I'm finding it harder to post on this blog. I think the problem is rooted in the fact that Jamie and I have been here in the Czech Republic for over a year and half now, and it seems that all the cultural 'shocks' from a year ago have turned into nothing but normal expectations and hum-drum living. Last year, each day brought some new experience, breakthrough or frustration that I felt needed to be shared with all of (you) or yinz (why is that in English we don't have 2nd person plural?). Have I become saturated with the 'international experience'? Maybe a little bit, yes. It's not that everything is bad, or that this is a negative development; to the contrary, I'm quite content with my revelation, as it signifies an acceptance into the community of Policka--of course I will always be viewed as "The American", but it isn't said in a condescending way: it is said more like "our American." For this, I am thankful; however, it is also what is pushing me to yearn for more. To say that Policka will be hard to leave would be an understatement of gargantuan proportions; it won't just be hard to leave, it will be life-changing to leave, literally. Once again Jamie and I are on the precipice of change, a literal "fork in the road." If you look back on this blog--which itself has been a work-in-progress for almost two years--you will stumble across the earliest posts from when Jamie and I were still in Ohio. We talked about the adventure that was to come and how nervous we were to be newly-weds laying the foundation of our marriage in a foreign nation, facing stresses that are greater than any we would come to experience in the USA. (Of course we have health care here, which is a big plus!)Well, that feeling of uncertainty is creeping its way back into my conscious; however, in opposition to the time in Ohio, I'm nervous about heading back 'home' to the USA, wherever that may be.
We were only five months married when we took our first steps on Czech soil; now, we're coming up on our two-year anniversary. While it might not seem like a long time--and in reality it isn't from the 'time-space' spectrum--emotionally, we are completely different people. Just this past weekend, I was with my friend Jiri and he asked me if I wanted to stay in Polika. I told him that I don't want to stay forever, but I could stay longer. He seemed very disappointed that I didn't say, "Jiri! I've got great news; Jamie and I are going to be your neighbors! Forever!" But, I understand his sadness at hearing that Jamie and I won't be coming back next year. For one, we've become close with both his family and his daughters: we lift weights nearly every Sunday; we eat dinner with them quite often; we exchange notes and emails; and, we listen to each others' problems. In a sense, Jiri and some of our other Czech friends know both Jamie and I on a deeper level, because they have gotten to know 'us' as a married couple, not just as separate personalities. For my family and my friends back home, I have a sense of guilt in knowing that Jamie and I have laid the foundation of our married lives in a place across the Atlantic. Our lifestyle here is different. Our food here is different. Our habits in shopping and cooking here are different. How we socialize as individuals and as husband and wife are different. Consequently, when Jamie and I go back home in July, we will have to rebuild our marriage--not between each other--but in the eyes of our family and our friends, as you all have never really known us as a couple. I'm excited and encouraged at this proposition, as I yearn to foster and nurture deeper relationships with those of you back home who I might have left and not spoken with for a long time. Yet, I am still apprehensive. Coming back to the USA will signal much more than just a readjustment back into American culture (which will be hard enough for us both to do), but will also usher in a period of reacquainting ourselves with friends and family with the new people we have become, both within ourselves and within our marriage.
When I reflect on the opportunities that I have next year and with experiences gained from the past two years, I'm shocked to realize that I'm still only 24 years old. In a way, my life in the next year is in the most literal of senses WIDE-OPEN. Jamie and I can move and work anywhere we desire. We can study language, art, teaching or biology. This time in the Czech Republic has been a crucible of self-reflection and reorientation. I've grown up a lot in these past two years and I know I'm not going to look back. There are passions welling up inside of both of us and I know now that we both have the courage and the patience to succeed in them. There aren't many things in life harder than being plopped down in a country where the language and the culture are completely different from your own, and your expected to not only flourish socially, but to become and integral part of the community (those of you who have ever spent some time in a country where English is not the mother tongue know what I'm talking about). One of the hardest aspects upon first arriving in a place where your words are gobly-gook to most of the people on the street is realizing how much of your personality is built through talking. And no, I'm not just writing about telling stories and the like, I'm talking about singular words, syllables and accents. When you speak your native language, you become a master of it. You control the words and rhythm; heck, you even accent some vowels and consonants differently with diverse social groups, just to fit in. This is why there are eloquent speakers and writers, because they make the language sing. In my life, I know that I can express so much of my personality not just in speaking English and relating experiences through that West-Germanic medium, but in how I deli ever a word, or how long of a pause I give in between "I" and "am". When this ability is ripped from under your feet, you're forced to define yourself in a whole new way, normally through actions and facial expressions: skills much harder to master.
