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.