In a city so full of history it is easy to have a backward view much of the time. And yes, I do that. I remain fascinated by the architecture, my personal musings about what life must have been at different periods, curiosity about how and when buildings and their use changed, thoughts about the ease with which I/we dismiss the difficult life choices of others, etc., etc., etc. It keeps me continually occupied – and reading.
Now, however, a forward view just has to move front and center. You see, I’ve got to do something to get out of the gloom and gray! We still have snow, admittedly not full storms as we’ve had, in the forecast and the next four days have snowdrops falling out of huge clouds. And most of the time when there isn’t snow, there also isn’t any sun to relieve the monotony. Oh drat!
Do I love Prague any less? You may be certain I do not! She is like a fascinating person who reveals her many moods and depth of wisdom only a little at a time. And yes, I want to continue to learn about her past and participate in her future, to continue to explore the hidden places I often overlook when moving straight forward through a day.
I’m beginning my own “tour” plan, thanks to one of the StJ staff members I’ve gotten to know and admire. She was telling me about her Tour ‘d Prague, weekly trips made randomly to different neighborhoods with her trusty guide book (Czech, darn it) telling all about the various houses and neighborhoods. So I’ve adopted her idea, and as soon as the weather takes a turn for the better, a friend and I are going to set up our own routine. Yesterday I went on a shopping trip (very unusual for me) to a large bookstore right on Václavské Náměstí, the historic square (really a long boulevard) in the center of town. My first purchase (thanks to a lovely C’mas gift from Michael) was a beautiful, full color book about the house markings -- frescoes, statues, wooden signs, etc. -- of historic Prague. There are only a few words on each page, plus an outline map of the location, and it is grouped by neighborhoods. It’ll keep us going till we find other books. Fortunately it is not "coffee table" size even though it is "coffee table" beauty.
And speaking of books, my latest “super read” is For the Love of Prague by Gene Deitch, an American living here nonstop since 1959 – can you believe it -- and very happily married to a Czech. It's really great, if you’re interested in a down-to-earth, first-person account of life from then till now. Mine was the fifth edition, so he's been constantly updating. He is, by the way, an Oscar winning animator who’s worked with Maurice Sendak et al. Very readable and very informative.
So yes, there’s a lot to look forward to. I still have a great teaching schedule, though it has been slower lately (and that’s a good thing) because of cancellations for vacations, heavy work schedules and travel, etc. But I continue to have really super students and look forward to each day.
And I’ve now learned the reason for my multiple xrays, CT scan, bronchoscopy, and doctor’s visits. It turns out I (my body, my lungs, my system, some part of me) had an allergic reaction in my lungs to the pneumonia bacteria. That’s a new one for my medical storehouse! It’s what my “superdoc” saw on all the pictures that he couldn’t identify – and wouldn’t quit until he could! It’s also the reason it’s taking so much longer for me to bounce back (besides age, of course). I continue to be so grateful for the good medical care here. And I continue to get my energy back slowly, noticing little differences each day. The same ol’ “me” – one more thing to look forward to.
Once again I feel so blessed to be living this new chapter of my life. Who would have thought this would be what I could look forward to. Not I. And a backward glance tells me I need to keep watching out for and paying attention to opportunities, big and small. I can see so many wonderful events that prepared me to this time which were totally unappreciated at the time.
I hope your forward look is in place, getting ready for spring, longer days, more sunshine, and new opportunities!
Showing posts with label Unexpected pleasures. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Unexpected pleasures. Show all posts
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Saturday, December 13, 2008
It's beginning to look a lot like - - -
Oh my, it seems that things speed up at this time of the year no matter where I am. The past few weeks have been hectic, my brain is constantly overflowing with projects left half-completed, and my body is saying "Give me a break, won't you please." Everything that has been added to the normal schedule is wonderful, however, so I just answer - - "Later!"
Christmas has so many traditions here -- some related to saints (more on that later) and most about family and food and good times that have endured. I've thoroughly enjoyed listening to the different stories my students tell -- and watching their faces as they relate what they have done or will be doing this year. Whether with their family of birth or the family they have created, all place great importance on being together, including all generations available, and keeping their own family traditions alive, whether for two people or twenty-two.
So let's go to the beginning of the season and one of the saints -- St. Mikulas Day. (Recognize a similarity to Nicholas there?) December 5, StM Day, is the "official" beginning of Christmas, as I understand it. And I've heard some marvelous stories overflowing with nostalgia. Here's what I've learned - - -
The Christ Child is the gift-giver on Christmas Day (December 24th here), and on Saint Mikulas' (Nicholas) Feast Day (December 6), children in some Central European countries traditionally place a boot on their windowsill (sometimes balcony, if fortunate enough to have one in their flat) waiting for Mikulas to come by and fill it with treats. "Good" children receive various fruits, candies, and toys, "bad" children can expect nothing more than a wooden spoon or a willow-switch left by his somewhat sinister elf-companion, Krampusz, in Hungary. In the Czech Republic, Mikulas is often accompanied by the Angel and Devil. And it is on December 5, the Eve of St. Nicholas' Feast, they receive their treats. However, since no one is all good or bad, most children get both sweets and a switch! (Thank you, once again, Wikipedia.)
As it has been related to me multiple times -- with nearly identical memories -- Mikulas (Czech/Central European spelling) is always with an angel and a devil. The angel (and the Saint) reward good children, and the devil will put them in a sack and, depending on who's relating it, burn them or banish them. I was a bit taken aback by a parent who was quite delighted to relate how much he frightened his children -- apparently intentionally -- with the devil threats. There is a "walk around" in Old Town Square on the evening of December 5th. Parents bring even their young children (reminiscent of parents bringing toddlers to Central Park West till the wee hours of the morning to see the Thanksgiving Parade balloons inflated!) to see the grand trio.
College students and other young people count on earning some cash during this time! During the afternnoon one can see various angels and saints boarding trams for their destination for the evening, wings under their arms, staff and crown looking very unsaintly. It seems some kids have recognized the face of a relative under the beard or mask when the group visits their home, so parents are now opting for strangers to perform the task! (Sound like some of the Santa figures you've known or heard about?)
One of the requirements for meeting the Saint is the performance (very well done, of course) of a song or a poem, something you've been preparing for some time. And of course your boots must be well polished. My Czech teacher recalls singing and reciting as if her life depended on it -- and indeed, she believed it did! Her story is representative, so here it is.
Dad took her and her sister to the square in their town; Mom begged off with some excuse about work or health, or something that would keep her home. The girls got through their performances, received their little treats, and made their way home with Dad. They were met at the door by their mom who was pleading for their help. "There was a terrible noise on the balcony and I am afraid to go out their to get _____ (fill in the blank with your own experience and imagination)." Of course the girls and Dad had to help. SURPRISE! The boots they had placed (sounds like stockings at the fireplace to me) were filled with wonderful things such as oranges (a rare treat at that time) and little candies. What joy!
Just as in the States, decorations and music and enticing sales precede even St. Mikulas day. My favorite, at least to this point, is the Christmas Market in Namesti Miru, the park/square across from St James. (They are all around the city, though, and it is interesting to look at similar items and dissimilar prices in different markets.) The Church of St. Ludmila dominates nam. Miru, and the market is in front of the church in a manner I believe is probably similar to the markets of years, possibly centuries ago. It is a series of many small wooden structures -- actually they would be good stand-ins for a stable in a nativity scene -- joined together in some places, then starting a new row or making a 90-degree turn at others. Each stall has a different offering, some with food, candy, or wine, others with handmade Christmas linens, or decorations, or other winter and/or gift necessities. Frankly, I just love walking slowly with the crowd. The huge Christmas tree with a nativity scene in front of it is decorated with hundreds of blue lights, as are the stalls. How beautiful and what fun to watch!
