As promised, the beginning of my guide to life in Berlin:

Kreuzberg (Krzbrg, X-Berg)

Bars/Nightlife:

Roses: Orianienstr. Between Adalbertstr. & Heinrich Pl.

Roses Bar, marked only by a red and green neon light, tracing the shape of a rose, is a Kreuzberg favorite. Started by the lovable and loving British ex-pat, Gabriella, this small bar is an amalgamation of all things kitsch. The fuzzy pink walls marked with masks, miniature light shows, toy guns, and images of the Virgin Mary, will make you happier than the strong and reasonably priced drinks. Beers are limited, but they have every liquor under the sun. Highly recommended, unless you hate Halloween stores.

Franken Bar: Orianienstr. Between Adalbertstr. & Heinrich Pl.

Franken would like you to believe it’s a quiet joint that has enough regulars that it needs not draw in new crowds. This might be the case, but when midnight rolls around, the 90’s punk music (read: Pennywise) blaring out of the stereo does not match the unfinished wood floors or picnic table seating crowding this small bar. Mix this with a too-punk-to-serve-you waitstaff, and the only thing that’s left to make this place worth a visit are the cheap drink prices. Highly recommended, unless you have 50 more cents to spend on that drink.

Luzia: Orianienstr. Between Adalbertstr. & Dresdener Str.

Luzia, another Kreuzberg favorite, does not adverise itself from the outside. Surely, if you do enough digging on the inside, you will learn its name. But, for me and my friends, it was and still is known as “Sexy Bar.” The window seating in this big bar acts more like a window display for the coolest, trendiest kids you’ve ever seen in Xberg. The staff don’t smile, but they’re prompt. Prices are reasonable. Seating is limited. Clientele are arrogant, but mostly have a thin shell to crack. Highly recommended, unless you aren’t a contract model, fashion designer, or makeup artist.

Mobel Olfe: Mobel Olfe off Adalbertstr.

Mobel Olfe is not only the name of a fun, loud, fashionable gay bar, it is also the name of the scary housing complex (primarily for recovering heroin addicts) that it resides in. The bar will make you feel safe and warm, but going outside is the best reminder you’ve ever had to stay away from drugs. Clientele and staff alike are extremely, extremely friendly, and drinks are cheap. Come here to meet someone, gay or straight (because “gay bar” in Berlin is a little more loosely translated than it is in New York), have a fun conversation about your favorite classic rock musician or up and coming dance sensation, and go home feeling relaxed, because, Hey, that bottle of wine you guys split only cost you four euros each! Highly recommended, unless you can’t bear to step over a few passed out guys on your walk home.

Monarch: Skalitzerstr. & Adalbertstr, Past Kaiser’s

Monarch is one of the many unmarked, second floor bars in Berlin that you “just have to know about.” Except, Monarch is quickly fading and might need to start employing another method of advertising besides word of mouth. The DJs are fun, the scene is chic, and the panoramic view of lower Kreuzberg is astonishing. That said, the drinks are overpriced and the staff make you feel bad about your broken German, meanwhile the clientele is pretty sparse these days. Highly recommended unless you don’t want to feel like you’re throwing a party that no one else showed up to.

Ankerklause: Admiralstr. On the south side of the Bridge.

Ankerklause has a jukebox. The people who come to Ankerklause, it seems, know how to operate this jukebox in the best way. Mix this with cheap, but very limited drinks, classic American bar food, a consistently good amount of people (except on Thursdays, when it’s way too crowded), and its beautiful location overlooking the water, and you’ve got one of the best bars in Kreuzberg. Highly recommended unless you aren’t looking for a low-key setting that night.

Trinkteufel (“Drink Devil”): Adalbertstr. & Naunynstr.

This bar is loud, punk, and rambunctious. Its unapologetic, and rightfully so. This is the place to come for piercings, tattoos, Mohawks, patchwork leather jackets, and safety pins. It’s not exactly my sort of place, so my visit was short lived. Highly recommended unless you are often scared by people who’s alliance with political extremes defines their entire lifestyle.

Rote Rose: Adalbertstr. & Oranienstr.

I, myself, have never been into Rote Rose but decided it worth mentioning because it is, supposedly, the best bar in Xberg for finding drugs and prostitutes. Highly recommended unless you don’t want to be that guy getting arrested out front at 1am.

(Un-named) “Tapas Bar”: Orianienstr. & Heinrich Pl.

I discovered the low key tapas bar one night just looking for a new place to go. It’s lighting is a tad harsh, but still warm, and the drinks are reasonably priced. Mixed drinks (or “Longdrinks”) come in large glasses, and their beers are all half liters. The small snack foods are great, and the atmosphere screams “first date.” Highly recommended unless you’re under 35 and feel like showing it.

