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c'est pas facile

vánocema before the Bulgarian had a weak moment. usually it is the femme libérée, emancipated young woman from Eastern Europe who svejch things to let anyone talking. But like all femmes libérées sometimes needs to consult and hear that it is not fat and keep it all they like.
Unfortunately, it chose me.
sat leggy and flexible, with propletenýma končetinama on the floor and fiddled around with a mobile phone. conversational tone, then asked what to do when she wrote that her once, let him fly to Madrid on New Year's Eve, and she seems to € 600 a ticket too. "He wrote me, therefore, that money is not a problem, but that went and bought the ticket, no," she said.
"do you love him?" I asked this question because it is usually expected.
"I!" nablble smiled. "But not so much that I stuck out šestikilo in euros for a ticket just to let me in again stand on the street. "
" and talk about it, "I said, because that kind of board approves a woman and the life." through to today, you call normally ask him about it. "
Bulgarian lifted his eyes from the screen and piped up: "Well, he never calling me. come from work late and the evening's too tired. We have mainly esemeskujeme.
at that moment Bulgarian Studio stretched towards infinity, and suddenly the room was nothing but a blinking his eyes and mine, staring, and among them could be stretched cord. to seven hundred kilometers I heard a metronome the summer. tic So.
"Hey, are you sure no one else does?"

and silence ("Hey, are you sure no one else does?"). and again only her eyes (hey, are you sure no one else does? ") and my eyes and hers slowly filled slzama and somewhere in the distance, twitching her lower lip (" Hey, are you sure nobody does else?). and still silence.
"I'm sorry, I know what I say, I see into it, you surely know best, so I just thought it, but certainly not do it you know!"

eventually she bought a ticket and a romantic trip to the beach at sunset she said, he would like to marry. apparently wants to move to the countryside and settle down. said that she would not have to work, because he will arrange everything. and really wanted children, and watched, she also has already pretty age.
"but they come a little weird?" he says. but I'm learning. shrug and am silent.

silent, even if this week depku. addressing what the future. Unpaid internships have been enough, somewhere in the office hate, but in other places not. are not even the placement ... should prefer to go somewhere for the year to Australia? some traveling, teaching at the German and have fun? or rather Beit while unemployed, swallow it - or even try to get that stupid internship, even if she does not want?
"I do not want to talk about it," I say brutal, because they listen to their problems even from someone else, it does not want me back. so it goes and writes an email that his Dlouhej. to the end that he knew what to do, adding the question: what do you think? answer she comes soon: "Sure! What's the company like? luv u."
"It means that all nečet!" Bulgarian sputtering. "Well you know that?"
understand.
better because we go to the cocktail bar. We have to meet a friend with a friend, neither of which we have never seen before. Bulgarian vohákne Thus, the proper way - heels and skirts, tight shirt and a ton of makeup. "Face check" he cries at the door enthusiastically. just outside the door and takes off his coat before take two steps into the main room, the beauty of it done. just before the long counter The Umbrellas of stops, breath, eye passes staff tables on the floor and make a little turn. "I love the feeling when you walk into a bar and you gather all the male eyes," whispers to me. then with a powerful smile (algae and in turn should lower rise, mouth closed, slightly wrinkled, shoulders back, chest up) step up and I say that is not yet lost.

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way out of this truly chilling. I do not know how to find a fellow blogger, but I got on the Internet doubles. says You pseudoINTELEKTUÁLKA in a funky header image (and use the word funky ), posting on their botičkách ( like me), the school ( like me) on Christmas (as I ) on hand washing ( like me), is also photographed only from the head down, so come on anonymity, and sometimes, if you can not find point, conclusion of the article considers the question to its readers. to write grammatically proper Czech. I feel like I read myself five years ago.

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five years, six cities, four countries, five languages, six sim cards. Five people in the friend list on Facebook, a job, about two hundred pages in Word (Times New Roman twelve). I started this blog podobnejch of the reasons that the first post of a woman that many of our generation Erasmus: I was away from home, I missed the Prague and I wanted to stay in touch.