Women have been baking the marvelous Czech Christmas cookies for weeks now. One colleague even brought a plate of them to StJ for teachers to share. Yummy!
Shopping has begun in earnest. I've heard several people talk about finishing "early," but most seem to be just getting started. The trams are much more crowded than usual, and of course they are many more bags taking up space.
Christmas itself is a multi-day event. The 24th is the "big" day -- a public holiday, and the day of the first family get-together. Traditional foods are carp and potato salad, and everyone near enough will be there. The 25th is the day you prepare another big meal and share it with other relatives/close friends, those you didn't see the day before. As you can imagine, there's quite a bit of traveling, quite a bit of merry making! And at least from those who've told me their stories, the gift giving seems a bit more restrained. And it is definitely for the children.
Since we had snow again yesterday, it really is beginning to look a lot like Christmas -- white, lights, and all. And the festive spirit is evident. I hope you're enjoying it with me, wherever you are.
Christmas has so many traditions here -- some related to saints (more on that later) and most about family and food and good times that have endured. I've thoroughly enjoyed listening to the different stories my students tell -- and watching their faces as they relate what they have done or will be doing this year. Whether with their family of birth or the family they have created, all place great importance on being together, including all generations available, and keeping their own family traditions alive, whether for two people or twenty-two.
So let's go to the beginning of the season and one of the saints -- St. Mikulas Day. (Recognize a similarity to Nicholas there?) December 5, StM Day, is the "official" beginning of Christmas, as I understand it. And I've heard some marvelous stories overflowing with nostalgia. Here's what I've learned - - -
The Christ Child is the gift-giver on Christmas Day (December 24th here), and on Saint Mikulas' (Nicholas) Feast Day (December 6), children in some Central European countries traditionally place a boot on their windowsill (sometimes balcony, if fortunate enough to have one in their flat) waiting for Mikulas to come by and fill it with treats. "Good" children receive various fruits, candies, and toys, "bad" children can expect nothing more than a wooden spoon or a willow-switch left by his somewhat sinister elf-companion, Krampusz, in Hungary. In the Czech Republic, Mikulas is often accompanied by the Angel and Devil. And it is on December 5, the Eve of St. Nicholas' Feast, they receive their treats. However, since no one is all good or bad, most children get both sweets and a switch! (Thank you, once again, Wikipedia.)
As it has been related to me multiple times -- with nearly identical memories -- Mikulas (Czech/Central European spelling) is always with an angel and a devil. The angel (and the Saint) reward good children, and the devil will put them in a sack and, depending on who's relating it, burn them or banish them. I was a bit taken aback by a parent who was quite delighted to relate how much he frightened his children -- apparently intentionally -- with the devil threats. There is a "walk around" in Old Town Square on the evening of December 5th. Parents bring even their young children (reminiscent of parents bringing toddlers to Central Park West till the wee hours of the morning to see the Thanksgiving Parade balloons inflated!) to see the grand trio.
College students and other young people count on earning some cash during this time! During the afternnoon one can see various angels and saints boarding trams for their destination for the evening, wings under their arms, staff and crown looking very unsaintly. It seems some kids have recognized the face of a relative under the beard or mask when the group visits their home, so parents are now opting for strangers to perform the task! (Sound like some of the Santa figures you've known or heard about?)
One of the requirements for meeting the Saint is the performance (very well done, of course) of a song or a poem, something you've been preparing for some time. And of course your boots must be well polished. My Czech teacher recalls singing and reciting as if her life depended on it -- and indeed, she believed it did! Her story is representative, so here it is.
Dad took her and her sister to the square in their town; Mom begged off with some excuse about work or health, or something that would keep her home. The girls got through their performances, received their little treats, and made their way home with Dad. They were met at the door by their mom who was pleading for their help. "There was a terrible noise on the balcony and I am afraid to go out their to get _____ (fill in the blank with your own experience and imagination)." Of course the girls and Dad had to help. SURPRISE! The boots they had placed (sounds like stockings at the fireplace to me) were filled with wonderful things such as oranges (a rare treat at that time) and little candies. What joy!
Just as in the States, decorations and music and enticing sales precede even St. Mikulas day. My favorite, at least to this point, is the Christmas Market in Namesti Miru, the park/square across from St James. (They are all around the city, though, and it is interesting to look at similar items and dissimilar prices in different markets.) The Church of St. Ludmila dominates nam. Miru, and the market is in front of the church in a manner I believe is probably similar to the markets of years, possibly centuries ago. It is a series of many small wooden structures -- actually they would be good stand-ins for a stable in a nativity scene -- joined together in some places, then starting a new row or making a 90-degree turn at others. Each stall has a different offering, some with food, candy, or wine, others with handmade Christmas linens, or decorations, or other winter and/or gift necessities. Frankly, I just love walking slowly with the crowd. The huge Christmas tree with a nativity scene in front of it is decorated with hundreds of blue lights, as are the stalls. How beautiful and what fun to watch!
Women have been baking the marvelous Czech Christmas cookies for weeks now. One colleague even brought a plate of them to StJ for teachers to share. Yummy!
Shopping has begun in earnest. I've heard several people talk about finishing "early," but most seem to be just getting started. The trams are much more crowded than usual, and of course they are many more bags taking up space.
Christmas itself is a multi-day event. The 24th is the "big" day -- a public holiday, and the day of the first family get-together. Traditional foods are carp and potato salad, and everyone near enough will be there. The 25th is the day you prepare another big meal and share it with other relatives/close friends, those you didn't see the day before. As you can imagine, there's quite a bit of traveling, quite a bit of merry making! And at least from those who've told me their stories, the gift giving seems a bit more restrained. And it is definitely for the children.
Since we had snow again yesterday, it really is beginning to look a lot like Christmas -- white, lights, and all. And the festive spirit is evident. I hope you're enjoying it with me, wherever you are.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Thanksgiving - - -
the official Day, at least, is over for another year, no matter where you live! At least the American version is, as well as the versions transplanted to other places around the globe. And the meal? Well, let's just say that there were a lot of substitutions here!
As with most things, there is a story behind it all. My initial impulse to create a "transplanted" dinner begins with the memories of Michael's first Thanksgiving here and his efforts to provide a Thanksgiving meal for his friends. Bear in mind this was shortly after the Velvet Revolution and in a town much smaller than Prague. Contrary to my expectations, some of the details have not changed all that much.
I had a more-than-willing accomplice. As a matter of fact, Theresa, a good friend and teaching colleague, became the prime mover in the whole event. Little did I realize the impact of my original, tentative "What do you think about doing a Thanksgiving dinner?" comment. From then on, my major contribution was that of cheerleader! Theresa and Peter, her partner, have a great flat, almost made for entertaining. (They actually have a small room they were told used to be the servant's room! And that is totally believable.) They also have a circle of long-time friends. Already we're talking a ready-made party here! In addition, she loves to cook and is constantly looking for excuses to spend time in her small but terrific kitchen. I was more than happy to give her yet another one!
