Sumava- Day 1

On Saturday we left for Sumava, a region in the southwest of the Czech Republic. Almost the entire area is a national park. It is a very popular destination for Czechs, who, in general, are an outdoorsy people, fond of biking and hiking. People go and stay in penzions, basic hotels where you get breakfast and dinner and a bed.

Here is the one we stayed in, the Penzion Baburek.

And here is my room...

And here is the hallway. Spartan but comfortable.

We did not spend a lot of time at the penzion. We were the first ones at breakfast--tricky when there is a baby who usually eats much earlier than the 8am seating!--and then we were off on adventures. The first day we drove a few minutes to a section of the national park with a peat bog. A walkway juts out over the bog. Reminded me of being at the beach and walking to the ocean.

Unfortunately this lovely, stroller-friendly track did not go very far. We walked for about three minutes until it ended in this overlook. The scenery was stunning.

So then it was a trek along a road, dodging bicyclists and cars with bicycles strapped on top--people love to bike here! And everyone has a nifty biking outfit with the special shorts and the shirts with logos. Even the children. I snapped a picture of this monument alongside the road. I saw several of these throughout Sumava.

Here is another one. This one has Mary and Jesus inside a cage. Not really, but the metal bars across the painting make it look like they are imprisoned...

One would assume that cars in a place with so many bikers would be really friendly about sharing the road. Although I did not see anyone get smushed, cars did enjoy zooming up behind bikers (or a woman pushing a stroller and holding a four-year-old's hand*) and then careening around them at the last moment. Not the wide, graceful swings I am used to in America. Maybe it is because Americans are so litigious? You don't want to get near a biker or a runner because they might sue you? I don't know. Anyway, the game of chicken played between cars, oncoming cars, bikers, children, and strollers made me nervous. But I am a worrier.

After too long of a "stroll" along the road we stopped at one of the many, many roadside penzions. Almost every penzion has a cafe and a restaurant, so there is always somewhere to stop when the baby needs food or Cameron needs a coffee.

After a quick pause for refreshments, we continued our walk (not on the shoulder-less road, thank goodness). Instead we meandered down a paved and then gravel track. Bicyclists and other walkers, many with small children and strollers, passed by. Here is a nice pile of cut logs that I thought my father would enjoy seeing. Almost every house has a huge pile of wood stacked under a shelter or piled against the walls.

The same house with this monster wood pile had a charming, grass-roofed shed. Reminded me of Little House on the Prairie when they lived in the underground house. Little House on Plum Creek? Could be making that title up...

Across the way were two larger penzions and trails criss-crossing the valley.

Besides biking and hiking, Czechs also enjoy gathering mushrooms. It is a "national obsession." Or so the other expats were saying at yoga last week. As a person who is not very fond of mushrooms, probably the result of hastily administered ipecac due to the possible ingestion of a wild mushroom at the age of 1 or 2, I do not really get this hobby. Here is an informative display about various types of mushrooms that was posted next to the trail. You can see me in the middle of the reflection if you look closely enough.

Not far from the mushroom sign was this private family chapel. I peered inside the windows and saw candles and flowers and photographs of people. It was very sweet and unexpected. There was also a stone trough constantly filled from a spring and a tin tea cup hanging on a branch. Adorable.

We wandered back down the hill past these awesome cow things. Very shaggy and big with pointy horns. Strangely, I was more interested in them than the boys were. I kept trying to get their attention and point out the funny cows, but they just kept walking. Maybe these are normal, average Czech cows and they are only cool to the silly American girl.

We made our way to the Hotel Rankl, a larger penzion with a great playground. The playground is so nice and the outdoor seating so comfortable that the place was packed with parents and children. Pretty nice setup...the kids can play on the playground for hours, so the parents can sit at the tables and order food and then drinks and then more drinks...smart hotel. Here are Honzik and Lukas enjoying the see-saw. Not a bad backdrop, either!

After several hours, (actually I don't know how long we were there. time sort of blurred and then stopped) we went down another fork in the trail. (First we almost went back to our penzion because Honzik was stung by something and he thought he was going to die. But after a while he forgot about his mortal wound.) Naturally we had to stop at this creek so the boys could carefully remove their socks and shoes and wade around. Children and water...who knew? Beautiful spot, though. Reminds me of Wyoming.

Speaking of me, here I am. I didn't steal these pictures from the internet.

