Day Seven, in Which the Narrator Realizes There Are Some Things of Which He Will Never Tire

To wit: hearing the rules to King's Cup repeatedly explained in Czech; rereading Dancing Lessons for the Advanced in Age a million times; mléko; hearing Czech spoken with a thick Vietnamese accent; Czech English speakers who insist on using the present progressive tense for everything; Slovaks; rooming with a dude who reads Gogol and Chekhov in the original Russian; dancing for the sake of dancing; the exchange rate; Yevgeny Zamyatin; occasionally taking a night off; and the view from my room:



Things I may tire of but haven't yet: getting to the club at ten-thirty and leaving at four-thirty; T-Mobile CZ.

Things I've tired of already: the quantity of shattered glass on Czech dance floors. Unless one is wearing shoes with diamond-plated soles (Diddy?) the dully gleaming carpet of smashed glassware will lace the cracked rubber of your Cons with its tendrils, boring upward toward tender, tumescent feet. Glass-removal breaks every 90 minutes are indispensable. Oh, and British people. Quite sick of them.

Vocabulary: díky (thanks), ovlouvam se (sorry--a reflexive verb [!]), pivovar (brewery)