I've been doing some 'job hunting' the past few months and have found some very appealing opportunities. One opening that I’ve recently applied to is with the ACCWT (Appalachian Coal Country Watershed Team), a group that specializes in community development by working within poor, mining communities that have polluted water and deforestation problems. This job would be great for me, because it would enable me to work in nature (HUGE PLUS), engage with local community members that struggle with poverty and learn some practical skills that a go a long way towards helping me decide whether I want to pursue a career in the field. Oh, not to mention that this group is really well-known, and I would have a wonderful opportunity to do some much-needed networking. I've sent in my application and am now just waiting for a reply. The group works all throughout Appalachia with most of their focus areas being situated in Pennsylvania, West Virginia and Kentucky. I'm sure this makes many of you back in Pittsburgh and Erie WONDERFULLY happy:).
Recently we here in Policka have had a pretty nasty turn of weather. There has been a cold front moving from the East slashing its way through Central Europe, and with it, bringing bitterly-cold temperatures from Siberia. The windows are perpetually covered in frost and the propensity for one to fall to their death on the sidewalks is greater than if they engaged in tight-rope walking across Niagara Falls. But, so is the life in the Czech Highlands. Cau for now!
Friday, January 29, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Winter church retreat
Over the weekend Jeremy and I went on the annual church retreat to hajenka. It is an old scout cabin thus making it more or less the perfect place to hold a retreat. There are 6 rooms with beds, toliets and showers, a common area, basement and kitchen (with a great big wood burning stove).
The trip to hajenka last year was great, so of course we were both looking forward to it again. The cabin was a little less full as a number of families were sick or had work, but it was a blast just the same. We played game, walked to Dankovice (a little village close by) for lunch, and sat and talked. I remember being incredable nervous last year because we had only been here for 6 months the time the retreat rolled around, but this year I had nothing to fear. Our Czech is much better, we can understand and make ourselves understood, so I felt like we could actaully listen and contribute to converstations.
This weekend also made me think about leaving. The retreat marked our remaining 6 months in the Czech Republic. That's it...only 6 months. Which means that we need to be looking for jobs and figuring out were we will be when we return to the states. But it also means that Jeremy and I are going to have to be even more intentional about getting together with friends since out time is growing short.
The trip to hajenka last year was great, so of course we were both looking forward to it again. The cabin was a little less full as a number of families were sick or had work, but it was a blast just the same. We played game, walked to Dankovice (a little village close by) for lunch, and sat and talked. I remember being incredable nervous last year because we had only been here for 6 months the time the retreat rolled around, but this year I had nothing to fear. Our Czech is much better, we can understand and make ourselves understood, so I felt like we could actaully listen and contribute to converstations.
This weekend also made me think about leaving. The retreat marked our remaining 6 months in the Czech Republic. That's it...only 6 months. Which means that we need to be looking for jobs and figuring out were we will be when we return to the states. But it also means that Jeremy and I are going to have to be even more intentional about getting together with friends since out time is growing short.
reflection
Sitting on the hard, wooden chair in the corner of the room, I leaned my back against the radiator that was trying in vain to fight the flow of cold air pushing its way through the drafty window pane. I had a clear vantage point to see the children as they returned back from their day at school. Their coats placed on hooks, shoes stuffed into small, wooden cubbyholes and with backpacks slung over one shoulder they began the procession through the social room to the hall and up the stairs to their bedrooms, where the night-time routine of homework and chores would again take over, just like the evening previous.
Sipping the fruit tea that was given to me by the staff member dressed in a white frock and wearing slippers with white socks, I peered at the kids as they filed past. They were all sizes, ages, sexes and complexions: many were white, but a vast majority had the skin tone of a soft, earthy brown and obsidian-like hair, so dark that it shined—not a very common sight in the middle of Bohemia. They were Roma children; that was easy enough to tell. They stared at me, because I was foreign, and of course with anything new, the children—being glad to break the monotony of life—had to put on a show. They laughed, kicked, were obstinate and acted out a small theatrical play of disobedience as they walked diagonally through the room, to the door, which led to the hall; forcing one of the more sympathetic caretakers to playful apply a soft kick to the rump of about four them.
