Beads and Witches

It’s All About Beads

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In the morning, we decided to visit the famous Czech village for bead making, Jablonec nad Nisou. This small town is about an hour north of Prague by bus. Sitting on the bus the folks in front of Linda decided to have breakfast. The young man pulled out what looked like a clear bar of glycerin soap on a stick. Inside the gelatin-like soap was a slice of ham. As the bus shook the “sandwich” swayed from side to side, front to back, a jello sandwich.

Jablonec has about 50,000 citizens and is a popular stepping stone to winter and mountain activities. It also houses a couple dozen bead stores, small bead factories, and home based bead makers. Here you can buy lampwork beads for $2 - $3 (30-45 crowns) and sacks of crystal beads by the kilogram . The information booth and all the shops were very friendly and for the most part English speaking. Gayle asked each of the shop owners if we could take their picture. They all hesitated, but graciously accepted. The information lady told us she looks terrible as she had just finished crying.

I think Gayle spent nearly 5,000 crowns ($300) and got several pounds of prime lampwork and fancy Czech crystal beads. Linda bought a handful of treasured pieces including some wonderful one of a kind glass buttons. Later on the couch at our apartment, Linda examined all her prizes and said, “All this and I only spent $30. If I knew that I would have bought more!”

One seller who we called the “Badda Bing” Arabic bead man had a huge bead store whose walls seem to lean inward by the sheer weight of the shanks of beads hanging off the walls. I could smell smoke in the air when we walked in. At one point he started a long coughing fit. I happened to be standing next to him and pointed to an open pack of Marlboro cigarettes and told him in a friendly tone, “You need to stop smoking”. He replied, “Yes these things are killing me!” About five minutes later, he lit up.

We asked if we could take his picture and he proudly stood up, opened his arms, smiled, and in my mind I heard him say, “This is my house where I sell beads to native Americans”. And we of course come, bringing the gift of money to the Marlboro man.

Witches Burning Night

Last night we attended an annual Czech event called the burning of the witches. Throughout the country people gather, parade, and dance with witches. Children are adorned with colorful black costumes, black floppy peaked witches hats, and whimsy wands and join the fun. The idea is that on April 30, the people tired of the cold and dark of winter, call out the witches who brew such weather. They lull the beetle and rat infested princesses of darkness into the light, drink beer, roasting a variety of sausages, and finally burn the effigy of the witches thus freeing the

countryside of winter's gloom.

Our own witchy woman (Linda’s email address) frolicked among the other witches wearing black pants, a pink blouse and eating pizza bread. She carries a large black bag where she stuffs misbehaving children. We were clustered near the back of a huge throng of people around the burn site waiting for the flames to engulf the witch effigy, when billows of smoke headed in our direction. Many of the locals fled but I held my ground, being a genuine northwestie having my own wood stove and meat smoker at home. When the smoke cleared I had an unobstructed view of the evil lady.

After the celebration we cleared our lungs with velvety smooth draft beer and watched the sky turn from river blue to cobalt. The darkening skies gave up their lights to the grand palaces and churches that line the river. Where ever we turned the castle and St Vitus cathedral followed us looking more “Disney” than a theme park.

Sitting here by the Valtva it hits me that I am going to miss our time in this warm and friendly land always bathed in light and mystery. For Gayle and I, we fall from the skies to the warm embrace of Werner and Sieglinda, and Annika’s family in Germany, and for Linda her patient, soul mate, Dave.

Krumlov The Departure

Our last day in Krumlov found us walking behind the fortress to the formal gardens. The French gardens have that clipped, manicured look we see in France. Naturally it starts with an over the top fountain streaming water from frogs, nymphes, and unknown mythological gods. This garden certainly doesn’t rival Versailles formal gardens. I give it a three legged cockapoo rating.

Behind this garden is an exquisite summer house for royalty to get away from the pomp of the castle and make shall we say, certain relationships blossom. The pink and white structure has wonderful exterior hooped steps enclosed by intricate ironwork in patterns of flowers punctuated with a fleur-de-lis in the center.

Oddly in front of the royal play house is a small modern stadium that moves 360 degrees with lighting towers on several sides. This structure is used during the summer months for plays and concerts. I am sure it’s very nice, but it’s so inappropriate in its current location.

Behind this area is the formal English gardens. Perhaps by English they meant American, as it’s simply straight pathways between large trees with grass in between. I believe we call this a park. There was a nice pond at the end with great reflective pictures.

The trip home was wild. Fortunately we decided to purchase round trip tickets with reserved seats coming and going. When our bus arrived there was a thriving hoard of people crowding the doorway. A handful of them had reserved seats. After we were seated, more and more people entered for the 3 hour bus ride. Finally all the seats were gone and more passengers were allowed. Standing face to back, face to back, they piled on until people were standing on the steps leading on and off the bus. The last person was so cramped they could only look out the front doorway and from the exterior must have looked like a cut out.

The driver started the engine, adjusted his visor, and started fiddling with his Frank Sinatra album when we heard a small female voice yelling from the back. First in broken Czech and then in stilted English, “Can someone ask the driver where seat 39 is?” The bus started moving, the Czech’s nervously, steely eyed, said nothing. “Hey, your in my seat, I have a reserved seat!”, was ushered from behind. “This is my seat, I don’t own this bus, shut-up”. This continued for 15 minutes and reached a fevered pitch when we made our first stop where 5 people disembarked and 10 people were added.

Finally a young girls started pushing her way to the front and talked with the driver. He immediately pulled the bus over and opened the back door and started shouting at the dead beat who would not give the gal her rightful seat. As the bus started, I looked around, the folks packed around me all had a mona lisa type smile but did or said nothing. I wanted to applaud the justice of the event. The Czech have learned the lessons of patience, justice is not won in a day.