from the first letters in the middle of plumbing adventures in Dijon had it changed. I tried living with a friend, strangers, and the college itself. I spent endless hours in the night buses. because once you air controllers strike in Paris canceled flight. SkyEurope then canceled. I grew up in pink skirts children's department of H & M and started to yearn for gold satin and black sequins. started calling me "Frau" and "ma'am" instead of "Mademoiselle", even in the Czech Republic I now suddenly Mrs. I passed a few boxes of ikey and many tests of political science. I met many people and several others stopped talking. I learned how to navigate in five university libraries - two of them I even rozchodila copier. I moved from the tent to the hostel. At one point, I very much did not want to move again, looking for another apartment, set up another account and select the next mobile phone, a distinguished road around - and then suddenly the idea of \u200b\u200bme that just after graduating back to Prague began to panic more. But mostly I miss you stopped. I became Mr. Fielding of Forster's A Passage to India: also traveling light. nelpím, you should not stay, the neusazuju while zapouštím roots quickly, anywhere.

because this one final quote. Ödön von Horvath, unlike Kafka in literature classes in the Czech Republic does not discuss too much, certainly, but it would cost. Text "Fiume, Belgrade ..." published in the Berlin cultural journal Querschnitt in 1929 as a nostalgic sigh for the period in which words like "nation" or "homeland" yet not destroy thousands of lives. so do not sit right for me - after all, I grew up in Prague, read and škvoreckýho skullcap, listened to Chingy and regularly throw the ballot into the ballot box. I've not seen in fourteen World War and I hope that my exile in Paris in the middle of storms kill on the Champs Elysees a falling branch. But the conviction that the experiences, people and places mean more than any border with von Horvath share.
(Czech translation I've found anywhere on the net and the library cause I'm lazy. Therefore, rather vyplodím own).


Fiume, Belgrade, Budapest, Pressburg, Vienna, Munich (Odonata von Horvath. Querschnitt, February 1929)


ask me on my own, I say: I was born in Rijeka , I grew up in Belgrade, Budapest, Prešpurk, Vienna and Munich and I have a Hungarian passport - but the "homeland"? I do not know. I am a typical mixture of starorakouskouherská: Hungary, Croatia, Germany, Czech - my name is Hungarian, my native language is German. By far the best I speak German, I write it only in German, so I belong to the German cultural circle, the German nation. But: the term "homeland", the nationalist zfalešněný is foreign to me. My homeland is our people. So, as I said, I do not own and thus not naturally do not suffer, I rather enjoyed my bezvlastenectví because exempts me from unnecessary sentiment. But of course I know the landscape of the city and the rooms where I'm at home, I also have memories from childhood and I like them all as. You good and the bad. I see the streets and squares in the cities, where I played or I've gone to school, to meet again the railway track, toboggan hill, woods, churches, where I was forced to accept the Lord's body - I remember also still on my first love: it was During the World War in a quiet street. There I took in Budapest, a woman in her apartment čtyřpokojového just getting dark, the woman was no prostitute, but her husband was on the front, I believe that in Galicia, and she wanted to be loved again.

(...)

I believe that I have my "roller coaster" managed to bring proof that even someone who is not "established", not "national", bezvlastenecká racial mixtures, can create something What is "established" and "national" - because the heart beats of Nations in the same cycle. Only the dialect boundaries.

_____________________________________________

germanistům attach originál, aby si na smlsli mych překladatelských nedostatcích a interpretacích slov od kořene "people." protože a taky je to v němčině samozřejmě mnohem krásnější.

Fiume, Belgrade, Budapest, Bratislava, Vienna, Munich

you ask me about my home, I answer: I was born in Fiume, grew up in Belgrade, Budapest, Bratislava, Vienna and Munich and was a Hungarian passport - but "home"? I do not know. I am a typical old Austria-Hungary mixture: Magyar, Croatian, German, Czech - my name is Magyar, My mother tongue is German. I speak far the best German, write now only German, so belong to the German culture, the German people. However: the term "fatherland," falsified nationalist, is foreign to me. My country is the people. So, as I said, I have no home and do not suffer including, of course, but am glad my homelessness, because it frees me from unnecessary sentimentality. But I know of course landscapes, cities and rooms, where I feel at home, I have childhood memories and love them, like any other. The good and the bad. I see the streets and squares in different cities, where I've played, or that I went to school, I see the train again, the toboggan hills, forests, churches where they forced me to receive the sacred body of the Lord - I also remember my first love: this was during World War II in a quiet lane, because I was met in Budapest, a woman in her four-room apartment, it was getting dark, the woman was not a prostitute, but her husband was in the field, I believe, in Galicia, and they wanted to be loved again .

(...)

I think I was able to provide through my "mountain train" to the evidence, that (a) does not "Bodenständiger" nicht "Völkischer" Eine heimatlose Rassenmischung, etwas "Bodenständig-Völkisches" Schaffen kann - daily das Herz schlägt der Völker im Gleichen Clock, es gibt ja nur als Grenzen dialect.