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Last week, I played rugby for the first time.  Or perhaps I should say I “played” rugby–it was really more of an exercise in observation.  Renee took me to her rugby club, where I hovered around on the side and watched sixteen men–all of who had obviously been playing for years–run forward, throw the ball backwards, and yell out plays that made absolutely no sense to me.  Whenever I was (mistakenly) passed the ball, I was just told it was best for me to stand still until someone else could come get it from me.  That was fine with me.  Luckily, my experience was nothing like this.

It was nice to do something where I was on a team.  I haven’t had that since I stopped rowing four years ago, and I miss it.  Even if I was a completely inconsequential part of the team.  However, it’s also been a long time since I was confronted with something that I had absolutely no idea how to do, while everyone else around me was an expert.  It was HPIM2157intimidating, and it’s tempting not to go back just because it was hard.  I think I’m going to make myself, though, at least a few more times.  We’ll see how quickly I pick it up.

On a completely separate note, my apartment is right by the Television Tower here in Prague.  It was built about 20 years ago, supposedly to jam Western radio signals that people might have been able to pick up during the Communist era.  Apparently there’s a restaurant inside, but you have to pay to get in, and I don’t really feel the need to eat inside of a giant radio transmitter.  The weird thing about the tower, though, is the babies.

Large, black, faceless baby statues that crawl up and down the outside of the tower.  They’re the work of a Czech artist named David Černý, and they’ve been stuck to the tower since 2000.  I don’t really know what the babies are supposed to mean; Černý does a lot of political work, but I’m not sure what the babies are supposed to symbolize.

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