| 100 in 1000 |
- Spend a week up a mountain learning to ski
- Visit Karoline's place in Moravia
Hold a conversation in Czech (only)- Drink 500ml of each of the following beers:
PilsnerStaroprammen- Budvar
- Velke Popovice
- U Fleku
GambrinusKrusovice
Respond to at least one GOARN request (WHO and MSF are
also acceptable)Travel across the AtlanticReturn to South America- Read a book to, or with, an impressionably aged child
- Participate in one NanoWriMo Challenge and come within at least 10,000 words of the goal length
Have my nose pierced- Have my next tattoo drawn
Purchase the perfect jeans (x 2 pairs)- Attend a spin class 3 times a week for 8 consecutive weeks
- Bake Viv's cheesecake
Make David's casserole Make David's Chicken Cashew-nut StirfryInvite 4 people who don't know one another too well to dinner- Ride from Vienna to Venice on a motorbike (pillion acceptable, those less desirable)
- Attend a book group for at least two books
- Go on a choir weekend (learn and perform difficult piece in two/three days)
- Visit Madame Tussaud's (in London)
- Take an architecture appreciation course
Join an all-girl group and sing a soloPublish in a scientific journal (top two authors)Cook a duck or other 'waterfowl'. Locate the Al-Timimi's from Doha Veterinary PractiseHave a pedicureMaintain a Brazilian (ouch) for three months.Find a trustworthy Czech hairdresser- Treat my inner-6-year-old twice a week (at least)
- Do the liver-cleansing diet properly (12 weeks)
- Don't eat out for one month
Find a flat and flatmate- Purchase one Joseph sweater
- Purchase one of the following pairs of
designer shoes (they MUST also be COMFORTABLE, and be able to be worn with 4
different outfits and 2 types of occasion): Jimmy Choos, Manolo Blahniks,
Christian Louboutin (Ebay or 2nd hand are acceptable)
- Send 5 books to the booksphere and track them.
- Go hanggliding
- Read 10 'classic' books (from 1001 Books to Read before you Die)
Moll FlandersEverything is illuminatedMadam BovaryZen & the Art of Motorcycle MaintainanceCatch-22OdysseusOn the Road
- Run (non-stop!) for 5kms outside (preferably in a street race thingy)
- Send Christmas Cards on time
Make a collage/mural out of street lights on my wallBuy a bed, build it, and sleep soundly in itGo to AfricaHost an 'event' (classified as and when)Organise a 30th Birthday PartyWear a costume- Sing on stage
- Buy a painting that evokes memories of Prague (cannot involve queues!)
Learn a god-damned card game that stays in my memory (other than fish/snap)See sunrise. Be sober. Have woken for it. Excludes months Nov-Mar- Take a walk and flip coins at each intersection
Win something- Draft a will
- Take a roadtrip
Go to Italy already- Sea Kayak around Abel Tasman Park (NZ)
Get plantsTake a train to another Eastern European Destination (accession countries are acceptable) alone preferably.- Get UK to give me a provisional motorcyclists license and simultaneously get a 'card' license.
- Go SCUBA diving again - at least two dives lasting 30mins each.
Go to a dentist. *sigh*- Do a Czech Wine Trail. And live to tell the tale
- Make an 'outbreak emergency kit'.
- Go to bed prior to 11pm every night (inc weekends) for four consecutive weeks.
- Marvel over lack of tiredness
- Dine at a Gordon Ramsey restaurant (or Nobu)- preferably for free.
Bet on the nags- Do something for charity (applying and getting a 'red card' will count)
- Walk along the Champs Elysee
- Do 100 sit ups in a row
- Do 50 pressups (arms in tight)
- Make branston pickle (or nearest substitute)
- Cook something 'new' and 'adventurous' at least once a month
Find a mentorBe a mentorLearn what mentoring is all aboutMeet an online person in real lifeResist the flirt. Once. Just one night. It's okay if people don't immediately succumb to my natural charm. Really it is.Spend time at a spa (spa towns in the CR don't count)- Send a care package to someone
Get a Tata Bojs CD- Take a French/German/Dutch course and SPEAK THE DAMNED LANGUAGE WHEN I HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY EVEN THOUGH IT MAKES ME SOUND
LIKE AN IDIOT!
- Order new contact lenses.
Make a list of things I take with me when I pack for different occasions- Eat lobster. Prepared by someone else.
Back up the blogPut everything onto an external hard drive- Find a DDR mat and console and 'dance, I say dance!'�
- Go to the beach and lie on the warm sand. For an hour. (with sunscreen on, natch)
- Take and complete a course in either: Tango, Salsa or Flamenco
- Join the Municipal Library of Prague
- Move to another country
Go to a live concert of a band I actually like- Pay off debts (student loan excl.)
Send thank you cards for every gift I receive (other than the gift of happiness, blah blah blah).- Get an agent (literary or theatre)
- Go to a sports bar without cringing, by personal choice
- Ride a rollercoaster
- Hold a snake
Spend a day wandering around a museum (not art gallery!) |
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| Prelude to a Fashion Week |
| Tuesday 20 February 2007 |
 Now, you and I both know that to compare Italy to the Czech Republic is doing gross injustice to both parties. Nevertheless, I’m going to do it (oh yes, fearless travel writer that I am).
