Sometimes everything lines up just right, nothing could possibly be any better, at least for that one happening. And I was privileged to have one of those nights this past week. Absolutely a night to remember . . .
One of my colleagues is a beautiful young woman from Sri Lanka. Our lives had crossed paths in several different ways. In one of those encounters I learned that not only is she fluent in many languages and teaches English, she is also a pianist. Because I'd heard only brief statements now and again of both her gift and her background, I had no idea the depth of those gifts and heritage. Her father is Sri Lanka's most famous composer. Working in the tradition of Janacek and Dvorak, who were his inspiration, he combines folk melodies with classical composition. Gayathri continues in those footsteps. After studying in the conservatory in her homeland, she moved to Prague 13 years ago -- she still looks like a teenager -- to study at the Prague Conservatory because she "loves Bach." After rigorous studies there, she was accepted at the highly selective Academy of Early Music. Why all this background? Because her classical training is so far from the music of the evening that it seems another world away. I heard Phillip Glass in her playing, not J.S!
She interrupted her studies following the tsunami, first to return to Sri Lanka to see her family and help in the relief efforts, then to return to Prague, giving a series of concerts of the music of Czech composers to raise money for the effort. In addition to this, she composed and played the soundtrack for the documentary about the victims, Facing the Waves, which also looked at the issue of racism which was reopened following the disaster. This is one gifted young lady, a person to remember and follow.
And now to the evening.
The setting was Zizkov Atrium. Zizkov is another of Prague's many and varied districts. It borders my home, so a leisurely walk, including supper with a wonderful new friend, was the perfect opener for a perfect evening. Good talk, good food, great views of lovely architecture I'd not seen, all under a quiet, end-of-the-day sky. And then we arrived at Atrium. Oh my goodness! Total awe. There, set back from the sidewalk (remember, the "apartment" buildings border the sidewalk with the greenery inside the rectangle) was an exquisite mellow cream-yellow building, wrought iron gate, roses, lush trees, brick and cobblestone entrance way. It is one of those places where I automatically drop my voice to a whisper. And then to enter. First a long hall-type entry with the concert hall on one side and a courtyard "cafe" on the other. Walking into the courtyard brought the wonderful surprise of many colleagues, already enjoying their espresso, wine, and conversation. (This group of colleagues is known for how much they support each other -- it may not be "my thing," but I'll be there for you!) The doors were opened. It was almost like being transported. I kept saying to myself "this had to have been a church," "I just know this was a church." The concert grand was on the marble "chancel", at the back there were two marble niches awaiting more holy water, and I'm certain I could tell where the confessional had been at one time in this magical building's history.
This is a small venue, tucked away in its own corner of the world, a little bit of a walk from any tram or metro. Of course I had to search the web. here's what I found (with only slight editing). In the Tchaikovsky street you can find historically protected building - Baroque church of St. Promote, now known to all lovers of music and visual arts such as the Atrium Zizkov. In 1984 ended large-scale reconstruction of the building in which the former temple was transformed into a concert hall, equipped with a concert organ. To the Baroque base was added a modern annex, and in the east wing an exhibition hall. Regularly organized chamber concerts include renowned artists and also young talented artists. In the gallery are presented dozens of important personalities of Czech Art. Atrium in Žižkov offers visitors of all ages not only the quality of cultural events but also pleasant moments of rest in the adjacent park, or sitting and enjoying refreshments in the newly opened stylish garden Café Oktáva. Happy linking the past with the present, cosiness and certain majesty around the campus, all contribute to the popularity not only among the inhabitants of Atria Žižkova.
Then the music. Most of the program was solo piano, all Gayathri's compositions. The program carried the title "Me and My Elephant" with a picture of her sitting beside and petting, yes, an enormous elephant. Talk about size extremes! The pieces and the program notes told a haunting story, both in words and music, of the terrors and tragedies of war and of racism, the disruptions and losses, repetitive themes of being lost, searching, finding a small space for rest. The last number before intermission she was joined by Badra, a drummer from Mali. During the second half -- and by the way, applause occurs only at the intermission and at the end of the program -- she was joined by her group, a bassist and a violinist. The last number was absolutely, no question, the best. Great rhythms, great freedom, soaring music.
