Barrister by day, Bacardi by night

Praze 9 do 5

My employer calls me to his office and hands me a file.  It's an arbitration case he's been handling for some time.  "Jack," he begins, "these numbers aren't making any sense."  I look puzzled.  "I need you to go over our client's counter-claim and tell me what we've got."  With that, I'm handed a our client's brief jacket and several spreadsheets.  Great, when did I become an accountant?

So what can an American law student do in Prague?  Quite a bit, especially when nearly 85% of your clients are North American businesses.  I'm talking about multi-national corporations that any American knows about, and which of course, I can't dilvuge because of confidentialy reasons.  But to give you an idea how big these clients are ... you run into their brand names just about everyday.  So why are they in the Czech Republic?  Well, I quick plug for the CR ... its centrally located in Europe, the labour force is cheap and skillful, plus Czechs have lots of disposable income.  Where else should a company invest?  (Yes, but China's not in Europe).

During my 4-week internship as a summer trainee, I rotated between the two main practice groups at my firm.  I spent the first two weeks with the Trademark group and I am finished the remainder of my summer with the Commercial Law group.  At first, I was just reading through client case files and flipping through English translations of the Czech Codes.  I've found that reading case files is a decent way to better understand the methods behind the firm's practice.  I did a fair amount of editing when it came to English versions of contracts, lease agreements, settlements, etc.  heck, I even wrote a few memos during my contract here.

I doubt that its appropriate, but the partners introduce me to clients as "the American practioner."  There was a particularly embarrassing moment last Thursday when it was dreadfully hot in Prague.  We don't have central air and my air conditioner unit was broken.  I figured if another lawyer was working in his undershirt, why not.  Later in the afternoon, I hear a knock on my door.  Figuring it was just my secretary delievering papers, I ignored the door.  However, to my surprise, there were two French businessmen in business suits at my doorway.  Apparently, Dr. Čermák was giving clients a tour of our three-level office.  There was nowhere for me to hide in my office.  It probably would've been better if I had just acted as if it was usual for me to wear a wife beater shirt. 

Now, back to my current case.  They need an auditor not a lawyer.  Someone should really look over these numbers because it's a hassle attempting to second guess what are actually claiming.

My dearest friend

It is with great relief that I receive your electronic missive.  For a quite some time, I have grown increasing concerned as to your well-being and I am glad that my insecurities proved unfounded.

I am sorry to hear of the unpleasantries that face your colleagues as well as the unfortunate developments arising out of your relationships.  I, too, am in no better a predicament myself.  It with little delight that I reflect on my recent exchanges with Klára.  Not more than a fortnight past did I enjoy dinner with my new acquaintance.  In a series of mobile missives, I became encouraged with the prospect of sharing another evening or two with her.  At last, I soon realized my how grossly mistaken I was.  Having not heard after her return from Germany, I proposed that we renew our conversations over coffee.  An a hour had passed before I received a most disturbing, yet somewhat appreciated, mobile missive.  In no trite manner could I now be mislead.  To the best of my recollection, she conveyed to me in part, "I do not feel like going out with you again.  I am sorry."  I would be remissed for not admitting I was quite shaken with such candid honesty.  Yet, at the same time, I respect a lady for not impressing upon another a most infelicitous presumption.

Much has changed since I arrived at this beautiful city.  My initial endeavors proved ineffective and I have all but relinquished my salacious enterprises.  This is not to say I no longer observe the barroom upon my entry or that I introduce myself given the opportunity.  Indeed, I have experienced rather interesting conversations with several ladies from across Europe.  However, I have taken greater comfort in the companionship of my ex-patriot friends.  I find the incessant courtship ritual rather taxing, and regret that my repeated nightly leisures has ultimately taken toll to my health.  But perhaps I express a much graver image than truth be told.  I suffer no more than the common cold but to an unsatisfactory extent where I must take leave from the office.  My employer has shown significant generosity in allowing me time so that I may recover with all due haste.

I must now divert your attention to introduce a most notable figure amongst the ex-patriot community.  No doubt, should one reference his name among the more learned circles, one could not escape some anecdote or remark.  It is Mr Jonathon Jarvis I speak of.  Mr Jarvis is a man of his late twenties and of a family of considerable wealth.  However, he is much too humble to be related to such a prosperous heritage.  My first impression was that of a deranged, unshaven louse
reeking of alcohol and shirt half-tucked.  Or perhaps, his casual nature is the result of his frequent indulgences with certain chemicals that I will not speak more of.  In any event, Mr Jarvis is well known for his eccentric behavior and omnipresence throughout Prague.  It would be rare feat not to encounter him on any given night at such establishments such as Bombay Cafe, Marquis de Sade, Chateau, or Nebe.

Excuse me, I must take my leave at this very moment because two visibly inebriated ladies of Czech descent have requested my presence with them at Bombay.