Many of them had to cock their heads slightly to the left to see my face, as their eyesight was obstructed by the haphazardly applied gauze and tape that covered their right eye. This gave them the look of children who had been through a war, especially the ones who wore glasses, as the nose pad was unable to snuggly place its plastic head on skin, but instead on gauze, which contorted the glasses fit, making them look ‘bent’—this was only exacerbated by the fact that their lenses looked as if they hadn’t been cleaned in weeks. Their faces spoke of a silent apathy that descends upon those who are cast aside and told they aren’t worth much. I’m sure that they are violent kids too when it gets down to it. There is nothing worse than the rebellious rage of a child who knows their place in the scheme of society, especially when the rung is at the bottom.
Adriana was a robust girl with a light complexion and dark hair. She was the bouncy type—each footstep generating another round of jiggling centered in the breast and hip region of her body. Her hair looked a bit frazzled, but her eyebrows were elegantly shaped and dark, ironically giving her the most beautiful eyes in a house full of patched-up pupils. She spoke with an extreme slur that made most words completely unintelligible, claiming that the problem stemmed from the plastic, orthodontic retainer that covered the lower half of her jaw; finding out later—after hearing the high-pitched ringing of her aid—that she was in fact hearing-impaired. She informed me that her mother was Czech and her father was an Italian named ‘Antonino’, prompting the other Czechs in the room to shout “spaghetti” and “ravioli” in a most obnoxious over-played Italian accent. Adrian laughed at it.
Being 16 years of age, Adriana thinks and dreams for herself. In less than two years, she hopes to return back to the city and country of her birth, San Francisco, California, USA. And with this point, I guess I should explain how I ended up face-to- face with an anonymous girl in the most unlikely of places.
It was only two weeks ago that I realized there was an orphanage in Policka. I walked passed the road every day to work, but I never made the right-hand turn around the corner, past the old Skoda 110 parked along the curb and through the wire fence that surrounds the drab, square, red-brick building. There is a tin sign on the door that clearly states “Destsky Domov” in large blue lettering that sits upon the soldiers of the National Crest of the Czech Republic, more commonly known as the “Czech Lion”, but I guess I never really looked. Unfortunately, I wasn’t alone in my ignorance.
I work as an English teacher and community organizer in the protestant church in Policka. Every Tuesday I have an afternoon meeting with the head pastor named Jan. Being a renaissance man, Jan is one who can speak five languages, has traveled to over 15 different nations and can tell you, with passion in his voice, about the plight of people thousands of miles away. He is an international-type with big ideas and the energy to get a lot accomplished; his church has become a bastion of creativity and relevance over the past 14 years. But nothing could prepare him for the shame that was about to come.
After about thirty minutes of discussing the ‘business’ that we needed to attend to on a practical level, Jan hesitantly asked if my wife and I could do one more ‘favor’. Recalling what had been sent to him the day previous, Jan told us about the plight of a girl living in the local orphanage in Policka. Due to the fact that she was born in the USA and had moved to the Czech Republic when she was around the age of 6, this girl still legally was an American citizen; she carried an American passport even though it had expired. Apparently, in a desperate measure to find friends and community, she contacted the American embassy in Prague and asked them if they could help her in anyway. Knowing that Jan travels often to the USA and had two Americans (my wife and I) working in his church, the embassy wrote a request to one of the members of our congregation with the hopes that the letter would somehow find its way back to Jan, which of course, it did.
“How many children are there?” I asked.
“I don’t know, maybe six at the most.” Jan said.
“What does she need?”
“It says she is looking for friendship. She has a hard time articulating words.”
“Have you been there before?”
“No.” Shame revealed itself through his eyes.
“Do you know anyone who has been there?”
“I know no one. I’ve never stepped foot through the gate.”
There was a heavy silence that fell over all of us in the room. Jan, a man who visits the sick, needy and the dying everyday, never made a trip to the children who have no families. Me, the American who went two-thousand miles away from home to ‘make a difference’, never thought once about reading the sign on the ugly building that I saw on my way to work. We both, at one instant, realized how short-sighted we had been in concentrating our energy on the ‘internationally-minded’ relationships that characterize our church. Concluding that we should call the orphanage immediately, Jan dialed the director and began making plans for a visit.
