Americans in Europe. [i'm only half joking.] bah.
***
i have a roommate, apparently. she's a math/econ major and she's [surprisingly enough] from Bulgaria, and bah, i'm a little annoyed about this, since i'd assumed i'd have the room all to myself, and it's so small, and i wanted to lie around without any clothes and put my pictures everywhere and have my friends from other places come to stay.
***
i need to stop sending Bourek crazy emails late at night, because it doesn't speak well for my sanity, or maturity, and he doesn't need that, and, ahh, everything i can possibly do now about this is humiliating and stupid, it doesn't end.
Frankly, I don't enjoy living in the shadow of history. I don't like to be sitting at a sidewalk cafe, enjoying my coffee, when I suddenly flash on the image of Nazi boots tromping through the intersection. Each time this happens, I feel heavy with meaning and guilt. I can only take it in small doses. Give me some newborn American soil, with its blank slate and empty memory. History may be a nice place to visit, but I'm not sure I want to live there.
oh my god, how boring. especially considering my impressions of being in Europe were exactly the opposite [ok, i was in Prague and Berlin and this guy was in Amsterdam, but when we're talking about Europe like this, we're talking about Europe as a concept, all of Europe, in opposition to America]. the whole time i was there it was clear that i, the American, was the one with the burden of history. the Europeans were remarkably unserious, unideological about everything. the first time i walked into the hostel in Žižkov, there was this big, shaved-head American guy standing with some little American chicks by the front door, emoting in a sort of defensive, high-pitched voice: "well i'm not going to say i'm not proud to be an American. there isn't anything wrong with being proud to be an American." all the little blonde American girls nodded, not really understanding that nobody else cares.
i've been on this since Prague, really. it's been one of the main themes of the trip. maybe i'm destined to write a new, postmodern novel about Americans in Europe. [i'm only half joking.] bah.
***
i have a roommate, apparently. she's a math/econ major and she's [surprisingly enough] from Bulgaria, and bah, i'm a little annoyed about this, since i'd assumed i'd have the room all to myself, and it's so small, and i wanted to lie around without any clothes and put my pictures everywhere and have my friends from other places come to stay.
***
i need to stop sending Bourek crazy emails late at night, because it doesn't speak well for my sanity, or maturity, and he doesn't need that, and, ahh, everything i can possibly do now about this is humiliating and stupid, it doesn't end.