Kubertus Lounge: Eisenbahnstr. 6

Kubertus is another Kreuzberg secret. My tandem language partner (a High School senior living in Kreuzberg) showed me this bar. The menu is really interesting, subscribing to a definite dada-collage aesthetic, and the bar itself, is entirely cozy. Overstuffed couches and plush chairs line the place, making small corners for people to sit and have intimate conversation. This would be a much younger type of “first date” place, I might say. And, before I forget, Kubertus has a revolving book case that leads to a staircase to its basement whereupon entering, it’s transformed into a club every Friday and Saturday night. Highly recommended, unless you don’t like to surprise people.

S036: Between Adalbertstr. & Heinrich Pl.

S036 is a nightclub with a heart of gold. There’s nothing too remarkable about this place from the looks of it. In fact, one might even say that the cover price is just too much for what one gets: decent, but certainly not famous, DJs, and a dancefloor that offers some fun lighting and the occasional spurt of chemical fog. Even so, I try to go to S036 as often as I can because the club is actually a non-profit for immigrant and gay rights in Kreuzberg. Highly recommended unless you don’t feel charitable.

Berghain/Panorama Bar: Just follow the pounding base behind S-Ostbahnhof

I do realize that I’ve written about Berghain during my blog post on the subject of authenticity, but it’s definitely still worth writing about some more. This three-floor megaclub club, with no reflective surfaces, has been voted the best club in the world. The door policy is disgustingly arbitrary and frustrates so many people on a nightly basis, but, if you wait it out and finally get in, the experience will be mindblowing. They have an incredible sound system and light stage in every single one of their gigantic rooms, and they have a labyrinth-like maze of smoking rooms, bath rooms, sex rooms, and food bars lining the ulterior of the main rooms. Highly recommended unless you haven’t decided where you’ll go if you get rejected that night.

Fritzclub: S-Ostbahnhof (Immediately outside, to the East)

Another huge club with a great sound system and light show, but Fritz is pretty pricey and its scene is a little tacky. Highly recommended if you want to party in a church seven days a week.

Watergate: Oberbaumstr. & Grobenuferstr.

Like Berghain, Watergate also has a heavy-handed door policy to encourage it being remembered as an authentic experience. But, Watergate’s policy is slightly less anti-American than Berghain, so if you look like you want to have fun and are a little more dressy than might be acceptable at Berghain, then Watergate is a definite solution. The prices and drinks, as well as number of famous DJs that frequent this hotspot, match Berghain. However, the doormen/bouncers are a little friendlier, and don’t mind a smile or conversation while you’re in line. Highly recommended if you’ve just been rejected by Berghain but refuse to go home.

Bar 25: An Der Schiling Brucke (S-Ostbahnhof)

This club, right on the Spree, is only open during the summer. But, during the summer, its open almost all the time. People sit out on the patio it offers at all times, and as long as its not too late, no one pays a cover. The views of the river are breathtaking, and the club-feel to this place is much less than overwhelming. There’s also a fantastic tire-swing that always has a line (never too long) that you can take for a ride right above the river. Highly recommended, unless you hate the summer.

Club de Visionaire: Schlesischestr. & Schleusenufer.

Like Bar 25, Club de Visionaire is only open during the summer. Like Bar 25, Club de Visionaire is located right on the river. Unlike Bar 25, Club de Visionaire is solely based outside, in a small garden, where blasting beats and overcrowded thoroughfares do not match the type of experience you’d love to be having there. If you can snag a spot on the floating dock it boasts, you’re in for a treat, but chances are you’ll be huddled between two shouting Germans, a thorn tree, clutching your 7 euro drink for dear life. Highly recommend, unless you don’t have the magical power to make people leave.

Restaurants:

Helvetia: Neunynstr. & Manteuffelstr.

A Swiss-German treat, this cute restaurant offers a host of fine “potato-cakes,” “onion-cakes,” and traditional spatzles. They have a huge selection of beers and wines, and their prices are extremely reasonable for the quality of food. The staff is small and happy, and willing to help you translate their exclusively-German menu. If you’re hungry and willing to spend, I recommend splitting the fondue-for-two and the Swiss version of cheese spatzle. Highly recommended.

Henne: Neunynstr & Lauschnerdamm

Another keystone in understanding German authenticity, as I wrote before, this restaurant only serves half-fried-chickens (Milchchicken) with the sides of potato salad or sauerkraut. They also only offer three beers. Highly recommended, unless you’re, like me, a vegetarian (vegetarisch).

Maroush: Adalbertstr Between Oranienstr & S-Kottbusser Tor

Maroush offers cheap Middle-Eastern sandwiches and dishes. It’s specifically Lebanese, which means it’s the best place to go for hummus and for falafel. It’s hard to say what makes Maroush so great, but, like with most things, it’s probably the classic atmosphere. Highly recommended for a cheap lunch, especially if you have a longing for New York’s famous Mamoun's.

