i love technology, but not as much as you, you see...

As a human race we have come up with some unbelievable technology and done incredible things:

...we've sent people into outer space

...we've created atomic bombs

...we've developed a system of linking the world together through the internet



...yet, we can't figure out how to develope a deodorant stick that will enable the full usage of all deodorant without the solid falling from its dial!

i spoke in church on sunday

you may not think that speaking in church is a big deal, especially for me, since i talk all the time, but it is a big deal when it is in czech!

last monday, during my prayer and fasting day concerning my future (see previous post), one of the things i felt like God was calling me to was getting more involved in my local church.

every week at church the mic is open for the congregation to share whatever God is doing in their lives...often times they turn into preachamonies*.

well, this past sunday, as i sat in the pew worshipping, i felt compelled to share my decision to stay with the church...the only problem is that i also felt compelled to share it in czech.

[let's take a brief moment to talk about the czech language barriar. i can hear many of you saying to yourselves, "Come on, Nate, you've lived in Czech for almost two years, you should totally be fluent by now." well, czech is freakin' hard, so back off!! seriously, czech is hard. people who have lived here for twelve-years are still studying! yeah, its that hard.]

so anyways, i was super nervous to share in czech, but i knew i had to.

the worship band is made up of some students from the youth ministry and is lead by a friend of mine, so all of them know me...they also know my czech skill. so, when i stood up and began walking up to the pulpit, i could read the looks on their faces:

"oh, my gosh! what is he thinking?"
"he isn't going to ask me to translate is he?"
"is nate getting up to use the bathroom?"

when i got to the podium and began speaking the looks of the people in the congregation were classic. they looked like they were watching the children's program on Easter. They had that leaned forward/what cute thing is he going to say/awwwww, isn't he cute look on their faces.

i then stummbled through a testimony (i'm sure it wasn't long enough to be a preachamoney) in my broken czech. making statements that probably sounded like this:

"i live here two years"
"God lead me here"
"i decide stay"
"hard it is because the family and lots friends live there"

i finished.

they clapped. i'm pretty sure it was because i spoke in czech, not because i'm staying.

so, that was it. i spoke in church on sunday.

*def: a testimony which is longer (sometimes much longer) than it should be. it often includes a passage of scripture, a three-point outline, and multiple illustrations. it never extends long enough to ever be called a sermon.

happy birthday, kulia

today my friend kulia would've been 29. i say would've been because she died of cancer in the summer of '04.

that period of my life...and my friends lives for that matter, were some of the most challenging, growing, bonding and painful times of our lives. from that anxious time of waiting to hear test results back, to the day we found out the cancer was back, to the countless days spent with her at her apartment, to moving her back to her dad's house, to the hospital visits...it was a rough time...

i thought about her a lot today...probably the most that i have in a long time...so this is my way of processing...remembering...

i'm going to tell a story.

its a story that many have heard before.

its a story i shared at her funeral.

its a story that helps me remember.


one of the blessings of working at a church is that my job is to love people. my job is to care for them when they are hurting. my job is to be with people. so, during the winter/early spring of 04 when kulia started getting sick again i would take my school books to her apartment, stop at starbucks for her favorite, chai tea latte, and we'd hang out...

she didn't like being alone...i didn't like her being alone

so one of those days as i cozied up to The Hebrew & Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testiment and she curled up on the couch to read some Christian/Romance novel (really, i can't believe there are such things), she got a nose bleed. they always took her out of commission. she was really looking forward to reading her book and since i was NOT looking forward to mine, i agreed to read to her.

i moved over to the couch. she layed down. i covered her with a blanket, covered her nose with a towel and ice, and she rested her head on my leg.

i read.

the story was ok. seemed typical. some lonely woman who had been hurt in the past was building a relationship with some guy who had a sordid past. she wanted to be with him, but was it ok? would he hurt her again? blah, blah, blah.

i read some more.

then: the "love" scene.

now i'm not one to be uncomfortable with lovey things, but something about reading a woman's thoughts and emotions as her and some guy become intimate and share their first kiss doesn't sit well with me.

