more ordinary events. To top the list there is the magic of the first snow. Yes, I know. It won't be long before I'll be wishing it away, or even, perhaps, homebound because of it. For now it brings happy memories, new views in this beautiful city, and the sense of yet another new beginning. Calendars can announce the seasons, nature can give signs of coming "attractions," but the first snow is, for me, always a special moment.
Friday I walked out of the laundromat into a driving sleet storm -- not at all magical, I might add. The forecast had included some chance of snow for Saturday, but that caught me totally unaware. And soaked (even with an umbrella, my constant companion!). And very chilled by the time I reached the flat. Saturday morning brought scattered flakes which stuck, creating a patchwork of red roofs and white snow outside my window, the changing scenery actually distracting as I was working.
In the late afternoon I found my boots, wrapped up in a long scarf, grabbed my gloves, and ventured out carefully for an evening with "the bunch", fun as always. And came out after dinner and conversation to an all-white world. It was real snow. Everything was covered. And of course it invited a snowball fight! This was the good, packable stuff! You knew when you had been nailed. I learned while waiting for the tram home that Pragers do slow down when driving on snow! The cars were inching up or down the hill quite carefully. And the world was beautiful. I was in my own private snow globe, and someone had given it a good shake! A picture book ending to yet another interesting evening.
The restaurant of the evening -- U Karel IV, (Charles IV, a much admired king) is a neighborhood gathering place with really good food, nice low prices, and one convenient tram ride away for me! Gotta love that combination! Along with that, the combination of people and backgrounds and topics adds up to a great evening and a whole new set of things to ponder later every time we get together. A interesting change in the evening was the addition of a couple visitors to the conversational and national mix. One, a Venezuelan business man now living in Toronto, and another a "new" Czech friend of one of my colleagues who just may become a "regular." As usual -- a great evening. And as always, yet another chance to keep assembling the puzzle of life!
The snowballers went on to Arnaud's flat for a post-dinner gathering. He's one of the people I feel so fortunate to know and am so glad that the friendship is deepening. (And yes, it does feel good to know he enjoys being around me also, in spite of our age difference.) I was sorry to miss it, but glad to come home to a - -
Skype call from Matthew and Alexander. Because of all the i'net problems, those calls have been pretty few and far between for the past few months. Alexander is SO tall, and is it wonderful to see them together in the big chair, teasing each other, having a good time, going back and forth in our conversation. The wonders of technology! And it's free. We actually talked for nearly an hour. High point? Beyond just seeing them and being "together", that is. Reading The Velveteen Rabbit together. Matthew had found it in a sale bin, brought it home and saved it for our time together. He was right -- Granne did get chocked up at the memories! (He actually said to A. "You watch your Granne. She's going to - - -" Sometimes it's just not good to be so predictable.) And I'll be waiting my chance to go through some of the generational changes with Alexander at another time. All the 1922 references.... What a great way to keep life connections. And to remind a growing boy about the power of being loved.
Three of us had set up a much anticipated Saturday morning excursion to the Asian Art Museum with Arnaud as a guide (he was an art student in Paris for several years) which fell through at the last minute because of conflicts. I can leave it on my anticipation list, however, and know it'll be great when we're able to do it. Zbraslav is a charming little "village" that is now part of Prague. The Museum is part of a family castle taken over by some former regime, now restored to the family. My understanding is that they have just been granted the whole place back. Pity! Actually good for them, sad for the fate of the museum. And the cancellation gave me some extra work time yesterday a.m. which I promptly squandered!
Today brings another treat -- I'm quite sure this one will happen as planned. I'm having brunch with my T'giving dinner co-hostess. It's time to put the last minute plans together -- that includes how we get plates, knives/forks, and other assorted party requirements from my place to hers. The menu is long and really inviting. And I can hardly believe the time is here. It means Ocean Spray (the fresh variety, that is) better start showing up pretty soon!
I'm sure I've mentioned my terrific flatmate, Thomas. He's great. Three months now, and I'm still in the camp of the lucky few who aren't complaining about this and that and something else with their flatmate -- or just downright totally disgusted. I can't find a complaint. Isn't that terrific. I really enjoy hearing him practice his guitar -- reminiscent of times with Lotte in NYC, listening to her chamber groups rehearsing in the living room. Of course, Theresa and I wanted him at the Dinner, and happily he said yes. And he's bringing his grandmother's corn pudding, which is a staple in their T'giving meals.
