The second letter I sent from over here

This was really my first letter, I just kind of got it mixed up. I sent one letter to somebody and another to someone else.
Dear Ma and Pa:
I tried to call you, but I couldn't figure it out right away. The trick is finding an international phone, and there just ain't too many of them. Then I found one and it turns out it costs 60 crowns a minute. Well, I just cain't afford that. So, I hope you ain't too worried because you ain't heard from me. I'm all right. Turns out there ain't no war here after all. It's in another slavia country, and it must be pretty far away, because I can't hear no shooting.
This place is chock full of Americans, Canadians, British, Australians and whatnot. I was talking to these Scottish people, but I couldn't hardly understand them. They claimed the was speaking English, but I don't know. They must be from WAY back in the hills.
I went shopping the other day. It's different from back home. They don't wrap the bread, or slice it, and everybody squeezes it and then puts it back. I hope they weren't picking their noses or butts first! If you go into a small stores, you gotta ask for what you want. Since I can't speak cesky yet, I pretty much stick to the big stores. At least there you can pick up a box and look at the picture to see what's in it. I say big stores, but there ain't no piggly wiggly or Wal-mart over here. You go to a grocery store to get groceries, a meat store to get meat, a vegetable store to get vegetables, and so on. It's even worse for other stuff. They sell paint at the drug store, but to get medicene, You gotta go to a lekarna. I went into this one store to pick up a pack of smokes,( You'll never believe this: Those English call'em fags!! Ha Ha!) Anyway, so I walk right in and get in line to buy some. Well, the lady starts a hooting and a hollering and a carrying on. Turns out you got to have a basket in your hand. I tried to make them understand I was only buying one pack and I could carry it just fine, but no, I had to go back and get a basket. The worst part is there ain't no stores open after 4:30 and on the weekends they is only open to noon on Saturday. Boy, talk about a madhouse. It's like the Dicksville mall at Christmas.
Speaking of food. I tried this stuff called smazny syr. It means fried cheese, but it's really deep fried cheese. MMMMM,mmmmmm, it sure is good.
Don't tell uncle Roy, but you remember those magazines we found in his attic? Well they sell them over here. Right out in the open where the women and children can see them! Boy, wouldn't Rev. Harold blow a gasket. He'd be fit to be tied. You know how worked up he gets over that swimsuit issue every spring.
It looks like I'm going to be leaving Prague for a couple of weeks. I got me a job teaching English at a summer camp! Boy, ain't that something, ole Delbert Peaches an English teacher. I bet Mrs. Watson would sure be surprised. I ain't seen her since graduation. She was the only one that tried to teach us that boring grammar that noone could understand no how. The other classes was better, all we did was read books and newspapers. That's how I'm going to teach. If you see her, tell Delbert said,"Howdy," and then you tell her what I'm doing.
They say I might be able to stay a whole year and teach in a gymnasium. I guess the don't have in classrooms for English here yet, on the account of it being a new language and all. I hope they have a room soon, I'd hate to get hit with a basketball while I'm teaching. Now, don't get in an uproar. I ain't made up my mind yet if I'm going to stay or not, the folks are right friendly over here and I like it. The girls are really something and they seem to have taken a shining to me. Besides, there ain't too many girls in Pumpkin Seed that ain't a cousin; specially since the Olson twins got in a family way.
Guess what? You don't need a car over here. They got trains and buses that go all over the place. It's great if you can figure out which one to get on. All the signs is written in Cesky, French, or this funny writing people say is Russian. I guess that's possible 'cause this used to be a Russian colony before they kicked out the reds, kinda like we did with them redcoats. I guess they just ain't got around to erasing the writing yet. Well hell, why not? We still speak English, don't we?
But they got cars here and you should see them. The Czech car is called a "pity" (I translated it for you) and it ain't much of a powerhouse, but it's got it all over the German car called a Trebant. (I don't know no German so I can't translate it) This Trebant is a two-stroke, just like our lawnmower. It's about as powerful, too. The people in the pities like to see a Trebant, because then they can pass something finally. That's what they like most about driving, is the passing. Well, the roads is just full of Trebants and Pities. It's a good thing they are slow. These folks drive like they're running shine, or been watching the Duke Boys too much. I'd hate to see what would happen if they had real cars.
Well, that's all for now,
Love,
Your son Delbert