Adriana sat across from me and had worn a smile so large that I was able to see the color of the plastic retainer that lay under her tongue. She doesn’t speak English at all and my Czech is heavily accented, so her attempts to read my lips were in vain. My wife attempted to communicate as well, but that too fell flat on its face. Yet she still was smiling, even through the two-minute pauses in between sentences. We managed to find out a little bit about each other through halting, slurred speech. I began to speak loudly and attempted to accent my Czech words as best as I could. Getting up to leave, we exchanged phone numbers and email addresses. My wife and I agreed that she would be able to call us whenever she wants and asked her if next Saturday was good for bowling. She emphatically shook her head up and down, expressing the hope that the orphanage wouldn’t have an activity already programmed.
When I left the main hall and went to the front door, I turned around to make sure I hadn’t misplaced my gloves on the wooden bench that lay beside the coat rack. The second-entrance door was slightly cracked open and through it, I could make out her face as she peered at me before she went back up stairs towards her routine of chores and homework. And, in her eyes I saw a guarded joy, as if she was challenging me to be true to my word.
Sipping the fruit tea that was given to me by the staff member dressed in a white frock and wearing slippers with white socks, I peered at the kids as they filed past. They were all sizes, ages, sexes and complexions: many were white, but a vast majority had the skin tone of a soft, earthy brown and obsidian-like hair, so dark that it shined—not a very common sight in the middle of Bohemia. They were Roma children; that was easy enough to tell. They stared at me, because I was foreign, and of course with anything new, the children—being glad to break the monotony of life—had to put on a show. They laughed, kicked, were obstinate and acted out a small theatrical play of disobedience as they walked diagonally through the room, to the door, which led to the hall; forcing one of the more sympathetic caretakers to playful apply a soft kick to the rump of about four them.
Many of them had to cock their heads slightly to the left to see my face, as their eyesight was obstructed by the haphazardly applied gauze and tape that covered their right eye. This gave them the look of children who had been through a war, especially the ones who wore glasses, as the nose pad was unable to snuggly place its plastic head on skin, but instead on gauze, which contorted the glasses fit, making them look ‘bent’—this was only exacerbated by the fact that their lenses looked as if they hadn’t been cleaned in weeks. Their faces spoke of a silent apathy that descends upon those who are cast aside and told they aren’t worth much. I’m sure that they are violent kids too when it gets down to it. There is nothing worse than the rebellious rage of a child who knows their place in the scheme of society, especially when the rung is at the bottom.
Adriana was a robust girl with a light complexion and dark hair. She was the bouncy type—each footstep generating another round of jiggling centered in the breast and hip region of her body. Her hair looked a bit frazzled, but her eyebrows were elegantly shaped and dark, ironically giving her the most beautiful eyes in a house full of patched-up pupils. She spoke with an extreme slur that made most words completely unintelligible, claiming that the problem stemmed from the plastic, orthodontic retainer that covered the lower half of her jaw; finding out later—after hearing the high-pitched ringing of her aid—that she was in fact hearing-impaired. She informed me that her mother was Czech and her father was an Italian named ‘Antonino’, prompting the other Czechs in the room to shout “spaghetti” and “ravioli” in a most obnoxious over-played Italian accent. Adrian laughed at it.
Being 16 years of age, Adriana thinks and dreams for herself. In less than two years, she hopes to return back to the city and country of her birth, San Francisco, California, USA. And with this point, I guess I should explain how I ended up face-to- face with an anonymous girl in the most unlikely of places.
It was only two weeks ago that I realized there was an orphanage in Policka. I walked passed the road every day to work, but I never made the right-hand turn around the corner, past the old Skoda 110 parked along the curb and through the wire fence that surrounds the drab, square, red-brick building. There is a tin sign on the door that clearly states “Destsky Domov” in large blue lettering that sits upon the soldiers of the National Crest of the Czech Republic, more commonly known as the “Czech Lion”, but I guess I never really looked. Unfortunately, I wasn’t alone in my ignorance.
I work as an English teacher and community organizer in the protestant church in Policka. Every Tuesday I have an afternoon meeting with the head pastor named Jan. Being a renaissance man, Jan is one who can speak five languages, has traveled to over 15 different nations and can tell you, with passion in his voice, about the plight of people thousands of miles away. He is an international-type with big ideas and the energy to get a lot accomplished; his church has become a bastion of creativity and relevance over the past 14 years. But nothing could prepare him for the shame that was about to come.