If I end up baking half the turkey in my oven because neither hers nor mine will accommodate the whole one, we're going to have quite a juggling act going on here. And then a great Saturday afternoon/evening when it is all put together. I believe we have about 16 people coming -- I do so hope they all come -- and she's a person who has to plan "games." And I'm very happy to let her do it!
Last Monday was a holiday for me -- and the whole Czech Republic. It was Freedom Day, celebrating the beginning of the Velvet Revolution in 1989. Thanksgiving is NOT a Czech holiday -- hence the Saturday dinner. So I enjoyed the last one and will work through this one.
A small further note -- I have yet another new student. How blessed I am with my students, my schedule, and all the opportunities to learn. I begin with this man Tuesday. He's head of HR in the region for a global pharmaceutical. My boss says he's in his 50s, fluent in English, but wants to gain confidence in meetings with native speakers. This will be even more fun!
It is snowing again -- that's probably a good sign to wrap this up and get on with some preparation for the school week. I wish you a Happy Thanksgiving, safety on whatever journeys you and your loved ones are making, good fun, good eating, and the creation of even more good memories. And in these difficult times, I'm going to end with some words from Reinhold Niebuhr which "grabbed" me again this week.
Nothing worth doing is completed in our lifetime; therefore, we are saved by hope.
Nothing true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate contest of history; therefore we are
saved by faith.
Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone; therefore, we are saved by love.
No virtuous act is quite as virtuous from the standpoint of our friend or foe as from our own; therefore we are saved
by the final form of love, which is forgiveness."
Wishing you a special day devoted to counting once again our blessings and giving our thanks. I will be thinking of you. . .
Only one thing was on my plan for the day -- to spend some time in the afternoon with a young Czech friend/colleague. Then, as is usual in "my" Prague, something totally unexpected and wonderful happened, and I received yet another gift to share with you.
I don't even remember how our friendship began. I just know that it has grown and we both look forward to times we spend together. Usually those times are wonderfully sedentary :-) We meet at the tram stop and walk to a lovely little non-smoking cukrarna (sweets shop), have a cup of tea and talk away. And I will admit these sit-down chats have been happening since I hurt my ankle, so it is pretty logical and well as fun.
Somehow the usual became the unusual. When I said I'd enjoy walking with her -- she is totally devoted to a-walk-a-day! -- Radka asked if I'd been to Petrin. Well, yes, I had. A wonderful excursion with Dasa and Thomas this summer. We rode the funicular, enjoyed the wonders of the observatory, walked through the parks, ate at the marvelous restaurant, and all in all had a spectacular day.
It seems that's not all there is to Petrin, and it wasn't the part Radka had in mind. Although I'd ridden by another section on my way home from class several times, I had never realized it was part of a much larger whole. Petrin Hill is an enormous historic, green, public place, the highest elevation of Prague's seven hills (1040+ feet) and is made up of eight parks and orchards. (If I've made you a bit curious, a search for "Petrin Hill" will give you lots more information and some beautiful pictures on the various websites.) Originally the quarry for many of Prague's historic buildings, it has been a public park since 1825.
Two notable sites on the Hill -- centuries apart in their ages -- which continuously draw my attention are the Hunger Wall and the Monument to the victims of Communism.
The first was built under Charles IV in 1360-62, called "Hunger Wall" because in addition to being a fortification, it was to provide work during a famine. It can be seen from a great distance, a dividing line running right up the hill and beyond, 8 metres high, with 1,200 metres of the original length remaining. Several bastions still remain, as does some of the inner walkway with platforms for marksmen. Undoubtedly it was a strategic act, and it protected the west and south of the city so it could grow for several hundred years. But it also provided food for the families of those working on its construction.
The second, more moving scene, is the memorial to the victims of communism, erected twelve years after the era ended for the Czech Republic. It is deceptively and hauntingly simple -- seven figures are in differing positions on a flight of oversized stairs, their bodies in various states of decay. There is a metal ribbon running up the center of the stairs which tallies the known number of victims -- giant numbers for such a small nation. And a plaque reads "The memorial to the victims of communism is dedicated to all victims not only those who were jailed or executed but also those whose lives were ruined by totalitarian despotism." Always a moving sight, and always thought provoking -- how could there be people wishing (and voting) for a return?