Two in half hours into our sardine factory bus ride a large explosion of sound erupted from under Linda. Did we just hit something or did something hit us? Linda apparently uttered a shallow scream. I looked back and through a small crevice between the standing passengers I saw Linda and she did not appear to be part of the explosion. The driver swerved to the side and got out and checked the bus. Apparently we blew a rear tire. Fortunately for us the bus has dual rear tires so we could continue our commute. He started out slowly, you could hear the tire complain with a “frop, frop, frop”. The bus was leaning towards the left rear. He continued to accelerate, “frop, frop, flip, flip” until we were up to full speed. If that other tire goes you can Czech us off your Christmas lists!

Stopping at a further then scheduled metro stop we exited the bus. I give the driver a big thumbs up and Linda mumbled, “that’s what happens when you overload a bus”.

We arrived safely to our apartment and the routine settled in. Untaping bruised toes, dental and bathroom queues, and a warmly felt greeting to all, “Good Night Bob, Good Night Gayle, Good Night Linda!”

Cesky Krumlov 2

Today the weather cleared a bit, a few drops trickled down, but mostly sun spots and white billowy clouds. After queuing up for “We We time”, showers, dental care, hair fluffing, toe taping, and discussions on the effectiveness of a high fiber diet, we headed out for the castle. As we walked up the hill, Linda noticed that a guy appeared to be following us. We stopped, and 100 feet back he stopped. We lingered for a photo shoot and he leaned up against a wall watching us. Keep in mind were in a very public place with a smattering of tourists constantly about. This went on for about 20 minutes.

I even took out my camera and took his picture and made sure we locked eyes so he knew we knew who he was (see photo). But he continued to follow us up every cobblestone path we took on the castle grounds. I took out my umbrella and as a the bull elephant protects the women and children by tucking then into a tight cluster behind the bull, I herded us on.

We walked towards one tunnel that leads to another courtyard. I had all of us go inside, wait until he entered, then doubled back out of the tunnel. He stopped and moved back towards the entrance and waited for us to return, with his hood on, face enshrouded by darkness, he looked like the archangel of death. There was only one logical place for us to go and he was content to wait us out.

He is tailing us. The thought came to me, “What would Dave do? Surely he would be near his garage with access to untold sharp and powerful tools”, no help there. Steve our friend would whip out his paragliding wing and fly off the castle walls. Bruce would talk really loud and make the stalker our best friend. I’m not getting any useful neighborly inspiration.

I considered asking the ladies for another umbrella and using them like ninja dragon swords for defense. Testoterone powered me into a “Bruce Lee” like stance. I entered the tunnel alone and walked up to the guy and defiantly asked him why he was following us. He kept saying “prosim” which means “please”. Waving my umbrella like a mad conductor, I told him to stop following us. “Prosim, Prosim”. “See that lady over there (pointing at Linda), she’s connected. You ever watch the Sopranos? Badda Bing!” O.K., somewhere I crossed over the line between fact and fiction, let the reader beware.

When we all exited the tunnel and lingered in the following courtyard our tail was gone. Why watch the Bourne Ultimatum when you can watch the Bob Ultimatum? With our heartbeats buzzing, we felt the need for nourishment and headed for lunch. We were told about a wonderful vegetarian restaurant that sits out over the river. I had fried cheese, with delicately fried assorted vegetables. Gayle had Indian Dahl which was a dense flavor packed lentil dish. Linda went for chilli which had red beans, veggies, and Arabic Bread.

Dinner tonight was another over the top feast. I had a grilled, chicken breast stuffed with blue cheese and smoked ham. Linda had a pork cutlet wrapped in ham, with a delicate layer of blue cheese sauce, sealing the deal. Each of us had a full liter of dark Eggenberg and not so surprisingly befriended 7 German’s sitting next to us. They had moved on beyond beer and were drinking shots of plum brandy and schnapps. They told us that they were celebrating their grandparents at the end of the table and then started laughing. So we topped that by saying Linda was our grandmother, Lindka Lyonova!

As we were leaving we ran into the perky couple of Deon and Candice. We keep bouncing into them around the village. They told us they were “homeless and unemployed” engineers who were staying in England. They will be returning to Australia in a few weeks and are doing a short “walk about” before leaving Europe.

Today we are off to visit the castle gardens and perhaps walk up to the monastery. We all feel that Cesky Krumlov is someplace we would like to return to for at least a week’s visit. There is so much more to eat and drink here. If you come, bring lots of memory cards for your cameras. In 1-1/2 days we have shot 748 photos, talk about picturesque!

Cesky Krumlov 1

We arrived today at Cesky Krumlov which involves a 3 hour bus ride due south of Prague or as the Czech call it “Praha”. We are only a handful of kilometers north of Austria and Germany,the three corners area. The ride was uneventful as we drove through rolling green lush valleys, low hills, and drizzly clouds. After an hour, the driver turned on music that was a mixture of modern pop, polka, but mostly melodic oldies of Bing, and Frank.

This is one of the most romantic and picturesque villages I have ever seen. At one point the three of us are standing on the barbers bridge over the Valtva River turning 360’s shooting one photo after another. You enter the village by crossing the “Horni” bridge. As you can imagine I’ve suffered terribly from the girls over the bridge name. “Oh there is Bob’s favorite bridge…”

It's amazing to imagine the town during the communist period with all the streets and building crumbling to oblivion. Part of the problem was that the predominantly German people who lived here were told to leave and take only 60 lbs of possessions. Entire homes were left totally intact, furniture, food, and homes sparklingly clean as the German owners would have left them. The new inhabitants came from Hungary and Romania. They really took no ownership of their windfall profit and let the homes and even the castle fall to ruin. It was so bad at one point that it was hazardous to walk the streets as walls and timbers covered broken cobblestones.