Pardon that rude interruption, I believe a dance or two was sufficient to indulge their odd request.  I felt it rather awkward because I was promptly introduced to their boyfriends, who seem to possess no interest of the dance floor.  Fortunately, no drinks need be ordered and I return without any deficiencies upon my person.  I now return to my outdoor parlour along Dlouhá třída where I may find a suitable Wi-Fi spot.  Let me briefly describe my present settings.  It is a quarter til 2 in the morning and a distinct pungent odor is emitting from the neighbor beside me.  He was not present when I first arrived and I wish he awaken himself and find more appropriate accommodations.  Various club patrons traverse through this part of town as it adjoins two nearby metro stations.

I seem to have diverged from my original agenda.  As the night becomes increasing morning, I believe it best that I retire within the hour.  I shall continue to extend my observations in further forthcoming missives as I am glad to hear such accounts afford you some amusement.

Warmest regards,

Your friend in Prague,

Shakespeare on the tram

My good friend Pete, a British bloke who's interning at another law firm in Prague, got me hooked on this indirectly.  We first ran into each other while waiting for the night tram and since then I've joined him among a group of regulars at the Marquis de Sade (near Náměstí Republicy).  One night, after a few half-liters, ol' Pete starts going off on Shakespeare to small group of American tourists.  I found it funny but thought nothing of it.  Then another friend of mine, who's also good chums with Pete, pulled out a copy of Hamlet while we were waiting for the metro.  He got a copy from Pete and said it helped speed the transit along.  So, I figured why not.  Most people know only the first line, let alone the first stanza.  Why not whip out Hamlet to impress the ladies?  At the very least, they'll give you an odd look.  That's how I got Sara's number.

Hamlet Act III Scene 1

To be or not to be, that is the question;
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
or to take arms against a sea of troubles;
And by opposing end them; To die; To sleep;
No more; And by asleep to say we end
the heartache and thousand natural shocks
that flesh is heir to; 'tis a consummation
devoutly to be wished; To die; To sleep;
To sleep; Perchance to dream; 'aye, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
when we have shuffled off this mortal coil;
Must give us pause; There's the respect
that makes calamity so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorn of time;
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
the pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
the insolence of office and the spurns
that patient merit of the unworthy takes;
When he himself might his quietus make
with a bare bodekin; For who would fardels bear
to grunt and sweat under the weary lives;
But that the dread of something after death,
that undiscovered country from whose bourn
no traveler returns, puzzles the will
and makes us rather bear those ills we have,
than fly to others that we know not of;
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
and thus the native hue of resolution
is sicklier o'er the pale cast of thought,
and enterprises of great pith and moment
with this regard the current turns awry,
and lose the name of action - Soft you know!
The fair Ophelia - Nymph, in thy orisons;
Be all my sins remember'd.

Memorization time: 5 days.  Difficulty: Moderate.

Learning česká (Czech)

A word a day, a new phrase each conversation.  That's how I motto on how to make it back home in one piece.  It is quite possible to live a lifetime in Prague without ever having to learn the local language, but what's the glamour in staying an American (one who speaks only English)?  I've managed the basics around town.  "Privo prosím," (beer please) I'll tell the barkeep.  Or "jedno kučiči oči, prosím," (one chocolate log cake please) I'll order at confectionery shop.  Everywhere I go, I ask the bartender, the waiter, or the cashier to help me with pronounciation.  In the meantime, I'm exchanging Czech lessons with English conversations with a Czech girl.  I've also found www.expats.cz to be a tremdenous help in ensuring a pleasant stay. 

The Czech pronunciation itself is rather simple once you learn the the phoentic sounds.  What you see is what you read.  Learning the grammar is a entirely different beast.  Czech is a Slavic language that dates back to the 11th century.  It belongs to the "synthetic" language group (much like Spanish and other Romance languages), which means that unlike English and other "analytical" languages, different grammatical aspects are expressed in one word by changing the structure of that word - adding an ending or prefix, modifying the core of the word, etc. In analytical languages such as English, the same is achieved by using separate auxiliary verbs, pronouns or adjectives while the actual word remains unchanged. In Czech, one word is often sufficient to express what English can only achieve by using multiple words.  For instance, "dům" for house as opposed to "domeček" for little house.

Source: http://www.locallingo.com/.

A Tale of Two Beers

When I first arrived at Praha (Prague), the bartender at U Suvy (The Owl) handed me a "Bud."  I told her that I didn't want a water-down piss-ass American import.  She told me it was domestic.  And WOW, the difference between to the Buds are worlds apart.  This Czech Bud is actually good.

This century-old dispute revolves around the pivotal trademark issue, "Who owns the name 'Budweiser'"?  Is it the American, Adolphus Busch, who in 1876 called his King of Beers "Budweiser" because it had a slightly Germanic sound that would appeal to both Americans and German immigrants?  Or the Czech town of Budějovice, also known in German as Budweis, that began brewing its liquid bread since the 12th century.  The problem, however, is that Budějovický Budvar was not incorporated until sometime after Anheuser-Busch registered its trademarks in the United States.  Since then, the battle for brand recognition has left the beer-loving world divided between Bud and Budvar.  Neither brewery has managed to win exclusive rights to the use of the commercial name.