the worst part is that kulia's eyes are closed, her breathing has deepened, but i'm not quite sure if she is asleep or not.

do i stop reading?

what if she is awake? then she'd know that i felt uncomfortable reading and it would ruin the "mood" for her.

what if she is sleeping? i don't want to be reading this romance novel to myself!

so i read on.

and read.

finally, when things are starting to get too intimate and i'm certain kulia is sleeping, i close the book, gentley lay it down on the coffee table and...

her cell phone rings and wakes her up...

how long i'd read that love story with her sleeping i don't know, but i do know that we laughed about it...

i love remembering her laugh...sometimes the sound fades where i don't think i can remember it anymore...then i think back to this story...

or the time i helped jump start her car in the pouring rain and we got soaked and almost killed ourselves...

or sitting on her bed with our friends, just messing around...

its good to remember.

miss you and love you, kulia.

The Handshake Turnover

At our thanksgiving conference this past November, Dave Patty and Mel Ellenwood were talking a lot about a body language book that they were reading. They shared all about the different things that you can learn by reading someone's body language and about all these techniques for how to interview well, how to engage with people in conversation and most importantly (for me) how to tell if a chick is digging you!

One of the things that was facinating was the art of the handshake. Apparently, we can tell a lot from the handshake.

The handshake is a way to show dominance. When a man wants to show dominance, he will turn the hand of his handshaking companion so that his hand is on top and the other man's hand is turned palm up. By turning your hand over and placing his shaking hand on top, he claims the dominate position and makes the other man the submissive one.

The author said that it is always best to try to keep the handshake vertical. He suggested that if you get turned over to "fight back" and try to get the handshake back to the verticle position therefore showing equality between the two men and not allowing one to have dominance over the other. He said that in extreme cases you may need to use your left hand to rotate the handshake into the neutral position.

Fast forward to today.

I am in San Diego hanging out with a youth pastor friend of mine and we went to his church to meet with some pastors to talk about doing ministry in Czech. Before the meeting he toured me around the youth offices. I met a few people (verticle handshakes only) and we were having good conversation. Then the Junior High pastor showed up. We were introduced and that's when it happened...

He turned me over!

(Insert Gargamel's music from the Smurf intro song here)

At first I was shocked. This dude is trying to dominate me! No way! A youth pastor? Turning me over?

The handshake was nearing its end. I felt it. We were almost finished. What should I do? Is it too late to turn it back to verticle. CRAP! I can't believe I'm getting dominated right now.

So I did what any logical man would do. I held on longer. I didn't let go...and I turned it back to verticle.

(Cheers ring out from the crowd)

I'm sure he sensed that the handshake went longer than it should have. I'm also certain that he knew that I brought the handshake back to verticle.

Regardless, I was pleased that I didn't let him dominate me and that I was able to save face by holding on and turning him back to verticle.

I got airpuffed at PDX

I knew that having dreads would typecast me. I hate when people typecast. I hate preconceptions. I actually think that is a little of the reason that I have dreads…maybe it is a lot of the reason. I don’t want to fit into the mold of the clean-cut, nicely dressed missionary. Those who know me, know that I am definitely not that! I like being different...doing things differently. Part of it is just being fun and part of it is to challenge the status quo.

Anyways…this morning I totally got typecasted at Portland International Airport. I was going through security and before I got through Big Tall Security Man called me aside to stand in the Air-Puff-A-Rama. So, I stand in this ten foot tall glass machine, the guy tells me to stand still, and then puh-puh-puh-puh-puh…I get blasted with about eight to ten puffs of air! So, I’m like, “What the freak is this thing.” Then Big Tall Security Man tells me I’m finished. I ask Big Tall Security Man, “What was that for?” He replies, “Explosives and Drugs.” Oh drugs…that totally explains it.

So, I’ve been typecasted. I’m sure there is more of that to come.

Merry Christmas

Please remember the reason for the season!

These are my gifts to you...enjoy!

www.