Hasir: Adalbertstr Between Oranienstr & S-Kottbusser Tor

Hasir offers Turkish foods to a much more refined palate. The setting in this restaurant is definitely upscale, but they still cook their kebabs right in front of their customers. Their Turkish hummus is much different than classic Lebanese hummus, but still very delicious. Highly recommended if you’re parents are in town, picking up the bill, and want to know what Kreuzberg is all about.

Cream: S-Schlesisches Tor, to the South

Cream is the ideal place for brunch after a long weekend of drinking and dancing. The meals are hearty and reasonably priced. The staff are friendly and allow you time to read while you’re trying to shake off your hang over. True, too, is that this is definitely a place where you’re likely to see that guy or girl you were dancing with last night, and make one last effort to exchange numbers, or have sober conversation. Highly recommended for a more relaxed, daylight version of that party scene you craved so hard.

Markthalle: Manteuffelstr. & Reichenberger Str.

The final place I wrote about in my post on the subject of authenticity, Markthalle does not buy into the idea of fanciness or extras. A limited menu and a limited selection of beers, Markthalle is another great place for fine German dining. Although, as I mentioned in my last post, the prices are a little higher than what you grow to expect of places in Kreuzberg. That said, if you aren’t a vegetarian, this is place to get Weinerschnitzel—the sort of Weinerschnitzel counter-part to the Milchchicken offered at Henne. Highly recommended, again, if your parents are in town and want a real, German experience.

Kim-Qui: Orianienstr. Between Adalbertstr. & Dresdener Str.

Vietnamese at its finest and cheapest, Kim-Qui has an excellent selection of pho and glass-noodle options that have kept me coming there all semester. There owner and primary waitress, not to mention, is one of the sweetest women you’ll have ever met in your life. It’s small, but cozy, and you’ll find yourself relaxing while listening to all your favorite 90’s pop singles on the restaurants apparently limited soundtrack. I definitely recommend the boiled, rather than fried, summer rolls with tofu. And remember to tip, because you’ll definitely be remembered by the owner the next time you come back.

Calexico: Orianienstr. Between Adalbertstr. & Dresdener Str.

Literally, the only place in Europe that I recommend getting Mexican food. After having been served shredded cabbage as a side to my “vegetarian burrito,” in Poland, it’ll be no problem returning to the US, where actual Mexican food lines the streets. Calexico, owned and operated by Mexican immigrants, is the only place that does burritos, quesadillas, and salsa right in Berlin. The prices are a little high, but unless you know how to make Mexican yourself, you might just have to splurge a little.

Kuchen Kaiser (King of the Kitchen): Erkelenzdamm (In the Square/Platz)

The best breakfast/brunch spot in Kreuzberg. It’s huge and has a diner feel, and the waitresses give you the same look when you ask them if they speak English as waitresses at diners in the US might give if you asked them if they spoke German. You’ll just have to deal, but it makes it easier that they have menus in English and, every Sunday, offer a really beautiful all-you-can-eat (“American Style”) breakfast buffet for nine euros. And, before I forget, Kuchen Kaiser also takes credit cards, something very, very few establishments here in Berlin offer. Highly recommended, unless one of your main reasons for going abroad was to avoid diner-style eating.

Transatlantic ExchangeIt seems very foreign to me that in less than a week I will speak, think, and write in only one language. I will no longer say words in the wrong language, have to ask myself, “Is that a word?” or have to ponder which language is appropriate for which person. I will also never have to be embarrassed of my accent or translate for friends. As much as I have struggled with my linguistic confusion, I have also really enjoyed it. It is always interesting to see in which ways my brain will get confused, which franglicisms have become rooted in my subconscious. I have also enjoyed watching the confused and surprised look on French people’s faces when the loud American actually speaks good French. Somehow, a world without linguistic crises just seems a bit boring. No more new expressions and swear words, no explaining the bizarre euphemisms and slang used by American teenagers (one French friend was particularly amused by “tots def”). And where is the adventure if you always know what you want to say and how to say it?
But at the same time, I am excited to go back to New York and finally have a secret language. Even though I am a foreigner in France, speaking my native tongue in no way distinguishes me from the crowd or provides me with any amount of privacy. In fact, I find it to be just the opposite. If I am speaking English in public, the French will assume that I am just one the billions of tourists who invade their city on a daily basis, and if they are rude, vulgar people, will proceed to talk about me or taunt me in French assuming that I could never understand. It is one unfortunate fact about Paris that I will definitely not miss, although responding in French and walking away can be very satisfying. But back in New York, I will finally have the experience of being able to talk openly and in relative privacy. Although, New York is full of French people, so a bit of caution is wise. I have often enjoyed listening to French tourists in public places like the Met because they assume that no one will understand, especially because they can spot other Frenchies from a mile away.
Because I am petrified of losing my French, I am hoping to find some French friends or at least a language exchanger partner in the city, but this may prove to be a rather difficult task. In France, there is a large community of Americans, of which I am currently a member, who associate with each other, attend each other’s parties, seek out each other’s company, and generally frequent the same places. In New York, there is a secret underground network of French expats who cling together as well. If I am successful in my infiltration, I will have access to nearly unlimited opportunities to practice my French. But if the expats are as reserved and difficult to befriend as the resident French, I may never find someone to talk to me.