But on to the walk -- up and around, lovely cobblestone pathways which turn back on themselves time and again because the climb is so steep. And here and there "rest stops" with inviting wooden benches, always strategically placed to see the city below or the scenic view of the hill. On the way to the top (which I never did reach :-( wisdom overcoming pride!) we passed a marvelous waterfall with its own little pond and statuary. Its sound had been calling for many steps. And of course, here the benches faced the water. We only paused, because it was getting to be evening, and we had "miles to go before. . ." our goal. After many twists and turns we finally arrived at St. Michael's, a church which had been moved board by board from the Ukraine in the late 1920's when the valley where it stood was flooded for a hydro-electric plan.
And there it was. Such a different building, so NOT baroque, so out of the ordinary. And breathtaking in its difference. As we approached, Radka commented that something was wrong. This is a favorite walk for her, so she knows what it should look like as it comes into view. I realized that the "stuff" was actually cleaning materials, boxes which had been emptied of something.
It is a small, very dark building, and it was only as we were actually on the porch, at the entryway, that we could see people inside, inviting us to join them. The magic is alive and well! We met one couple from Rumania, in Prague only a year, and a gentleman here for 18 years, all three of whom had been cleaning, opening the heaters (which will be used sparingly and without electricity to preserve the integrity of the building), and generally working to bring the room back to shape for divine services. Someone has lovingly cleaned the icons, the limited seating is waiting for people, and the accouterments of worship are appearing.
Beginning in a couple weeks, there will be services twice monthly, including one with the Metropolitan and all the orthodox priests from miles around for what I would call a (re)consecration of the building. We had a long talk with them -- I was so grateful I could share in their joy and let them know -- thank goodness they spoke English -- I could somewhat realize how important this is to them. What a milestone for them/us all. A few weeks after the services begin, they will start to have someone present so it can be open a few hours a week for visitors. No longer "permanently closed to visitors; no services held here". And we were able to share in the moments.
As we began to descend the hill, we passed them carrying boxes and materials up, apparently to a car/van somewhere at the top. What wonderful timing -- one stop on a bench and they would have been gone. We would have missed their joy, and they would not have known our appreciation of this giant step forward in their lives and the lives of others whose worlds have changed so often and so radically. Yet another miraculous moment.
You may enter a Google search for "St Michael's Petrin Hill" and come up with some great photographs. One of the best is a 360 degrees video of St. Michael's (on a site with many of the famous spires of the city -- you could certainly spend some interesting time there, I learned earlier today!) Here is a website address. The panoramic video is wonderful. I'll leave you to imagine us in the picture together, having yet another weekend experience.
Enjoy. . . . . . .
stovezata.praha.eu/en-church-of-st-michael-in-the-kinskeho-garden.html - 43k
Regardless of the point of view, this has been some week.
At the moment, the approach of winter is very real. To paraphrase an old song -- in the dark, dark, dark of the morning. As I think about it now, I realize I arrived when it was deeper winter. But after the wonderful spring/summer light, both morning and evening, this is indeed a shock to my system! In addition, when I arrived I didn't have to be up and out quite so early. "Early" is also a shock. My system adjusts to it but complains a lot! And I know it is only going to be colder, darker, and more difficult to get around.
But oh yes -- I'm getting around in Prague. There is no lessening of my joy and contentment just being here. If anything, it is increasing. I love almost every minute of it. I'm even grateful to be sharing in the annoyances of crowded trams or long waits. Once again there are views I'd been missing for awhile. The leaves are down, some removed, some not. And the branches are open to the sky, and the saints, heroes, and yes, probably family members looking down from the niches and perches on buildings.
Continuing with the normal and usual, teaching life goes on, very happily. I have a very full schedule, quietly congratulating myself that in September I taught the most hours of any of the 127 teachers, and in October second most. Martin, my Director of Studies (boss), is one of the most even, genuinely happy men I've ever met. I admire and respect him in so many ways. And he gave me a really nice chuckle when he told me that. My reply was that now that I knew there was a race, I'd give more effort to winning. Seriously, it did feel really good to remember my misgivings and hesitations as I arrived and realize what a long way I've come. And it never even occurred to me that was the extent of my schedule. And how nice that he thanked me for the work!