The Krumlov House Hostel is charming, manned by friendly American’s and Canadians’, and has the most delectable treat you can imagine. It has a walk in, hands free, hot water rich, tiled, shower. The drain is a bit slow, so it even soaks your feet in warm soapy water. Heaven.

Before we hit the cobblestones we stopped at a little café that is famous for hot chocolate. Actually is more like molten chocolate with enough whip cream to keep your spoon from becoming One with the chocolate. Gayle declared it’s better than the $12 brew we had on a famous Paris sidewalk café. Later the next evening, we walked by the café and witnessed the weirdest rock, metallic, head banger music one could imagine. The lead singer was wearing army style shorts and a tee shirt was playing his lips using his fingers. We might hold out for another Paris hot chocolate now.

We had a feast at Mary, Mary’s restaurant. For the same price as a divey dinner in Praha, Gayle and I, got Bohemian Feasts with smoked ham, millet casserole, potato dumplings, sauerkraut, roasted chicken, and a multitude of other morsels. Linda had a millet casserole with smoked ham and sauerkraut. Linda just described it to me again with a big, “Yummmmmm”.

Later that evening we strolled into the Gypsy Bar and Restaurant where each night they have Gypsy folk music. The dark beer from the local brewery Eggenberg was a sweet, toasty nectar. As we waited for the music, we sat next to 8 women from Germany. Linda at first said, “Look at that fiery red headed lady over in the middle, looks like Ursula”. Eventually we all became drinking chums raising our glasses and singing “Prost”. They are from Regensburg and met at a beer garden somewhere. Between 3 or four beers long ago, they committed themselves to lifelong friendships.

Linda told the gal sitting next to us that the fiery red headed gal must be the life of the party. She laughed and passed the message on to her. The red-head told us to wait and before the night is over she will dance to gypsy tunes on the table tops. I told the ladies that Gayle and I were going to Nuremberg in a few weeks. “Oh, that is part of Bavaria but it’s Franconia, not as nice as Regensburg.” More laughter followed by an explanation of local competitiveness between regions, towns and even villages.

Finally, our lungs filled with enough smoke I expected a fireman to rescue us and Linda’s voice getting huskier and huskier, the music started. They had a 4 piece band with the cutest gypsy violin player. Think Latin toned smurf with a wicked bow. Gayle captured a short movie of the band.

Tow of Shame

The Czech people are not confrontational at least in modern times. We started our day in Wenceslas Square. Remember the Christmas song about Good King Wenceslas. The important event that happened in this reasonably ugly and very, very commercial street, was the beginning and pretty much end of the Velvet Revolution. It was here that hundreds of thousands of protesters gathered to shake their keys at the communist party. The jangling must have been so loud and scary that the party packed up their bags and left.

While walking the streets, peering into the shops, filled with tacky crystal and shiny garnets, we witnessed the tow of shame. Watch the video below and see it all first hand!

Friday till Sunday we will be off to Cesky Krumlov a purely medieval town and castle with a romantic winding river. The girls just decided though that today would be a wonderful day to go on a paddle boat for two ride around the Valtav River. I certainly hope this trip doesn't become too bloggable. Think, "Wayward American Tourist Crash Paddle Boat into Charles Bridge!"

Vysehrad

Today we walked about 8 miles or 16300 steps per Gayle and her pedometer. If Prague is a pie, we metro'd the pie in half and walked around one side of half the pie. Our trek started at the crumbling ruins of the old castle of Vysehrad. Construction of the Church of St Peter and St Paul started in the 11th century and ended with the neo-Gothic structure in the late 1895. The Czech make planning a project an art form.

What a perfect place for a picnic or a hot cup of coffee and some fresh baked treats. We enjoyed the latter in a sunken park surrounded by 4 statues, in pairs facing each other 100 yards distant like a football player frozen to stone when their contract got canceled. We were told later that the statues were cut up in slices during WWII when a lost allied plane accidentally dropped a few bombs on Prague. They were too big to haul away, so they sliced them up and moved the chunks to the old castle grounds.

Speaking of stones, we looked valiantly for the “Vysehrad Columns” legend has it that they were thrown by the devil after he lost a bet with a priest. The story goes, “the priest said he can say Mass quicker than the devil can bring a column from Rome to Vysehrad. Then he prayed to St. Peter and he helped him to win the bet”. There is power in those prayers!

Another tale about Vysehrad is that Princess Libuse had an outside bath with a view of the Valtva river. When she tired of her lovers, she had them thrown down a hole in the rocks beside her love nest. This sent her former paramours falling hundreds of feet into the river. It is also said that squire Libuse was sentenced to death, probably for not bathing with the Princess, and asked if he could ride his prize horse Semik one more time. He jumped on his mount and raced for the gates. After finding them closed, he raced towards the cliff and Semik flew over the cliff carrying him down to the river saving his life. There is no account whether or not his mount Semik survived. If not, Semik should have bathed with the Princess since the hole is not that big and it's difficult pushing a big horse down a small hole.

After our snack we wandered over to the old cemetery whose remains include, Mucha (artist), Smetana (composer), and Dvorak (composer). The cemetery rather than feeling lifeless and gloomy was beautiful and full of life. One statue in particular that caught my fancy had three hands coming out of the rock, turning a circular hatch. I can hear someone saying, “Hey let me out of here”. The gravestones did remind me that we lost a good friend and neighbor, Johan Samlowsky. He was always full of life and had a huge giving heart. Our prayers are with his wife Bridgette. It must be hard to lose someone so special!

Alot About Names

Another Sunday has come in gone in Prague. We once again visited the friendly and young international church here. After church we were kindly invited to Laurie and Jim’s house for lunch. She prepared a puffed chicken and cheese enchilada, green beans, and a crisp salad. The Enchilada was mildly spiced and yet very tasty. I hope she sends us the recipe.