First, of course, is the fact that T'giving is a normal work day here. It is ovious that Czech holidays, not American ones, provide a day off. We decided on Saturday following the official day -- a pretty logical second choice, since everyone was busy on the official day and had to get up to go to work the day after! Next decision -- 3:00 beginning, no pre-determined end. Given the fact that the day and dinner are so traditional, the next decisions involved figuring out how to get as close as possible to our traditional expectations.
And therein lies the adventure! The American owner of Jama, a great restaurant/pub near Wenceslas Square, is among Pete's circle of friends. And quite naturally, Jama was serving T'giving dinner in style for expats and interested Czechs -- on the actual day. Simple! He was more than happy to get us a turkey -- fresh a day later -- from his butcher. And his butcher was happy to cut it in half for us. Got the picture? That's one-half to be baked in my small oven and one-half in hers! Of course there was the slight complication of getting it home. Again, no problem. Each half was wrapped separately, and cooperatively we lugged our own halves a long walk to the metro station and a long walk to our separate flats.
Oh yes, I forgot to mention that Theresa lives only one (long) block from me. When we go to Czech class together we just meet at the tram stop at the top of the hill, and when we want to unwind on a Friday evening we meet at the pub at the bottom. Handy, right? Also very handy for transporting dinner plates and cutlery as well as cooked food, then returning with leftovers.
This adventure had been in the thinking and planning stages for some time now. And in spite of various suggestions from students and adventures on the internet, I did not come up with fresh (or freshly frozen) cranberries. BIG disappointment, since the three staples in my own holiday dinners are turkey, stuffing/dressing, and my own version of cranberry relish. Oh I do love that relish! Because a cranberry sauce tops svickova, a favorite traditional Czech dish, I knew they "existed" here. But, it turns out, not raw. So I spent an extraordinarily long time cutting orange and lemon peel into teeny tiny pieces with a somewhat dull knife to add to the available cranberry sauce. In case you're curious, it's much softer than the Ocean Spray jellied variety -- it actually pours from the jar. And tho' I was assured in an online chat that Ocean Spray would arrive on the shelves "any day now", I never saw a can or a bag. But this substitute was tasty and provided about half the tartness I enjoy.
It also provided a marvelous humorous memory. At my local grocery store I asked a lady in the produce department for "brusinka" (cranberries). She didn't understand me and looked very puzzled, but when I showed her the word on my list told me they didn't have any. I thanked her and proceeded to shop some more. A few minutes later I hear "madame, madame." It is my produce lady carrying two jars of the sauce. She'd gone to another department, found it, and brought me a choice of brands. And then the smile! She told me she thought I'd used a word for kiss! So we had a good chuckle together, I thanked her -- and blew her a kiss as she walked away. I could hear her laughing her way back to produce. What fun!
Next unavailable item -- Pepperidge Farm or Arnold's stuffing mix. Obvious substitution there also. Buy my own bread, which I did. Four different varieties. Clean, cut, then saute lots and lots of celery and onion, part of the routine even when using the "starter". Because I'm a believer in veggie bouillon as a staple, I was already confident I could add some herb-y taste, and packets of marjoram and basil (already residing in my cupboard) contributed more. Missing? Sage! Still haven't seen it. I know the Czech word, I just haven't found it on the shelves.
Because I was teaching my relatively heavy schedule through all this adventure, I will be the first to admit there are multiple more shopping options in Prague, lots of little shops with lots of specialities, and if I had both the time and the energy, I probably could have found a few more things on my list. As it turned out, it was quite all right that I didn't make any further forays into the world of retail food!
Of course we invited my flatmate, Thomas. His contribution was his grandmother's Corn Pudding, a staple in all their holiday meals. And therein lies yet another substitution. No creamed corn here! Lots of kernal corn, but none creamed. So the preparation for the corn pudding began with finding a recipe for creamed corn. Which we did, and then improvised on. I believe I have a picture of Thomas mashing two packages of cooked frozen corn with our big soup ladle (we don't have a potato masher either!) against the sides of the big cooking pot! From there it took time, not major energy. And, of course, conversion of quantities. "Looks about right to me" was a common phrase Saturday morning.
Remember we're talking about a really small oven, so another adventure was juggling stuffing, corn pudding, and turkey cooking times. (The sweet potato dish had already succumbed to boiling, not baking, along with the winter squash.)
And yes, it all came together yet another year, and this time in another place. The turkey was one of the most beautiful I've ever done, although resting quietly on its side, Stuffing was different, and really good. Cranberry sauce was interesting, and while not a real substitute, a good thing in itself. Corn pudding will, when not quite so much work, become another staple for me. What a great adventure.
And the fun was just beginning!
I arrived early, of course, and other guests began to gather. When all the gathering was done we were a group of 16 people from seven countries, some with American English (and traditional Thanksgiving dinner) as their heritage, others (the Brits and the Irishman) with just another version of it, and the rest (more than half) with English ranging from fluent to at least a smattering. And what fantastic conversation. It is hard to imagine that Theresa had some games in readiness just in case people didn't talk. With only normal conversational tone, it got quite loud in the flat. What fun! When doing post-party analysis, I realized there were actually four distinct circles present with the only tie being to either Theresa or me. And it really worked!
The real question was how to get the conversation slowed down enough to start people through the buffet line. (We didn't; we just turned into shepherds and brought them a couple at a time.) I'm not sure when we would have moved from cheese and dips and crackers to dinner if we hadn't had a guest who needed to leave early. It was 6 p.m. when we finally cut turkey and began the "real" food.
So yes, Thanksgiving in Prague is over for another year. Even the turkey soup is nearly finished. And there are new baking and serving/storage dishes residing in my kitchen. Guess I need to create another excuse to use them!
And yes, I am so thankful. That is a daily, nearly hourly attitude. How grateful I am to have my wonderful family and friends in the States, to be here, to be healthy, to be blessed with such great new friends and terrific opportunities. It truly is a wonderful life. And I hope you are enjoying it with me.
As with most things, there is a story behind it all. My initial impulse to create a "transplanted" dinner begins with the memories of Michael's first Thanksgiving here and his efforts to provide a Thanksgiving meal for his friends. Bear in mind this was shortly after the Velvet Revolution and in a town much smaller than Prague. Contrary to my expectations, some of the details have not changed all that much.
I had a more-than-willing accomplice. As a matter of fact, Theresa, a good friend and teaching colleague, became the prime mover in the whole event. Little did I realize the impact of my original, tentative "What do you think about doing a Thanksgiving dinner?" comment. From then on, my major contribution was that of cheerleader! Theresa and Peter, her partner, have a great flat, almost made for entertaining. (They actually have a small room they were told used to be the servant's room! And that is totally believable.) They also have a circle of long-time friends. Already we're talking a ready-made party here! In addition, she loves to cook and is constantly looking for excuses to spend time in her small but terrific kitchen. I was more than happy to give her yet another one!
First, of course, is the fact that T'giving is a normal work day here. It is ovious that Czech holidays, not American ones, provide a day off. We decided on Saturday following the official day -- a pretty logical second choice, since everyone was busy on the official day and had to get up to go to work the day after! Next decision -- 3:00 beginning, no pre-determined end. Given the fact that the day and dinner are so traditional, the next decisions involved figuring out how to get as close as possible to our traditional expectations.
