Sundries

So many little things knit themselves together to make a good day, a satisfying week, or a weekend in which everything seems to go just right. After all these years, I'm beginning to learn that my most important job (in every situation) is to be ready. Then just "go with the flow". And these times are almost always unexpected. That's how things have been lately.

► What a super Mikulas ((pronounced mick'-oo-lahsh) party last weekend. First, I feel so honored to be included in events such as this with great people, marvelous multi-ethnic food, and a general good time. The hostess was the neat young woman who was the former Assistant Director of Studies at StJ and has now returned to teaching. We are able to spend a few moments together each week in the reception area where we have classes at the same time at one of the StJ clients. I always look forward to those times together. Yes, the flat was small and packed wall to wall with people. But what fun! Getting there, being there, and getting home just before the tram schedule switched over to the night service -- all of it. Laughter piled upon laughter, new ideas and interesting perspectives continuously floating around in the swirl of conversation. What an evening!

► I awoke (long before daylight, as is usual now) to a lazy snowfall Friday morning. It was one of those times when a relatively brief tram ride takes me from snow to rain to only cloudiness, then perhaps back to more snow. The seven hills of Prague certainly produce interesting weather differences very quickly. The snow seemed to be a little heavier as I was riding, and I got off into huge flakes coming down hard enough that they were beating a rhythm on my umbrella. And suddenly - - nothing but wet cobblestones and droopy hair. After class the sky seemed lower, the general color around me was that of frozen mist, as if the atmosphere had "frozen" the breath of the world as it exhaled.

► Fast forward to another, longer tram ride in the early afternoon. The view was unchanged from the previous several hours when I shut my eyes for a few moments, I guess just because it seemed like a nice idea. Now I know it was preparation for a major gift, because when I opened them I was in the middle of an incredible winter wonderland. In that area of the city the snow was wet and heavy, the bare branches had been dressed in white fleece at least three inches thick, the grassy areas between apartment buildings were under an untouched blanket of white. It was so dramatic that all I could do was gasp and stare. What a gift! As I descended -- very carefully -- from the tram, I was in the middle of brown slush and puddles. And even with that I couldn't take my eyes away from the incredible beauty around me. Wish you could have shared it with me.

► How many years now have I been humming along with "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire"? As usual, Wikipedia gave me a longer answer than I needed, but it certainly added some sparkle to my internal music score. I did know it was written during WWII, 1944 to be precise, by Mel Torme, that man with a golden voice. I didn't know he discovered four lines written by Bob Well, the lyricist, sitting on the piano. Wells wasn't intending to write a song; he was trying to "stay cool by thinking cool" during a hot Arizona summer. Those four lines -- Chestnuts roasting, Jack Frost nipping, Yuletide carols, Folks dressed up like Eskimos -- became what is/was the most-performed Christmas song. And it took only 40 minutes. (Enough time left to enjoy a glass of iced tea!)

And now it isn't just words -- "roasting chestnuts" is a real experience for me. When Dasa and Thomas and I were waiting for a train in her village this past summer, she exclaimed about the dying chestnut trees which had always sheltered the little waiting area. Tree after tree was either dead or soon would be. That was, I believe, the first time I thought about chestnuts coming from an "ordinary" source, as pecans do in Oklahoma. This holiday season I've seen many little stands selling hot roasted chestnuts as I walk between trams and between classes, and it was such a nice connection between summer and winter. But there has always been a reason to keep going, or to put it differently, a reason not to stop. This past week curiosity and some spare time won out! I indicated to the young man tending the chestnuts and the fire that I would like some. Right away he reached for a bag and a long handled large spoon, opened the giant pot, and weighed out my 100 grams. And yes, they were hot! Within a few moments, however, I could begin the peeling process. Oh my goodness. They are good! Rather soft, somewhat dry and mealy, very satisfying. Since I was close to the company, I closed the bag, hugged it tight so it wouldn't cool, and took it to my student. We opened class enjoying warm chestnuts and hot green tea -- talking in English all the time. It was just the right touch on a really cold day. One of the best parts was his smile of surprise when I asked to learn about eating chestnuts!