Laurie spent the next few hours telling us their story. It was a powerful story that really reflects how God works in our lives if we let him. Miracles do happen, yes, even in our modern today. For the last 11 years, they have toiled at creating a Christian Library in Prague that has both English and Czech translations. There are videos, dvds, access to Logos which is a Christian database that many pastors use, and two multi-purpose rooms the size of a typical master bedroom in a modest home. The rooms are used by people who want to learn English with a Christian slant, children's bible studies, and a multitude of other uses. According to Laurie, the Czech Republic has the highest number or non-Christians than any European country. Naturally, they never have enough funding or enough books to realize the libraries true potential. They are going to be creating a book request wish list, to facilitate donations.

She also told us an enormous batch of funny stories that outline the differences between our cultures. For example when asking a typical Czech official a request that isn’t standard practice the common answer is “not possible”. This same thing happened to us when we went into a bank to see if we could get a 2,000 crown bill broken down. “Not Possible” to make change. You are a bank, correct?

We found out that babies born in the Czech republic have to be named one of the names in the Czech Baby Book of names. Pavel for boys must be on the first 3 pages with Jan on the next three. Think “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” when the father pointed out all the Nicks and Nickies. The duplication of first names is so common that people often say, “we are going to Old Jan's house after church but first I need to stop and get a book from Little Jan and don’t let me forget to give Pastor Jan…” After you account for the sexes there are about 100 approved names so if you wanted your son or daughter’s name to start with the letter “G” you can choose from the boy names of “Gabriel and Gustav” for girls you can choose from “Gabriela, Gita, and Gizela”.

If you want to use a different name like “James” you need to make a petition to the government, which in reality is one lady who researches the names and approves or disapproves. I wonder how many “Not Possible’s” are recorded. Also middle names are not allowed unless you petition The Lady. Few Czechs deviate from the list for one important reason, only the approved names have name dates which you celebrate as a second birthday. I suppose if you're of minimal means, you simply pick the name attached to the date. June 24 is a big day for Jan and friends and five days later all the Pavel’s invite all the Jan’s for another celebration.

In addition, all female last names have “ova” added to the name. For example when Laura Bush visited they called her, “Laura Bushova”. For local people I can envision, “Connie Kinyonova, Nan Burrisova, Julie Comeyova, or Pavla Easyova”. Pavla is one of the cooks at the Oak Table.

She also talked about the problems Czech people have with the concept of free. Basically they are distrustful of anything that is free. I suppose during the communist times, free could come with awfully long strings. Even for their library they charge people a small fee to be a member. This encourages their commitment to the process, a feeling of ownership, and sidesteps the distrust. Laura also said, “You can’t out give a Czech!” If you give them a small gift they will give you 5 back. They are very giving people.

One other final story revolves around the Czech gardeners. For some reason this industry seem rooted in the communist era. She said each spring, four men and 3 women come to a lot near their house to cut the lawn which by now is knee length. A portion of the lawn is rather circular. So the only practical way to approach this is to start mowing in circles from the center out. The last three rows cause grass to shootout onto the sidewalk. The woman’s job is to sweep the sidewalk. Unfortunately each of the latter rounds sends the women scurrying about as the mower blows more clippings on the sidewalk. One more circle and the sidewalk is increasingly full as clippings pile on top of clippings.

Jim told us they haven’t discovered the weed wacker, so late spring, it looks like each building is sprouting a continuous sheaf of wheat around its foundation. Thus the buildings have a sort of modern neo-hamlet look.

One final note, remember our hearty Czech lunch from yesterday. Well it turned out that the Goulash was bad. Apparently one traditional way to make goulash is to make a batch and just keep adding meat and veggies to the endless pot. The remains each day become a starter for the next day. I’ve included a picture of Linda’s dish that I ran through a photoshop food filter which reveals all the bad morsels highlighted in green. Linda kindly shared some of her dish with me. Thus Linda and I made many a trip to the WC. Today though we're definitely on the mend.

This and That

A few days ago now, as we were re-entering the main outside door, who should arrive behind us but our new friend Pam and her two kids, Alexandria and Logan! We hadn’t made the acquaintance of her kids so this was a welcome surprise. Alex is 4-1/2 years old and Logan is 18 months old. After simple greetings, she told us that she had gotten locked out of their apartment. Worse, her key was in the lock inside the doorway and might block the set she just picked up from her husband, after taking the children and herself on a tram to Wenceslas Square to his office.

Needless to say, the lock was jammed and a locksmith was required. In the meantime, Pam, Alex and Logan joined us in our room. When Gayle gave little Alex a wire angel ornament, she politely asked if we had anything for her brother Logan. Gayle said, “no we don’t have anything for someone as young as Logan”. Alex’s precocious response was, “Someday Logan will grow up and I can keep it for him”. Then she asked about a possible gift for daddy.

Being Bob, I was teasing Alex about using her long pony tails to get the lock open. She looked right at me and said, “You are crazy man. I think you make a joke of me!” We all laughed. What cute, fun kids.

Yesterday evening we all attended the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra in the Rudolfinum concert hall on the banks of the Vltava River. The first piece was Schumann’s 3^rd symphony also called the “Rhenish”. The second movement sounded western, I commented that I felt the music encircle us like smoke, tiny tendrils of delight. The last movement sounded to me like waves crashing in their mad rush to expend themselves upon the sand. Occasionally, a smaller secondary wave slips and slides between or on top of the rollers adding further complexity.

The concert ended with Schumann’s 4^th symphony. I’ve always loved the swashbuckling and rauckus tempo of this piece. When it ended I felt that I hadn’t breathed for the last two minutes. It takes your breath away. Every note was perfectly prepared and delivered, no wonder: this concert was being recorded for a new compendium of Schumann’s pieces. The setting is fairly indescribable, marble columns, cherubs, our seats a mere 17 rows back and a conductor that was a tiny ball of fire. I’ve included pictures in the video. All this for $38 per seat.