And therein lies the adventure! The American owner of Jama, a great restaurant/pub near Wenceslas Square, is among Pete's circle of friends. And quite naturally, Jama was serving T'giving dinner in style for expats and interested Czechs -- on the actual day. Simple! He was more than happy to get us a turkey -- fresh a day later -- from his butcher. And his butcher was happy to cut it in half for us. Got the picture? That's one-half to be baked in my small oven and one-half in hers! Of course there was the slight complication of getting it home. Again, no problem. Each half was wrapped separately, and cooperatively we lugged our own halves a long walk to the metro station and a long walk to our separate flats.
Oh yes, I forgot to mention that Theresa lives only one (long) block from me. When we go to Czech class together we just meet at the tram stop at the top of the hill, and when we want to unwind on a Friday evening we meet at the pub at the bottom. Handy, right? Also very handy for transporting dinner plates and cutlery as well as cooked food, then returning with leftovers.
This adventure had been in the thinking and planning stages for some time now. And in spite of various suggestions from students and adventures on the internet, I did not come up with fresh (or freshly frozen) cranberries. BIG disappointment, since the three staples in my own holiday dinners are turkey, stuffing/dressing, and my own version of cranberry relish. Oh I do love that relish! Because a cranberry sauce tops svickova, a favorite traditional Czech dish, I knew they "existed" here. But, it turns out, not raw. So I spent an extraordinarily long time cutting orange and lemon peel into teeny tiny pieces with a somewhat dull knife to add to the available cranberry sauce. In case you're curious, it's much softer than the Ocean Spray jellied variety -- it actually pours from the jar. And tho' I was assured in an online chat that Ocean Spray would arrive on the shelves "any day now", I never saw a can or a bag. But this substitute was tasty and provided about half the tartness I enjoy.
It also provided a marvelous humorous memory. At my local grocery store I asked a lady in the produce department for "brusinka" (cranberries). She didn't understand me and looked very puzzled, but when I showed her the word on my list told me they didn't have any. I thanked her and proceeded to shop some more. A few minutes later I hear "madame, madame." It is my produce lady carrying two jars of the sauce. She'd gone to another department, found it, and brought me a choice of brands. And then the smile! She told me she thought I'd used a word for kiss! So we had a good chuckle together, I thanked her -- and blew her a kiss as she walked away. I could hear her laughing her way back to produce. What fun!
Next unavailable item -- Pepperidge Farm or Arnold's stuffing mix. Obvious substitution there also. Buy my own bread, which I did. Four different varieties. Clean, cut, then saute lots and lots of celery and onion, part of the routine even when using the "starter". Because I'm a believer in veggie bouillon as a staple, I was already confident I could add some herb-y taste, and packets of marjoram and basil (already residing in my cupboard) contributed more. Missing? Sage! Still haven't seen it. I know the Czech word, I just haven't found it on the shelves.
Because I was teaching my relatively heavy schedule through all this adventure, I will be the first to admit there are multiple more shopping options in Prague, lots of little shops with lots of specialities, and if I had both the time and the energy, I probably could have found a few more things on my list. As it turned out, it was quite all right that I didn't make any further forays into the world of retail food!
Of course we invited my flatmate, Thomas. His contribution was his grandmother's Corn Pudding, a staple in all their holiday meals. And therein lies yet another substitution. No creamed corn here! Lots of kernal corn, but none creamed. So the preparation for the corn pudding began with finding a recipe for creamed corn. Which we did, and then improvised on. I believe I have a picture of Thomas mashing two packages of cooked frozen corn with our big soup ladle (we don't have a potato masher either!) against the sides of the big cooking pot! From there it took time, not major energy. And, of course, conversion of quantities. "Looks about right to me" was a common phrase Saturday morning.
Remember we're talking about a really small oven, so another adventure was juggling stuffing, corn pudding, and turkey cooking times. (The sweet potato dish had already succumbed to boiling, not baking, along with the winter squash.)
And yes, it all came together yet another year, and this time in another place. The turkey was one of the most beautiful I've ever done, although resting quietly on its side, Stuffing was different, and really good. Cranberry sauce was interesting, and while not a real substitute, a good thing in itself. Corn pudding will, when not quite so much work, become another staple for me. What a great adventure.
And the fun was just beginning!
I arrived early, of course, and other guests began to gather. When all the gathering was done we were a group of 16 people from seven countries, some with American English (and traditional Thanksgiving dinner) as their heritage, others (the Brits and the Irishman) with just another version of it, and the rest (more than half) with English ranging from fluent to at least a smattering. And what fantastic conversation. It is hard to imagine that Theresa had some games in readiness just in case people didn't talk. With only normal conversational tone, it got quite loud in the flat. What fun! When doing post-party analysis, I realized there were actually four distinct circles present with the only tie being to either Theresa or me. And it really worked!
The real question was how to get the conversation slowed down enough to start people through the buffet line. (We didn't; we just turned into shepherds and brought them a couple at a time.) I'm not sure when we would have moved from cheese and dips and crackers to dinner if we hadn't had a guest who needed to leave early. It was 6 p.m. when we finally cut turkey and began the "real" food.
So yes, Thanksgiving in Prague is over for another year. Even the turkey soup is nearly finished. And there are new baking and serving/storage dishes residing in my kitchen. Guess I need to create another excuse to use them!
And yes, I am so thankful. That is a daily, nearly hourly attitude. How grateful I am to have my wonderful family and friends in the States, to be here, to be healthy, to be blessed with such great new friends and terrific opportunities. It truly is a wonderful life. And I hope you are enjoying it with me.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
The Magic Continues
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
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
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
A Midweek Treat
Aren't surprises lovely!
I learned some months ago that one of my students plays French horn in an orchestra here. During a quiet moment in class Monday I asked him if his June concert had already taken place. Surprise -- it was tonight. I asked just in time.
Yet another surprise -- it was held in a church in my neighborhood. I've passed the church dozens of times since it is right on my tram line. "Evangelistika" is in its name, and I'd heard that it is somewhat in a line back to Jan Hus ("his" day is a holiday here in a couple of weeks). It is not a typical Prague church. It's front/facade is almost like every other apartment building in the block, only a few religious touches set it apart, not at all like the free-standing buildings which are such a part of the city scape. (You may know that Prague is also called a City of Spires.) I've been curious but never stopped, made a special trip to learn and see more, or even considered attending a service. Tonight was the night. It is beautiful inside, lovely frescoes, a balcony around three sides of the church reminiscent of Old First in Springfield, MA and Joan Grindrod-Helm's church in Northumberland, UK. So sitting in the pew brought back wonderful memories.
And another surprise -- while sitting quietly, observing my fellow concert goers, struggling (shamefully) with the Czech program, a fine young gentleman joined me. Indeed, another of my students. He is an interesting young man, a good conversationalist, and an all-round pleasant companion. What a treat to have his company so unexpectedly. I believe he was as surprised to see me as I was to see him.
The members of the orchestra were young, mostly mid-to late twenties and thirties. Some may have been in their early forties. But they definitely weren't students! The conductor also may still be waiting for his thirtieth birthday! But what lovely music they made together. His conducting was sure; they understood what he wanted and gave it to him -- all of them! What a pleasure.