It’s the greetings. In the CR, if you neglect to say anything during your exchange with someone in the service industry, it is perfectly normal. Nay, I would go as far as to say that if you can snarl at some point during the exchange, you can consider yourself integrated. Compare this with Italy, then, when even the person who sweeps the floor of the small café that you step into says “Arrivaderci” upon your impending departure, and you are SCUM personified if you do not kiss each person with emphatic sorrow as you bid them “Ciao”, promising (through hand gestures alone) to return, just as soon as you are able…
Not that they’re hard to kiss, mind. These people are SOOO good looking, it’s enough to make one want the ground to open up and swallow them. The men, however, are short. We’re talking 149cm here folks. Proof you can’t have your couture and wear it too…
Speaking of which: note for fashionistas (or fashionisn’ters): metallic sneakers are IN, in a big way. Not to mention, Miu miu (who had, “I’m too drunk to fuck!” screeching out of their Bang & Olufsen system) are bringing back the eyepatch. You saw it on MY blog first*.
I saw a woman stop in the middle of the street, grab a sketching pad out of her bag, a thick pen and start drawing an outfit. A DESIGNER, dlr’s, in REAL LIFE! She wasn’t overtanned enough to be Donatella, so I didn’t bother asking her for a quick sketch/autograph. Not to mention that this request would have brought about the ubiquitous up and down (I was soooo grateful for the small amount of “ciaoooooooo bellaaaaaa…”’s that I received, I didn’t want to push my luck by ASKING for appraisal) from a designer…and I was wearing my usual crap…!
Feeling immensely ugly (and grossly overweight), I took myself for a (free!!!) MAC makeover in order to feel sufficiently presentable to share thefootpaths/pavements/sidewalks (for all my DLR’s nationalities) with the skinny (short!) Asians and Russians (where did all the Amazon women go to? Gisele must have relations?!).
I fervently hoped that some short, rich, well-heeled Italian senor would take a shine to me and Pretty Woman me up Via Montenapoleone. Needless to say, I am still short one Valentino gown, a Gucci suit, a pair of YSL Gwailer 100mm T-strap sandals and a Dior saddle bag to go in my LV Ebony Pegase 70! ::sigh::
The shops are, without a doubt, the most gorgeous shops I’ve ever set be-sneakered and un-worthy foot in. The male security guards (finally, tall(er) men!) are extensively groomed: eyebrows are neat and orderly, concealer may have been used, possibly foundation and most likely powder. I wouldn’t be surprised if these boys knew what microdermabrasion was either…they’re skin is poreless. It seems un petit de trop (even to me) when you consider they’re guarding 750E baby slings….Generally speaking though, this is the only city I’ve seen where males are catered to as well as the females, in terms of shopping for clothes, that is.
I strolled into one shop, past the table of plastacine (for children) and large scale Scalectrix model of Monaco (for men) into what was the space of a warehouse filled with clothes, interspersed with well placed lily-festooned white painted wrought iron tables littered with architecture and design coffee-table books. While I sat to rest my feet and absorb the sumptuousness of it all, I wondered how I could instantly shed the necessary 30kgs to fit into anything. Luckily (for the paramedics) I came up with no alternative option than to lop off a leg (and no multitool available – damnit!), so I’ve still got SOME money left in my bank account (and my original blood quantity).
The shops are flat. The floors are completely smooth. There are seldom gradations in the heights, certainly no steps (without warning beacons and sirens) and wheelchair access is non existent (how many wheelchair-riding fashion disasters do YOU know?). I believe this is because your attention is so distracted by “oooh…pretty things…must touch….must…oh my god…is that the price…*faint*?” that it’s too dangerous to have level changes inside. That’s if you can FIND the inside. Some shops are SOOO exclusive that the doors are hidden. Perhaps they weren’t entirely ‘hidden’, but since I couldn’t pick which one to push from the four linked identical glass panels, I didn’t risk being branded someone “who doesn’t usually come down this way” by attempting ingress.
D&G did have doors (well, a doorman who opened one of the glass panels, at any rate) and it seemed rude not to enter while he was “bueno sera”ing me. They have THE sexiest clothes around: a white viscous (pun intentional) cowl neck long sleeved jumper nearly undid me, as did a marabou and PVC jacket (don’t ask, it worked, trust me!). Yet the atmosphere was the best in this shop too. It was part movie set, part club chill out room, part warehouse chic.
Shoes? (I know you’ve all been waiting). Gucci. Metal. Pointy. High. COMFORTABLE (!!!) Gorgeous. 800E. And I wish I'd taken pictures, but those male security guards were watching me like a hawk. Or was that the eyebrow shaping?
If I’d had the cash in my account, I would have come into some SERIOUS self-negotiating waters. As it was, haute couture will remain, for sugar-daddyless Nomes – out of my range: I can look, I can touch, I can even try on (shoes, gloves, glasses and bags only), but I can’t take home.
P.S. I didn't even buy a fake, because I couldn't find one that looked real enough - to me - to warrant spending the 20E they were asking. *sigh* The price of good taste for longlife bags!
*Except, damnit, Manolo got there first! But YOU saw it HERE first, right??!
Labels: Travelling |
posted by Nomes @ Tuesday, February 20, 2007   |
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