This brings us to another point. Showering. Everyone in America knows that European showers are different. Everyone explains how they are different, and you see pictures of how they are different. I knew that European showers hung free from the wall, giving you control of the spray. I also knew that you must mind the floor and the lack of curtain in parts while showering in Europe. My mother reminded me of this before we left the states. I saw the shower head resting in the bottom of the bathtub when we arrived and was again reminded of the difference, mentally preparing myself for the inevitable shower. When the time came, I marched into the bathroom with confidence. I knew how to do this. We had even had a hanging shower head in our previous house for various reasons after a major renovation and I became skilled at maintaining a dry environment when the circumstance required it. I quickly peeled the clothes I wore across two different continents, off of my body, leapt into the shower, grabbed the shower head, twisted the hose, aimed the shower towards the floor, and turned on the water. But wait, how to get the water from the spout into the hose? I pulled and pressed on various metal objects and looked up at the ceiling. May I interject a small note? In the apartment, the bathtub and the washing machine are in a room about eight feet long and six feet wide. If you stand in the bathtub with the door to the room open, you can see the kitchen sink, the refrigerator, the stove, and all the kitchen cabinets. The ceiling of the bathing/laundering room is only three-quarters length. If you close the door, you can speak to the people in the kitchen/dining area with no inhibitions. As I stood in the bathtub with the shower head in hand, and the water from the spicket running over my toes, I tried to peer over the eight foot wall to the dining area below. This is impossible. Embarrassment and amusement ran across my cheeks at the same time. "Elisko?" Her name is Eliska, butI think it is important to me to use what Czech endings I know when I speak to Czech people. Yes, even the names have different endings depending on the case amongst other things. "Elisko? Can you orally tell me how to turn on the shower?" She sat at the dining room table, speaking with my brother. Of course, I meant to say, "Elisko? Will you please verbally explain to me what I need to do to get the water from the spicket to the hose?" but the jetlag and embarassment got to me and my phrasing did not express my sentiment as accurately as I wished. "Kailey?" She called over the wall. "I need to show you." I heard her step on the seasoned wood floors. "Is that okay?" The thick Czech accent drifted over the drywall. I heard a soft brushing on the door. "Are you shy?" "Ummm..... Nooo. No, I'm not shy.....Come in." "Okay so," she walked into the bathroom and the door swung open a little too wide, but only the kitchen counter was witness to my foolishness, "Turn around, turn, turn, okay, no...no..." She grabbed my shoulder and directed me. "Okay. So. here here here. So you turn on the water...AND...now..." She reached behind the faucet. "Pull this back heerree....and..." Water sputtered from the shower head. "There you go." "Thanks." Without further ado, she walked back out of the bathing/laundering room and I took my shower.
That's enough for now. I'm sick of writing, but tomorrow I will tell you about chewing gum incidents and alien invasions. We've played the smile game since we've gotten here. In two days we've gotten four smiles from different strangers in two and a half days. Further update tomorrow.