So, I was thinking. How in the heck did the dudes who invented the world wide web have enough foresight to think that it would go world wide.

"Bob, Do you think we could connect people all over europe using computers?"

"I think we could. But what would we call it, Al?"

"Let's call it the european wide web and we'll start all of the pages with eww."

"Sounds like a great idea, Al, but don't you think that it could stretch into asia also."

"Good point, Bob, lets call it eaww, the eurasian wide web...actually, maybe it will stretch to the entire eastern hemisphere. We'll settle with ehww."

"Why stop there, Al? Let's go for the world!! www. sounds great to me."

"Who knows, though, maybe by the time this thing gets kick started people will be living in outer space. What about the osww."

"Come on. Now your really stretching it. Let's just stick with www. and hope for the best."

"OK."

Death House

One night back in the US, Joe G, Christian and I were jacking around and during the process we invented a new reality TV show. As you read this post, please remember that this is a JOKE. While twisted...it is only a joke!

The name of this reality TV show is called: Death House. It goes something like this...20 people from various backgrounds are placed in a large house/mansion/whatever. At some random point (one hour, one week, one month, etc) in their living there all the lights in the house go off, red lights come on, and a siren goes off (Whoop, Whoop, Whoop). At this point, all the people in the house fight to the death. The catch is, weapons are not allowed! So, the contestants must find the nearest mirror/picture/lamp cord/sewing machine/potted plant and use it as a weapon to destroy their enemy.

You may be wondering, "What about the butchers knife in the kitchen, that could be used as a weapon"...Your right, it could, if it weren't chained to the wall with a chain that doesn't extend further than the counter top! You also may be wondering, "Nate, what happens if someone gets overzealous and kills someone outside of the official killing time?" Well, they are killed by bayonet, of course. One shot to the stomach and then the bayonet knife through the jaw.

So, at random times, while hanging out with Christian, Joe G, and our friends, one of us will sound the alarm (whoop, whoop, whoop) and Death House will ensue. This game has traveled to the Czech is now quickly spreading to places all over the world. Here are some pictures (some of which have been emailed to me from locations all around the world)...feel free to submit your own!

an interlude

I attempted to only post pictures during this project, but I realized that so much of who I am is found in story. True, a picture can tell a thousand words, but I still need to story-tell. So, here is the first.

Faithful readers of my blog will know the term "lolipopping". For a detailed explaination see one of my previous posts. So, for the first time in my life, yesterday, I was lolipopped! We were driving to a castle and I made the mistake of not noticing the two signs above. One is a no driving symbol and the other is a Walking Zone.

Right when I saw the officer, I knew it was going to happen. His left arm flew out the window and extending from it was the dreaded lolipop! He signaled me to pull over, so I did. Right as he did I realized I didn't have my passport with me. Now, before you say, "You idiot". When you live everyday in Europe, you begin to realize that you don't always need to carry your passport everywhere.

So, in broken Czech I began to explain to the officer everything. He wasn't too pleased. At one point a Czech in a USA shirt walked up to see if I needed help. When he heard I didn't have my passport he said, "Oh, I don't think I can help you there." So I began to throw out all the Czech prases I knew, "I'm sorry." "I'm an idiot", etc. I actually used the Czech word: blbost which is a softer form of idiot and a VERY Czech word. After I said it he kinda laughed and said (in Czech) "Good Czech".

Fortunately, he let me off with a stern warning. I really count it a miracle, cause Czech cops aren't known for their grace. Especially to foreigners...especially to foreigners without passports. I think if I wouldn've been Czech I would've gotten a ticket. I think if I wouldn't've been able to speak any Czech I would've gotten a ticket, but for some crazy reason, he was amused by my crappy, broken Czech and I think that is the only thing that saved me.

HADUKEN!

A couple months ago I posted about a couple of guys that I met during the summer...Josh and Will.
















In that post I mentioned that we liked to Haduken! and Tiger Uppercut things. Here is the conclusion to those statements...