To open the concert two people introduced the evening -- one in English, another in Czech -- and presented her mother and a close friend with yellow roses, a Sri Lankan tradition. Also two small candles were lit at the front of the stage. At the close, it was very emotional to see her mother, even tinier than Gayathri, come forward to embrace her, and to think of all that had occurred to bring them to this point.
This is probably her last concert in Prague, at least for some time. In January she's emigrating to Canada, joining her sister who left a few years ago because of the racism here. Pity, pity. And in my Caucasian skin I can only begin to feel the ripples of it.
For now -- I was privileged to be there when magic happened.
Or Museum Night -- and what a night it was. That was the "label", alternating between Czech and English, on an enormous fleet of buses running from 7 p.m.till 1 p.m. providing free transportation to over 25 cultural institutions with 51 sites, each with no admission fee during this special event. There were nine different lines/routes, each with its own attraction(s) carefully described in Czech and English in the great little guide book, running continuously to carry us ("human sardines" would be the term) to the various locations. This was the 5th annual Prague Museum Night, an event copied from similar events in other leading European cities. Over 170,000 people attended last year, and I think, from the crush of the crowds, that each of them brought two or three friends this year!
I met with five colleagues from StJ at the metro stop by Old Town Square. Their intention was to visit the nearby Jewish Museum first. Although I've been there a couple times, each visit was before I'd read Madeline Albright's moving account of finding her family listed in this place of sorrow in her book, Madam Secretary. I wanted to take that image with me on this visit. I'm glad I didn't air my thought about whether or not the Sabbath might have some influence on this. Yes, it did. The JM didn't open till 10:30 p.m. (That's an hour after it got dark here!) Who knows how things would have turned out had they known that.
As a substitute first event the Zbraslav Chateau was selected. It seemed like a wise choice even before I knew the details. So many of the sites are near the center with relatively easy access. I'm not sure when, or even if, I would have made this little trip. There are so many places to go and things to see that I might not have noticed it in the long list of possibilities. Free admission, free direct transportation -- sounded like a winner to me! We (and way too many other people) boarded Line 6 for the 25-30 minute trip along the Vlatava then the Berounka rivers to the picturesque town of Zbraslav.
The village is centered around a not-square square (namesti -- and few of the "squares" I've seen have the shape of a New England town square!) with several shops, a few restaurants/cafes, a library, and even a couple penzions and a small theatre. It seems like a lovely place to "come home to," and given the housing market in Prague, I'm pretty certain this would be one of the commuter villages.
Approaching the village, we were treated to an excellent view of the Chateau. Someone describes it as "an impressive pile dating from 1268." It's now home (with lots of interesting side stories of its journey to this point) to a part of the National Gallery and currently is keeper of its permanent exhibition of Asian art. Two complementary non-art attractions are a lovely long hall lined on both sides with exquisite bonsai and a Japanese tearoom.
Walking through the entrance gate onto the beautiful grounds dotted with sculptures of many centuries and styles seemed like an entrance into another time and place. All the greenery was rich and lush, even with bus loads of people it was quiet and inviting, and each step seemed to move me further into the past.
The collection is impressive and beautifully displayed. It covers many centuries -- at least the early 12th to the present, many art forms, and includes items from Japan to Turkey. I must admit Asian art as a whole is not my favorite. That's probably a secondary reason I would have missed this lovely place when planning some time out. This collection is exquisite, inviting one to linger rather than move along. What a memorable evening.
The return trip was even more crowded, though that hardly seemed possible. The group was on its way to other viewing sites. Me? I wanted to listen. Concerts and recitals of every style everywhere. In the end, however, I called it quits. Long day, long night. Hours of walking/standing/waiting with a busy week ahead made the final decision. I traveled most of the way to the Dvorak Museum for its hour-long concert, then just couldn't gather the energy to walk the final four blocks, especially with the thought of lots more walking much later. Yes, it would have been a nice ending to the day. But Zbraslav wove its own spell, and it lingers still. Perhaps my body knew better than my brain!
