. . . for some small part of nearly everything.
The season for reflection -- pondering the year just past could consume another year! What an amazing year (actually, fantastic lifetime) this has been. Recent conversations have brought so many memories to the surface, have shaped so many unexpected hopes and wishes, and, as usual, have highlighted so many shortcomings. Seemingly random encounters open virtual storehouses of thoughts, each of which could lead to its own dissertation or, conversely, could hit an immediate stone wall. Most of those will join a growing "To Do" list of both concrete and abstract self assignments. And of course, there will be the perpetual sense of hopefulness -- this year I'll really get organized, this year I'll really do things differently, this year I'll really make a dent in those good intentions!
The season for gratitude -- creating a list of the gifts of life, every size from petite to XXXXXL and beyond, is an endless task in and of itself. Most conversations, thoughts, and encounters seem to either focus on or somehow touch a deep well of gratitude for all the marvelous gifts I've been given: my family, my friends, countless opportunities, new horizons, all the seemingly accidental encounters and even dumb luck which have moved me through a virtual dictionary of emotions. And for each of them I am a deeply grateful.
The season for renewal -- renovating and refurbishing the various compartments of my brain is a never ending task. This season brings new emphasis and concern to the work. For some unexplored reason the holiday season always tucks this two-sided coin in my mental stocking: Joy and delight at all the wonders and a bit of wistfulness about the "roads not taken." And for every item on my mental punch list as I take occupancy of this House of 2009 (how can that be?) there will be a stronger sense of reality and urgency to get on with the job, whether interior decoration or external landscaping!
The season for regrets -- examining and bringing reality to the mistakes, lost opportunities, poor decisions, and general oooops, whether of 2008 or the accumulations of a lifetime. To paraphrase one of the British poets, distance does not lend enchantment to this view! I'm grateful for the lesson learned from an acquaintance some years past, a psychotherapist whose work with "women of a certain age" was beginning to hit the best sellers list of the time. She said that the difference between guilt and regret is that regret indicates you've learned something and now know how to act/interact differently. Guilt means you intended to hurt/harm another or yourself and may continue to do so. And though I wish to keep the regrets to a minimum in this season, I would fervently wish to eliminate the times when "I'm sorry" is caused by guilt.
The season for resolutions (and a few promises!) -- determining the most relevant changes and being constant and steadfast in bringing them about is such a global resolution. Yet I do know that I can change only myself, even as I wish I could bring positive change into and for the lives of others. Creating those ripples of new horizons for the lives I touch is a big resolution for this coming year. I will continue to make all the little promises which can help that happen.
It's a major season for me, my brain, and my heart. As we began this journey nearly a year ago now -- who'd have thought it would look and be like this? -- I had no idea where we'd go, what we'd see, who we'd meet. It's been an absolutely incredible adventure -- a magical triumvirate of people, places, and events. I must say, I can hardly wait to see what 2009 will bring, what the season's musings will bring about. I do hope you'll join me in the discoveries!
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
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.
► 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.
► 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!
►
► 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.
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 23, 2008
Much Ado About - -
more ordinary events. To top the list there is the magic of the first snow. Yes, I know. It won't be long before I'll be wishing it away, or even, perhaps, homebound because of it. For now it brings happy memories, new views in this beautiful city, and the sense of yet another new beginning. Calendars can announce the seasons, nature can give signs of coming "attractions," but the first snow is, for me, always a special moment.
Friday I walked out of the laundromat into a driving sleet storm -- not at all magical, I might add. The forecast had included some chance of snow for Saturday, but that caught me totally unaware. And soaked (even with an umbrella, my constant companion!). And very chilled by the time I reached the flat. Saturday morning brought scattered flakes which stuck, creating a patchwork of red roofs and white snow outside my window, the changing scenery actually distracting as I was working.
In the late afternoon I found my boots, wrapped up in a long scarf, grabbed my gloves, and ventured out carefully for an evening with "the bunch", fun as always. And came out after dinner and conversation to an all-white world. It was real snow. Everything was covered. And of course it invited a snowball fight! This was the good, packable stuff! You knew when you had been nailed. I learned while waiting for the tram home that Pragers do slow down when driving on snow! The cars were inching up or down the hill quite carefully. And the world was beautiful. I was in my own private snow globe, and someone had given it a good shake! A picture book ending to yet another interesting evening.