While we were waiting outside, near the front steps, a young couple 20 meters away were kissing and groping, letting us know that spring was in the air. We were watching a taped version of the production on an outside monitor, and heard the distinct sounds of young lust. Discreetly Linda turned around and the young couple had moved closer to us until they were an arms length away. We gave them the “elderly stare” and they moved off about 10 meters. We decided to really scare them off by handing the camera to Linda, and Gayle and I started making out with Linda shooting the action. Within minutes we had the long granite stairs to the symphony all to ourselves. There is power in Love!

This morning to Linda and Gayle’s surprise, I told them they could plan our touring route, as they had come up with lots of ideas the night before as they scanned our tour books. During the day, I continued to photograph them, pouring over books and soggy maps (it’s rainy today), trying to determine our next steps. Eventually we blundered into a Czech style restaurant, out of the tourist zone, (we were moderately lost looking for a cubist column) and had a delicious, heart clogging meal. Gayle had what amounted to potato pancakes made with beer, lightly fried, with a flavor popping salty sauce. Linda had Goulash with even more potato pancakes and I had a huge hunk of roasted pork knuckle a special favorite in the region. My knuckle was so large I was charged an assessment, kind of like a property tax for pigs. As I read this pre-blog to Linda and Gayle, Linda said, “your knuckle was so big it was a fist”. We all ordered dark beer (pivo) and discovered it was according to one tour book the best beer in the world. It must have gone down well as we wobbled out of the restaurant an hour later.

By the way, check out the cool tufted red squirrels we saw chasing each other and drinking out of a puddle in the old Vysehrad castle.

Being Visible

Yesterday was supposed to be another cold and rainy day. We decided on a marathon shopping spree. Instead of “Lions and Tigers and Bears” we were after “Crystal and Garnets and Beads”. Our tour books pointed to a plethora of shopping opportunities around the metro stop called, “Namesti Republiky”. There was a 5 story Pavillion mall and a huge Kotva department store. The mall is about 80% clothing especially aimed at 20 something’s. The top of the mall is a food court.

While the gals were scrutinizing the third floor for deals, they had yet to find any, I was checking out food opportunities. After making the food loop, I found a toilet (WC) and started heading that way. As I scanned another café, I was stunned to see a woman nursing a baby. This was not some discreet and natural act. She sat there proudly among chatting men and women, smoking and drinking lattés, her sweater rolled up above her shoulders, think neck tube top, as she nursed her baby.

I quickly averted my eyes, picked up my pace, and headed into the men’s room. Suddenly as I was fiddling with my zipper I looked up and saw a sexy young woman with a small camera getting ready to film me. Beside her was a shy young girl ready to laugh at what she was seeing. I looked around the entire room and found nearly a dozen young women, some with rulers, some scowling, but most simply, playfully watching the men, all the while the men simply stared back. Lucky for me these are full sized posters, positioned around the room. Feeling like a deviate, I pulled out my camera and shot the scene (see slide show).

Interesting scenes in the mall include a Czech fascination with western themes. I’m talking

about horses, old buck-boards, bales of hay, signs proclaiming “Angus” meats. One place proudly had several full sized horses nestled among coffee drinkers, each black horse sporting a lampshade over their head. Even stranger the lamps not only weren’t on but were non-functional. Perhaps the horses that pull the carriages all over the old town get together each night for a pub crawl of their own.

After we left the mall, we wandered down the twisty cobblestoned streets looking for the mythical store that sells cheap Czech glass. We did find a wonderful store that sells fine Czech garnets. Linda found the perfect ring. She stated, “this could the first of many such adornments!”

We staggered home, happy, and content with most of our crowns (currency) intact.

The Party

The Party

Wednesday evening we had our first Prague dinner party. We invited Ben and Pam, our key masters from upstairs, for a dinner of fruit, cheese, cold cuts, and the staple of Prague, “work horse rolls” known to Czechs as Rohliky. Ben works for Monster.com a website dedicated helping people and employers in finding/filling jobs. Pam takes care of her two precocious toddlers and deals with all the drama that happens in the building.

Pam told a story about finding her babysitter or as they call her, Hannah the nanny. Hannah comes two nights a week so Ben and Pam can have a night out. Pam says a typical night out for them is dinner at a restaurant and then a couple’s trip to Tesco, the major grocery story in town. She said that when Hannah called speaking proper English to inquire about the position, Pam told Ben, “She had us at ‘Hello”. Hannah sounds just like Mary Poppins and when she dropped by for her first visit she came into the living room, sat on the floor in the middle of the room, gave a bright smile to the kids, and they just ran to her and sat on her lap. Think Julie Andrews singing “A Spoonful of Sugar”.

Another interesting story involves the local neighborhood version of a Watch program. She said that when someone parks in a particularly scandalous way, the neighbors call one another and round up their cars and circle the offending vehicle. Then they call the “policie”. When the police arrive, they have a flat bed truck with a stubby crane on it. They put chains under the car and plunk it onto the truck. This is called the “Tow of Shame”.

Pam also told us about her adventures taking out garbage and recycling. For the first 6 months each time she went for a G&R run, the elderly wife of the building manager would stop her, mumble a greeting and machine gun through a bunch of Czech. Pam would patiently wait for her to end, all the while providing the universal sign of non-understanding, i.e. the rolling of the eyes. When she finished she would tell her in Czech, “Sorry but I do not speak Czech”. This would prompt, louder, slower, Czech, and Pam would repeat her mantra. Finally the lady would say in broken English, “We recycle here”. Tomorrow this entire drama will be repeated unless Pam dresses exactly the same way. Add a different coat or be bring along her daughter, and it’s all recycled yet again.