► All week the temperatures have been hovering in the mid- to high-20s at night, low- to mid-30s during the day, usually accompanied by a noticeable and sometimes brisk breeze. I normally wait to stroll across the Charles Bridge until a more pleasant day. This trip couldn't wait -- and it was wonderful. One of my "favorite" friends here is a lovely young California woman, former teacher of children with special needs, one of those people whose quiet smile just lights up a room. Whenever she admired a pair of earrings I was wearing the answer would always be "I got them on the Charles Bridge years ago." And she would always reply, "I wish you'd take me sometime." Yesterday we made our trip -- and I certainly hope it isn't our only one. What a marvelous excursion. We were both looking for gifts, both suitably huddled in our scarves and gloves, and both in the mood to walk and talk, and stop and look, and go back to something else, then forward to something new. Even the frozen fingers and toes couldn't stop us. They did, however, make us linger in the best looking heated tourist shop after we reached the other side of the Bridge! The trip was successful in every way -- she found just the right gift for a birthday party she was attending that evening, I found something I never thought of as a gift for Thomas (I do hope he likes it -- it's not on his list any more than it was on mine!), and we really warmed up at a small cozy restaurant near the US Embassy that she remembered from a freezing day trip last year about this time!


► And I never would have predicted that my plans for this Sunday evening would include a "Service of Lessons and Carols" -- one of my longstanding favorites of this season -- at an Anglican church. So many marvelous moments have been spent watching the Service from Westminster Cathedral at midnight on Christmas Eve. Other memorable times have been enjoyed preparing for and participating in the Service myself. And now, here I am, partway around the world, a series of unexpected choices bringing me to that Service again, joined by friends from Scotland, Britain, South Africa, and the US, as well an yet unknown friends. (I always enjoy eliciting the difference between "strangers" and "foreigners" from my students.) I do hope they folks planning the service haven't decided it's time for all new carols. And as I listen and sing, I know the memories will be crowding my spirit. It's a good thing I don't need to read the words. I'll be spending the evening with so many people who have shared the Service with me in the past. And who knows how many others will join the crowd in the future.

Have you noticed how much time we spend worrying about, fretting over, and dreading difficult events and times? (The news in the US is doing much of that for us, although personal concern is certainly justified!) My wish for you in this holiday season is that you will anticipate, expect, and plan for joy and peace. Joy waiting to surprise you in each new moment of your days, and peace deep within you, knowing that the right things do happen at the right time. It is our perception and awareness which is limited. I'm learning. Fortunately the process is continuously reinforced! I hope you also are being surprised by joy.

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.

Been there (Vienna)

Done that (applied for my visa)! And now I can say "Oh yes, I spent the day in Vienna. Just a quick trip down and back." Another never-to-be-forgotten experience.

It began with a bit of a shock -- my colleague and I had purchased our tickets for the overnight train together, hoping we would be in the same coach. We asked lots of questions, received what we thought were all the right answers, and felt comfortable that at least a known part of the trip was in order. Wrong! The first time we were told, in very limited English, that we didn't have reservations, we couldn't understand, or perhaps couldn't believe what was being said. The second time we were told that, we understood -- it was the conductor speaking and he had excellent English! Turns out that, although we had a handful of expensive tickets (remember, we're crossing a border), we didn't actually have a reservation. Basically we had paid for the trip, paid for the compartment, paid for the bed, and didn't reserve any of it. I still don't understand it or how it happened and that really didn't matter. Solving the problem did matter, and we accomplished that with more Euros. Hooray -- we were in our marvelous three-person sleeping compartment.

The beds were already made up -- three high -- crisp and fresh. The tiny bathroom in the tiny compartment was a design marvel. It even had a shower! There was a bit of stopping and switching. And then it was 6 a.m. and we'd arrived at a great train station. Clean, airy, a variety of places for breakfast, and, best of all, a very helpful information center! We bought our all-day transport pass, went right out the front door, walked across a set of tram tracks, boarded the #18, and we were on our way. Could not have been more simple. One easy change, and we were only a few blocks away from the Czech Permanent Mission, arriving early enough for a neighborhood stroll.

The buildings and colors were so similar that it was almost as if we'd not left Prague. (You can see our destination -- a much better picture than mine -- by "searching" for Czech Embassy Vienna.) And the woman who assisted me in the Visa Section could not have been more helpful. Thanks to Katerina, another colleague, everything was in order, and after multiple examinations of all the papers and more Euros, we were on our way.