The restaurant of the evening -- U Karel IV, (Charles IV, a much admired king) is a neighborhood gathering place with really good food, nice low prices, and one convenient tram ride away for me! Gotta love that combination! Along with that, the combination of people and backgrounds and topics adds up to a great evening and a whole new set of things to ponder later every time we get together. A interesting change in the evening was the addition of a couple visitors to the conversational and national mix. One, a Venezuelan business man now living in Toronto, and another a "new" Czech friend of one of my colleagues who just may become a "regular." As usual -- a great evening. And as always, yet another chance to keep assembling the puzzle of life!
The snowballers went on to Arnaud's flat for a post-dinner gathering. He's one of the people I feel so fortunate to know and am so glad that the friendship is deepening. (And yes, it does feel good to know he enjoys being around me also, in spite of our age difference.) I was sorry to miss it, but glad to come home to a - -
Skype call from Matthew and Alexander. Because of all the i'net problems, those calls have been pretty few and far between for the past few months. Alexander is SO tall, and is it wonderful to see them together in the big chair, teasing each other, having a good time, going back and forth in our conversation. The wonders of technology! And it's free. We actually talked for nearly an hour. High point? Beyond just seeing them and being "together", that is. Reading The Velveteen Rabbit together. Matthew had found it in a sale bin, brought it home and saved it for our time together. He was right -- Granne did get chocked up at the memories! (He actually said to A. "You watch your Granne. She's going to - - -" Sometimes it's just not good to be so predictable.) And I'll be waiting my chance to go through some of the generational changes with Alexander at another time. All the 1922 references.... What a great way to keep life connections. And to remind a growing boy about the power of being loved.
Three of us had set up a much anticipated Saturday morning excursion to the Asian Art Museum with Arnaud as a guide (he was an art student in Paris for several years) which fell through at the last minute because of conflicts. I can leave it on my anticipation list, however, and know it'll be great when we're able to do it. Zbraslav is a charming little "village" that is now part of Prague. The Museum is part of a family castle taken over by some former regime, now restored to the family. My understanding is that they have just been granted the whole place back. Pity! Actually good for them, sad for the fate of the museum. And the cancellation gave me some extra work time yesterday a.m. which I promptly squandered!
Today brings another treat -- I'm quite sure this one will happen as planned. I'm having brunch with my T'giving dinner co-hostess. It's time to put the last minute plans together -- that includes how we get plates, knives/forks, and other assorted party requirements from my place to hers. The menu is long and really inviting. And I can hardly believe the time is here. It means Ocean Spray (the fresh variety, that is) better start showing up pretty soon!
I'm sure I've mentioned my terrific flatmate, Thomas. He's great. Three months now, and I'm still in the camp of the lucky few who aren't complaining about this and that and something else with their flatmate -- or just downright totally disgusted. I can't find a complaint. Isn't that terrific. I really enjoy hearing him practice his guitar -- reminiscent of times with Lotte in NYC, listening to her chamber groups rehearsing in the living room. Of course, Theresa and I wanted him at the Dinner, and happily he said yes. And he's bringing his grandmother's corn pudding, which is a staple in their T'giving meals.
If I end up baking half the turkey in my oven because neither hers nor mine will accommodate the whole one, we're going to have quite a juggling act going on here. And then a great Saturday afternoon/evening when it is all put together. I believe we have about 16 people coming -- I do so hope they all come -- and she's a person who has to plan "games." And I'm very happy to let her do it!
Last Monday was a holiday for me -- and the whole Czech Republic. It was Freedom Day, celebrating the beginning of the Velvet Revolution in 1989. Thanksgiving is NOT a Czech holiday -- hence the Saturday dinner. So I enjoyed the last one and will work through this one.
A small further note -- I have yet another new student. How blessed I am with my students, my schedule, and all the opportunities to learn. I begin with this man Tuesday. He's head of HR in the region for a global pharmaceutical. My boss says he's in his 50s, fluent in English, but wants to gain confidence in meetings with native speakers. This will be even more fun!
It is snowing again -- that's probably a good sign to wrap this up and get on with some preparation for the school week. I wish you a Happy Thanksgiving, safety on whatever journeys you and your loved ones are making, good fun, good eating, and the creation of even more good memories. And in these difficult times, I'm going to end with some words from Reinhold Niebuhr which "grabbed" me again this week.