And then there was the music. Ah, yes. They opened with Mendelssohn's Third Symphony, one of my favorites. It was totally satisfying. Radek had told me they were playing Dvorak, "our best composer." The second portion of the evening was the Slavonik Dances, Opus 46. I must admit my fingers were itching and twitching. And now I've heard Dvorak played and conducted by Czechs in a Czech setting, surrounded by Czechs. Their enjoyment of the music was noticeable, and it was clear these were familiar sounds to members of the audience.
I lingered a bit afterwards. By the time I'd made my way to the door, members of the orchestra were also beginning to leave. It was so pleasant to see and feel their enjoyment of the concert. I could tell they knew they had played well -- it's always such a pleasure to see others enjoy the results of their hard work. There was a sense of camaraderie and accomplishment. It was clear this was not just another "gig" and they were moving on to the next job. They'd made music because they wanted to and because it made them happy to share it. And I was one of the fortunate recipients.
But wait -- one more surprise. At the intermission I was joined by the one colleague to whom I'd mentioned the concert. The comment was rather off the cuff. I certainly did not expect him to come. And there he was. He's also a musician, a marvelous British gentleman, good teacher, fine colleague, great friend. More good conversation, more enjoyment.
What a surprising midweek treat. I can hardly wait to see and hear what's next.
I learned some months ago that one of my students plays French horn in an orchestra here. During a quiet moment in class Monday I asked him if his June concert had already taken place. Surprise -- it was tonight. I asked just in time.
Yet another surprise -- it was held in a church in my neighborhood. I've passed the church dozens of times since it is right on my tram line. "Evangelistika" is in its name, and I'd heard that it is somewhat in a line back to Jan Hus ("his" day is a holiday here in a couple of weeks). It is not a typical Prague church. It's front/facade is almost like every other apartment building in the block, only a few religious touches set it apart, not at all like the free-standing buildings which are such a part of the city scape. (You may know that Prague is also called a City of Spires.) I've been curious but never stopped, made a special trip to learn and see more, or even considered attending a service. Tonight was the night. It is beautiful inside, lovely frescoes, a balcony around three sides of the church reminiscent of Old First in Springfield, MA and Joan Grindrod-Helm's church in Northumberland, UK. So sitting in the pew brought back wonderful memories.
And another surprise -- while sitting quietly, observing my fellow concert goers, struggling (shamefully) with the Czech program, a fine young gentleman joined me. Indeed, another of my students. He is an interesting young man, a good conversationalist, and an all-round pleasant companion. What a treat to have his company so unexpectedly. I believe he was as surprised to see me as I was to see him.
The members of the orchestra were young, mostly mid-to late twenties and thirties. Some may have been in their early forties. But they definitely weren't students! The conductor also may still be waiting for his thirtieth birthday! But what lovely music they made together. His conducting was sure; they understood what he wanted and gave it to him -- all of them! What a pleasure.
And then there was the music. Ah, yes. They opened with Mendelssohn's Third Symphony, one of my favorites. It was totally satisfying. Radek had told me they were playing Dvorak, "our best composer." The second portion of the evening was the Slavonik Dances, Opus 46. I must admit my fingers were itching and twitching. And now I've heard Dvorak played and conducted by Czechs in a Czech setting, surrounded by Czechs. Their enjoyment of the music was noticeable, and it was clear these were familiar sounds to members of the audience.
I lingered a bit afterwards. By the time I'd made my way to the door, members of the orchestra were also beginning to leave. It was so pleasant to see and feel their enjoyment of the concert. I could tell they knew they had played well -- it's always such a pleasure to see others enjoy the results of their hard work. There was a sense of camaraderie and accomplishment. It was clear this was not just another "gig" and they were moving on to the next job. They'd made music because they wanted to and because it made them happy to share it. And I was one of the fortunate recipients.
But wait -- one more surprise. At the intermission I was joined by the one colleague to whom I'd mentioned the concert. The comment was rather off the cuff. I certainly did not expect him to come. And there he was. He's also a musician, a marvelous British gentleman, good teacher, fine colleague, great friend. More good conversation, more enjoyment.
What a surprising midweek treat. I can hardly wait to see and hear what's next.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Accidental Sightings
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 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.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Oh What a Beautiful Mornin'
Every Monday morning I hit the cobblestones (early, of course) and "tram" my way down to the Vlatava River. When I get off, I'm right in front of the Slavia Cafe, "where Karel Tiege, Jiri Kolar, and a struggling Vaclav Havel once tippled, penned, and plotted the overthrow of Communism." And that's just for starters.
Turning the corner I have an unrivaled view of Prague Castle, St. Vitus Cathedral, and all the incredible buildings with their glorious red roofs in between. Walking toward my destination -- class with a bright, gracious, young woman -- I can view the saints, martyrs, and tourists on Charles Bridge, look from spire to spire at churches which have watched, and watched over, the centuries of changes in this ever changing town, and of course, keep checking the waves and ripples of the river.
After a couple minutes, the right side of the cobblestones begins to compete for my attention. And it wins just in time to enjoy, yet another time, the drawings of Jiri Slyva, a graphic artist with a quirky sense of humor. One of my favorites is a drawing of two woven bamboo bird cages connected by a twisting passageway. A bird is flying "free" from one cage through its passage. The route is upward, then around, and unbeknown to the bird, ultimately down into the other cage, which is out of sight of the first. What a commentary . . .
Yet a few more steps and I'm walking beside a lovely small park. The twisted tree trunks are obviously very old; the wrought iron fence is low, clearly not intended to keep me out; the benches, all facing the Vlatava, are inviting; and the tall sculpture and fountain in the center adds its own message of welcome and continuity.
At last Spring is visiting Prague. It's been threatening (or promising) to do that for some time now. Finally! And staying indoors is not even an option. Yet one more time in life when I just have to be in the middle of something before I learn how much I enjoy it.
Everything sparkles. Although there are a few of the early flowers missing, I do remember the surprises of color here and there, and I certainly still remember how welcome they were on the continuously gray, damp days of April. But now? Oh my goodness! There's sunshine, filtered through soft clouds and brilliant in a Carolina blue sky. There are dew diamonds on the grass, there are flowers I've never seen before hanging from bushes, there are newly planted window boxes perched at nearly impossible angles from 19th century windows. There is wonder and hope and promise almost everywhere.
And yes, the wonder is mine also. How could I be so fortunate as to be here in this wonderful place able -- physically, emotionally, and spiritually -- to marvel at and appreciate its gifts? And yes, I do wonder why it seems so right. And I wonder "what's next" even as I have not completed "what's now."
My feet have kept moving -- almost steadily. Sometimes they just have to slow down or stop so I can look a little further or take an extra few moments of enjoyment. And forward movement seems to be not only possible but also mandatory! No other option works for me.
Opening the right door takes me to an hour with Irena, which brings even more sparkle to the day. Rogers and Hammerstein had it right -- it's a beautiful morning!
Turning the corner I have an unrivaled view of Prague Castle, St. Vitus Cathedral, and all the incredible buildings with their glorious red roofs in between. Walking toward my destination -- class with a bright, gracious, young woman -- I can view the saints, martyrs, and tourists on Charles Bridge, look from spire to spire at churches which have watched, and watched over, the centuries of changes in this ever changing town, and of course, keep checking the waves and ripples of the river.