We returned to the penzion, let the baby crawl around for a while, and then it was bath time and bed time. For me.


*Quick bragging moment--Lukas, 4, has been reluctant to hold my hand when we walk. He will hold it if he gets scared or forgets who I am or something, but he complains when his mom makes him do it. So, in a moment of brilliance, I refused to let him hold my hand. I put my hands in my pockets and twisted around so he couldn't grab them. Then I let him pull a hand out of a pocket, but made "yuck!" noises when he tried to hold it. Then I yanked my hand out of his little grasp and pretended to wipe it on my pants. He thought this was hilarious. And now he loves to hold my hand. Reverse psychology, hurray.

Movie of the Week III

How To Steal a Million (1966)

This is about as far as I venture from the 1930s, '40s, and '50s, which should show you how much I love this movie. Although I hate the movie poster--so mod and 1960s and not at all like the film it is supposed to be reflecting.

This movie was released in 1966, but it has the feel of a 1930s comedy. Clever, brilliant repartee between the leads (the unbelievably suave-yet-goofy Peter O'Toole and eternally elegant and very funny Audrey Hepburn), lovely sets and costumes (shot in Paris and designed by Givenchy, who did all of Hepburn's clothes after Sabrina (1954)), and a light, sort of mocking tone that makes it lots of fun to watch.

Audrey Hepburn is Nicole Bonnet, a very wealthy Parisian woman whose family has a famous art collection. Unbeknownst to the world, though, Nicole's father is an art forger so the Bonnet collection is peppered with Monsieur Bonnet's "Van Gogh's" and "Monet's." Nicole's father sticks to painting, but her grandfather was a sculptor...his "Cellini" Venus has just gone on display at a museum as the centerpiece of its "Masterpieces from French Collections" exhibition.

Enter Peter O'Toole as Simon Dermott. He is a dashing yet charmingly wimpy security expert and art-forger-catcher. He sneaks into the Bonnet mansion to test one of their paintings and Nicole catches him. She assumes he is a burglar, and he lets that assumption stand. (The first clear shot of O'Toole is a beauty--Nicole switches the lights on and he tries to hide behind the framed canvas. His amazingly blue eyes just pop next to the gold frame. Swoon.) Nicole is dialing the police when she sees which painting Simon was stealing...her father's newly finished "Van Gogh." Afraid of the publicity, she lets him go. And he convinces her to drive him home....in his car...which he tells her is stolen. She is shocked! "I can't drive a stolen car!" she says. He replies, "Same principle. Four gears forward and one reverse."

It seems that this encounter is the end of their relationship, until the museum calls to say that they will be performing a technical examination of the "Cellini" Venus. This would, of course, expose the statue as a forgery and raise questions about the entire Bonnet collection. Something must be done! So Nicole arranges a meeting with the only burglar she knows, (who isn't really a burglar), puts on a fantastic black lace gown with matching eye mask and diamond eyeshadow, and tries to convince Simon to steal the statue. (I was completely fascinated by her diamondy eyelids when I was younger. It really looks like her eyes are covered in tiny diamonds. I tried to re-create the effect when Abigail and I performed "Diamonds are Girl's Best Friend at the middle school talent show, but I ended up getting silver eyeshadow glitter in my eye and it really hurt.)

Then the fun begins.

One of my favorite things about this movie is the interactions between Simon and Nicole. Their dialogue is quick and sarcastic and clever. Some particular favorites include:

Simon: "Why must it be this particular work of art?"

Nicole: "You don't think I would steal something that didn't belong to me, do you?

Simon: "Excuse me, I spoke without thinking."

After Simon tells her he won't help her steal the statue (she has shot down his various suggestions like waiting until it is back in the Bonnet home for a nice, clean inside job, or perhaps starting at one of the smaller galleries, and "gaining confidence as we go" work their way up to the museum), she gets a little teary.

Simon: "Oh, don't you dare cry!"

Nicole: I'm not! I've got something in my eye!"

Simon: "There's nothing wrong with your eye. You're crying to try and soften me up."

Nicole: "It's not true!"

Simon: "Well, it won't work! I'm too tough!"