After about thirty minutes of discussing the ‘business’ that we needed to attend to on a practical level, Jan hesitantly asked if my wife and I could do one more ‘favor’. Recalling what had been sent to him the day previous, Jan told us about the plight of a girl living in the local orphanage in Policka. Due to the fact that she was born in the USA and had moved to the Czech Republic when she was around the age of 6, this girl still legally was an American citizen; she carried an American passport even though it had expired. Apparently, in a desperate measure to find friends and community, she contacted the American embassy in Prague and asked them if they could help her in anyway. Knowing that Jan travels often to the USA and had two Americans (my wife and I) working in his church, the embassy wrote a request to one of the members of our congregation with the hopes that the letter would somehow find its way back to Jan, which of course, it did.
“How many children are there?” I asked.
“I don’t know, maybe six at the most.” Jan said.
“What does she need?”
“It says she is looking for friendship. She has a hard time articulating words.”
“Have you been there before?”
“No.” Shame revealed itself through his eyes.
“Do you know anyone who has been there?”
“I know no one. I’ve never stepped foot through the gate.”
There was a heavy silence that fell over all of us in the room. Jan, a man who visits the sick, needy and the dying everyday, never made a trip to the children who have no families. Me, the American who went two-thousand miles away from home to ‘make a difference’, never thought once about reading the sign on the ugly building that I saw on my way to work. We both, at one instant, realized how short-sighted we had been in concentrating our energy on the ‘internationally-minded’ relationships that characterize our church. Concluding that we should call the orphanage immediately, Jan dialed the director and began making plans for a visit.
Adriana sat across from me and had worn a smile so large that I was able to see the color of the plastic retainer that lay under her tongue. She doesn’t speak English at all and my Czech is heavily accented, so her attempts to read my lips were in vain. My wife attempted to communicate as well, but that too fell flat on its face. Yet she still was smiling, even through the two-minute pauses in between sentences. We managed to find out a little bit about each other through halting, slurred speech. I began to speak loudly and attempted to accent my Czech words as best as I could. Getting up to leave, we exchanged phone numbers and email addresses. My wife and I agreed that she would be able to call us whenever she wants and asked her if next Saturday was good for bowling. She emphatically shook her head up and down, expressing the hope that the orphanage wouldn’t have an activity already programmed.
When I left the main hall and went to the front door, I turned around to make sure I hadn’t misplaced my gloves on the wooden bench that lay beside the coat rack. The second-entrance door was slightly cracked open and through it, I could make out her face as she peered at me before she went back up stairs towards her routine of chores and homework. And, in her eyes I saw a guarded joy, as if she was challenging me to be true to my word.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Reflections from time spent with family: 2
Since October, Jamie and I counted down the days to our moms’ arrival with such gusto that we made a paper-ring chain. Each day a link was ripped off, was a step closer to the warm embrace that would be upon us in Prague International Airport, terminal 2. We yearned to show our moms—and my brother; we can’t forget Jared—what our life for the past two years has been like. We wanted to have them taste the local flavors of pork and knedliky; I wanted to take Jared to a hockey game, where we would share a kielbasa (which we did) and be immersed in the flowering, artistic language of an upset sports fan; I wanted to show my mom a medieval Castle, where she would be able to not only imagine the fantasy of a ‘Fabio’ on a horse, but actually see his physical domain; and we wanted to walk with Debbie all over ‘Bohemian Kingdom come’ and see some of the fine works of the Czech painter Mucha, who has the ability to make any woman look as beautiful and light as sun coming through stained glass. However, most importantly, we wanted them all to meet our friends in Policka; seeing the people, not just the ‘sights’ from a tour book.
The trip started in Policka, where our days where awash in visits. In the morning, we would arise and walk into the city and around the fortress wall that encompasses the small center. For my mom, it was literally a fairytale. We shopped in some of the shops, bought some gingerbread houses in the bakery, went to the pottery store and bought some authentic, hand-made Czech mugs and bowls and then spent large chunks of our time in the art studio of my friend Vlada Gracias, where my mom bought almost EVERYTHING glass she could get her hands on—no, that’s an exaggeration.
We did most of our shopping in the morning, because the afternoon and evening saw us at the house of some friends for dinner, tea and glasses of wine. It was during these visits where our families got to ask personal questions about life, history and culture. I know that for both of our moms, these times spent in the houses of our Czech friends were the best, as it gave them a sense of the people of the country, the lifestyle and the opinions. My mom repeatedly said that the night she got to speak with Vlada and Lydia Hancil about the experiences under Communism was one that she will never forget. It was also in Policka where they were introduced to the Czech version of ‘hospitality’, which involves mysterious amounts of alcohol.