After a couple minutes, the right side of the cobblestones begins to compete for my attention. And it wins just in time to enjoy, yet another time, the drawings of Jiri Slyva, a graphic artist with a quirky sense of humor. One of my favorites is a drawing of two woven bamboo bird cages connected by a twisting passageway. A bird is flying "free" from one cage through its passage. The route is upward, then around, and unbeknown to the bird, ultimately down into the other cage, which is out of sight of the first. What a commentary . . .
Yet a few more steps and I'm walking beside a lovely small park. The twisted tree trunks are obviously very old; the wrought iron fence is low, clearly not intended to keep me out; the benches, all facing the Vlatava, are inviting; and the tall sculpture and fountain in the center adds its own message of welcome and continuity.
At last Spring is visiting Prague. It's been threatening (or promising) to do that for some time now. Finally! And staying indoors is not even an option. Yet one more time in life when I just have to be in the middle of something before I learn how much I enjoy it.
Everything sparkles. Although there are a few of the early flowers missing, I do remember the surprises of color here and there, and I certainly still remember how welcome they were on the continuously gray, damp days of April. But now? Oh my goodness! There's sunshine, filtered through soft clouds and brilliant in a Carolina blue sky. There are dew diamonds on the grass, there are flowers I've never seen before hanging from bushes, there are newly planted window boxes perched at nearly impossible angles from 19th century windows. There is wonder and hope and promise almost everywhere.
And yes, the wonder is mine also. How could I be so fortunate as to be here in this wonderful place able -- physically, emotionally, and spiritually -- to marvel at and appreciate its gifts? And yes, I do wonder why it seems so right. And I wonder "what's next" even as I have not completed "what's now."
My feet have kept moving -- almost steadily. Sometimes they just have to slow down or stop so I can look a little further or take an extra few moments of enjoyment. And forward movement seems to be not only possible but also mandatory! No other option works for me.
Opening the right door takes me to an hour with Irena, which brings even more sparkle to the day. Rogers and Hammerstein had it right -- it's a beautiful morning!
Friday, May 2, 2008
An Afternoon with Antonin
At last, a beautiful spring day, one much too pretty to waste with the ordinary routines. Until very recently there were only a few weak promises of spring, at least to my eyes, accustomed as they had become to pinks and whites, yellows and purples, salmons and reds, all thrown together on bushes and trees. Magnolias pushing upward, wisteria cascading downward. I know what spring looks like and, believe me, this isn't it! This is rain, and wind, and chill, and I've been assured it is April in Prague. It's not awful. It's just constant. And then sunshine!
I love the feeling of home. Although I am an enthusiastic tourist, I prefer to nest, to belong, even if only for a short time, wherever I am. Over the years I've learned that wherever I am is "home." I remain connected to my roots and the most recent place holding most of my stuff. I just add another place to belong, a new place to feel sheltered. There is a danger in settling in, however. It is the feeling that there's always more time. Sure, I could visit this place or see this view today, but then again, I could do it tomorrow, or next week. And sometimes "next week" becomes never. So I have made a promise to myself: something every week. Just something. A bit of effort, a new experience, or an updated view of a previous experience. And usually something not listed in the guide for those who have only one, or three, or even five days.
Antonin took two tries! I'm not normally geographically challenged, although I will admit to a bit of trouble identifying N-S-E-W when standing on a busy corner here. It's not I'm unsure of which direction my feet should move, it is that I don't know what to call it. And that's a tough one for me -- I think I came into life with a N-S-E-W gene! I also don't usually have difficulty following maps. Talk about a new experience! Finding Antonin Dvorak's home/museum was way beyond my ability a couple weeks ago. I just didn't find it. And that was a very good thing. Because a couple weeks ago there would have been branches, not buds! I would have missed the splendor of his garden, and the cream and hot pink might have been out of place in the middle of drab and colorless. The steeple behind the wall across the street would have been stark, not framed in lacy green. Not so now!
He was born in a little Bohemian town, a part of the Austro-Hungarian empire, in 1841, received musical training there, then came to Prague while still a teenager, studied at the Organ School (I didn't know that) and was also an accomplished violin and viola player, so accomplished at all three that he was church organist for many years and a member of a Prague orchestra for nearly as many. Much of his story is nearly textbook -- married a student, didn't have enough money, became friends with leading musicians who opened doors for him (Brahms and Smetana). Where he strayed from the musical path of the mid- to late-nineteenth century was in using native tunes, dance rhythms, and patterns as part of the standard romantic style. Dvorak was a regular in my musical memory, especially his Symphony from the New World and Slavonic Dances. And there I was - - walking through his front door, climbing his steps, at his home only a couple of blocks from one of my regular tram stops. Nearly my neighborhood, for goodness' sake.
There are the traditional/usual manuscripts, interesting collected bits and pieces of a life that was both ordinary and gifted. I enjoyed seeing photographs, not paintings, of him, his family, his friends, his concerts, the farm in Spillville, Iowa where he visited cousins, viewing the academic gown he wore at Cambridge. The photos make him seem so contemporary, even though they are sepia and crackled. Talk about differences -- my guide book describes his home as an elegant, early 18th century (1720) summer palace. It also says it is red and ochre -- I'll go with cream and hot pink! I'm sure New York City was becoming elegant when he became director of the National Conservatory, and I'm sure he moved in all the right society, but America was still a newcomer. No wonder he wanted to come home!
And what a home. I'm glad I learned that he walked daily in the park I pass to listen to the birds' songs, that he regularly walked to the main train station (that's where I boarded for Vienna) to chat with a gatekeeper, that he worshipped, dined, conducted, drank coffee with friends on the streets I pass.
Dvorak has been described as "a national treasure." He died in this home in 1904, only 60 years old, looking much older, if those photographs can be believed. And he's buried at Vysehrad ("where all the best Prague myths were born"), in Slavin Cemetery, "last resting place of the cream of the arts worthies." I'm saving that for another weekend.
And I think I'll return to sit again in his garden, maybe with a book, maybe just listening to his music playing softly in the house -- and in my brain.
I love the feeling of home. Although I am an enthusiastic tourist, I prefer to nest, to belong, even if only for a short time, wherever I am. Over the years I've learned that wherever I am is "home." I remain connected to my roots and the most recent place holding most of my stuff. I just add another place to belong, a new place to feel sheltered. There is a danger in settling in, however. It is the feeling that there's always more time. Sure, I could visit this place or see this view today, but then again, I could do it tomorrow, or next week. And sometimes "next week" becomes never. So I have made a promise to myself: something every week. Just something. A bit of effort, a new experience, or an updated view of a previous experience. And usually something not listed in the guide for those who have only one, or three, or even five days.
Antonin took two tries! I'm not normally geographically challenged, although I will admit to a bit of trouble identifying N-S-E-W when standing on a busy corner here. It's not I'm unsure of which direction my feet should move, it is that I don't know what to call it. And that's a tough one for me -- I think I came into life with a N-S-E-W gene! I also don't usually have difficulty following maps. Talk about a new experience! Finding Antonin Dvorak's home/museum was way beyond my ability a couple weeks ago. I just didn't find it. And that was a very good thing. Because a couple weeks ago there would have been branches, not buds! I would have missed the splendor of his garden, and the cream and hot pink might have been out of place in the middle of drab and colorless. The steeple behind the wall across the street would have been stark, not framed in lacy green. Not so now!
