Padova: Link in a Golden Chain

However lovely Florence and Tuscany were, we could not stay there forever. We had hotel reservations back up north, and so we said goodbye to the warmth of Tuscany and boarded a train to take us to Veneto. Breaking our journey in Bologna allowed us to spend a considerably smaller amount of money on our tickets. Several people we crossed paths with planned on stopping in Bologna for the next leg of their own trips from Florence, and both of us were a little bewildered by their decision to do so. What attractions does Bologna have? Had we made a mistake in leaving it off our own itinerary?

The view from our hotel balcony.

Regardless, it was too late to change it now, and our time in Bologna was spent eating the last of our food from the supermarket in Sienna: apples and peanut butter, a perfect snack. Back on the train, I fell asleep. After embarking in Padua, we successfully navigated the public transportation system and found our way to our hotel, which was remarkably literally a stone's throw away from St Anthony's Cathedral. We spent our first hour in Padua marveling at the differences between a hotel and a hostel. Our accommodation in Florence had been perfectly adequate, but this hotel provided a free map, we had our own room, with our own bathroom, and a balcony which looked out over the Cathedral. Sometimes it pays to pay.

Because of it's proximity, our first stop in exploring the city of Padua was the Cathedral, a famous pilgrimage destination for people petitioning Anthony, the patron saint of an endless list of professions, hobbies, and events. Stepping into the cathedral, my breath caught in my throat. Every inch of the interior was carved or painted or adorned in someway. It was overwhelming. Surrounding the main nave of the church were a number of smaller chapels, some with paintings and altars, some with statues, one with relics, and one, the largest of them all, the tomb of Anthony himself, with a file of people walking by. As we passed, a group of preschool-age children were being ushered out by their ragged looking teachers, a job I did not envy them.

We stayed inside for long minutes, trying to see everything, to understand the amount of work that went into such a building, to appreciate the devotion that motivated the innumerable carpenters, sculptors, painters, and other artists to build such a resting place for one holy man. Finally, we vowed to return, and made our way back out onto the square and towards Piazza Bar, the largest Roman piazza in Italy.


It too was lovely, in a very different way. The borders of the square were buildings with the ubiquitous arches of Padua, all graceful, all providing a covered walkway around nearly the entirety of the square. The center of the square was an artificial island, surrounded by a moat and reached by one of several bridges. On either side of the moat were statues of presumably famous Italians, although the only name we recognized was Galileo.
     Unlike any of the other cities we had visited or were planning to visit, Padua doesn't really have any blockbuster sites. The charm of Padova is it's atmosphere, the city itself. We spent the rest of the day wandering around the city, not really having a destination in mind, but wanting to get a feel for this city. If Sienna was like a museum, walking through Padova was like walking onto a very large movie or theater set. The columns and arches were impossibly real, improbably recognizable from Kiss Me Kate.

The only other specific sites we saw were more churches: a beautiful little chapel in the middle of construction, and another cathedral which although it didn't have the splendor of St. Anthony's, I think I ended up liking better for it's simplicity. We saw some market squares, and stopped for hot chocolate and coffee in an adorable cafe to get out of the rain where we were mistaken for Dutch girls.

For whatever reason, whether it was the rain which caught us off guard, without our umbrellas, the fact that our trip was now halfway over, or the simple action of having moved that day, I was in an unreasonably bad mood. I stuck it out as long as I could, and tried to enjoy the city, even in the rain, but when the simple plans we were making about where we were going to eat continued to be foiled by odd opening hours, I was over it, and fairly begged Abbie to go back to the hotel.

We solved our food problem by asking at the hotel for the nearest supermarket. We trudged down the street, and peered into storefronts, wondering if this was it, and nearly gave up. But then we found it, and discovered that it was called Meta! This simple fact made the finding of food even more exciting. We purchased a random selection of food, took a picture with my namesake, and returned to the hotel, ready to spend the rest of the night in our pajamas watching TV on Abbie's phone.


After that first day, our time in Padua was limited to the walk back from the train station after our trip to Verona, and the hour we spent back in Piazza Bar our last morning there, reprising our roles as statue imitators, a most amusing pastime. We certainly enjoyed ourselves, and probably entertained the people around us as well.

Though, as I said earlier, Padua doesn't have any sites on par with Florence, or Venice, or even Verona, it is quite a nice town. The arcades and arches, the pedestrian cobblestone streets, the restaurants and shops geared towards university student budgets, one of the laziest rivers I have ever seen in my entire life, the beautiful buildings tucked surprisingly down tiny alleyways, the arches which open into piazzas, they all add up to one of the most natural cities I've seen. Because most of the tourists coming into town are there for St. Anthony, it doesn't have to put on a show for the gawkers who wander the streets of other Italian cities. The students permeating the city give it a youthful atmosphere which completely belies it's considerable history.