During dinner one night, my friend Amy asked our friend Laura to "make that Asian sound you always make". So in a voice that no girl should be able to make, she yells out "HADUKEN!" and thrusts her hands forward simulating the motion made to shoot a fire ball out of ones hands. Immediately, all the guys at the table are time machined back to fifth grade and the countless hours of playing Street Fighter. This led us to discussing other important moves like "Tiger Uppercut" and Chun Li's famous sound off, "Yatai".

As we spent more time together and as the conversation turned from reality to fantasy (as it often does with boys) we began to discuss the sweetness of possessing the power to Haduken! and Tiger Uppercut things. So, after much anticipation, I offer you our lists of things that we'd like to Haduken! or Tiger Uppercut...




















Josh would like to Haduken:

one: 4th grade
two: republicans
three: democrats
four: first dates
five: florida
six: whoever it was that took my two dads off the air
seven: second dates
eight: eye crusties
nine: dating in general
ten: nickelback....because we get it that you're really really upset about a girl leaving you




















Willie owen would like to Tiger Uppercut:

one: the feeling you get when you wake up from sleeping really well and you realize you are late for something important
two: medium sized fast-moving spiders
three: sunburns
four: the way i act around girls
five: the way i don't act around girls
six: little bobby from elmington way




















I would like to HADUKEN!:

one: potholes
two: the oil that gathers on top of the peanut butter if you don't use it frequently enough
three: being single and 28
four: PCs
five: christian t-shirts (especially the lord's gym)
six: junk email
seven: wet socks

Lollipop

n. a flat, rounded candy on the end of a stick

v. the means by which a Czech Police officer pulls someone over in the Czech Republic (termed by me as "lollipopping")

Sometimes cops in the Czech just pull you over randomly. The way they do it is by sticking this lollipop-looking-thingy out and pointing to the side of the road.















They really don't need a reason to pull you over. They just do it. Then they look to see if there is something you are doing wrong and give you a ticket. It is oh so Communistic.



I've been lollipopped twice in my life. The first was in the summer of 2001 in Poland. The second was this Spring. I'm thankful that I have managed to avoid the lollipop so far this summer (knock on wood). Everytime I drive passed a cop this summer I just begged, "Don't lollipop me, don't lollipop me..."

This is not a picture of me being lolipopped:

Nacho Libre

In college, when I had a goatee and wore a cowboy hat, people told me I looked like Tim McGraw. I don't know, maybe it was the chest hair.



At other times in life I've been told I looked like Quentin Tarantino.



But for the last couple years the most often heard reference is to that of Jack Black.

I definitely think I look like him, but what I think seals the deal is the similarities of our personalities. If I ever throw up a rock fist or play air guitar, people see Dewey Finn of School of Rock.



If I get irritated and angry they see the Motorcyclist from Anchorman.



But most recently, as my hair has gotten absurdly shaggy and I had a mustache for a month I am immediately pegged as Nacho Libre.





At our recent US Team training a couple of high schoolers got creative and this is what they threw up on the screen at the end of one of my evening talks.



Uncanny resemblance...I think so.

The Butt Kicker

I saw one of the most bizarre things in my life last night.

So, I'm in Prague right now getting ready to pick up the first five US teams that are helping with camps. Last night, Lucka and I went to go and hang out with a couple of my friends here. We were in the metro walking down the stairs to the platform. I was on the phone with a friend in the States, so I wasn't really paying attention to what was going on around me, but one things did catch my eye. I noticed this older, heftier gentleman bump into a young skinny guy. The skinny guy was walking up the stairs and the older gentleman was walking down. The skinny guy totally gets knocked into another guy and a look of disgust crosses his face. Now, remember, I'm on the phone, so I'm not totally paying attention, but I did log this event.

So about a minute later. I'm now standing on the platform waiting for the metro. I'm still on the phone and I feel something brush my arm and this guy (the young, skinny one) goes running past me. Standing right in front of me, with his back to me, is old, hefty dude.

