Yesterday we went to two Fringe events, a walk by the river, a nasty pub for lunch, and a lovely old castle spot with a gorgeous view for dinner. The events were a play called Silkworm, which was short but very well done. It was about war and mysticism. Peoples ways of dealing or not dealing with the reality around them. Historical fiction, which is mainly what Anja and I have been reading recently as well. Her current book is about witch trials in Europe and a girl who fled her grandmother's hanging to travel to America where she herself was run out of town. The play had some similarities in its theme(s). My book is about the queen of Bohemia and a Yoruba prince who had a "mulatto" son who is next in line for the throne. Mine is a trilogy so it just left me hanging. Stupid to read the second book of a trilogy without access to the other two. The nasty pub was mainly nasty due to the locals gearing up for the tourist season as the reality hits them around the same time the heat does. The pub guy was just plain rude. Not everyone can be super kind though we have certainly seen our share of kindness with people giving up their seats on the tram to Sofie and our landlord loaning Caleb an emergency phone for his bike trip to Vienna.
The other Fringe event of yesterday was Scottish highland kilt wearing bag piper and back up drummers, Trybe they were called. They were loud and projected the traditional Scottish Machismo in a fun and congenial way with two of the drummers being women, one Punjabi even. They had a few items of traditional attire like a kilt with a big lock of hair from the last English man that admitted to being in their audience the wearer claimed, but mainly they wore modern dress. They were intensely loud and super sweaty putting out a ton of energy. I was ashamed to being sitting delicately clapping and tapping my foot sipping my sparkling water while they sweated buckets before us. It's always enlivening to watch people doing what they love whether its loud and energetic or not and this was all three. Admittedly though, I liked the play better.
Vysherhad (sp?) was where we went for dinner which is a place we had been before, and enjoyed where you sit outside above a huge wall over looking the city and there is some playground equipment to occupy the kids and you have to fight for your food, with gads of Czech people who actually know what their orders should look like. Caleb put in the order, I went to pick it up and had to basically just find out from the Croatian cooks what was available, as in cooked. He allowed me to name my own price after making a hodge-podge of dinner which tasted far superior to the swill served us for lunch at the pub with the nasty man who gave me a warm iced tea with no ice. We had grilled eggplant, mushrooms with pesto, a pork chop, some grilled peppers, couscous, bread, and two bananas.
Anja overheard someone in the back of the line saying I was rude, while I was ordering around the Croatians. Perhaps much time spent placing orders with an Albanian allows me this fantastic ability to get what I want when I want it, the kids were starving, Caleb's order had been basically ignored, I did walk straight to the front to find out what happened to our food, the Croatians just liked listening to me, so kept me talking for everyone's entertainment, ignoring everyone else's needs. I, of course, not being much of an entertainer tried to keep it short and sweet. Besides, if Anja could understand what they were saying about me, then they were English speakers themselves, and like myself assume most other English speakers, especially the ones with an American accent, are rude. Americans are loud and appear obnoxious everywhere they go in Europe. It's a cultural thing. One just has to get used to it. And I am fully confident in knowing I am one of the quietest of all of us. It is not only the Americans either. It is all English speakers really. It's a loud language which can be whispered. I know as I've been doing it most of my life. The french and the Czechs keep their tones fairly low, the french more so even. I sometimes wished they would be louder so I could learn more of their language with out engaging. It is considered rude to talk to someone with someone else between you I am told. This is also a cultural difference. Even Caleb has become much quieter in Europe, and most of you know he has a very resonant voice that can travel without intent.
Another nice thing about this particular outdoor restaurant is that you sit with other people and the people at our table were very fun and talkative which made the evening extra lovely. We spoke much with a young man who was in advertising so reminded me of my cousin Patrick in the same profession. Very sociable and fun. Probably a Gemini, like Pat. Happy Birthday Patrick! This guy said he lives on the border of Germany and the CR, he speaks three languages fluently and loves both countries he borders but is disturbed with the new German word for "cool" amongst young men which literally means pervert. So one is cool if they are a pervert. Sounds a bit gangsta to me. This brings me back to witch hunts which I believe were often a form of extreme sexism. Though sometimes men were accused of withcraft too. I wonder if they were not gay??
In any case, we had a beautiful dinner with a beautiful view and walked / trammed home in a beautiful thunderstorm with very light rain.