Another funny event happens when they try and pay with a credit card at a restaurant. Sometimes the waiter when presented with the card says, “Very sorry but our machine is kapute”. Ben and Pam, nervously talk between themselves and tell the waiter that they don’t have any money. They do, but its all part of the game. The waiter, eyes a large as sliver dollars scurries away and returns. “The machine works, we fix”!

Before our guests departed, Ben and Bob worked on fixing the toilet light. Up until now, we’ve composed our 1^st and 2^nd movements, with our little Mag flashlight clenched between our teeth. With Ben’s encouragement and a pair of pliers provided by our guests, I was able to remove the broken light bulb contact which was broken in the receptacle. This rather brings up the old joke, “How many cyber guys does it take to change a light bulb in Prague”? The answer is: two!

As you can tell our party was a smashing success.

Cold Hard Facts

Tuesday we went on a free 4 hour walking tour courtesy of our multi-tasking shuttle driver. At 9:30am in front of the Astronomical clock, our tour guide whose name sounded like "Malianska"

[Video of our Tour]

appeared with a bright red wind breaker, bright red umbrella, and unnaturally red, spiked hair. She was very friendly, knowledgeable we think, and had this funny head tilt and grin punctuating each paragraph of information. We couldn’t tell if her expression was one of glee, “I can speak English”, or just preparing herself for another batch of brutal slavic English. Her accent was very thick causing the most interesting expressions of those listening, rather like, “am I hearing English?” (See video clip)

I have included a variety of people and places we saw in one of the slideshow videos. Note the bride and groom that Gayle and Linda called the “Salsa Wedding Couple”, the Fiddler on the Roof carvings, and the somber hangman statue (post communism).

The longer we walked the colder it got. The high for the day only barely reached 50 degrees, add a little breeze, stand in the shade of oldie, moldy buildings and it was cold, darn cold. Our tour slipped into the wonderful old church of St James. I moved quickly to the front to get a picture of the skeletal arm of a theft who when trying to steal the jewels off the virgin Mary statue, found that the displeased virgin was mobile enough to grab the his arm. The next morning the church members were not able to cut off the thief's arm and decided to leave it there as a warning. Don’t mess with a cold, hard, virgin. Before I could shoot my picture Gayle said, “Honey, there is a sign that says no pictures”. I looked back and saw Linda shooting away and said, “Linda’s doing it”. Later around a glass of wine, Linda mentioned that she took a few pictures and some Englishman stepped over and said, “Madame there are no photos allowed in the church”! As he was talking a Italian tour group came in and fired away! The paparazis have arrived.

By the time we reached the Charles Bridge, two hours in, two hours to go, we slide out of the group and head back to our favorite Italian restaurant, Carmelitas. All we could think about was the home made minestrone soup and the pizza cooked over wood coals. Two bowls of soup and one creamy 4 cheese pizza latter, we could feel our toes again.

[Tour Slide Show]

Garden of Swedes

Yesterday we were so impressed with our aimless walk over and around Petrin Hill we decided to visit another nearby garden and two other islands on the Vltva River (the Germans call it the Moldau). Finding the entrance to the Wallenstein garden was quite the task as the garden appears surrounded by a 15 foot wood and stucco wall. Any moment I expected to find someone attired with bright clothing and a turban with a rope ladder selling “Napínavý Přístup” (Exciting Access) to the Wallenstein Garden and Palace. Perhaps this is because we started to venture into the lovely garden entry of the Indian Consulate.

Half way around the triangular shaped block we found a doorway or portal into a new world. The tall walls, and short, sparse, 10 foot tall trees that look like rows of imitation Christmas trees a chain saw wielding gardener might design when square trees were desired, was different than anything I’ve ever seen. Add multi-colored and lacey white peacocks, fountains with steady solitary streams of water flowing into ponds, mythical statues spearing and wrestling with serpents and dragons, and of course square trees, and you can see why it’s so different. Speaking of the steady streams of water reminds me that I haven’t seen a WC (Water Closet aka toilet) in a while.

There is a good lesson to be learned at this palace and garden. It was designed to surpass the splendor of Prague Castle. After it was completed, Albrecht Wenzel von Wallenstein, Duke of Mecklenburg, (middle name sounds like Denzel Washington but there is no apparent relationship) the owner furnished it with fancy tapestries, frescos, and all the things a Duke would want. After a year living in the new palace, the King whose castle is just up the hill, rather like the ultimate landlord, had the Duke killed. Then 14 years later the Swedes invaded Prague and stole everything except the frescos. If the beer wasn’t so good they probably would have stolen them too. Today the treasures can be seen at the Haagen Dazs museum in Sweden. The Czechs have replaced the treasured art pieces with replicas which can currently been seen in the garden.

The lesson to this story beyond “never believe anything Bob says”, is never build a home nicer than your boss’ especially when he lives within view of your castle and keep an eye out to the west for the Swedes.

This story would have been much richer if the Norwegians had been the invading force. We have several prominent members of our neighborhood in Sequim that are Norwegian. One, let’s call him Arnold for this blog, is always telling “Square head” Norwegian jokes. Arnold is an 80 something year old “man of steel” Norwegian, who can often be seen swinging a chainsaw or perched atop his tractor looking for hillsides to level.

Unfortunately, the Vikings have always lagged the Swedes in large scale armed invasions. In addition, they would have been poorly matched in their dragon tipped long ships (drakkar) against the Czech monolithic tour boats that currently ply the Valtva. If they had invaded and stayed, today we might see burley Norseman standing at the entrance to the Charles Bridge dragging Czechs and the hordes of Italian tourist into their boats for a river tour. “Mama Mia, look at those square trees lining Kampa Island”!

Our Relaxing Spiritual Side

We’ve been excitedly looking forward to visiting the International Church of Prague (www.internationalchurchofprague.cz). I’ve been in contact with Pastor John Waldrop for some time now. I’ve always wanted to write a “Dear John” letter as I have received enough of them. He encouraged us to visit and even had Jim and Laurie be our shepherds. Before we visited, we talked with them and offered to bring something from the U.S. Jim asked us to bring him a box of Cheerio’s. Cherio Jim!