Nothing worth doing is completed in our lifetime; therefore, we are saved by hope.
Nothing true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate contest of history; therefore we are
saved by faith.
Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone; therefore, we are saved by love.
No virtuous act is quite as virtuous from the standpoint of our friend or foe as from our own; therefore we are saved
by the final form of love, which is forgiveness."
Wishing you a special day devoted to counting once again our blessings and giving our thanks. I will be thinking of you. . .
Friday I walked out of the laundromat into a driving sleet storm -- not at all magical, I might add. The forecast had included some chance of snow for Saturday, but that caught me totally unaware. And soaked (even with an umbrella, my constant companion!). And very chilled by the time I reached the flat. Saturday morning brought scattered flakes which stuck, creating a patchwork of red roofs and white snow outside my window, the changing scenery actually distracting as I was working.
In the late afternoon I found my boots, wrapped up in a long scarf, grabbed my gloves, and ventured out carefully for an evening with "the bunch", fun as always. And came out after dinner and conversation to an all-white world. It was real snow. Everything was covered. And of course it invited a snowball fight! This was the good, packable stuff! You knew when you had been nailed. I learned while waiting for the tram home that Pragers do slow down when driving on snow! The cars were inching up or down the hill quite carefully. And the world was beautiful. I was in my own private snow globe, and someone had given it a good shake! A picture book ending to yet another interesting evening.
The restaurant of the evening -- U Karel IV, (Charles IV, a much admired king) is a neighborhood gathering place with really good food, nice low prices, and one convenient tram ride away for me! Gotta love that combination! Along with that, the combination of people and backgrounds and topics adds up to a great evening and a whole new set of things to ponder later every time we get together. A interesting change in the evening was the addition of a couple visitors to the conversational and national mix. One, a Venezuelan business man now living in Toronto, and another a "new" Czech friend of one of my colleagues who just may become a "regular." As usual -- a great evening. And as always, yet another chance to keep assembling the puzzle of life!
The snowballers went on to Arnaud's flat for a post-dinner gathering. He's one of the people I feel so fortunate to know and am so glad that the friendship is deepening. (And yes, it does feel good to know he enjoys being around me also, in spite of our age difference.) I was sorry to miss it, but glad to come home to a - -
Skype call from Matthew and Alexander. Because of all the i'net problems, those calls have been pretty few and far between for the past few months. Alexander is SO tall, and is it wonderful to see them together in the big chair, teasing each other, having a good time, going back and forth in our conversation. The wonders of technology! And it's free. We actually talked for nearly an hour. High point? Beyond just seeing them and being "together", that is. Reading The Velveteen Rabbit together. Matthew had found it in a sale bin, brought it home and saved it for our time together. He was right -- Granne did get chocked up at the memories! (He actually said to A. "You watch your Granne. She's going to - - -" Sometimes it's just not good to be so predictable.) And I'll be waiting my chance to go through some of the generational changes with Alexander at another time. All the 1922 references.... What a great way to keep life connections. And to remind a growing boy about the power of being loved.
Three of us had set up a much anticipated Saturday morning excursion to the Asian Art Museum with Arnaud as a guide (he was an art student in Paris for several years) which fell through at the last minute because of conflicts. I can leave it on my anticipation list, however, and know it'll be great when we're able to do it. Zbraslav is a charming little "village" that is now part of Prague. The Museum is part of a family castle taken over by some former regime, now restored to the family. My understanding is that they have just been granted the whole place back. Pity! Actually good for them, sad for the fate of the museum. And the cancellation gave me some extra work time yesterday a.m. which I promptly squandered!
Today brings another treat -- I'm quite sure this one will happen as planned. I'm having brunch with my T'giving dinner co-hostess. It's time to put the last minute plans together -- that includes how we get plates, knives/forks, and other assorted party requirements from my place to hers. The menu is long and really inviting. And I can hardly believe the time is here. It means Ocean Spray (the fresh variety, that is) better start showing up pretty soon!
I'm sure I've mentioned my terrific flatmate, Thomas. He's great. Three months now, and I'm still in the camp of the lucky few who aren't complaining about this and that and something else with their flatmate -- or just downright totally disgusted. I can't find a complaint. Isn't that terrific. I really enjoy hearing him practice his guitar -- reminiscent of times with Lotte in NYC, listening to her chamber groups rehearsing in the living room. Of course, Theresa and I wanted him at the Dinner, and happily he said yes. And he's bringing his grandmother's corn pudding, which is a staple in their T'giving meals.
