Prešov!

The city I live in, Prešov, is in the Northeastern part of Slovakia. It is four hours from Budapest, six hours from Krakow, eight hours from Vienna and a two hour bus-ride to the Ukrainiann border. It is a great city, with very friendly people, and I have been really enjoyed being here for the last month.

To begin to understand what makes Prešov tick, I will refer you to their official web-site...

Do not be frightened by the man's moustache when you click on the link. Moustaches in Slovakia, unlike in the U.S., are harmless and even fashionable in some regions.

Another important thing to know about Prešov is how to pronounce it. It is pronounced "Presh-ov", because in Slovak, the language spoken in Slovakia, the letter š sounds like "sh". Slovak is a very interesting language, somewhat similar to Russian, Ukrainian and Serbian, and very similar to Czech, or so I have been told. It would make my life much easier here if I spoke Russian, Polish, German, Czech or Slovak, which are all spoken in various parts of the country, but I don't, as far as I know.

I would like to write more about how challenging it is to communicate, but I can tell that you are getting antsy and want to see some pictures. So OK. Here is the street I live on:



And here is my building:



And finally, the front door!



In Slovak, the name of the type of neighborhood I live in, which in England they call a housing estate, is a Sidlisko. My Grandfather's name was Sidney L****w. While this may be just a coincidence, it would be nice to think that Gramps is looking out for me, protecting me from malicious, flu-infected chickens.

Also, there are three Sidliskos in Prešov, and mine is called Sidlisko Secow, which is pronounced "sex-show". Early in my stay someone asked me if I lived in Secow, but I couldn't really understand the question and ended up telling most of an embarrassingssing story about my visit to Amsterdam in college before someone kindly stopped me.

I have many more pictures to show, and stories to tell, but this blogging thing is exhausting. For now, I would just like to share a couple of jokes that I have been told. The first was from a Frenchwoman, and it is about Belgians, who I guess are the butt of many French jokes. Here goes:

Why did the Belgian go to sleep with a full glass of water and an empty glass next to his bed?
-Because he wasn't sure if we was going to be thirsty in the middle of the night.

You know in Annie Hall, when Woody Allen sums up the whole movie with the joke about the guy whose brother thinks he is a chicken? A guy here told me a classic Slovak joke recently, which I think sums up my experience here so far:

Q: What kind of soup will be served today?
A: Bean soup!

I hope everyone is doing well at home, and I will write more soon.