Not knowing how long it might take to get to church, we ended up arriving one hour early. Beside the church was a wonderful chapel and cemetery with a long promenade filled with local Czechs out for a stroll. Clusters of elderly women clutching their plastic shopping bags or rickety metal shopping cars, older couples sharing the space and time not some much with words but with glances and tiny nudges, and finally, a smooth collie named Al watched by a young girl enjoying the dappled sunlight that drifted beneath the budding trees. Then there were the Americans, burning digital bytes as our cameras whirred. I am sure they were glad when it was time to head back to church.

Jim and Laurie and the entire congregation were a delight at the church. ICP did a wonderful job of weaving contemporary Christian music with traditional hymns. Some of the old hymns had wonderful modern phrases added, as bees move pollen to make the message more powerful. The message was effectively done, humorous, pointed, and thoughtful. The service revolved around the passage John 4: 6-9 and what Jesus was asking, and shock that must have come from the Samaritan woman. What was the message, who is the sender, who are the sent, and what is the vehicle that propels the action?

After the service, we continued to find similarities with our hosts. Jim and Laurie have relatives in Port Angeles, Laurie makes bead bookmarks which oddly enough Gayle selected in advance as a gift. Slow, thoughtful travel really build ties that bind us all together.

After church we had an incredible lunch at a newly opened Italian Restaurant. We sat outside and met a ball of energy named Radka. She is helping out a friend by working there. Having graduated from college she worked in the business field but found the “button down” lifestyle of suits, reserved social contact, and endless paperwork not to her liking. “I want to work with people, in particular I want to help people recover mentally from some physical trauma” she told us. Talking with her, thinking back to our time with Annika, it’s remarkable what talent, and love of service is coming to this world.

After lunch we drifted between the trees and flowers of Petrin Park. The cherry and magnolia blossoms were budding and drifting across the landscape adding beauty everywhere they went. We walked many steps today from the inside out.

If you would like to see a remarkable short online story, go to this Czech church’s website and play the video, an excerpt from the Czech film, Most. Very, Very powerful: http://www.praguefellowship.cz

Good Morning America and Germany too.

FYI: For those reading this blog, if you click on the still pictures they will enlarge for better viewing.

We had a very fun and thoughtful day today. We planned our trip around finding a decent Parisian style bakery. After several miss turns, the kind where you are going exactly 180 the wrong way, we found a wonderful bakery owned by an expat. I had a ham and cheese croissant that just melted in my mouth with buttery flakes and hints of nutty Swiss cheese.

Once we secured our supply lines, we ventured into the Jewish quarters. We stopped at a little square that had a huge statue of Kafka on it. As some of you know, we have a little wild “pet” squirrel at home named “Righty”. We call him that because he must have fallen out of a tree and damaged his neck. He always looks to the left, our right, so we called him Righty. Watching Gayle and Linda photographing all the dramatic buildings with turrets, cherubs, and powerful hairy arm pitted men holding up entryway, I could easily rename them “Uppies”.

Beside where I sat was a menacing man all dressed in dusty black in front of a doorway. I saw the words “Tour” and figured he was a hawker selling tour packages. Once we gathered together again, we searched valiantly for the Spanish Synagogue. We walked around a church in the square and when we returned to Kafka we realized that the man standing in front of a door is a guard securing entry into the Spanish Synagogue. Quoting Kafka, “Believing in progress does not mean believing that any progress has yet been made.”

Inside the church the walls and spires were a woven matte of green and gold. Circles and stars dipped in honey and embossed with golden amber. Kafka made us forever young with his words, “Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old.”

Later we walked though the thousand of drunken grave stones, leaning due to the dozens of layers of Jews buried in this location as it was the only location allowed by law for Jews to be buried at. Prayer stones and stones of respect top many of the closest markers. One young Jewish woman was picking up prayers from the dusty trail and replacing them under stones. These people have real understanding of dignity and respect for their history. I for one have great admiration for their ability to survive and thrive against enormous adversity. Inside one building that use to be a synagogue is the list of countless thousands Czech and Monrovian Jews killed in camps during WWII.

When we returned to our apartment, we suddenly realized that we only had one set of keys and the ones we had doesn’t seem to open the front door. Tired dogs, and a door barring “wine time” does not make for happy campers. Linda made the astute observation that one of the names on the entry buzzers sound English. We buzzed and begged our way in. When we go to our room, a lady stopped us in the hall and asked us about our problem. Her name was Pam and she an expat. We compared keys and she noticed that one of the portions of the key was broken off. She offered to get us another one made for us for free. We had a wonderful informative chat. She told us that something similar had happened to another American couple one evening. Her husband saw them as he was leaving and told her about it a short time later. She asked him if he let them in and helped them. No, I just saw them with their luggage. She ran down the steps, found them at the curb, invited them in, got them something to drink, and posted a note on the door. Using her phone, she text her husband and called him a “jerk”.

One and a half hours later, the landlady showed up and gave them the key. Since then we have had a number of text messages with her on a wide variety of subjects. We have an angel one floor above. By the way, the key arrived the next morning by 8am.

We finished that day at Letna park, napping, gossiping about kissing youths and peeing dogs while lying on our picnic sheet. Linda finally go so board that she decided to take pictures of her foot, raised in the air, above some battlements and backlit by budding trees. If we every loose Linda in Czechland, this will make an interesting identify photo.

Press the Play (>) button beneath our video to see slides of our trip today!

Paradise Found

Today was our first fully rested day and night in Prague. No day can start without our morning ritual of Gayle and Linda comparing the condition of their feet, skin, and current state of their hair structure. All of the above change at least nightly. Naturally, yours truly is on the web, only marginally interested.