There is also a nice inside joke about Nicole's/Audrey's clothes. Simon asks her to try on the "scrubwoman" outfit they bought and she asks him why. He says, "Well, for one thing, it will give Givenchy the night off!" It was well known that Givenchy was Hepburn's exclusive designer, and he outdid himself on this film. Her clothes are slightly mod, as in this ridiculous but awesome driving hat and glasses that she wears for her first appearance in the film:

But the clothes are also elegant and super-chic and beautiful. Gorgeous, simple suits and dresses. All complemented by Hepburn's perfectly arranged short hair and equally perfectly black-lined eyes.

This romantic-comedy-heist is sort of a precursor to the Ocean 11 movies. Not the original with the Rat Pack but the Brad Pitt/George Clooney ones. Heist movies that are quirky-character focused and have a sense of humor about the whole thing. Without the violence and special effects, souped up mini-Coopers (though I do love those), computer hacking, tunneling through buildings, and various complicated guns and gadgets of other films in the genre. Simon and Nicole plan their heist in an afternoon and head to the museum armed with a floppy hat, chalk, a magnet, a band-aid, a bucket, a boomerang and a length of wire hidden inside Simon's tie. And instead of scooting around the city in a high speed chase, about a third of the movie takes place in a closet, but the suspense (lighthearted though it is) and the fun stays strong. It is a simple, elegant, funny, clever operation and no one dies. All of this makes it very refreshing to watch.

So, if you are in the mood of a romantic almost screwball comedy, but would like a little excitement--perhaps some art or fantastic clothes, too? And you can't go wrong with Peter O'Toole and Audrey Hepburn! Try How to Steal a Million.

Plus, this movie helped me remember the changing names of St. Petersburg for my tenth grade history exam. Simon tells Nicole that he has worked as a museum security consultant for top museums in "London, Paris, New York, even Leningrad..." So since I knew when this movie was made I knew that at least in 1966 St. Petersburg was called Leningrad. So there, parents. I wasn't just wasting brain cells on all those movies.

Three Big

Happy Birthday, Abigail!

On Monday my buddy Jaclyn and one of her friends visited Prague. She went to Boston College and studied in Venice with me during fall of our junior year. We had a tasty lunch at a vegetarian restaurant that Julie took me to a few weeks ago. Although I do not want to complain and I am trying to "assimilate," I do welcome a change from the meat and starch meals that are my usual. The restaurant is right off of Old Town Square, one of, if not the most, touristy areas, but it is very inexpensive and delicious and has a great atmosphere. Then we caught a New Europe tour. My cousin Jenner recommended I try New Europe. He and his friends went on their Prague tour when they visited, and they just raved about it and their tour guide. The tours are free and you tip at the end if you liked it. The guides are young and their audience is young, too. It was a group of students from all over the world: I heard Spanish, French, and German, along with Australian accents and various American twangs. There were some guys from Scotland wearing funny plaid fedoras that the tour guide mocked incessantly. Beyond their comedic value, the Scottish boys' toppers were helpful in locating the tour group in Prague's busy streets: Stop to take a picture...turn around...where's the tour? Oh, there is the garish plaid! We are saved.

As luck would have it, Jaclyn and her friend and I were assigned to the same tour guide that Jenner had! He is from "a small village north of Mexico called Los Angeles" but has lived in and around Prague for eight years. He was extremely entertaining and knowledgeable. At this point, almost two months in, I have seen most of the historic city center, but I have not taken an official tour. So I knew some of what the guide was saying but he filled in the gaps and connected some of my aimless and confused wandering. I had to leave before the tour ended to catch a bus back to Nove Straseci, but I think I will finish the tour another day.

Yesterday, the grandfather brought me a pillow with a picture of a golden retriever on it! I had told Eva about my much missed doggies at home, and she must have told her dad. Amazing. The dog on the pillow looks like Parry! It is sitting on my bed and I smile when I see it.

Having to watch my language (in more ways than one) with the boys has made me realize how often I say certain things and how nonsensical English can be. For instance, the word "too." Sure sounds like "two." And I sure use it a lot. Too much, too tall, too big, too loud...etc. As the boys understand more and more English they have started to look a little puzzled at these expressions. Yesterday, I said "Too big!" about a huge toy truck that the boys were trying to put on a small shelf. Honzik looked at me and said "Three big!"