Cobblestones can be wonderful. They present endless variety of colors, patterns, opportunities to stumble, unexpected sights -- pleasant and unpleasant, and often a chance for reflection. Because a serious fall is not something I wish to invite, I find myself looking down more consistently than usual. This was a very good week to keep my eyes on the stones! Some of the unexpected pleasures - - -
A snail whose shell was quite large, larger than the circle of my thumb and middle finger, patiently making its way from the road side of the stones to a lovely grassy area opposite. (S)he was almost there. Considering the distance of the journey in snail terms, the end was in sight but still required quite a bit of traveling. I could not begin to imagine where the journey began. The road behind was a busy four-lane major access. How could it be that none of those tires ended the snail's slow and measured trip? I stopped to watch for a few moments (one of the rewards of being a bit early most of the time) and could not discern any progress at all. Naturally I stopped again on my return trip. Not a snail in sight. I even checked the high grass. I'm glad I didn't see it -- that meant no harm had come, at least on the unprotected cobblestone walkway. And the reflection -- I'm sure you're there ahead of me. I still find myself thinking about journeys, setting out without knowing the end, patience, and just doing what needs to be done.
A young woman cradling her pet in her arms as she walked along a very busy sidewalk. She was crooning and stroking, admiring and enjoying. From a distance it looked as though she had a new puppy, all black and probably pretty cute. And then they were right in front of me. It was a black piglet! Talk about surprises. The piglet and the young woman seemed to be enjoying themselves equally. And they certainly gave me another smile in my day. Prague is a city which loves its dogs! This was a new (to me) variation on the theme. Dogs are everywhere, totally well behaved, often entertaining, and treated like members of the family (sometimes that's good, sometimes not). I wonder if I'll get to see the pig again. The reflection -- I probably haven't seen everything yet; it's wise to maintain a good balance between keeping track of the immediate (looking down) and keeping an eye on the long view (looking up and around); and yes, we each have our own ideas of enjoyment.
Trams in trouble at during commuting time -- not a pretty sight. As I waited for my correct number at a busy tram junction in the middle of several very busy highways, it became apparent that the one sitting on the tracks was not going anywhere soon. My view expanded -- there were others standing still, and they had not yet reached their stops. Clearly the power wasn't working. One of the advantages (also a huge disadvantage) of knowing so little of the language is that there are great gaps in my knowledge of what's happening. That means I can create my own internal version! People were wiggling, squirming, and talking with each other. Some were leaning out of the doors to look around. One "in charge" gentleman from the second coach got out and came to talk with (or perhaps to) the driver. After some time, one, then two, and finally nearly everyone on the trams got off, obviously to find some other way to work. A few resolute folks stayed put! They had a seat and they were not relinquishing it until they were told to. Actually, they may have grabbed a seat when the exodus began. You've guessed the outcome: when the tram was nearly empty the power returned, everyone still in the vicinity scurried to get back on, and the day continued as usual. As for me, I stayed put till my own tram came. The reflection: when is it right to wait and when is action required? And do we ever really know until after the fact? What about leading and following? Where is the line between taking care of yourself and watching out for others? And sometimes there are no known alternatives -- I didn't have a clue how else I could have gotten to my destination. That means I get no points at all for staying put.
Three beautiful private courtyards glimpsed at separate times only because the driveway gates were open. The timing was perfect -- I was at the right spot at just the right time (I acknowledge with continuous gratitude how often that has been the case for me in life as well!) to have full view behind the ordinary facade. As I have noted so often before, in Prague, "ordinary" takes on new significance for me! Each was very different: one had red brick pavers surrounding a covered flower garden, another was mostly lush grass with a few low flowering bushes, and the third an open area with unusual -- to me -- small trees providing privacy for the various doorways. Apartment buildings here are built right up to the street -- the open spaces are enclosed within the rectangle. No front yards here. Privacy is well maintained. There is individuality and often great beauty on the street side. Frequently, however, there is a magical world on the inside. If only I could have gone in and seen the whole, perhaps even looked down from an upper story flat. Again, obvious reflections: our seeming obsession with outward appearance and the magic of discovering unknown individuality behind the "street side" of a person; the apparent randomness and chaos of life's conjunctions; and most especially, the importance of tending my own garden.
I'm still looking up and around while also watching my step. It's another week. I wonder what sightings are just waiting for me to happen by and appreciate their contribution to my life.
. . . a week and 10 minutes makes. Last Monday Prague was displaying her brilliance. She was polishing her reputation. And the timing of my morning put me right in the middle of the crowd of people on their way to work, mostly adults, young to old, looking as though they were wishing for one more day of the weekend.