Then I see something that I haven't seen since fifth grade. The young dude kicks the old dude right in the butt! I couldn't believe my eyes. Then, to make things even crazier, he runs away without a word. Yeah, seriously. He ran past me, kicked the old dude in the butt, and then ran away. The old dude turns around and yells something in some language (not Czech) and throws up his middle finger, then turns around like nothing happened. Like this is some normal occurance.

The other thing that kills me is the time delay between the events. There was at least a minute between the initial bump and the final kick. That means that young dude walked up the stairs, got to the top, stewed about what had just happened, comes to the ridiculous conclusion that he should kick the old man in the butt, runs down the stairs, kicks him, then turns and runs. It was totally premeditated.

I will remember this event forever...

Polish Worship

The town I live in is right on the Czech-Polish border. Therefore, most of the people in my town can speak Polish as well as Czech. This is especially true of the people in my church. Most of the sermons are in Czech, but occasionally the sermons will be in Polish. There is also this unusual dialect in our town called Ponasimu (sp?). It is a mix between Czech and Polish and sometimes when someone shares their testimony in church they speak Ponasimu. Learning Czech is hard enough, but with all these other languages floating around, it is brutal.

This leads me to my point. Every week, at least half of our worship is in Polish. In fact, even our Hymnal is in Polish. It is really fuuny, because I have not studied Polish at all, but yet, I learn it every Sunday at church. It is close enough to Czech, where I can recognize some words, but it is different enough to where I definitely struggle when I try to sing.

To me, Polish sounds like this, "Shush wosh blush slush wosh." Lots of shushes and wushes...

Sometimes when I am attempting to sing in Polish, I think to myself, "Self, what if everyone just stopped singing and I was left singing by myself. All they would hear would be a whole bunch of non-sense that sounds like "sush mush bush Bog (the word for God) wush blush shush."

Oh, the cross-cultural life.

the longbreak and will

God blessed me with a couple cool new friendship recently.

One guy is Will.


The other is Josh.


They both have beards. I only have a mustache.


Josh writes an awesome blog: http://www.thelongbrake.com/

Will reads Josh's blog.

Last weekend we went to Poland together with Lucka and Kenric.


We stormed the castle in Krakow. After we defeated the fire-breathing dragon guarding the main gate,


we marched our troops into the main square and hung an enormous American flag to show our supremecy.


Sometimes we HADUKEN things,


Sometimes we TIGER UPPERCUT things.


They leave on Friday to go back to the States. Goodbye. Come again.

Bathroom Adventure #2

It happened again...

Really, I can't believe it. I was working on my computer at a coffee shop in Prague. After a couple of hours I had to use the bathroom pretty bad, but since my computer was all set up and I didn't want to leave it there I held it. I finished what I was working on about an hour later, packed my stuff up and rushed to the bathroom. I opened the door and standing before me was a 20-something girl.

My first though was, "What is she doing in the men's room?" The second one followed quickly behind, "Your an idiot...you did it again." Halfway in the door, I craned my head back over my shoulder and sure enough--women's room!

I don't know what the deal is. Seriously, both times the signs were stick figures...if it happens again, I will never write about it and no one will ever know...

*If you are confused about the other time please see the post: Crazy New Year's Day: Part One

Mufin Muž (pronounced "Moof-in Mus"-pronounce s as in measure)

OK, first off, it is freakin -15 degrees Celsius outside right now! That is 5 degrees Fahrenheit for all you "Americans" (I put quotes, because I feel that is something Christian would do in his mocking voice).

OK. So, one day I am hanging out with some friends (Ameicans and Czech) and we are talking. Now, you have to understand, my Czech is not good, but I like to translate American things into Czech, just to screw around, because I know my American friends who can speak Czech will think it is funny. So, I don't know what we're talking about but I start singing a song. It goes like this:

Znate Mufin Muž
Mufin Muž
Mufin Muž

Znate Mufin Muž,
když bydli na Drury Lane?

Translation:

Do you know the Muffin Man
Muffin Man
Muffin Man

Do you know the Muffin Man
who lives on Drury Lane?

So my American friend, Leah, starts laughing...the Czechs laugh too, because they've seen Shrek and we're all having a good time. Then they start calling me Muffin Man.

