Refugee status was granted..part 2

So as we sit at Kika alternating between panic, hilarity and hunger (cause now its about 1:00pm)I phone Stu cause he'll know what to do. So I call him and the first thing out of his mouth is 'I don't know what to do'. Eventually the panic in my voice gets him moving and a cab arrives. Now why didn't I think of that? Well truth is, I tried to call a cab but the number I had didn't work and even if it had what are the odds that I could dance my way through that phone call. And I didn't need any more bath towels.  So in we pile with our unfinished linen closet and various sundries for the 500 ck ride home. It's obvious that the cab driver dude sees me for what I am cause for that same price I could have gone to Tuscany. Another lesson learned: panic costs.

Home again and still no groceries as we were supposed to pick them up after we had the linen closed delivered.  So this time Caroline and I walk to the other side of town where there is the local version of a 7-11. I willingly pay premium price for Dr Oeteker frozen pizza some laundry soap and 2 pivos. Clean laundry and a full belly...maybe things will be ok.

And then it happens.

Our gate rings. All the houses in the 'hood have locked gates and you have to be buzzed in. But cause we are the crappiest house in the nicest neighbourhhood (even though the house is really very nice) we can't actually buzz anyone in, we have to go to the front gate and open it. If we had staff this would be the type of thing we'd send them out to do but, you know, on this particular day the staff aren't available so we answer the gate ourselves. And while on the outside we are playing it cool at the thought of someone visiting, inside we are all doing jumpy claps.  

I thought at first it that maybe the cashier lady from Kika and was still mad and she had found where I lived.  But it wasn't her. It's Debbie and Dee and we are very happy to know them. Hi! We say. Hi! They say. So far so good, this Czech language isn't as hard as people say it is.   Debbie and Dee have come to invite the new girl (that's me) to the wine bar with all the ladies from the hood.  Really, the more things change, the more they stay the same.  So now I have to figure out how to tell them that I actually have to go bed soon cause its almost 6:30pm and I will turn into a pumpkin.  So while they chat with Stu and the kids, I formulate my plan of action.  I will tell them that I am very tired from the move and that I'll have to pass for tonight.  How sneaky is that!  

In the meantime as I am lost in my own little scheme, they either looked in the house and saw that we were without furniture or Stu actually told them.  I'm still not sure which, but no matter it was obviously enough to get their attention.  So while I am getting ready for bed (going onto 7 now) the ladies at the wine bar are apparently busy making a plan and creating the Pruhonice Refugee Rescue Committee or PRRC for short.  Who knew?  Within an hour the PRRC has elected a board of directors and taken on its first case - oh and consumed about 5 bottles of bubbly.  And since there is no sense in wasting any time, the gate rings again (with still no staff to answer it if you can imagine) and the husbands of the members of the newly formed PRRC arrive at the door with blow up beds, sleeping bags, lawn chairs and most importantly a cooler full of Czech beer.  Being a refugee might be ok.  In all seriousness, we are totally thrilled and overwhelmed by the fact that these people whom we have never met before have decided to adopt us.  So while John and Martin blow up the mattresses we of course do the neighbourly thing and invite them in for one of their beers.  And since nothing says beer drinking like a good snack of watermelon (remember, no groceries right) we cut some of that up with our newly purchased Ikea cutlery and serve snacks to our new friends.

By now its going on to 10pm and I've started to glow the orange that I do when I'm about to turn into a pumpkin.  Except that just as I'm trying to go to bed, John puts me in his van and drives me all the way up to the wine bar to meet the ladies.  I have to meet them he says, why I say, because he says.  Good enough for me.  Suffice to say, 1 hour at the wine bar followed by 1 hour at the chip shop with creepy guy and then followed again by one hour at the 'dance' bar.  Oi!  Did I mention that the dance bar has a pole in the middle of the dance floor and the ladies from the committee have decided that they own the pole.  So now, in case you didn't follow along proper like, let me summarize:  I tried to go to bed at 6:30 but instead ended up watching the neighbourhood ladies pole dance till 1:30am.  Everyone try to keep up please!