This Monday is a different scene entirely. Everything is shrouded, the colors are muted, it is cold and raining. And the beauty is different. Hradcany, the Castle District with St. Vitus Cathedral commanding the scene, looks like a stage set behind a gauze curtain. Almost nothing else stands out. It is a backdrop painted in shades of gray with just a bit of black mixed in all the colors. People are, for the most part, jockeying for umbrella space. Instead of ripples and waves, the river is pocked with raindrops. And the red roofs would be shiny with rain if only there were even a glimmer of sunshine.
Then there's the crowd. Ten minutes later means children are on their way to school. No yellow school buses here. Trams are the transportation routes, youngest children accompanied by a parent or an older sibling (with the usual squabbles), others on their own. Lots of waves and air kisses at the tram stops, obvious questions about and admonitions for the day, then greetings and conversations with friends and classmates and the thud of heavy backpacks hitting the floor -- the youthful version of a morning commute.
The walk hasn't change its profile. It has certainly changed its mood. The art gallery is showing a different artist -- even the paintings are somber and muted and command only a quick glance. The scent of the flowering trees in the little park is nearly overpowering. It is as if the clouds are confining it all to one space, making sure I take notice.
Then there is the cobblestone sidewalk. Cobblestones are wonderful and generally well maintained. It is interesting to watch sidewalk "repair." The coarse sand, the selection process -- just the right stone for just the right spot, then the heavy thunk as the whole area is leveled and set. Something I read recently confirmed my musing that cobblestones are healthier, environmentally better than concrete and asphalt -- rain can seep through instead of puddling on top. And the cobblestones passing the park are not ordinary. These are set in a beautiful tricolor design of circles and arcs and ellipses. Today they are nearly screaming "look at me, look at me." And I do.
Prague keeps its sidewalks clean two ways. Small "vans" transport individuals around the commercial/tourist areas to sweep litter regularly. It is deposited in the many trash cans which are emptied regularly by people transported by different small trucks. But then there is the sidewalk Zamboni. It surely isn't sleek and shiny, but it refreshes both the cobblestones and the concrete/asphalt as its sophisticated counterpart refreshes the ice of a hockey game. It is obvious these have been around for years. And they certainly do their job well. Add some rain and it looks as though each stone has been individually polished.
Last week invited lingering, this week encourages pushing forward. Last week kept drawing my eyes up and far away, looking at yet another large scene. This week continually narrows the view, insisting that I watch what's right in front of me and turn inward. Even the silver gray poodle sporting a bright red plaid "jacket" over his premature summer hair cut doesn't linger to enjoy the morning walk.
In her thought provoking novel Open House, one of Elizabeth Berg's characters reminds the reader about knowing this is "a good moment. Mostly you don't know, in this life, you don't know when it's happening. You look back later and say Oh! Well now, that was a good time!." He says he knew it lots of times. "Yes, sir. I've been blessed."
This Monday morning is yet another good moment. I've been blessed!
Moments, not meds!
Upper -- watching two beautiful dogs play leapfrog in a lovely little park right beside the Vlatava River, tower of Charles Bridge only a block away.
Downer -- walking in the rain, yet again. Or still!
Upper -- being able to answer a question for directions and be understood.
Downer -- sitting on a tram behind a young man who was obviously very ill and very disturbed
U -- having a baby about six months old "communicate" with me as we walked along the street, talking, laughing, gesturing, generally having a grand old time, he in his stroller, I on my feet
D -- feeling SO disorganized, carrying way too much paper around way too often
U -- coming home to the peace and grace of my own flat
D -- trudging, not walking home
U -- watching the parks turn green, in spite of the cold
D -- the cold
U -- turning a corner to find a row of "painted ladies", Prague (or San Francisco east) style, lovely not-quite-pale yellows, pinks, greens, blues
D -- realizing it was the wrong corner
U -- joining new friends for an incredibly wonderful children's marionette show (the art is very alive and well in Prague)
D -- missing family and loved friends
U -- going somewhere "new" and realizing it was familiar
D -- thinking about all the places I haven't gone
U -- watching mothers/fathers and their very young children on the metro and trams, the loving touches, the smiles, and almost always the child riding patiently in the area reserved for strollers
D -- missing the children in my life
U -- seeing the hint of a smile on a face that looks as though it seldom wears a smile
D -- seeing faces that seem to be frozen in sadness and/or anger
U -- hearing unexpected music, played well
D -- not hearing more music
U -- being here!
D -- not being "there" also!