He was born in a little Bohemian town, a part of the Austro-Hungarian empire, in 1841, received musical training there, then came to Prague while still a teenager, studied at the Organ School (I didn't know that) and was also an accomplished violin and viola player, so accomplished at all three that he was church organist for many years and a member of a Prague orchestra for nearly as many. Much of his story is nearly textbook -- married a student, didn't have enough money, became friends with leading musicians who opened doors for him (Brahms and Smetana). Where he strayed from the musical path of the mid- to late-nineteenth century was in using native tunes, dance rhythms, and patterns as part of the standard romantic style. Dvorak was a regular in my musical memory, especially his Symphony from the New World and Slavonic Dances. And there I was - - walking through his front door, climbing his steps, at his home only a couple of blocks from one of my regular tram stops. Nearly my neighborhood, for goodness' sake.
There are the traditional/usual manuscripts, interesting collected bits and pieces of a life that was both ordinary and gifted. I enjoyed seeing photographs, not paintings, of him, his family, his friends, his concerts, the farm in Spillville, Iowa where he visited cousins, viewing the academic gown he wore at Cambridge. The photos make him seem so contemporary, even though they are sepia and crackled. Talk about differences -- my guide book describes his home as an elegant, early 18th century (1720) summer palace. It also says it is red and ochre -- I'll go with cream and hot pink! I'm sure New York City was becoming elegant when he became director of the National Conservatory, and I'm sure he moved in all the right society, but America was still a newcomer. No wonder he wanted to come home!
And what a home. I'm glad I learned that he walked daily in the park I pass to listen to the birds' songs, that he regularly walked to the main train station (that's where I boarded for Vienna) to chat with a gatekeeper, that he worshipped, dined, conducted, drank coffee with friends on the streets I pass.
Dvorak has been described as "a national treasure." He died in this home in 1904, only 60 years old, looking much older, if those photographs can be believed. And he's buried at Vysehrad ("where all the best Prague myths were born"), in Slavin Cemetery, "last resting place of the cream of the arts worthies." I'm saving that for another weekend.
And I think I'll return to sit again in his garden, maybe with a book, maybe just listening to his music playing softly in the house -- and in my brain.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
The Pleasures of the Ordinary
This has been an extraordinarily ordinary week. As I think about it, it almost seems that it is a week representing my life: common, ordinary, daily routines; putting one foot in front of the other, doing the next thing which needs to be done. Then the routine is graced with so many lovely moments, moments that others either share with me or have in common with me; so much that is good and too much that is bad; so little thoughtful time and so much hustle; and the thread which ties it all together -- the people who come and go, who come and linger, or who come to stay seemingly forever in my heart if not in my presence. It's been one of those weeks.
It's been wet and mostly too cool. Now, in a wonderfully serendipitous moment, I'm prepared for the weather. Several of us were in a conversation about the lack of a wet weather and/or in between weather coat. I was still using the winter coat I brought with me. Fortunately (for me) the weather had cooperated -- stayed much cooler than usual. The coat conversation had two primary topics -- where to find one (corner vendors, second hand shops, etc.) and how much we'd have to pay. As we parted there were comments about waiting for the next week and/or making do. My last words before the trams arrived were "Well, I could get it today if it were under 100 Kc." Now, who'd ever think . . . Arrived in my neighborhood and noticed as soon as I got off the tram a little sign I'd never seen before: Second Hand, 30m. Thirty meters was less than half-way up the block, so I quickly made a left turn, discovered that I'd arrived 15 minutes before closing time, and went straight for a coat rack. AND walked out five minutes later with a really nice London-Fog type coat (no liner) for only 80 Kc. How about that!! What a lovely moment.
The week seems to be a blur of rushing and waiting, rushing and waiting. It seems that each time there was a gem of a person, a place, or an idea, I ended up moving on to another mental place. Here are several which have remained with me --
A brief conversation with a very bright young man about how we can maintain a balance between wanting government agencies to "help" with social problems without abdicating any personal responsibility and concern for those who clearly cannot care properly for themselves.
Finding an article in Lifestyles magazine, Czech edition, about Vaclav Havel and Forum 2000. Here's the setting -- I'm once again at my wonderful laundromat. I've already had a fruitless search for some reading I could think about, perhaps even Ann Lamott or Dawna Markova style. I really wanted something to read or I never would have selected something that slick. O.K. -- judge a book (magazine) by its cover! That's what took me inside. There was a lengthy article about the Forum 2000 conference in 2007. I don't remember hearing about Forum 2000 -- the first meeting was in Prague in 1997. The foundation focuses on key issues facing civilization. You may be sure I'll keep up with it in the future. This particular article combines quotes from ten years ago with the problems still facing us, all of us, today. From Havel then: "It is my deep conviction that the only option is for something to change in the sphere of the spirit, in the sphere of human conscience." From those in a business symposium now: "Already dozens of companies with massive economic and political power are more influential than many governments. Business support limited to charity and sport may no longer be enough." This "lucky find" will stick with me for a long time!
Getting a "real" opportunity for a hair cut! HOORAY! Three times now I've struck out. Speaking English is a big drawback. At last a friend of a friend of a friend. . . You know the way these things happen. And would you believe the salon is right in my new neighborhood. I went to the salon with the two (one who speaks only English, one who speaks English and Czech) to meet Vladka, the hair stylist who speaks only Czech. It was pretty scary to stand by for a long conversation about what can be done with my hair and how I'll look much younger (yeah, right) when all I wanted was more of the same. Well, that wish was at least six weeks ago. Now I'm ready for anything! Talk about feeling helpless! Of course I'll take my Anglicky-Czech dictionary -- it's always with me. I just don't believe I can thumb the pages fast enough to keep up with the pace. We'll see what happens this week.
It's time to get ready for the surprises and pleasure of another week. Getting ready is my job. Sending the surprises I'll leave to the universe! I'll just keep on with the "one foot in front of the other" routine, watching and waiting for each next moment. I'm wishing wonderful surprises for you also.
It's been wet and mostly too cool. Now, in a wonderfully serendipitous moment, I'm prepared for the weather. Several of us were in a conversation about the lack of a wet weather and/or in between weather coat. I was still using the winter coat I brought with me. Fortunately (for me) the weather had cooperated -- stayed much cooler than usual. The coat conversation had two primary topics -- where to find one (corner vendors, second hand shops, etc.) and how much we'd have to pay. As we parted there were comments about waiting for the next week and/or making do. My last words before the trams arrived were "Well, I could get it today if it were under 100 Kc." Now, who'd ever think . . . Arrived in my neighborhood and noticed as soon as I got off the tram a little sign I'd never seen before: Second Hand, 30m. Thirty meters was less than half-way up the block, so I quickly made a left turn, discovered that I'd arrived 15 minutes before closing time, and went straight for a coat rack. AND walked out five minutes later with a really nice London-Fog type coat (no liner) for only 80 Kc. How about that!! What a lovely moment.
The week seems to be a blur of rushing and waiting, rushing and waiting. It seems that each time there was a gem of a person, a place, or an idea, I ended up moving on to another mental place. Here are several which have remained with me --
A brief conversation with a very bright young man about how we can maintain a balance between wanting government agencies to "help" with social problems without abdicating any personal responsibility and concern for those who clearly cannot care properly for themselves.
