Problem or solution?

I don't want my focus to be all over the place, but negotiating a relationship (of sorts) as well as a career (of even more dubious, tenuous sorts) is fraught with difficulty especially when I find myself in strange and far-flung places.  It's not as though there is anywhere in particular where I feel 'at home'.  It's probably high-time I gave up on the notion that a sense of being 'at home' somewhere will ever find me or I will ever find it.  I don't have a strong tie anywhere and in each place I seek to make a home for myself, there's always something missing.  In London it was the possibility of speaking a foreign language regularly without having to pay for the privilege.  Finding British friends who can do that was nigh-on impossible and the ones who I befriended who weren't British, either spoke a language I didn't (i.e. Russian) or were about to move away anyway.  Or both.

And here, in the Czech Republic, I seem to finally have found myself drawn to another culture, not my own, not Czech culture, but American culture of all things.  Mainly because it is the polar opposite of the culture which surrounds me.  Is this a result of some innate need to always be the rebellious one?  Do I simply have to continually buck the trend and follow the path less travelled to a destination that only appeals to recluses?  What the hell is wrong with me, if that's the case?  I know, deep down, I actually DO need people.  I would like to be involved in a community of writers or musicians, meeting at cafes or dinner parties and sipping a fine Côte du Rhone and discussing the latest tricks of the trade, but somehow whichever camp I should find myself in, I'm sure I would feel like the fraud, for the mere fact that this one area (music or literature) is not my sole occupation.  Is this part of the problem or the solution?  I simply don't know.

Just for your reference, here's a picture of the "town" I've been residing in over the last few days, just so we can all see another place that doesn't feel like home to me. 

 It's sweet though, isn't it?

Umbrellas, fate and nationality

It occurs to me that I should find the fact that it rained today and that I'm feeling like I'm teetering on the brink of having a horrible cold really rather funny, in light of yesterday's post.  But I seem to have had a sense of humour bypass.  I've been feeling utterly miserable. I've even taken a picture of my umbrella (now that it's had a chance to dry off) in an attempt to cheer myself up that at least I do have a nice umbrella and it's good thing that it had the opportunity to serve its purpose today.

I suppose it's fair enough.  I was almost hinting that it was a shame the umbrella hadn't been used.  And it's probably a good thing that my local area gets a reminder that there is an 'angličanka' among them.  (Who else would be as eccentric?)  After all, we are a rare bunch in this architecturally stunning city.  

We had a conversation in my Czech lesson today about how unique it is in our class to have an English girl, i.e. me.  No other English people have set foot in this language school.  Indeed, I have to report that, somewhat predictably, I've been here six months and still not come across one other Brit.  Not one.  Americans, yes, but a Brit?  Absolutely not.  And the only other Brit my teacher knew of (a friend of a friend) had not set foot in a language school either.  Am I ashamed of my nationality and its apparent inability to seriously try to learn a foreign language of any description, let alone a rather difficult language such as Czech? Well, yes, actually.  

It must be in our genes.  Americans mostly came from other places and settled in America.  Brits just grew up and assumed no-where was worth learning a foreign language for.  So they stayed put.  (Mind you, I've met a few Americans here but not one has said they've made an effort to go to Czech classes.)

So the only English girl in Prague with her red, frilly, polka dot umbrella, stands out a mile.  In more ways than one.  But I suppose that's the way I like it.