If I end up baking half the turkey in my oven because neither hers nor mine will accommodate the whole one, we're going to have quite a juggling act going on here. And then a great Saturday afternoon/evening when it is all put together. I believe we have about 16 people coming -- I do so hope they all come -- and she's a person who has to plan "games." And I'm very happy to let her do it!
Last Monday was a holiday for me -- and the whole Czech Republic. It was Freedom Day, celebrating the beginning of the Velvet Revolution in 1989. Thanksgiving is NOT a Czech holiday -- hence the Saturday dinner. So I enjoyed the last one and will work through this one.
A small further note -- I have yet another new student. How blessed I am with my students, my schedule, and all the opportunities to learn. I begin with this man Tuesday. He's head of HR in the region for a global pharmaceutical. My boss says he's in his 50s, fluent in English, but wants to gain confidence in meetings with native speakers. This will be even more fun!
It is snowing again -- that's probably a good sign to wrap this up and get on with some preparation for the school week. I wish you a Happy Thanksgiving, safety on whatever journeys you and your loved ones are making, good fun, good eating, and the creation of even more good memories. And in these difficult times, I'm going to end with some words from Reinhold Niebuhr which "grabbed" me again this week.
Nothing worth doing is completed in our lifetime; therefore, we are saved by hope.
Nothing true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate contest of history; therefore we are
saved by faith.
Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone; therefore, we are saved by love.
No virtuous act is quite as virtuous from the standpoint of our friend or foe as from our own; therefore we are saved
by the final form of love, which is forgiveness."
Wishing you a special day devoted to counting once again our blessings and giving our thanks. I will be thinking of you. . .
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
Monday, November 10, 2008
A Week in the Life. . .
Regardless of the point of view, this has been some week.
At the moment, the approach of winter is very real. To paraphrase an old song -- in the dark, dark, dark of the morning. As I think about it now, I realize I arrived when it was deeper winter. But after the wonderful spring/summer light, both morning and evening, this is indeed a shock to my system! In addition, when I arrived I didn't have to be up and out quite so early. "Early" is also a shock. My system adjusts to it but complains a lot! And I know it is only going to be colder, darker, and more difficult to get around.
But oh yes -- I'm getting around in Prague. There is no lessening of my joy and contentment just being here. If anything, it is increasing. I love almost every minute of it. I'm even grateful to be sharing in the annoyances of crowded trams or long waits. Once again there are views I'd been missing for awhile. The leaves are down, some removed, some not. And the branches are open to the sky, and the saints, heroes, and yes, probably family members looking down from the niches and perches on buildings.
Continuing with the normal and usual, teaching life goes on, very happily. I have a very full schedule, quietly congratulating myself that in September I taught the most hours of any of the 127 teachers, and in October second most. Martin, my Director of Studies (boss), is one of the most even, genuinely happy men I've ever met. I admire and respect him in so many ways. And he gave me a really nice chuckle when he told me that. My reply was that now that I knew there was a race, I'd give more effort to winning. Seriously, it did feel really good to remember my misgivings and hesitations as I arrived and realize what a long way I've come. And it never even occurred to me that was the extent of my schedule. And how nice that he thanked me for the work!
It seems I'm somewhere beyond the tourist stage and not yet where I want to be with being settled in. I know the language is a big factor in that. This week was my second Czech class, and I must say the teacher is wonderful. Because of the difficulty of fitting into all our schedules, the class is held one Saturday a month for four hours. Oh my, that's a long time! This week there was some change in the attendance -- to be expected -- but I imagine we'll settle down at around 9 people, big range of ages (representative of the teaching staff here, thank goodness) and backgrounds. And yes, Czech is difficult. I'm grateful for Barbora's teaching skills as I learn Czech and as I learn more about teaching by watching her. Bought the books (a couple of us are sharing the cost and the books) and will become serious about homework.
My days are satisfyingly long. Today I teach eight hours, with my favorite beginning to a day. After two trams, I walk along the Vlatava River, looking at the Castle, the Contemporary Art Museum with its bright yellow plastic penguins parading along the shore, the Charles Bridge, the Hunger Wall, and the spires of "New Town" across the River and the gem of a little park with its fountains and monument to the victims of the plague beside me. The roses are gone now, but the care of the park, which is always beautifully manicured, continues. Love the little red "no" circle which allows dogs on the grass and not feet!