By the time we left, with three nights left before I'd be back in Bratislava, I found I had reconciled myself with the city and wanted to stay and make amends for my earlier unreasonableness. Instead, we boarded a train for the 20 minute ride to Venice, our final destination.

Decisions, Decisions

     As those of you who know me well are quite aware of, I am a champion of indecision. I dither, and dather, look at every possible angle, stress out, and generally make myself miserable. I've come to realize that most often, there isn't a right or wrong answer to my problem. Usually, I'm trying to decide whether to follow the lead of my head or my heart, which almost always want different things.
     Recently, my dilemma has been about staying in Bratislava; whether to commit to the school, the kids, Petrzalka, and Slovak for another whole year. My original commitment was to come for the semester, while leaving the possibility for next year open on both sides. Within days of my official visa coming through, I was signing my contract, and the principal told me they would love for me to return. There was absolutely no hesitation on their part, which was encouraging, but not a sentiment I could match. It felt good knowing that I had done a strong enough job for them that they would unreservedly ask me back, but I asked for time to think about it, and was given a month.
     In typical Meta fashion, I went back and forth. Just like when I was trying to decide between Istanbul and home, I had moments where each option seemed inevitable, and I couldn't imagine doing anything else. But then something would happen, or I would have a conversation with someone, or I would do nothing but wake up, and my mind would have changed. My thoughts percolated in my brain, filtering into my consciousness without much drama. I was proud of myself that I was handling this decision-making process so well.
     And then, the day before our new flatmate was due to arrive, after a conversation with my supervisor, I nearly had a panic attack on the bus ride home. The decision that I thought I had made was turned on it's head, and I was no longer sure. She hadn't even said anything to try and sway me either way. Like the incident with the Czech postal system, it just created a storm inside my brain which made me question everything both my head and my heart had been telling me.
     My head, the logical part of me, had been saying that staying in Bratislava made so much more sense than leaving. My visa was taken care of, I had a job, a place to live, friends. I wouldn't need to readjust to a new foreign language, and would maybe even be able to pick up a decent amount of Slovak. I'd be in Europe, convenient to possible grad schools, as well as some of the most beautiful places on the planet. Teaching could only get easier; I would know most of the kids, I'd be teaching the classes right from the very beginning, and I'd have an entire semester of experience under my belt. Perhaps most importantly after all the teacher turn over this past year, they would have a consistent faculty, good for both the kids and the school itself. Staying here would make sense, in many important ways.
     My heart, on the other hand, reminded me that there was so much more in the world than Europe, that I had looked at jobs in Latin America and Asia before hearing about C.S. Lewis. It told me that the challenges of Bilgym would not go away just because I was an 'old' teacher. It tugged me towards another new adventure, a fresh start, and some time at home.
     The conflict had come to a head that day on the bus, and I knew I needed to make a decision as soon as I could, because otherwise, I was going to lose my mind. So that whole first weekend with Sierra here, as I was showing her around the school, around Bratislava, there was always a voice in the back of my head asking if I could stay here. Her newness, her optimism and excitement, threw my indecision into greater relief.
     Finally, finally, on Sunday after almost a week, I made my decision. Or rather, I made my peace with the decision that I had been fighting for weeks.
     I am, once again, choosing to come home, at least for a while. I decided that the possibilities the world was offering me were worth more than all the security Bratislava could. I decided that no matter how much I wanted to give the kids a sense of continuity, I wouldn't be as valuable a teacher if I didn't want to be there myself. I decided that I could use the experience I gained and lessons I learned here (and for which no words can sufficiently express my gratitude) more effectively somewhere else.
     So now I am once again job hunting. I've sent out some resumes, received some positive responses, and scheduled a couple interviews, all in South and Central America. I'm confident that I will end up where I'm meant to be, as that clearly is no longer Bratislava.
     Ideally, this means I will get home early in July, and spend my first week in the States not in Minnesota, but in Tennessee with KY Reunion. Then, after several weeks of relaxing, seeing people I love, and enjoying the city that will always be home, I would head back out. Not east this time, not across an ocean to Europe, but south, possibly across the equator, to explore a new part of the world. I don't know exactly what's in store for me, a state which I am rather reluctantly getting used to, but I'm excited to find out.