Me at the Salt FlatsI transferred to NYU; I missed out on orientation, welcome week, whatever other get to know you type activities held for freshman to ease the socializing process. When I saw how hard it was going to be to make friends in my classes, or in my dorm I checked out, stopped trying, found a community for myself somewhere else. Studying abroad in Buenos Aires through NYU has, by far, been the most time I have spent around such a concentrated group of NYU students ever... in my life. In a lot of ways it feels like high school again. I don't know how big the other study abroad sites are, but here in Buenos Aires there are about 90 of us, and at this point we all know each other by name and face, and it's likely we have hung out or conversed at some point with only a few exceptions. It's become a bit incestuous at this point. It's always eventful.

The social experiment culminated this weekend when we went on NYU sponsored trips. Half of the program went to Paraguay, the other half went to Salta, and I went to Salta, a northern province of Argentina. We bused around, went to another estancia, saw a lot more gaucho shows, an Incan mummy, the salt mines; it was a lot of moving around. Traveling in a group of 50 is always exhausting. Make them all 21, generally incredibly ambitious, usually trendy, and New Yorkers and imagine how exhausting it is. But we all made it back ok with a hangover and an alpaca sweater to show for it.

This trip has taught me that people never change. 90 people thrown in a room with a dire need to socialize seems to produce the same results whether they are fourteen or 40. People who look the same flock together. At NYU that usually means people who dress the same, or are from similar economic backgrounds. Surprisingly or not, disappointingly or not, this trip down south has been a lot about watching social situations unravel. Who's dating who now? Who has stopped hanging out with who? It's dramatic, there seems to be news everyday, and it's interesting to watch. It's eerie how much it feels like high school again. I went to a small high school and it was incestuous too.

I would stand out in this crowdComing to Argentina I was very well aware of the obvious cultural differences that I would experience. The first thing I noticed here were the stares. I've traveled and studied abroad to places where I've been stared at before, but these stares were more intense. Almost uncomfortable. From the moment that I arrived at the airport, the attention I received was so strong, so very obvious, that I sensed myself beginning to panic from being so self conscious. I remember before coming to Argentina, when telling people that I would be studying here, I'd get really curious, almost worried looks from people who would respond by saying "You DO realize that Argentina is full of racists, riiight?" I do try to not obsess about things like that, but it is something that I, and may other minority travelers have to think about when traveling. How safe is it at night for a woman? Is there a strong anti-Semitic sentiment? Is there an open-minded attitude towards those who identify as LGBT? Are racial minorities generally well accepted amongst locals? You realize that this has to be an issue for many when you notice that there are a few outlets online dedicated to traveling as a minority and even NYU study abroad has specific guides dedicated to communities that have traditionally been marginalized. I found a great forum on rick steeves' website where many share anecdotes of traveling and studying abroad and tips to help you along your journey.

Though racism obviously exists in Argentina, Argentina is in fact, not full of racists. It is however, full of extremely curious people. The curiosity, at first, was cute and almost endearing to me. And walking into bars and not having to do much to have people approach you was a very fun, very new experience for me. After living in very culturally and racially diverse cities such as Miami and New York City, I loved the idea of being considered exotic and different among a very homogenous city. However, the whole thing has just exhausted me. After traveling to Brasil where everyone thought I was Brasilian (until I opened my mouth), and being able to fit in so well into Brasilian society, returning to Buenos Aires just confused me. All of a sudden, I felt like I was being exoticised and pretty much sexualized. Walking through a crowded bar, passing by men yelling opa!!! or mmm brasileña and winking at stopped being cute or funny to me. Being asked whether or not I can sing, dance or any other foolishness that people SOLELY associate with black people (thanks BET) started to offend me. I'm sure me being homesick has also not helped with my intolerance for this invasive curiosity neither. While in Brasil I decided to not to straighten my hair anymore and have decided to keep my hair in this kinky fashion and having men touch your hair while you're trying to go to the restroom, or worse, literally grabbing your hair as your trying to exit a bar and then yelling "Chau morocha!" (slang commonly used here for a black woman) had me feeling absolutely violated and pretty much in tears. A good friend of mine in the program who happens to be Korean has to deal with being constantly harassed by a few Argentines living in her residencia who think it'd be hilarious to bang on her door yelling racial epithets and calling her phone at all hours of the night acting like racist douchebags. Like I wrote in the authenticity post, I often wonder how my experiences differ from my counterparts. If there's anyone still out there reading, what do you think? Do you feel as if you're experiences have been shaped by a part of your identity?