Finding an article in Lifestyles magazine, Czech edition, about Vaclav Havel and Forum 2000. Here's the setting -- I'm once again at my wonderful laundromat. I've already had a fruitless search for some reading I could think about, perhaps even Ann Lamott or Dawna Markova style. I really wanted something to read or I never would have selected something that slick. O.K. -- judge a book (magazine) by its cover! That's what took me inside. There was a lengthy article about the Forum 2000 conference in 2007. I don't remember hearing about Forum 2000 -- the first meeting was in Prague in 1997. The foundation focuses on key issues facing civilization. You may be sure I'll keep up with it in the future. This particular article combines quotes from ten years ago with the problems still facing us, all of us, today. From Havel then: "It is my deep conviction that the only option is for something to change in the sphere of the spirit, in the sphere of human conscience." From those in a business symposium now: "Already dozens of companies with massive economic and political power are more influential than many governments. Business support limited to charity and sport may no longer be enough." This "lucky find" will stick with me for a long time!
Getting a "real" opportunity for a hair cut! HOORAY! Three times now I've struck out. Speaking English is a big drawback. At last a friend of a friend of a friend. . . You know the way these things happen. And would you believe the salon is right in my new neighborhood. I went to the salon with the two (one who speaks only English, one who speaks English and Czech) to meet Vladka, the hair stylist who speaks only Czech. It was pretty scary to stand by for a long conversation about what can be done with my hair and how I'll look much younger (yeah, right) when all I wanted was more of the same. Well, that wish was at least six weeks ago. Now I'm ready for anything! Talk about feeling helpless! Of course I'll take my Anglicky-Czech dictionary -- it's always with me. I just don't believe I can thumb the pages fast enough to keep up with the pace. We'll see what happens this week.
It's time to get ready for the surprises and pleasure of another week. Getting ready is my job. Sending the surprises I'll leave to the universe! I'll just keep on with the "one foot in front of the other" routine, watching and waiting for each next moment. I'm wishing wonderful surprises for you also.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Gifts of the Day
Have you ever counted how many times a day you were given an unexpected gift? I've not counted, but I've certainly been gifted. Here are just a few - - -
A shy, beautiful smile from a young Czech girl across the aisle from me on the tram. She wasn't more than 5 or 6, she was very quiet, and when I happened to look her way, she was already looking at me. I don't know -- maybe it's that I do look funny wearing Birkenstocks with a heavy winter coat, maybe I look American even when I try very hard to fit in, or maybe she just knew that I would be charmed. I hope it was the latter. As soon as we made eye contact, she gave me a smile that seemed to come from a very private place way down inside her. It wasn't broad, it wasn't bold. It didn't fade quickly nor seem embarrassed to be seen. And it surely was real. What a gift!
Two lovely white birds (could they be doves?) resting on the bare black branches outside my wonderful big Czech window. They had their secret agreements -- when to come, how long to stay, when to go. But for those few moments, they brought life to a tree waiting patiently for a bit more sunshine and warmer weather. I have no idea who else may have been watching, but right then, they were mine.
Someone I scarcely know going out of her way to help locate some long-term accommodation for me. No reason, no payoff, no "extra points" with someone else. Just quietly writing a couple emails, then reporting on the results. It may have been a "give back." I know others have done that for her. But giving back and passing it on are more rare than any of us would wish. I received the gift, and I will pass it on.
Fat buds on a bush at the side of the tram tracks. What a promise! That cold wind WILL be replaced by spring, then summer, then fall, and once again they will have their sleep, then grace us all with a new promise. I do hope others will turn around for just one quick look. It isn't all dark, it can and will change.
The marvelous smile which welcomes me to breakfast each morning that I don't have an early class. How I wish I could speak Czech, could tell her what a gift her presence is in my day. And I'd love to hear the stories she must have to tell. If I could ask, I'm sure she'd say there weren't any that would be interesting. And I just know each of them would be. That little lady -- and she's very short and trim, probably also near my age -- really knows how to light up a room. She doesn't reserve the smile and the greeting for those who look as though they will return it. She almost dares you to keep a straight face. And very few do. When she says "dobre rano" (good morning, first thing in the day) she means it. Not only does she gift you with her smile, she follows it with coffee! What a way to start a day!
Each student who tells me how quickly the time has passed in our session together, whether it's 60 or 120 minutes. It is such hard work to think in another language that long! And then to say that it has seemed a short time. Wow! Makes me want to spend more time finding things I hope will be interesting, I trust will give them the progress they're seeking. And certainly makes me eager for the next session. I really didn't know it could be such a gift to begin again, to put all the past years together in a different way, in a different place.
It is a gift that I am able to share this marvelous adventure with you. Thank you for coming along with me. And especially this day -- look for the gifts in your life. When I turned the alarm off (not willingly, you may be sure) this morning, I never would have guessed one day could be so full of wonder and grace. I'm wishing the same for you
A shy, beautiful smile from a young Czech girl across the aisle from me on the tram. She wasn't more than 5 or 6, she was very quiet, and when I happened to look her way, she was already looking at me. I don't know -- maybe it's that I do look funny wearing Birkenstocks with a heavy winter coat, maybe I look American even when I try very hard to fit in, or maybe she just knew that I would be charmed. I hope it was the latter. As soon as we made eye contact, she gave me a smile that seemed to come from a very private place way down inside her. It wasn't broad, it wasn't bold. It didn't fade quickly nor seem embarrassed to be seen. And it surely was real. What a gift!
Two lovely white birds (could they be doves?) resting on the bare black branches outside my wonderful big Czech window. They had their secret agreements -- when to come, how long to stay, when to go. But for those few moments, they brought life to a tree waiting patiently for a bit more sunshine and warmer weather. I have no idea who else may have been watching, but right then, they were mine.
Someone I scarcely know going out of her way to help locate some long-term accommodation for me. No reason, no payoff, no "extra points" with someone else. Just quietly writing a couple emails, then reporting on the results. It may have been a "give back." I know others have done that for her. But giving back and passing it on are more rare than any of us would wish. I received the gift, and I will pass it on.
Fat buds on a bush at the side of the tram tracks. What a promise! That cold wind WILL be replaced by spring, then summer, then fall, and once again they will have their sleep, then grace us all with a new promise. I do hope others will turn around for just one quick look. It isn't all dark, it can and will change.
The marvelous smile which welcomes me to breakfast each morning that I don't have an early class. How I wish I could speak Czech, could tell her what a gift her presence is in my day. And I'd love to hear the stories she must have to tell. If I could ask, I'm sure she'd say there weren't any that would be interesting. And I just know each of them would be. That little lady -- and she's very short and trim, probably also near my age -- really knows how to light up a room. She doesn't reserve the smile and the greeting for those who look as though they will return it. She almost dares you to keep a straight face. And very few do. When she says "dobre rano" (good morning, first thing in the day) she means it. Not only does she gift you with her smile, she follows it with coffee! What a way to start a day!
Each student who tells me how quickly the time has passed in our session together, whether it's 60 or 120 minutes. It is such hard work to think in another language that long! And then to say that it has seemed a short time. Wow! Makes me want to spend more time finding things I hope will be interesting, I trust will give them the progress they're seeking. And certainly makes me eager for the next session. I really didn't know it could be such a gift to begin again, to put all the past years together in a different way, in a different place.
It is a gift that I am able to share this marvelous adventure with you. Thank you for coming along with me. And especially this day -- look for the gifts in your life. When I turned the alarm off (not willingly, you may be sure) this morning, I never would have guessed one day could be so full of wonder and grace. I'm wishing the same for you
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