After about a week in Policka, we decided to spend the remaining seven days sight-seeing around the country. Our first path took us to the Southeast, where we stayed in the medieval city of Cesky Krumlov. Situated on a horseshoe-style bend of the Vltava river, Cesky Krumlov is built all within the natural ‘raindrop’ land formation that is formed from the curve (imagine the male end of a puzzle piece). There is a castle on the opposing cliff that overlooks the entire city. Since the land around Krumlov is rolling with hills, the city itself is built like a slowly rising mountain: the buildings closest to the banks of the river are the lowest in elevation, but as you climb up through the streets, you will eventually find that the church is at the apex, which is appropriate for all towns from this era, as the Church was seen as the central focus. What this gives us now, besides aching feet, is a barrage of twisting, turning alleyways, bridges and arches to walk under and breathtaking camera-friendly views. You can’t go anywhere in Cesky Krumlov without finding a beautiful Baroque building peeking out from behind the other splendidly dressed baroque structure right in front of your face. If you want romance, this is it.
We spent our days shopping and exploring, and by night we had, again, more wine, and played some Trivial Pursuit in the comfort of our hostel, which was another ‘first’ for our moms.
After Krumlov, we all loaded up in a train and embarked on the final ‘leg’ of our journey towards Prague. We didn’t get to spend too much time in the city, as Jamie and I had planned a few day trips: one to the Castle Karlstejn and the other to the “bone church” in Kutna Hora. Ignorant at the time that a large blizzard was fast approaching Central Europe, we continued with our plans.
Karlstejn was the day the snow began to fall, which did not bode well for our 2- mile walk up the side of a mountain to get the castle; however, the castle itself looked even more majestic with a white covering. To get to the fortification wall, you have to walk through a narrow village that sits within the crevice between to gargantuan hills—much like West Virginia. It would be easy to miss the Castle if one didn’t know where to look, as it is concealed so well. Yet, as we passed around a bend it showed itself from behind a tree line. My mom and I both stopped and looked up. The snowflakes were falling into our eyes, but there was just something enchanting about seeing flags being battered by the wind and twisting spires rising into gray clouds. We took a tour of the castle, which was great but absolutely FREEZING. In our hurry to descend down the hill, we stopped in a nice pub and indulged in a Czech favorite, Svickova.
The next day saw us on a train through the countryside. By this time, the snow was as deep as a half-a-foot. When we arrived at the stop in Kutna Hora, the conductor told us to step off. We were all confused, because we actually saw no platform, just mounds of snow and a small, wooden bench. He insisted that this was the stop. Consequently, much like jumping into a pool, we all fell from the train into a mound of snow that reached up to our shins. And from that point, we knew we had embarked on a day that would be full of surreal experiences.
Kutna Hora was once a very wealthy silver-mining town. They have many Cathedrals and churches, but there is one that stands out. On the outskirts of the city, there is a fairly small, almost chapel-like structure, surrounded by gravestones. In the 1500’s a nearly-blind monk was the caretaker of the chapel. No one really knows what motivated him to do what he did, but he had the idea to decorate the whole inside with human bones. And, he did just that. There is a bone chandelier, which claims to use every bone in the human body. There are literal pyramids of bones that must contain at least 15,000 human remains in one structure. There is a family crest, draperies, wall decorations and pillars all decorated in skulls and femurs. It is said that over 40,000 human remains were used in the decoration, and that most of them were victims of the Hussite Wars and the Black Plague. Needless to say, some of us loved the chance to see bones (Jared) and others, well, not so much (Pat).
The trip itself ended quietly, as we spent our last few nights taking in the atmosphere of Prague. Upon saying good-bye to Debbie, Pat and Jared, Jamie and I were once again left, alone, to reflect. The trip itself was a success in that we all had a wonderful time, but it was also important in the fact that it was a small way through which our families would be able to understand some of the struggles and stresses that have affected us in this past year-and-a-half. They now know more about Policka, our friends and about how we will be different upon our return in July and those are things that made these past two weeks, in my opinion, some of the most important since Jamie and I arrived in Policka.
** more pictures come soon!
The trip started in Policka, where our days where awash in visits. In the morning, we would arise and walk into the city and around the fortress wall that encompasses the small center. For my mom, it was literally a fairytale. We shopped in some of the shops, bought some gingerbread houses in the bakery, went to the pottery store and bought some authentic, hand-made Czech mugs and bowls and then spent large chunks of our time in the art studio of my friend Vlada Gracias, where my mom bought almost EVERYTHING glass she could get her hands on—no, that’s an exaggeration.