Back to Prague

Once I was going to be spending this spring in Bratislava, I knew I was going to go back to Prague at some point. What I didn't know was how I was going to feel about it. My time in Prague was hard, and it ended "not with a bang, but a whimper". An abrupt whimper, but a whimper nonetheless. I wasn't sure how I was going to reconcile my admittedly mixed memories of life in Prague with the reality of actually being there again. So when I boarded the bus in Bratislava on Friday afternoon, I was excited, but also a little apprehensive of the possible range of emotions the next several days were going to throw at me.

But when I emerged from the Metro out onto Namesti Miru, it was like I had never left. Everything was exactly as I remembered it. The only thing different was the layout of the street crossing, a project they had been in the middle of 5 months ago. As I walked up the street towards both my current hostel and my former flat, I was living in deja vu. It felt so right, but completely wrong at the same time.


After checking in and finding a bed, I reorganized my bags and fairly ran out the door. I wanted, maybe needed, to go back to Havlickovy Sady, back to my park, in order to reset myself in this city. Once there, I reveled in it's separate-ness. When you're there, it's like the rest of the city doesn't exist. This is something that Bratislava doesn't have, in really any form. There's nowhere you can go, and just forget where you are. The parks are lovely, but are lined with buildings and fences. The canal through Petrzalka is nice, and the lake is a pleasant surprise, but there's no escaping the fact that you are in the middle of Petrzalka. There's no way to break out of the pattern of the city. It was rejuvenating, and exactly what I needed.


Following my sojourn into the forest wonderland, I went over to a friend's flat for dinner. My Prague friends were always the best part of living here, and seeing them again was wonderful. We caught each other up on our lives, ate delicious soup, and I laughed more than I have in a long time.
   
On Saturday I went for a wander around the city, beginning with breakfast in Namesti Miru, watching the spires of the church gradually come into focus as the morning fog burned off. One of the many advantages of visiting a city you're already quite familiar with is that the level of guesswork as to which route to take in order to see everything you want to see is greatly reduced. Wanting to start at the castle, and work my way back to Vinohrady, I took the Metro to Malostranska, and climbed the stairs up to the level of the castle, shedding my cardigan, jacket, and scarf along the way. The sun was bright and hot, but had not yet reached the lower, more crowded parts of the city, so the distant landmarks were shrouded in mist. After wandering around the castle grounds and discovering some spectacular gardens, I made my way back down the hill and back to the Charles Bridge, with a detour to the Lennon Wall. Crossing the river, I made my way to Old Town Square, inadvertently arriving on the penultimate day of the Easter markets. I walked through Namesti Republiky, past the Powder Gate, and up Wenceslas Square back to Vinohrady, where I spent a blissful hour laying out in the sun in yet another city-defying park. Throughout the day, as I revisited these places that I once was able to call part of my home, my heart ached, and I found myself thinking: "I wish I could have been happy here."


That, I think, sums up my feelings about Prague. It is a beautiful city, with myriads of opportunities, a rich history, deep cultural significance, and a future full of possibilities. I would have loved to have been able to stay. To watch the city change from fall to winter, and from winter to spring. I would have loved getting to know her more, to recognize and appreciate her quirks, but it wasn't in the cards for me. For many reasons, Prague was not going to make me happy last fall, and forcing the point would not have been wise. It's possible that we'll get a second chance at some point, but I don't see that happening in the near future.


This visit to Prague was bittersweet. I love this city. It has vibrance, and color, life, history, pride, and some pretty great people. Being back on the familiar streets was wonderful, but it also made me sad because it no longer belongs to me. Or rather, I no longer belong to it. I'm the one with the backpack going to a hostel, not unlocking the door to a flat. I'm the one who has to buy Metro tickets because I don't have a pass. Obviously, I've done my fair share of tourist-ing, but I've never been a tourist somewhere I've lived. I suspect I'll have a similar reaction when I go back to Olaf. With so many memories tied up in these places, it's hard to be just another visitor.

The only language that seems appropriate to describe my feelings about my visit are relationship-centric, which I guess is appropriate. You can't live somewhere and not have a relationship with it, even if it's not the same as having a relationship with an actual person.

Prague is my one that got away. We tried, it didn't work, and we parted on relatively good terms. We both moved on. But there will always be a question mark surrounding the possibility of what could have been. What if we had tried harder? Could things have been different?

Whatever ends up happening, I am so blessed to have had the time that I did there. I met some wonderful people, grew a tremendous amount, and learned things about myself I could not have anywhere else. I once called Prague home. And even if I never do again, that will be enough.