November 13, 2007 | Filed under: Is She Still Talking?, It's Called "Having a Life." You Should Try It.

Because it’s late and I’d be a darn fool to pass up the opportunity to do a-photo post. Because I love you so.

Some things I learned in this little exercise: (a) there’s a reason I’m not a jewelry model … something to do with having no neck whatsoever; (b) my camera really sucks at close-ups; and (c) Picasa can fix darn near anything.

As I mentioned, some of the nearly-left-on-an-airplane jewelry is intended as a gift for my mother, who, as far as I can tell, has no knowledge of this blog. I sure hope not, as I use the F-word here a bit more often than she would deem appropriate (read: maybe twice a year). Mom, if you are reading, how could you raise a kid with such a potty mouth? Jeez. Also, don’t blame me for ruining your Christmas gift. If you wanted it to be a surprise, you shouldn’t have gone looking for it.

Moving along then.

What’s hard to tell from these pictures is that the stone is garnet — a really deep red, which shows up when the light hits it at the right angle. Unfortunately, I could not capture that for you, as I would then be taking a picture one-handed and all you’d see is a blurry gold chain and maybe some perfectly-reflected-but-still-blurry red light. Try to use your imagination instead.

A traditional setting for Czech garnet is sort of a flower-shaped pendant, like this (the ones I saw had garnets for all the stones, no diamonds, but the shape was the same). That style is really not “me,” nor my mother, so I went with a bit more contemporary settings. Classic styling, maybe, but not traditional.

I won’t say which stuff is mine and which is hers, but I will tell you that she’s never had pierced ears in her entire life. Which explains, in large part, why I had to wait until spring of eighth grade to finally get mine pierced. Not that I’m bitter or anything.

And here we have an amber pendant for which I’m going to have to find a silver chain. I tried, in Prague, but the jeweler who supplied me with the gold chain in picture #2 didn’t have one of the proper length in silver. Some fun amber facts I learned: new amber is green in color, then moves through an, um, amber color to a more opaque buttery yellow color, and finally to white. Who knew? (It’s entirely possible the salesperson was totally lying to me, but I’m gonna go ahead and pass off this information as fact.)

These last two necklaces I snagged for under $40, total, and during the entire jewelry disaster/freak out session, I was absolutely sure they were safely stored in my jewelry case. (They were, I checked.) I put them there, you know, because I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to them. Like getting lost somewhere. (Apparently that sentiment only applies to the cheap stuff. Moron.)

One was the necklace you saw here and, finally, this last one for my sister, who also does not read this site. Not because I haven’t told her about it, but because she doesn’t love me. Also perhaps because she’s “in grad school” and “doesn’t have time to eat/sleep/bathe, let alone fool around on the internet all day.” Whatever. I’m just waiting until she gets a boring office job like the rest of you. She’ll come around.

*Actually, based on my credit card statement, probably more like $700. And change. Let’s not tell Customs about that little math error, mkay?

November 5, 2007 | Filed under: It's Called "Having a Life." You Should Try It.

So that’s that. Tomorrow all that’s on the agenda is getting myself to the airport and back to U.S. territory. Though, I was almost on U.S. territory today, as I walked past the embassy on my way to buy wine. The security guys out front didn’t look too welcoming, so I didn’t invite myself in for a look-see. Maybe next time.

Lots of pictures and maybe some stories, too, just as soon as I recover from The Day that Lasts Approximately Ninety-Seven Hours, All of Them on an Airplane.

November 2, 2007 | Filed under: I'm a Dork, It's Called "Having a Life." You Should Try It.

Before shoving all of your clothes in the washing machine, as the hostel front desk girl waits for you to do so so she can do all the settings on the machine, find out from her what the status of a dryer is, as opposed to, say, an outdoor clothesline. Otherwise, you may regret tossing in all of your dirty clothes, including the jeans you intended to wear tomorrow. And the only pajamas you packed.

November 1, 2007 | Filed under: It's Called "Having a Life." You Should Try It.

Remember all those things that were fun about living in a dorm in college? Sharing the bathroom with thirty other girls, roommates who snored (or worse), the constant activity late at night, followed by long, dark mornings that made you feel guilty for being awake at 7 AM? No, just me?

At any rate, I’m really enjoying my hostel experience. I have to admit, I was a bit worried about sharing a small space (a small space that looks like a freaking IKEA showroom) with five strangers, especially after my monastic existence in Prague for the last week.

But fear not! Here’s a few reasons why I love my hostel:

Location, location, location.

I kid you not, this fine establishment is two doors down from the hostel. Lost? Just ask someone where the cabaret is.

Free fashion advice. And photography.

This probably was the best thing about dorm life — there was always someone (or multiple someones) around to get excited about where you were going, what you should wear, whether you should leave your hair down or pull it back, etc. This is what I threw together for the opera — shirt and pants I brought with me, pashmina purchsed in Prague, necklace (pictured below) from Melnik. And somehow it all works.

There are always people to party with.

Even if you weren’t planning on going out. And are already in bed, in your pajamas, ready to go to sleep. But when the best excuse you can come up with for staying in is that you’re old and lame, nobody buys it, so up you get to get dressed and reapply the makeup you just washed off and head to the Bermuda Triangle.

Finally, bestest thing ever — I forgot to pack the charger for my camera. Because I am an idiot. Not only did I not pack the charger, I didn’t charge the camera battery before I left. (I’d like to think that if I’d charged the battery, I would have thought to pack the damn charger.) I’ve been waiting for the day the little blinky low battery light made its appearance, and that day was Wednesday. Luckily, one of my roommates needed to charge her camera battery and it’s the charger same as mine! Saved by Simela from Cyprus!

October 31, 2007 | Filed under: It's Called "Having a Life." You Should Try It.

Now that I have a whopping dozen words in my vocabulary and know how to get to the train station, the bus station, have learned the names of most of the tram stops on two different routes that I take to the center of the city AND have conducted a transaction at the post office entirely in Czech, I decided life was getting too easy.

So I boarded a train to Vienna.

Let me tell you: it is very German here.  I’m not sure I was prepared for that.  The breakfast spread is very similar to that in Prague, with the addition of hazlenut spread.  (Think Nutella — chocolatey, nutty peanut-butter-like substance.)  I ate bologna, as it looked far more appetizing than the bologna in Prague, and I am so tired of ham.  No more ham!  It’s all sausage, all the time here in Vienna!  (Good thing, too, because there is no shortage of places to get oneself a sausage.)

I’m still not comfortable with the language, but I can read a lot more of it than Czech, even if I can’t speak it worth a damn.

Gotta go, internet time is about to expire.