We did most of our shopping in the morning, because the afternoon and evening saw us at the house of some friends for dinner, tea and glasses of wine. It was during these visits where our families got to ask personal questions about life, history and culture. I know that for both of our moms, these times spent in the houses of our Czech friends were the best, as it gave them a sense of the people of the country, the lifestyle and the opinions. My mom repeatedly said that the night she got to speak with Vlada and Lydia Hancil about the experiences under Communism was one that she will never forget. It was also in Policka where they were introduced to the Czech version of ‘hospitality’, which involves mysterious amounts of alcohol.
After about a week in Policka, we decided to spend the remaining seven days sight-seeing around the country. Our first path took us to the Southeast, where we stayed in the medieval city of Cesky Krumlov. Situated on a horseshoe-style bend of the Vltava river, Cesky Krumlov is built all within the natural ‘raindrop’ land formation that is formed from the curve (imagine the male end of a puzzle piece). There is a castle on the opposing cliff that overlooks the entire city. Since the land around Krumlov is rolling with hills, the city itself is built like a slowly rising mountain: the buildings closest to the banks of the river are the lowest in elevation, but as you climb up through the streets, you will eventually find that the church is at the apex, which is appropriate for all towns from this era, as the Church was seen as the central focus. What this gives us now, besides aching feet, is a barrage of twisting, turning alleyways, bridges and arches to walk under and breathtaking camera-friendly views. You can’t go anywhere in Cesky Krumlov without finding a beautiful Baroque building peeking out from behind the other splendidly dressed baroque structure right in front of your face. If you want romance, this is it.
We spent our days shopping and exploring, and by night we had, again, more wine, and played some Trivial Pursuit in the comfort of our hostel, which was another ‘first’ for our moms.
After Krumlov, we all loaded up in a train and embarked on the final ‘leg’ of our journey towards Prague. We didn’t get to spend too much time in the city, as Jamie and I had planned a few day trips: one to the Castle Karlstejn and the other to the “bone church” in Kutna Hora. Ignorant at the time that a large blizzard was fast approaching Central Europe, we continued with our plans.
Karlstejn was the day the snow began to fall, which did not bode well for our 2- mile walk up the side of a mountain to get the castle; however, the castle itself looked even more majestic with a white covering. To get to the fortification wall, you have to walk through a narrow village that sits within the crevice between to gargantuan hills—much like West Virginia. It would be easy to miss the Castle if one didn’t know where to look, as it is concealed so well. Yet, as we passed around a bend it showed itself from behind a tree line. My mom and I both stopped and looked up. The snowflakes were falling into our eyes, but there was just something enchanting about seeing flags being battered by the wind and twisting spires rising into gray clouds. We took a tour of the castle, which was great but absolutely FREEZING. In our hurry to descend down the hill, we stopped in a nice pub and indulged in a Czech favorite, Svickova.
The next day saw us on a train through the countryside. By this time, the snow was as deep as a half-a-foot. When we arrived at the stop in Kutna Hora, the conductor told us to step off. We were all confused, because we actually saw no platform, just mounds of snow and a small, wooden bench. He insisted that this was the stop. Consequently, much like jumping into a pool, we all fell from the train into a mound of snow that reached up to our shins. And from that point, we knew we had embarked on a day that would be full of surreal experiences.
Kutna Hora was once a very wealthy silver-mining town. They have many Cathedrals and churches, but there is one that stands out. On the outskirts of the city, there is a fairly small, almost chapel-like structure, surrounded by gravestones. In the 1500’s a nearly-blind monk was the caretaker of the chapel. No one really knows what motivated him to do what he did, but he had the idea to decorate the whole inside with human bones. And, he did just that. There is a bone chandelier, which claims to use every bone in the human body. There are literal pyramids of bones that must contain at least 15,000 human remains in one structure. There is a family crest, draperies, wall decorations and pillars all decorated in skulls and femurs. It is said that over 40,000 human remains were used in the decoration, and that most of them were victims of the Hussite Wars and the Black Plague. Needless to say, some of us loved the chance to see bones (Jared) and others, well, not so much (Pat).
The trip itself ended quietly, as we spent our last few nights taking in the atmosphere of Prague. Upon saying good-bye to Debbie, Pat and Jared, Jamie and I were once again left, alone, to reflect. The trip itself was a success in that we all had a wonderful time, but it was also important in the fact that it was a small way through which our families would be able to understand some of the struggles and stresses that have affected us in this past year-and-a-half. They now know more about Policka, our friends and about how we will be different upon our return in July and those are things that made these past two weeks, in my opinion, some of the most important since Jamie and I arrived in Policka.