Regardless of how I've been feeling these past couple of weeks, I still love this country. I'm more than pleased with myself for deciding to come here. This country, much like all of Latin America, has such a strong culture of sharing and people here are generally extremely helpful and friendly. I just can't wait until I have a conversation that doesn't involve me saying " "No, I'm not Brasilian. No, I don't know how to dance. No, I will not sing you a Beyonce song. Yes, I really am American." "

Finally going home: Going home should be a good thing. However at this moment, I’m dreading the thought of having to pack and turn in a 12-page paper and studying for finals. It’s not fun trying to study for something when simultaneously; you’re trying to do some last minute tourist stuff. I understand that finals are a big deal and all, but maybe it would have been better if we had a week after finals to unwind and then go home. I feel like right after finals, I’m going to pack and rush to the airport and finally go home. It’s something I would do in New York, but not Prague. I want to leave Prague knowing that I did everything I wanted to do. Also, lets be honest: When will I ever come to Prague again? It’s highly unlikely. As much as I enjoyed Prague, I don’t see myself visiting here in the next five to ten years. However, I have some other places I’d like to visit in the next few years. I really enjoyed Spain and would even consider living there for a year or two. Also, I wouldn’t mind living in London as well. I liked Spain because everyone seemed unpretentious and easy going. The city of Madrid was beautiful and I could see myself living there. I would learn the language and also work there for a year. It would be something I can look back at and be proud of. It’s not easy to drop everything and leave to a different country—like what I did back home. Deciding to come to Prague was last minute. I decided to go probably during winter break. Everything was chaos. I had to change my housing situation back at New York, sign up for classes abroad, and do everything last minute. Also telling my friends and family that I’ll be studying abroad was another painstaking activity. I think it was also a pain coming here my junior year. This year was supposed to be about internships, studying for LSAT’s , and finding a great internship for the summer. But either way, I got here and now I’m leaving. It’s a little frustrating because it feels like I just got acquainted with Prague, and now I’m rushing to pack and get ready to leave.

Traditional Czech Fare

Welcome to Prague, the hauntingly beautiful city known for its signature cheap pivo (that’s Czech for beer, folks), towering spires and romantic cobblestone streets that has increasingly become a place for tourists to frequent in their desire to explore Eastern Europe. Prague, while still relatively cheap by European standards, is still not the cheapest place one can find for food (though its pretty darn close!). You see, I’m talking from the perspective of the cheapest of the cheap here; the constantly hungry, sometimes inebriated, and pleasure seeking, the specimen known as the college student. Being here for an entire semester has posed the unique challenge of trying to experience a culture from an authentic (and delicious) perspective without spending too much money. Prague is a place where the distinctive culture of its people dictates everyday life, from attitudes and behavior, to customs, and of course, its food. Prague’s traditional Czech cuisine is hearty and filling, and quite good when one explores establishments mere steps away from typical tourists haunts. It is my pleasure to share some of these places with you, my oh-so-fortunate audience, and yes there will be some walking (but you’re supposed to be tourists and enjoy exploring).

To begin, I will state that many of these places are places that have been highly recommended to me by local Czechs, which I then chose to “Czech-out” (I had to throw in a bit of my incredible wit, for good measure, of course). However, at of the some places that I paid a visit, I was not able to eat some of the dishes because I am allergic to pork, which then led my all-too-willing friends to assist me yet somehow still leaving me with a sense of indebtedness toward them. Since when was eating a chore? Regardless, we begin our tour of Prague’s traditional Czech meals with the microbrewery restaurant known as Pivovarsky Dum, serving the one thing Prague is best known for: its beer. It is important to note that at the time this article was written, the exchange rate between the Czech koruna and the US dollar was 20kc to every 1 US Dollar. Pivovarsky Dum (Lipova 15, Prague 1) is a great microbrewery I discovered while here in Prague located not too far from the I.P. Pavlova metro stop, that offers 0.1 liter samples of some of the freshest beer I’ve had in Prague (including Pilsner) for not more than a few crowns, including flavors like sour cherry, coffee and banana beer. While not all the beer flavors tickled my fancy, one can leave the establishment with not spending more then 100kc, or five U.S. dollars, and with a satisfied beer belly (granted, I am a bit of a lightweight). While I don’t recommend trying the food here (it was fairly mediocre), those who choose to can grab something from the daily menu for 120 kc. Most of the waiters spoke fairly good English, and stopping by this place, though now somewhat often frequented by tourists, is worth the atmosphere and cheap beer alone.

