When I think about Slovakia, I always think of fried chicken sandwiches.  I feel like Slovak border control would probably accept a fried chicken sandwich if my passport were somehow lost.  This bizarre association goes back to my first trip there, and makes me think about my girl.  Sh… Read full post »

I was in Prague for about six weeks before landing my first job.  Things had been growing increasingly desperate finance-wise and I took the first offer that turned up—teaching English, English conversation, to employees of different but very similar government offices in unpleasant areas… Read full post »