** more pictures come soon!
Monday, January 4, 2010
Reflections from time spent with family: 1
It was really difficult for us to have time, or a computer, to post updates about the trip while it was actually happening. I know that for some of you, this might have been a little bit frustrating, and I'm sorry for that. In recapping the time spent with families, I am literally overwhelmed with what to write. I could give you a complete rundown from a day-to-day basis, or I could write about some of the highlights. I have yet to decide what exactly I will do, so in the mean time, I would like you to take a look at the trip reflections that both my mother (Pat) and my brother (Jared) wrote:
"It’s funny to look back on the past two weeks and think about my trip to the Czech Republic. Jamie and Jeremy continually ask me to pick out my favorite part of the trip. The truth is this can be a little bit difficult to do when you thoroughly enjoyed every part of it. From finally getting to see my brother and sister-in-law, to experiencing a completely different culture (something I love to do), I was constantly in a state of happiness.
I can honestly say that the trip has been the most worthwhile and fulfilling experience I have had, in many different ways: from the beginnings in Policka, where we met Jeremy and Jamie's friends; to splitting a kielbasa and watching a hockey game; to getting a free shot of Jameson's whiskey from his favorite waiter; and to playing trivial pursuit after a cold day of walking. It was fantastic.
The second part of the trip took us to hostels in Cesky Krumlov (A Picturesque, fairy-tale town) to beautiful, snow-covered Prague. This has been an incredible experience; I just hope that all of my wonderful memories remain for a life time.
I will miss my brother and Jamie, but I am looking forward to having other memories with them when they return back to the U.S."
-Jared
"Walk, walk, walk and then walk some more… In the US we drive cars, here they walk, ride trams, subways and trains. Thanks to people from hundreds o years ago, nothing is close and it all seems to on top of a mountain! Prague Castle and Cesky Krumlov—and the best of all, Karlstejn—are a 2 mile walk up a sheer hill side! But, they are all worth every step, and more.
Policka is beautiful and we absolutely loved the great friends Jeremy and Jamie have there. Vlasta and Mil let us stay in their home and showed us their photo history of their families. They were great. Jiri and Renata opened their home to us, and even though the men pretended to be exercising, there was a lot of beer and wine that night to eradicate any positive effects the fake exercise may have generated. Before we headed to Cesky Krumlov, we spent an evening with Vlada and Lydia, and I was fascinated by their stories of life under Communism. Jan and Anna and their family made us welcome in their home after church where we met more of the good friends they have here. Also, Jan’s drive over snow-covered roads to the outskirts and surroundings villages was wonderful.
After our time in Policka, we traveled to Cesky Krumlov and the ‘Krumlov House’-- my first experience in a hostel. Disney could not create a town as beautiful as this place—it is truly magical. Then, we were off to Prague and Sir Toby’s hostel. We stayed in a private room for 5, so my snoring didn’t bother any other strangers!
We went to many places that I feel I can’t describe them all here, but I loved each one.
And, finally, best of all, getting to spend time with Jeremy and Jamie after such a long time away is irreplaceable.
Our trip is over now and we leave tomorrow. We are sad to leave, but have had the time of our lives and will never forget our experiences and our wonderful trip to the Czech Republic."
- Pat
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Silvester in Prague (New Years Eve in Prague)
Happy New Year!
This year Jeremy and I rang in the new year in Prague, however, we got to do it with our family! My mom arrived on the 27th of December and Jeremy's mom and brother flew in on the 31st. And so the fun began. After rolling our luggage all over Prague to our hotel and relaxed a bit, we walked to the Old Town Square to see the festivities. Prague is a beautiful city, but at night it becomes a truely magical place. So ofcourse new years eve was even more spectacular since there were christmas lights everywhere as well as the occational firework.
There were a lot of people in Prague for new years eve, mostly foreigners in the typical tourist locations, so there was a sense of being a part of something big. In both the Old Town Square and Wencislas Square there was live music and people gathering to count down to the new year, which led to people setting off fireworks among large crowds of people. It was definalty an exciting way to bring in the new year, however there were times it looked more like a war zone than a new years celebration. I wouldn't want to be the person who had to clean up all the spent fireworks and broken glass the next day.
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