When we left the tram we walked straight ahead to the Ministry. I couldn't miss noticing, however, that Schonbrunn, the marvelous Hapsburg home, was just to our left. (That's another good internet search -- great history, wonderful pictures.) And Schonbrunn was Stop 2 in our day.

My impression on the long (cold, windy, rainy) walk to the main entrance was that it could be Versailles. And sure enough, it is very similar. And at the same time very different. Purchase of the grounds (more than a square mile) began in 1596, construction of the middle part of the present palace in 1696, and the first festivities (I'm curious how one would celebrate the opening of such a home) began three years later. It was Maria Theresa, however, who made it the "family homestead" we visited. It's amazing when I realize my "family homestead" was a one-room sod cabin two hundred years later!

What a wonderful place. I am grateful that, in spite of all the world turmoil, all the changes of ideology and government with multiple restitutions, there are places from our collective past which have been preserved or restored. And certainly Schonbrunn has seen many changes. Today it is not only a packed tourist site (and we weren't there on a special or sunny day, certainly not in tourist season), it is also a place where people come to the lovely park to walk the dog, sit under an umbrella of ancient trees, or just stroll around for relaxation.

As could be expected, there were choices of eating places within the grounds. I'm so glad we opted for "top" choice: inside the china-linen-turn-of-the-century-music restaurant. We also selected traditional food (another great choice). Because Kim's only request was eating Sacher torte at Hotel Sacher, we passed on the astounding desserts. During our little train trip around the grounds -- zoo, botanical garden, and Gloriette (Maria Theresa's breakfast "room" high on a hill overlooking the city) -- a furious storm broke, and we spent the remainder of the day very wet and quite cold, which, of course, slowed our explorations. If you're interested, a search for Schonbrunn zoo will bring you a great chronology with pictures of the panda cub, born last year. Both the zoo and the botanical garden are responsible for research and innovations in their respective areas.

Public transport again, this time subway, to one of the central areas. We came to the surface right in front of the Vienna Opera House -- oh for a chance to be inside! -- and only a block from Hotel Sacher, Stop 3. Altho' a relative newcomer (1876), it also is the turn-of-the-century glamor I'd hoped, all the right colors, pictures, seating, and even three tablecloths with signatures, now embroidered for preservation's sake and including Franz Joseph, of famous guests of Anna Sacher, widow of the founder. She is the moving force which made it the 5-star establishment it is today. And yes, the desserts are terrific!

So often during the day I thought of Lotte, my dear Viennese roommate. How I wished she could have been with me. And how I hope I can return. What a mixture of enchantment and reality. I'm certain that, just like Prague, you can be a quick tourist or you can linger and enjoy so many marvelous places -- and desserts!

Nearly 30 hours later I was back in my own bed, safe and satisfied. My passport is now stamped "visa applied for" with four days to spare, and I continue to be legal! So happy to have been there and done that!

Making Choices

Just amazing what a simple yes or no, one question raised or left unspoken, taking the lead or following can do to change a plan. My plan for Saturday was to take it easy, work on some preparations for classes, and generally have a low-key day. My plan for Sunday was to enjoy a couple hours at the Brevnov Monastery with a few colleagues I know and some of their circle of friends.

Let's talk about Saturday's choices first. One quick "yes" turned it all around. No taking it easy, no prep for me! Mid-afternoon found me waiting at a metro escalator, supposedly to join two others to see a documentary movie about Vaclav Havel. That changed when I agreed with Barb, the first to arrive, that it would be much better to view the movie at the beautiful old theatre in a shopping center built by Havel's grandfather. The family connection and a "real" setting made sense to me. Next came agreement to go back the way she'd come to meet two of her Aussie friends she'd seen thru' a big window in a cafe. Off we trooped, scooted chairs up to a tiny table, and had a marvelous time broadening the circle of friends, learning about teaching in other countries and other great life experiences. After some time and many words we agreed to part ways and get on with the remainder of plans for the evening. That lasted just as long as it took us to walk around opposite sides of the block and meet up again. Natural choice to have dinner together at the hospada (pub with good, usually inexpensive food) that was their plan. Since some supper somewhere along the way had been in the original plan for us also, we're on track here. Great food and more good conversation.