And best of all, this morning walk leads to one of my favorite classes -- bright young professional women who are advanced in their English skills. What a way to start a week.
I have one hour -- a cumbersome amount of time -- to do the tram/metro thing again, eat my sandwich on the "walk", and get myself in order for six straight hours at a financial institution. Two classes are one individual each and three are groups of four. It's been interesting to talk with them -- and watch attendance drop because of work pressures -- during this economic crisis. I'm very grateful for the years in banking and business in general as we walk together through the cause and effect conversations. And I'm especially grateful for the New York Times editorials along with a couple other resources.
The rest of the week is a similar story -- transportation, walking, classes, interesting people, some who do homework, some who don't, some who are struggling (like me) and some who are quite at home with a second (or third or fourth) language. Thursday is another very long and full day, with the others all starting early, and all but one ending around six.
Friday night was one of our informal get togethers. This was at a neighborhood pub -- the neighborhood of one of my friends/colleagues, a great young man from France. He's been talking about it as long as I've known him, and now I've been there. He did not overrate it -- it is terrific! I'd passed it weekly on my way to a class, always thinking that it looked interesting. Now I know I was right.
And - - - to the election. Hooray, Hooray, Hooray! ! ! ! ! Arnaud led in raising a glass to "your" new president. The mood at the table, regardless of nationality, was jubilant! and vocal! and thoughtful!
I awakened Wednesday a.m. to my clock radio, set for the BBC, broadcasting live McCain's concession speech. Yes, against all my better judgment, I'd watched some of the results of the proceedings on my computer. Thank goodness I had internet at the time! The speech gave me the answer. And I must say -- I left for class with my head held a little higher!
I've been following the editorials and Op-Ed columnists extra faithfully the past couple weeks. If you haven't read some of the comments (and are interested) you can access the NYT free online. (I'm glad I had it set up to come in daily because a student requested it. I probably wouldn't have thought about doing it for myself.) It has been so good to learn from others so much more knowledgeable than I, and even more affirming, to hear my thoughts and suspicions echoed and re-echoed.
Conclusion on that topic: I'm so grateful for the change and so fearful that some of the support may erode simply because there is so much to be done and it will take so long to make a difference. In many ways the period after the Velvet Revolution was reflected in my mind. Nearly everyone thought everything would change immediately. What challenges he's facing. And even in the middle of the euphoria what ridiculous questions are being raised. But I'm grateful we're at this point! And saddened at some of the lack of progress we reflect as a nation -- IMHO (in my humble opinion).
It is beginning to show signs of morning outside the window, a signal I'm behind in my schedule. As usual, I'm not quite as ready for today (and the remainder -- there is no rest -- of the week) as I'd like to be. But there's always the evening to catch up -- and then another weekend to pick up, sort through, and make some sense out of the papers I've stacked on the coffee table!
I hope your week is equally satisfying, joyful, and most of all, hopeful.
At the moment, the approach of winter is very real. To paraphrase an old song -- in the dark, dark, dark of the morning. As I think about it now, I realize I arrived when it was deeper winter. But after the wonderful spring/summer light, both morning and evening, this is indeed a shock to my system! In addition, when I arrived I didn't have to be up and out quite so early. "Early" is also a shock. My system adjusts to it but complains a lot! And I know it is only going to be colder, darker, and more difficult to get around.
But oh yes -- I'm getting around in Prague. There is no lessening of my joy and contentment just being here. If anything, it is increasing. I love almost every minute of it. I'm even grateful to be sharing in the annoyances of crowded trams or long waits. Once again there are views I'd been missing for awhile. The leaves are down, some removed, some not. And the branches are open to the sky, and the saints, heroes, and yes, probably family members looking down from the niches and perches on buildings.
Continuing with the normal and usual, teaching life goes on, very happily. I have a very full schedule, quietly congratulating myself that in September I taught the most hours of any of the 127 teachers, and in October second most. Martin, my Director of Studies (boss), is one of the most even, genuinely happy men I've ever met. I admire and respect him in so many ways. And he gave me a really nice chuckle when he told me that. My reply was that now that I knew there was a race, I'd give more effort to winning. Seriously, it did feel really good to remember my misgivings and hesitations as I arrived and realize what a long way I've come. And it never even occurred to me that was the extent of my schedule. And how nice that he thanked me for the work!