State ownership has thrawted attempts to take over Budějovický.  Much of the battles have moved from the local tavern to the courtroom. 

For now however, an uneasy détente exists as the unresolved trade mark disputes in various jurisdictions rumble on.  There even seems to be some disagreement over who has won what.  While Budvar claims South Korea, Japan, New Zealand, Latvia, Australia, and Denmark; Anheuser-Busch cites legal victories in Argentina, Australia, Brazil, Denmark, Finland, Nigeria, Hungary, Italy, New Zealand, South Africa, Spain, Sweden and Tajikistan.  As with consumers, there remains room for confusion. Fittingly, perhaps, since confusion in the mind of the consumer is the acid test when resolving trademark cases.

You can find Budějovický Budvar labeled as Czechvar.

Living la vida loca

The worst possible thing is to get "mugged" by the banks.  I found the most horrible exchange rate at a Western Union station offering to buy $1 USD at $19.3 Kc, as compared to $24.6 Kc.  I lost $120 USD just in one exchange.  This troubled me for many days and I still lose a lot of sleepless nights over this mistake.  I was lured by the "no commission" sign, which I knew mean that they would offer a lower exchange rate, but 20% is quite the commission.  Yes, I got ripped off.

Fortunately, I can manage to keep myself financially stable because of the incredibly low prices around town.  If I refrain from hitting the bars, I manage to live off $300 Kc/day.  That's around $12 USD.  However, I down nearly 2 liters of pivo a day ... so make that around $400 Kc/day.  I try to keep everything to a minimum by going to the local supermarket (e.g. Tesco).  1.5L of bottled water costs $2 Kc as opposed to .5L bottle of water at $25 Kc.  I won't bother doing the math.  The extremely cheap wine (vino) is $10 Kc ... but Kamila, my roommate, says only the homeless drink that.  Apparently, it leaves you with an absolutely horrible hangover.  Oh well, I might as well drink it since I've already bought it.

When in Rome ... look for the Chinese.  It seems that no matter where you go, you can always expect the Chinese to open a Chinese restaurant.  It's quite prevalent around town.  Its like seeing a Starbucks around every corner.  So whenever I need help, I just drop by the nearest Chinese (činska) joint and ask for directions.  Thank goodness I can at least speak Mandarin because I get lost often.

Speaking of getting lost.  I end up walking nearly 3 to 5 hours a day - usually between bars or whenever I get bored.  I walk up and down 6 flights of stairs 6 times daily.  When my blisters heal, I'll get back to my morning runs around the two parks directly north and south of my neighborhood.  So I think I'll be fine Alicia.

Právník v Praha

In short ... I'm a little overwhelmed already.  First of all, the keyboard is different here - the letter "y" is where the letter "z" is, and vice versa.  Second, I'm getting acclaimated to the nightlife scene and language.  There's so much going on at night because it's hard to stay in one place.  I haven't visited any museums at night but I hear they're quite exotic.  Instead, I've had the good fortune of running into other Americans, which makes the evenings a little more hospitable.  My first evening was spent wandering around dark alleys throughout Staré Méstro, near Old Town Square.  If you know where to find it, the food here is CHEAP.  We're talking 119 Kc (about $4.50) for a full 3-course meal - soup, entree, and dessert.  Half a liter of Privo or Beer for 30 Kc ($1.25) and cheaper if you go elsewhere.  In the past few days, I've downed more alcohol than water.  It's simply cheaper.  Tourists get suckered ... and I have to save my money for the essentials.  More Plisner Uruquell.

Good day Goven'r

I'm tired, I'm constipated, and I'm in need of a good shower. Good'aye blokes, I'm in merry ol' England right now but all I've seen is the outside of a bus window. When I arrived 7:45 AM at Gatwick, I underwent a grueling hour-long process through customs. To make matters worse, my flight was 8 hours later AND at another airport. I transfered from Gatwick to Heathrow - yet another hour-long journey. Along the way, I picked up two Jamacian chaps who relied on my famed navigation skills around the airport. I couldn't understand a word one of them was saying. We ended up meandering around Heathrow, which turns out to be one gigantic complex, for a half-hour before finding the gate check. There was this one elevator that went down when we pressed up and up when we pressed down. Yes, I also came across a scarecrow, a tin man, and a lion. The Jamacians were heading to Japan (a 22+ hour trip from Jamacia via London) and I was headed towards Prague.

At the counter, I found out that I was too early and was unable to check in my luggage. I really wanted to transfer over to Paddington Station for a quick London tour, but no self-respecting tourist would consider trumping around with so much luggage. Yes, I always overpack. I thought about leaving my luggage at storage ... but at 5.50 lbs. per bag ... forget about it. We're talking GBP, not weight. Alas, I accepted my fate within the terminal. Much like Tom Hanks sans Catherine Zeta Jones. The one redeeming aspect of London airports is the vast amount of alcohol available at airport bars and duty-free shops. A hint of things to come.

More when I arrive at Praha.