It seems I'm somewhere beyond the tourist stage and not yet where I want to be with being settled in. I know the language is a big factor in that. This week was my second Czech class, and I must say the teacher is wonderful. Because of the difficulty of fitting into all our schedules, the class is held one Saturday a month for four hours. Oh my, that's a long time! This week there was some change in the attendance -- to be expected -- but I imagine we'll settle down at around 9 people, big range of ages (representative of the teaching staff here, thank goodness) and backgrounds. And yes, Czech is difficult. I'm grateful for Barbora's teaching skills as I learn Czech and as I learn more about teaching by watching her. Bought the books (a couple of us are sharing the cost and the books) and will become serious about homework.
My days are satisfyingly long. Today I teach eight hours, with my favorite beginning to a day. After two trams, I walk along the Vlatava River, looking at the Castle, the Contemporary Art Museum with its bright yellow plastic penguins parading along the shore, the Charles Bridge, the Hunger Wall, and the spires of "New Town" across the River and the gem of a little park with its fountains and monument to the victims of the plague beside me. The roses are gone now, but the care of the park, which is always beautifully manicured, continues. Love the little red "no" circle which allows dogs on the grass and not feet!
And best of all, this morning walk leads to one of my favorite classes -- bright young professional women who are advanced in their English skills. What a way to start a week.
I have one hour -- a cumbersome amount of time -- to do the tram/metro thing again, eat my sandwich on the "walk", and get myself in order for six straight hours at a financial institution. Two classes are one individual each and three are groups of four. It's been interesting to talk with them -- and watch attendance drop because of work pressures -- during this economic crisis. I'm very grateful for the years in banking and business in general as we walk together through the cause and effect conversations. And I'm especially grateful for the New York Times editorials along with a couple other resources.
The rest of the week is a similar story -- transportation, walking, classes, interesting people, some who do homework, some who don't, some who are struggling (like me) and some who are quite at home with a second (or third or fourth) language. Thursday is another very long and full day, with the others all starting early, and all but one ending around six.
Friday night was one of our informal get togethers. This was at a neighborhood pub -- the neighborhood of one of my friends/colleagues, a great young man from France. He's been talking about it as long as I've known him, and now I've been there. He did not overrate it -- it is terrific! I'd passed it weekly on my way to a class, always thinking that it looked interesting. Now I know I was right.
And - - - to the election. Hooray, Hooray, Hooray! ! ! ! ! Arnaud led in raising a glass to "your" new president. The mood at the table, regardless of nationality, was jubilant! and vocal! and thoughtful!
I awakened Wednesday a.m. to my clock radio, set for the BBC, broadcasting live McCain's concession speech. Yes, against all my better judgment, I'd watched some of the results of the proceedings on my computer. Thank goodness I had internet at the time! The speech gave me the answer. And I must say -- I left for class with my head held a little higher!
I've been following the editorials and Op-Ed columnists extra faithfully the past couple weeks. If you haven't read some of the comments (and are interested) you can access the NYT free online. (I'm glad I had it set up to come in daily because a student requested it. I probably wouldn't have thought about doing it for myself.) It has been so good to learn from others so much more knowledgeable than I, and even more affirming, to hear my thoughts and suspicions echoed and re-echoed.
Conclusion on that topic: I'm so grateful for the change and so fearful that some of the support may erode simply because there is so much to be done and it will take so long to make a difference. In many ways the period after the Velvet Revolution was reflected in my mind. Nearly everyone thought everything would change immediately. What challenges he's facing. And even in the middle of the euphoria what ridiculous questions are being raised. But I'm grateful we're at this point! And saddened at some of the lack of progress we reflect as a nation -- IMHO (in my humble opinion).
It is beginning to show signs of morning outside the window, a signal I'm behind in my schedule. As usual, I'm not quite as ready for today (and the remainder -- there is no rest -- of the week) as I'd like to be. But there's always the evening to catch up -- and then another weekend to pick up, sort through, and make some sense out of the papers I've stacked on the coffee table!
I hope your week is equally satisfying, joyful, and most of all, hopeful.