Fastforward to yesterday. I spent Sunday afternoon at, my friend, Lucka's house and she has a nephew. I walk in the door and he says, "Mufin Muž!" So all day he calls me Mufin Muž...

Next time I go over there I'm bringing muffins.

Crazy New Year's Day: Part Two

So, part two actually occurs chronologically first, and humorously second, but I still think it is a good story.

Prague was insane on New Year's Eve. I mean crazy. If It would've been twenty years ago during the Cold War, I would've thought that the Russians were attacking all day, because the minute it looked somewhat dark outside the fireworks came out! It was crazy. There were explosion after explosion all night. It was definitely sweet. So, obviously, fireworks are readily available and one of my friends bought a ton of awesome ones. Our plan for the evening was to kick it, play some games, talk, then go outside for our personal firework show, and then head downtown to watch the fireworks from one of the Bridges. So, we went outside around 10:30 for what we thought would be about a 30 minute firework display. Well, Chris had bought a ton of fireworks and one of our other friends did as well, so we proceeded to go nuts. We were rigging these "artillery shells" so that we could launch them at a 30 degree angle down this path. Then we would go down the path and try to stop where we thought the fireworks would explode so that we could be showered in sparks! (Side note, we were all sober...) So our firework insanity ended up lasting an hour and before we knew it, it was 11:30. We had about a (normally) 20 minute trip by tram and metro to the bridge, so we got our stuff together and hustled to the tram.

The tram ride went easy and we got to the metro about 20 minutes before the New Year. The trip is about a six minute trip by metro and in the metro stations there is a clock that shows how long has passed since the last metro left. Ours said 5 minutes, so we knew we didn't have long to wait...

As the metro station filled with awaiting (mostly drunk) passengers the clock rolled on, 6 minutes, 8 minutes, 12 minutes and still no metro. We knew there was still one metro coming, because the metro doesn't stop running until midnight, but we had never waited so long for one. We thought about going back at least to be above ground before midnight, but we decided to press on to the bridge. We joked about how "fun" it would be to celebrate the New Year's on the metro. Then at 11:54 the metro pulled up. We crammed in with the thousands of others on their way to the bridge. 11:55, 11:56, 11:57, 11:58, 11:59. We were one stop away and time was clicking away...as we pulled up to our metro stop my watch hit midnight...yes, New Year's on the metro! Marisa and I shared a kiss and then prepared for the mad rush out of the metro.

We were in one of the first cars and close to the escalator, so when the doors open we made our run for it...and so did everyone else! Luckily we were in front of the pack, but people were closing in. As we neared the escalator we glanced up to the digital clock hanging above it...the glowing red numbers showed 12:00:21. Yep, we had surely spent New Year's in the metro. Others saw the clock as well and began yelling and cheering celebrating the beginning of newness. As Marisa and I held hands running up the escalator (probably 50 meters long), she panted, "I'm dying". I was too, but we had to keep running or fear the trampling of two thousand feet. I pulled her along as we reached the peak of the escalator. With the chill air of winter surrounding us and the sound of explosion and cheers all around, we rushed the final few meters to the bridge to meet thousands of other onlookers watching fireworks explode over the Vltava River.

When I pictured celebrating New Year's with Marisa I imagined a romantic night on the Charles Bridge holding each other and counting down to midnight and sharing a romantic kiss together. The last thing I expected was to be holding on to her with hundreds of bodies pressing against both of us, the smell of cheap beer and cheaper champagne wafting through the already stale air of a metro, counting down to midnight on my watch, and almost getting trampled.

Crazy New Year's Day: Part One

It is late on the first and I had to post a story before I went to bed. This will be the first of two funny stories from my New Year's.

Marisa left this morning. She was here for three weeks (hence the lack of blog posting!) and we had a great time together. But this post isn't to talk about out time...