After a slight buzz from said beer, make your way up to the Narodni Trida metro stop, which is available through several tram lines, including the 22, where you will find Prague’s best smazeny syr, or fried cheese sandwich, for a modest 35kc upon dismounting the tram. This stand is by and far the place to get most savory smazeny syr anywhere in Prague (believe me, I’ve gained weight trying to find it), with its perfectly flash fried and crunchy exterior, toasted bun and perfectly portioned tartar sauce. This is one place not to miss during your stay in Prague, and to make things even sweeter, the stand is open almost all-night long! So, now, after you’ve had some time to digest this appetizer of sorts, walk about ten minutes to Mala Strana (very close to the national theatre). Visit the restaurant Olympia (Vitezna 7, Prague 5, 11:00-24:00) was recommended to me by my Czech personal trainer Jirka Charvatova (who just happens to be a foodie) as one of the best places to try svickova, sliced and marinated beef sirloin in a cream sauce topped with cranberry compote served with knedliky, or traditional Czech dumplings, which will cost you about eight US dollars. The restaurant is a sister restaurant of the popular restaurant (for both locals and tourists alike), Kolkovna, a Pilsner affiliate, which means that plenty of fresh Pilsner beer is on tap at 39kc for a half liter in the almost kitsch-like atmosphere of the place.

So, I understand that all this continual walking and exploring of Praha might still leave you a bit famished, but luckily for you, dear reader, I’m not finished quite yet (don’t worry, I’ll give you a few moments to digest). If you’re in the mood for light fare, I have it on good word through a rather picky Czech vegetarian (yes, they do exist) named Lucie Pinusova, that a cheap Pilsner-affiliated restaurant (very appealing on several levels to college students) by the name of Ego (Obloukova 25, Prague 10, 11:00-24:00) has the best cesnekovy polevka, or garlic soup, this side of the Vltava river, at a mere 35kc. By contrast, the restaurant also serves some of Prague’s best klobasy, or grilled sausage, with mashed potatoes for 95kc. I realize that most people who come to the Czech Republic, are in fact carnivores, so if the infamous Czech roasted pork knuckle is what you’re after, I have just the place. My Czech friend David Strup dragged me to what he (and his nodding friends) agreed as the best place in Praha for pork knee/knuckle, teasing my hunger pangs (and desire to not break out in hives from an allergic reaction) while savoring every bite at of the classical Czech dish at U Provaznice (Provaznicka 3, Prague 1, 11:00-24:00) at a modest 235kc (a bit over 11 US dollars) for a savory and smoked meal. Squeals of delight erupted from David’s mouth as he ate, so I believe its safe to assume he was accurate in his assessment.

For traditional Czech goulas, our building R.A. Tyna, recommended I try a restaurant in nearby Vinohrady, which was her personal favorite for the Czech dish by the name of U Strecu (Budecksa 19, Prague 2), which served a hearty serving portion with knedliky, bread dumplings. I brought my friend Vicki along, who decides to deviate from my meal plan and order the Czech national dish of roast pork with dumplings and cabbage, and said it was quite possibly the best meal she had ever had in Prague. Our combined total, including two glasses of wine and tip, came out to 205kc, which was quite a nice surprise. Service was a bit slow in the very home-y atmosphere of the restaurant, but well worth the wait and price. We distracted ourselves by looking around at the odd assortment of seemingly misplaced items and framed advertisements (noticeably a rather odd Harley Davidson piece of memorabilia) on the barren whitewashed walls.

Now, the part that you’ve been waiting for (at least I have), the best part of a meal: dessert. Though my favorite dessert in all of Prague is one that is available everywhere, only one place makes it exactly the way it tastes best: U Knihovny (Veleslavinova 10, Prague 1) tucked away down a side street close to the Starometska metro stop with a surprisingly well-appointed interior and prices that go far under what the establishment could charge. A favorite of locals, this restaurant serves full entrees under 100kc, but their presentation of the Czech honey cake known as medovnik, at 39kc a slice, served with whipped cream and refrigerated to perfection, is one I urge you not to pass up. Reservations are recommended if coming at a busy time, as the establishment is quite popular. Lastly, for the Czech dessert and breakfast staple palacinky, I visited a place recommended by a girl my age, Tereza Zvolska, that I met while on the hunt for the cost-effective best of the best here in Praha. as one of the best places to enjoy its magnificent airy texture.  Café Louvre (Narodni 22, Prague 1, 9:00-23:30), is a rustic Parisian style café that boasts which sells the scrumptious items for 59kc a portion, topped with raspberry sauce and sour cream, and additionally boasts that it makes the “best coffee in Prague”.

So there you have it dear destitute readers, a guide to eating to your heart’s content here in Prague without breaking the bank and risking being inauthentic. The only thing I ask is that you return the favor kindly and take me with you; I am a college student, after all.

doisneau's kiss

Note: I know this is in no way an accurate portrayal of all French guys, and it's not very fair to them. Still, this all is true in reference to me.

People keep asking me why I'm not going out with anybody since I'm in Paris! of all places. Here's why: for one, I hardly know any of the French. The professors are still on strike (and may be so for the next three years. THREE years, until the next election and Sarko gets kicked out) so I can't take any classes at the French universities, which drastically reduces my chances of getting to know ANY French people. Then we're suppose to have language partners, but the coordinator got the email of mine wrong, so I don't have one. None of my american friends really have French friends either. Other than that, the best chance of meeting people is in a club. The problem with clubs here though, is that they're either really sketchy, or they're really elitist, meaning they don't let you in unless you're a model or a multimillionaire. I don't like the former, and I'm not the latter. Also, clubbing about once a month is more than enough for me, I don't like dancing with guys (because guys are skeevy) and besides, do I actually want to to out with a guy who hits on random girls in a club?