The next good choice was to continue the evening together as we got on with our original plan to visit the Globe bookstore. Our conversation turned to old movies as we walked over the cobblestones thru' narrow streets in a old part of town, an intriguing mixture of fascinating buildings all around us

The Globe is an incredible place. The front section is the bookstore -- "Please purchase books before sitting at the table" -- where all titles are selected individually by the owner. What an incredible selection! As we entered, Anne (another colleague) asked the "kid" behind the counter if he could answer a movie question which was stumping us. He couldn't, but a voice from the second level joined the conversation, then the person joined us. It was the owner, in for the weekend from Moscow.

Michael is a bright, young Chicagoan, obviously with a gift for making money, who currently lives in Moscow and manages two hedge funds. One of his favorite places when he lived in Prague 5-6 years ago was the Globe. When it fell on very hard times and was being closed a little over a year ago, he bought it and is still restoring it. He tries to visit every month, and our choices put us there at just the right moment. First we stayed in the front, talking books, checking out titles, all the good reasons one goes to bookstores. But then there's the back section. Towering high ceilings, walls painted a gorgeous deep red to showcase fantastic modern original art, a singer who sounded a lot like Paul Simon, an eclectic mix of styles and ages. What more could you want?

There is more. You see, the Aussie are going home via Moscow (a place where I briefly considered teaching). And Michael loved talking about the city. What it's like, where to go, what to see, how much it is misrepresented. Interesting to hear his thoughts on the government, possibilities for the future. After a while he got on with business and we continued talking about anything and everything. What a night! Back to the cobblestones, a long walk to the tram, and a quiet ride home, reliving some wonderful choices.

And that is only Saturday! A few days earlier I'd made another choice -- join colleagues from St. J. and elsewhere for a visit to the Brevnov Monastery.

Sunday followed the plan. Only I had no idea how it would expand. The day could not have been more beautiful, bright sunshine, blue sky, just a hint of spring with little buds thinking about popping out. Our guide was an intern studying for her guide certification, whatever that takes, who is a student of one on the colleagues. (This time the circle of friends expanded to 15.) The Brevnov is a Benedictine monastery, begun in 993, just up the hill from the Castle! And yes, we saw the archeological excavation under the present Basilica of the original church. Can you imagine the struggle, turmoil, pain and peace that ground has seen. Our guide took us walking and climbing -- what else! -- through the grounds, orchards, old mill, on and on with wonderful commentary. Then we entered the monastery, where a young monk became our guide. Oh my, the stories, frescoes, worn steps and corridors, history both recent and long ago, pictures of the renovations after the Communist era, photos of the two monks who returned from prison to die in "their home". Even heard from a distance an organist rehearsing on the newly restored instrument for a recording tonight. What an incredible place with an insider's view.

As you may know, Benedictine monks have to raise their own financial support. This group does so thru' its hotel and restaurant. And our reservations were for 2:30. The restaurant is rustic, charming, and serves marvelous food. I'm hoping to return next Sunday for lunch, just before the free organ concert!

Brevnov is "up the hill" from the Castle. The ride back led to a stop in the "New Town" and a coffee shop very near the Museum of Music. We (the group was now down to eight) even took time to visit another well-known Baroque church on the way. (They certainly are fancy!) When I finally returned, this had become an eight hour day! And what a great one it is.

I can hardly wait to see where the next choice will lead me.

Step by Step

. . .mile by mile. What a mixed bag of thoughts and experiences during the week, almost all accompanied by the sound of my own or someone else's footsteps.

I had a good idea when I read about and was interviewed by St. James what my work week would be. Since the company's mission/goal is to provide English language instruction to/in businesses, there are no "personal" language classes. (You know -- we're offering this class at ___ on ___. Sign up if you'd like to come.) The instruction is done at the client company's offices on a schedule which fits their work demands. That is why full time teachers are required to be available at peak hours -- 7:30-9 in the morning and 4-6 in the evening. The other requirement for full time status is to teach at least 17-20 hours a week. Because people can and do cancel, there obviously has to be some flexibility on the number! Logic says that to maintain the minimum hours, at least some mid-day work is necessary. Fortunately, I've been given several of those assignments. So, although I didn't talk about it much, I was not operating under any illusion this would be easy and comfortable. And that's before any consideration of preparation time for so many different classes each week!