We scurried over to the Hradcany Castle right when it opened at 9am. Lucky for us, we entered St Vitus Cathedral before the “Corn Dog” packs arrived. For those of you not familiar with this term it comes from the many tour groups that is led by a leader who keeps an unfurled umbrella raised at all times. Asian groups use compact umbrellas whereas German use full sized red or black ones and Italians use bright multi-colored ones.

The early morning cloud strewn light allowed the stain glass windows to shimmer. The Mucha window is particularly unusual and interesting.

One huge memorial has over a ton of silver angels, cherubs and spiritual figures one lovingly holding a cross and while another brandishes a sword. One blissful cherub flutters about pointing to the location of the martyr John Nepomuk’s severed tongue. Interesting series of conflicting views, don’t you think? The memorial was demanded by the Czech people who felt the Catholic Church did not represent the people’s interest. I suppose when one invests a ton of silver it shows you’re definitely interested.

We walked up one of the towers. Several maroon signs warn that the climb to the tower top involves 287 steps which spirals tightly towards the heavens. We made the climb winded, dazed, and woozy. The views though were very inspiring and quickly filled our cameras. Before we descended we sat on some benches and watched a steady group of Italian youths step out of the staircase. It was satisfying to see them winded, dazed, and tremblingly woozy. One gal was so expressive that Linda started to take her picture. Her shock and expressions made it clear that this was not to be a Kodak moment. As we flew down the staircase, it was fun to hear Italian, Czech, German, and many dialects share the human bond of directed communication. Each group asking the same question, “Whose idea was this?”

By the time we left, entry into the church involved a long lines, chunked by groupings of corn dog led tourist groups.

We finished the day with a walk down tranquil Kampa Island and back. Then we walked down the Charles Bridge prepared for hordes of pick-pockets and gypsies. We did not find much of that action but found loads of artists, charcoal portrait artists, and jewelry vendors. In several places musician’s treated us to Slavic style tunes. In one location, I saw a blind mother being led by her daughter. The daughter was carrying a strange backpack. Later down the bridge they treated us to several serenades (See movie)

It’s 3am and the Miracle of Medicine

Prague is quiet, strangely Sequimesk-like quiet. Our flight here was completely unremarkable. We followed all the traditional customs, Hurry and Wait, Bob and the security pat down (too bad our cameras were locked up in the security baskets), and $14 “grande mucha plain ole” coffees at Starbucks Heathrow. The most solemn event was waiting at the shrine of not so found luggage. Ours were nearly the last bags and came in one cluster out of the luggage pod. For some odd reason the words, “Father forgive me for I have sinned” kept running through my mind before our pod of luggage descended. Currently there are over 14,000 lost bags in our terminal.

Beyond customs were our shuttle driver and a glorious bank of ATM machines. Being a grande short of a full mind and $14 poorer, Gayle and I struggled to make the most of our withdrawal. Here is how my thinking went. We can take out a maximum of $500 per day. There are 15 krowns to the dollar, so 500 divided by 15 is 33.333. The new Walmart little keychain calculator has a partially burned out digit. This cannot be right this, is 2/3 of the tip for the driver! Think, think, think. Twice the ATM beeped “Do you need more time, Stupid Tourist?”. I applied my problem solving dilemma to Gayle, we tossed two minds at the problem and came up with $7500. Wow I’m rich, where is Starbucks now, perhaps I’ll add some “pouring” cream to our coffee.

Our talented driver made short work of the drive. I swear this guy had three arms, actually two arms and one neck. He had one hand on the wheel generally, his neck craned to the left, holding a cell phone, while his other hand sought out “Love Me Tender” by Elvis all the while keeping his eyes peeled on the 7” GPS screen. Since his head was tilted so much, it made the 7” diagonal screen really beneficial. I’ll have to use this at Staples next time I sell a GPS system.

Paris revisited, we arrived at a locked door, with no clue as to which of the two dozen buzzers to click. Linda helpfully suggested I look for Helena’s name (Helena lives in Paris). Recently off the ATM debacle, I did what any weary traveler would do, I pressed all the buttons, and Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds appeared. Lucy is the niece of Helena, a bright and cheery English-speaking university student.

So I am back to 3a.m. and the gentle whirr of the fridge is all I hear. A special thanks to my father for loaning me a sleeping pill for the trip. Worked wonders, I slept all the way from Seattle to London. It was a weird little sleep. I know my mouth hung open and it sure felt like someone took a foil gum wrapper and rubbed the inside my mouth with it. I guess I’m back to “Forgive me Father for I have Sinned” for why else would I be up at 3a.m. in Prague. Gotta love those sleeping pills.

How Do You Know When A Trip Begins

After we walked off the Bainbridge Ferry we found ourselves two hours early for our shuttle to the airport. We popped into the ferry building, slinked through an army of workers waiting expectantly at parade rest. Beyond that lies a little wine bar with three seats calling our name. Time at this point is measured in fluid ounces. Nine Ounces: conversation flits between Czech food, language, packing tips, and methods to reduce foot swelling on the airplane. The TV above the bar soundlessly displays a Yankee game. On the right through the windows the crowd surges ahead, office cutouts heading home, welcome aboard. Six Ounces: Gayle left her wedding ring home, Dave’s “Honey Do” list, the wonders of Costco rotisserie chicken. The terminal is empty except for two guys standing beside a table. One looks like a forty year old Beaver Cleaver, bucktoothed, wearing a boy scout uniform complete with a patch ridden sash. He is talking to an older man wearing a dense pattern of lapel pins that might have had a hat underneath. Around his neck are two huge binoculars. Zero ounces, it’s time to leave, to join the next stall which carries World Wraps. Our trip has really begun. Footnote: We've arrived in Prague in good spirits and fully stocked with luggage.