Then there's the French system of dating, which follows as such: boy meets girl (whether either is attached is often immaterial), boy asks for girl's number, asks her out within a day, they hook up on first date, see each other everyday for the next couple of weeks an then break up. Of course, this doesn't hold true for ALL relationships (or the French would've died out centuries ago) but that's the way people whom I know who date do it. Being in a normal relationship already drives me crazy, I think doing that would reduce me to a blubbering pile of digested ice cream.

And finally, French guys themselves. I've given my contact to a couple of guys then promptly ignored them, because not actually being able to recognize the person you're supposedly going on a date with is a little awkward. And anyway, in order to date someone, one has to like a person first (for me, at least). I've yet to find someone I can actually muster up even the vaguest interest about. Aaaand here's why. The following is an online conversation with a guy I met a couple of weeks ago, who asked me for directions to the metro. (There's another amusing story there, but I'll save it.) Yes, I gave him my email (thank god not anything else) and he was a lot less creepy in real life than he comes across online. Still, after this I blocked him.

Julien: have you got a boyfriend?

.kass. : nope

Julien : haaa

Julien : ok

Julien : why?

.kass. : huh?

.kass. : why what?

Julien : why are you alone?

Julien : single?

Julien : you are very nice and pretty

.kass. : er

.kass. : i have no idea how to answer that

Julien : lol

Julien : ok

Julien : meet me

Julien : ok?

[insert pause here where I didn't respond]

Julien : how is singapour?

Julien : can you just one hour tomorow?

.kass. : i really can't, sorry

.kass. : my project is group work, which means that my time issn't my own

Julien : yes but after your project

Julien : if you agree, i promise you a kiss tomorow lol

Julien : so?

Julien : so??

.kass. : i'm sorry, i really really can't

Julien : okJulien : even if i promise you a kiss??

.kass. : er

.kass. : no offense, but i don't really want one

Julien : lol

Julien : i don't want to kiss you but it is a blackmail

Julien : blackmail = chantage?

.kass. : chantage?

Julien : oui

Julien : tu connais en francais? le chantage?

Julien : it is not important

.kass. : non, desolée

Julien : i don"t want to kiss youJulien : just to speak with you about singapour

.kass. : again, still no time

.kass. : sorry

Julien : ok no problem

Julien : but don't think i want to kiss you please because i have a wife

Julien : (girlfriend)

After living in London for over three months it saddens me to say that after a while I began to slowly spiral down from my original enthusiasm and started to become cynical. Not cynical about London itself, but with the monotony of living here and going to school. I started to take for granted this city. It reached a point where I was becoming more excited about my next trip outside of London, my next chance to leave this island; more-so excited than I was about anything else. I suppose it is similar to living in any place really. Sometimes, you move somewhere and are so enthralled in all that your new city has to offer you: the new neighborhoods, the new people, the new adventures. But after a while, you sink into a routine. Everything becomes ordinary rather then new and exciting. The place you once dreamed of has become redundant. Maybe I started letting the gloomy London weather get to me, but I was coming to a point where I no longer cared about living here and was looking forward to the day I was heading back to New York. 

Luckily for me, Spring Break was quickly approaching me. Two weeks of no work and no rush, just some relaxing free time. My first week was spent in Athens and Rome. I fell in love immediately. Well, maybe not so much with Athens, but definitely with Rome. The second week of Spring Break was dedicated to my family. They were flying up to spend a week in London and of course, to visit with me. This part I wasn't as thrilled about. Don't get me wrong, I was ridiculously excited to see my family, but with my current feelings towards London you can understand that I wasn't thrilled to be spending a week here. 

What could we possibly do with an entire week?! That was the thought running through my mind.

Nana, Mom, and Me infront of Big Ben

Well, the family was here and instead of ruining their trip I put on my happy face like any other daughter and stuck it out. Of course, with none of my family having been here in the last ten years it was evident that ALL the touristy sites would be done. And boy did we see them all! And surprisingly to me, my bitterness actually began to wear off! Getting dragged to every historical site imaginable somehow became exactly what was needed to lift the bitter weight that was resting on my shoulder. It seems that with my families excitement and fresh outlook on the city, I was able to look at London in a different light. I suppose I could be cheesy and call it a revelation, but that was in fact what it seemed to become. With my family there I was re-introduced to the city that I once fell in love with; with the city that I had dreamed about; the city I wanted to study abroad in. Maybe it was a three month slump that I fell into but I'm glad to be out of it! Maybe the trick is, instead of leaving behind the places we once loved, it is our responsibility to revisit the things that made us fall in love in the first place. 