This morning my stomach was feeling a little uneasy, but we had to get to the airport early, so I didn't have time to go to the bathroom. I got Marisa taken care of, we said our goodbyes, and I watched her pass through the passport checkpoint, on to her gate. Immediately after waving goodbye, I made a bee-line to the bathroom. I hustled my way in sat down and did my business. As I sat there, I heard a voice from the stall next to me. The voice startled me, but not because of what they said, but because it was a woman's voice!! I sat there in disbelief thinking, "No, no, I'm totally in the guys bathroom...aren't I." Then I heard a brutally loud fart come from another stall...this again made me question whether I was in the women's bathroom. Then I heard more voices and they were all female. "How did I make such a drastic error," I mused. As I thought back to coming into the bathroom, I couldn't remember seeing any urinals and I remembered thinking to myself, "That is unusual that all but one of the stalls is occupied..." It now all made sense; I really was in the women's room. But to finally confirm it, I took a peek at the shoes of the person next to me...yep, high heels. Mistake confirmed. Commence embarrassing scenario.

So, I sat there, and sat there, and sat some more. I thought through all my options: pull my hood over my head and run out (no, too creepy, stalkerish), yell from the stall, "Hey, there is a man in here. I'm sorry, I didn't realize I went into the women's room (no, no guarantee that anyone would understand me in English and too much trouble to try and explain myself)...the only other option was just to wait it out and hope that I can find a time when there are no women in the bathroom.

Women take forever in the bathroom. I knew this before, but nothing makes you realize it more than when you are sitting in one of the stalls! One mother and daughter had to have been in there for 10 minutes just talking to each other. I had no idea what they were doing. Before this experience I would have said that I would want to know what happens in a woman's bathroom, but now I wish I didn't know now, what I didn't know then...the loud fart, the constant chatter...it was not a pretty scene.

Eventually the talking and flushing stopped. From my position I could look under my stall and see the other stalls. I couldn't see the sink area, but I could see most of what I needed to in order to determine if someone was in the bathroom. When I didn't hear the mother and daughter any more, I made one last check from under the stall, saw no one there and made my break for it. Fortunately, no one came in and I was able to make my way to the men's room to wash my hands.

40 Korun Profit

The Charles Bridge is one of the most popular sites in Prague. During the day you can find a multitude of vendors selling their various trinkets to eager tourists and during the night the bridge is lined with couples experiencing the romance of Prague, the destitute begging the now not-so-eager tourists, and many different performing acts. Sometimes there are one-man bands. Sometimes there are fire-breathers. Sometimes jugglers. There are always a variety of different performers.

This is the story of two of them.

The last night with my intern team we decided to go to the bridge to say goodbye to the city. We ambled across the bridge, stopping to take in the view of the castle, take pictures, and just enjoy one another. As we neared the end of the bridge someone (it very well could've been me, but I don't remember) got a great idea, "What if Nate and Breanne performed to see if they could make some money? Nate could beatbox and Breanne could dance." I was reluctant to just drop my bags and just "perform", but I also knew this was the last opportunity to see if we could gather a large crowd. Breanne and I looked to one another. Neither of us needed to say yes, the affirmation was found in our eyes. In a matter of moments Breanne had transformed herself into a hip-hop dance and I became a beatboxer. A hat was laid on the ground in front of us and the show began.

Beats were flowing, Breanne's body was "popping" and a crowd was gathering. There was a smattering of applause as we finished our first set, but we were definitely getting people's attention. We began again. Bass, hi-hat, and an occasional scratch flowing from my mouth, while Breanne shook her body all over the "stage". Asians, Americans, Brits, Czechs, Slovaks, all gathering around to see this once in a lifetime show. People's hands dig into pockets for lose change and silver and gold fly into the hat. Even the One-Man-Band, pushing his instruments home after a long day's work, stopped to watch and even throw some of his hard earned profit into our makeshift bank.

We performed for about 15-20 minutes and ended up with over fifty people who stayed to watch at least a part of the show. As we packed up our bags and counted the change we found about 80 Kuron (about 3 dollars). We figured that our friends put about half of it in as motivation for others to do the same. 40 Koruns earned. Not bad for a night's work.