It seems I'm somewhere beyond the tourist stage and not yet where I want to be with being settled in. I know the language is a big factor in that. This week was my second Czech class, and I must say the teacher is wonderful. Because of the difficulty of fitting into all our schedules, the class is held one Saturday a month for four hours. Oh my, that's a long time! This week there was some change in the attendance -- to be expected -- but I imagine we'll settle down at around 9 people, big range of ages (representative of the teaching staff here, thank goodness) and backgrounds. And yes, Czech is difficult. I'm grateful for Barbora's teaching skills as I learn Czech and as I learn more about teaching by watching her. Bought the books (a couple of us are sharing the cost and the books) and will become serious about homework.
My days are satisfyingly long. Today I teach eight hours, with my favorite beginning to a day. After two trams, I walk along the Vlatava River, looking at the Castle, the Contemporary Art Museum with its bright yellow plastic penguins parading along the shore, the Charles Bridge, the Hunger Wall, and the spires of "New Town" across the River and the gem of a little park with its fountains and monument to the victims of the plague beside me. The roses are gone now, but the care of the park, which is always beautifully manicured, continues. Love the little red "no" circle which allows dogs on the grass and not feet!
And best of all, this morning walk leads to one of my favorite classes -- bright young professional women who are advanced in their English skills. What a way to start a week.
I have one hour -- a cumbersome amount of time -- to do the tram/metro thing again, eat my sandwich on the "walk", and get myself in order for six straight hours at a financial institution. Two classes are one individual each and three are groups of four. It's been interesting to talk with them -- and watch attendance drop because of work pressures -- during this economic crisis. I'm very grateful for the years in banking and business in general as we walk together through the cause and effect conversations. And I'm especially grateful for the New York Times editorials along with a couple other resources.
The rest of the week is a similar story -- transportation, walking, classes, interesting people, some who do homework, some who don't, some who are struggling (like me) and some who are quite at home with a second (or third or fourth) language. Thursday is another very long and full day, with the others all starting early, and all but one ending around six.
Friday night was one of our informal get togethers. This was at a neighborhood pub -- the neighborhood of one of my friends/colleagues, a great young man from France. He's been talking about it as long as I've known him, and now I've been there. He did not overrate it -- it is terrific! I'd passed it weekly on my way to a class, always thinking that it looked interesting. Now I know I was right.
And - - - to the election. Hooray, Hooray, Hooray! ! ! ! ! Arnaud led in raising a glass to "your" new president. The mood at the table, regardless of nationality, was jubilant! and vocal! and thoughtful!
I awakened Wednesday a.m. to my clock radio, set for the BBC, broadcasting live McCain's concession speech. Yes, against all my better judgment, I'd watched some of the results of the proceedings on my computer. Thank goodness I had internet at the time! The speech gave me the answer. And I must say -- I left for class with my head held a little higher!
I've been following the editorials and Op-Ed columnists extra faithfully the past couple weeks. If you haven't read some of the comments (and are interested) you can access the NYT free online. (I'm glad I had it set up to come in daily because a student requested it. I probably wouldn't have thought about doing it for myself.) It has been so good to learn from others so much more knowledgeable than I, and even more affirming, to hear my thoughts and suspicions echoed and re-echoed.
Conclusion on that topic: I'm so grateful for the change and so fearful that some of the support may erode simply because there is so much to be done and it will take so long to make a difference. In many ways the period after the Velvet Revolution was reflected in my mind. Nearly everyone thought everything would change immediately. What challenges he's facing. And even in the middle of the euphoria what ridiculous questions are being raised. But I'm grateful we're at this point! And saddened at some of the lack of progress we reflect as a nation -- IMHO (in my humble opinion).
It is beginning to show signs of morning outside the window, a signal I'm behind in my schedule. As usual, I'm not quite as ready for today (and the remainder -- there is no rest -- of the week) as I'd like to be. But there's always the evening to catch up -- and then another weekend to pick up, sort through, and make some sense out of the papers I've stacked on the coffee table!
I hope your week is equally satisfying, joyful, and most of all, hopeful.
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