As NYU students, we are fortunate to have a big study abroad program. I believe NYU prides itself as a global program that offers classes from Shanghai to Buenos Aires. When I thought of studying abroad, I wasnt sure where and when I should go. I've always wanted to study abroad but the time never seemed to be right. But finally, as a junior I was pressed for time and decided that there really wasn't a perfect time for anything and decided to just go. While browsing on the NYU website I took interest in Florence, Madrid, Paris, and Prague. I then tried to weigh the pros and cons of each city and finally on a whim, decided to apply to Prague. Why Prague? Well, I figured I'd go to some place completely foreign and different. I honestly knew nothing about the Czech Republic which made me want to learn and see this area. Even when I told my mom, my mom asked if it was Czechoslovakia not the Czech Republic. My parents, of course pressed me to reconsider and go to someplace more "normal." A normal place being Paris or Florence. But finally my parents agree and bought my roundtrip ticket to Prague. Honestly, I was not looking forward to the 11 hour trip. I bought a Prague guidebook and to be frank, I was not really impressed. I'm not really into the architecture/castle thing. I'd say I'm more into the beach, warm weather, and good food thing instead. If I could, I'd have chosen to go to Australia or Hawaii- NYU should get on that. But anyways, browsing through guidebooks I was particularly excited to see the Charles Bridge and remnants of Communism. Of course the guidebooks dont talk much about that. I was definitely drawn to Prague because of its history with communism. I wanted to see how a post-communist country looked like. Also wanted to see how a post-communist society lived like and how the Czech culture differed from western countries. Today, to wonder how communism has influenced the Czech culture and society, I begin to think about the rigid-ness of the Czech culture. I'm not sure if the description of rigid is the proper word, but it's the "mind-your-own-business" sort of attitude that I'm trying to delineate. It's not a bad thing, but I definitely believe that the communist rule had something to do with it. Dont get me wrong, Czech people are very nice and their culture is rich and colorful. All I'm saying is what I've personally observed for the past four months. All in all, I am glad that I opted to study here and learn about the Czech culture.

Living in Buenos Aires with an Orthodox Jewish family has been a particularly enlightening experience, one which has proven to be a temperamental tour of mishaps and mitzvahs. While a majority of the comical encounters I come across on a daily basis are probably shared amongst all NYU students residing in Argentine home-stays, the minor disasters that I cause each day, in my kosher kitchen and Shabbos supper, are a genuinely unique affair.

Truth be told, when Vivianna Saal wrote to me in January, describing her family as “traditionally Jewish,” I thought to myself—mazel tov! Though it wasn’t exactly what I had expected from the 92% Roman Catholic country, my anxious heart was put at ease knowing that I could automatically understand certain things about her family. First and foremost, I knew food wouldn’t be an issue. (I must admit to feeling slightly disappointed, however, that I wouldn’t get the homemade empanadas I’d been dreaming of, but I’ve never been known to turn down a good brisket either!) Secondly, the understanding that Jewish mothers only differ slightly, within a very narrow spectrum of defined characteristics, left me feeling safe in the assumption that this Viviana would be taking very good care of me.

And indeed my assumptions were correct. Vivi turned out to be exactly what I expected and more. Overly hospitable to the point of exceeding irritation, an excellent cook whose use of chicken fat instead of oil has resulted in my gaining several pounds, and a loving and maternal woman who uses passive aggression and guilt to convey her feelings—Vivi is truly a blessing.

How To Be A Good Jewish Wife Lesson #1: Knish Making

But living with Vivi, her husband Jacovo, their strange maid who pretends not to speak English, and my NYU roommate (also orthodox)--in the tiniest apartment imaginable--has been a trying experience as well. More of a cultural encounter than I had bargained for, I’ve found myself lighting the Shabbos candles, washing my hands before getting to eat bread at dinner, stumbling upon Vivi’s extended family—asleep on the livingroom floor—in the midst of a little Shabbat siesta, getting reproached for mixing the milk and dairy silverware, and told semi-jokingly (and through much less subtle innuendo) of the option of early marriage, religious practice, and the remaining chance for me to enter into this blessed accord.

Awkwardness aside, Vivi’s self-sacrificing nature, inability to confront issues directly, and general pushiness, has made me feel right at home. Whether I walk into to the house and say that I’ve already eaten dinner, only to get a knock on my bedroom door sometime later with a plate of food piled high (just in case); or whether I’m relentlessly being groomed to be a good Orthodox wife at age 21, you’ve got to love the woman.

If anything, this whole thing is probably more of a demanding ordeal for her. I mean I’m most likely the closest thing to a shiksa she’s ever had in her house—not respecting Shabbat, coming home late most nights, with my long showers and shoulders out! The least I can do, is let her go on like she does, allowing her to be content with the fantasy that my roommate and I have entered into a competition to see who will get married first. I say, whatever keeps the knishes coming!