I'm sure you are getting the picture here. 7:30-9 a.m. in one part of the city, then comes the routine: walk/walk, hop on, sit briefly, hop off, walk/walk (often accompanied by some degree of climbing) to arrive at another group, frequently in a very different section. Same thing, different place the next morning. And each afternoon a repeat, fortunately with different beautiful buildings, other interesting people to work and talk with and always a variety of faces to watch. To give them full credit, the Client Relations Managers (the folks who are in charge of our schedules) work very diligently to give us the time necessary to get from one place to another. There have been a couple times when they've been reduced to near begging and abject apology! And of course it is our mutual goal to keep the client happy! I have no idea how many steps I walk in a day. I do know I'm working on lengthening my stride. Logic tells me that if I cover more space in the same number of steps, I will arrive more quickly and do a favor for my body at the same time. I also know that the stairs down into the metro (subway) are in groups of 14-17, often with three sets. We're talking some serious steps in a day here!

Why am I talking about this? First, because it's such a major part of my new life/routine. Oh yes I'm tired when a day is complete. More importantly, however, it's on my mind because those steps are taking me to so many interesting thoughts.

Wednesday was a VERY long day -- began early with one of my favorite classes. Bright young people -- female corporate lawyer and male assistant marketing director at a personal products company (Unilever is a competitor and I've been aware of and used some of this company's products since my first trip here in 1990.) The day then moved through some rather normal events "down" into my least favorite group. You know this also: I dare you to teach me something! And then it was time (already 5:30) to make the trip to meet Iva for our first session. Little did I realize -- good thing -- the commute was over an hour each way. I also could not have realized what a gift it is to have time with her in the middle of each long week.

This assignment's SO different. First, it's in Iva's flat. She's invited me into her home and into her life. In many ways Iva seems to be representative of so many Czechs I see every day. Her life and mine are so similar -- school, college, memories of growing up and our favorite Christmas, college, marriage, a family with all its usual ups and downs, then work and a career change and constant sense of hangin' in there. Big difference? She's lived through some monumental changes of which I have only a third party knowledge. And she's obviously done it with grace and a lovely, somewhat shy smile. As we closed the door on the rest of the family -- eating the dinner she had prepared after work in, of course, a pressure cooker -- and settled down to begin our conversations (what a benefit to me that her primary goal is to talk!) I was so aware of two things. The first is how blessed I am to have been born when and where I was. The second is the universality of our experiences. Wife/mother/worker -- get it all done. That seems to know no boundaries, just a common thread of using what you can get to make it happen. She's changed jobs recently; better English -- and her conversation is already quite good though modest and hesitant -- will probably lead to a better job.

Time with Iva didn't reduce the number of steps or shorten the bus ride (and I do avoid a bus if at all possible -- they're so slow) but it changed the complexion of the day. And it makes it easier to face the next trip, and the one after that . . .

Iva's flat is way up on some hill miles out of "Old Prague". It's one of the "ubiquitous prefab Communist panelak housing estates ringing the city where much of the population still lives." (I told someone next day that I now knew where the "other million" of the Prague inhabitants live!) Quoting a guide book again: "local governments try to break up the grey monotony with two-tone paint jobs." Well, not at Iva's place! You're on your own if you want less monotony. And she certainly has done that within her crowded space. Lots of beautiful plants -- her Christmas cactus blooms three times a year: Christmas, Easter, and yet again. And even in the monotony and crush of buildings, after only a few of the many steps from the bus to her place I knew I felt safe and in some ways "at home."

I simply could not help reflecting on that hill and the others I could see from there. Who walked there 20 years ago, under the Russians? And 40? And 60, under the Germans? How about 100? At what point was it farms and villages, maybe only trees and forests. What an incredible country and people I'm blessed to share.

Oh yes -- another gift in the day? Walking out to see the same enormous moon that you were watching (I hope!!) Don't know if we could see the eclipse here. Do know that I missed it. And also know that if I had been with Alexander (oh, do I miss "my boys"!) we've would have had some serious conversations about it.

Bottom line for each of us - - day by day it's step by step. Tiring? Yes, sometimes. Interesting? Always, if we take the time and energy to let it become part of us.