That same afternoon, when the grandfather gave me the Parry pillow, I thanked him profusely and said to Eva, happily, "I have gotten too much stuff today!" (The grandfather had already brought me a popsicle and a small bagpack.) Honzik immediately looked upset. He started to cry a little and climbed on his mom's lap. I heard my name as they chatted in Czech. Turns out, he heard "too" but thought "two" and then thought that I meant I had gotten two pillows! He was upset because he had only gotten one pillow from his grandfather and didn't know why I had two! I do not have the Czech skills to establish the differences between "too" and "two" but hopefully they will get worked out in time.

This is a video of the village square and the city center. There is a statue of a man and a girl on the left side. She is either pinning a medal on his chest or cutting his heart out. I have not examined it closely.

The big building that the clip ends on is the high school.

This video was taken from the opposite direction. So you can get a total view of the square and the bustling center of town.

Now that you have some idea of the size of the village, you will understand my surprise at counting no less than five garden/flower shops. These people love their plants! I have never seen such gorgeous window boxes. Front yards are tidy and lovingly kept. Flowers, like those fantastic hydrangeas I took a picture of a few weeks ago, are the norm, not the exception. And there are exotic, blooming orchids in almost every window. Cherry trees, peach trees, currants, strawberries...everywhere. Just beautiful.

I have been trying to become a "regular" at the cukrana in the village. I get a cappuccino and sit there with a book or my hot pink moleskin (thanks, Virginia!).

I get some strange looks still but I have gotten used to it. I would like it to be my Czech Parker and Otis. (If you are ever in Durham, do stop by!) Parker and Otis is about 1 block and a half from my old apartment, and it was my favorite place to browse (wonderful unique foods and gifts) or eat or do schoolwork or all of the above. I loved to walk there in the mornings before class and get coffee and a bagel. It was my special twice weekly ritual. Sometimes three times if I went for Saturday brunch, but who is counting? Oh, their coffee! I got my mom hooked, too! Now that I don't live at the apartment anymore, she will have to come up with some excuses to swing by Parker and Otis...

(Palacinkarna next door is the pancake shop. But their pancakes are more like crepes, I think.)

So that was my commercial for Parker and Otis. I really miss it. The original point of this tangent, though, was that I am making an effort to hang out in the village. If you can call walking five minutes and relaxing with coffee or a Czech pastry an "effort."

Here is a too quick (sorry) pan of the main drag. The post office, then the palacinkarna, then the cukrana, then a haircutters then a drugstore then pharmacy...

Here is a nicely decayed building with a beautiful door.

But what really got my attention were the creepily lifelike female heads above the door and windows.

Creepy, right? Reminds me of heads on pikes, not vaguely Greek architectural ornamentations.

This morning I did one of Danya's yoga classes. (she is a Duke student who taught my favorite yoga classes at school. She let me record some classes so now I can bring Wilson Gym and Danya and Duke with me wherever I go!) It can be tricky to find space in my third floor apartment for sweeping hands-to-the-sky yoga gestures since it is an attic (though beautifully finished) with dramatically slanted ceilings, but if I turn my mat just so in the doorway I have an unobstructed vertical reach. I am not that tall, after all.

During my free time I have been researching graduate schools. Wow overwhelming. I had forgotten how awful applications can be.

I have also returned to knitting. I didn't bring any needles or yarn here, but there is a knitting shop in the village so I thought it would be nice to start again. I went to the yarn shop and walked in, expecting to see knitting needles against one wall and cubbies or shelves of yarn that I could browse and touch. Yarn shopping is quite tactile. But what I found was an L-shaped counter running the length of the tiny shop. Behind the counter was a fairly sour looking woman, and behind the woman were shelves of yarn. You have to ask the woman to get you the needles and the yarn and the patterns and everything. No relaxed browsing here. I mumbled "dobry den" (hello) and then "ummm... I'll be back...I mean, dekuji (thank you)...umm...nashledanou (good-bye)" as I blushed and retreated out of the shop. Later, Eva took me back and through her I was able to get some yarn and needles. She said that the shop makes her feel like she is in the 1950s since it is so old fashioned. And speaking of the 1950s...

Caution! Man From The '50s Crossing

Week in Review

This week I...

...picked four giant bowls of currants and helped Eva make jam. She has this awesome machine that you feed handfuls of currants--still attached to the stalks!--and the fruit comes out one chute nicely mashed. Another chute spits out the stalks and leaves and other matter that you don't want in your jam. The next night I helped her make apricot jam. Not quite as cool since you just de-pit the apricots and put them in the blender. But still delicious!

...explored the town and the surrounding areas through walks and runs. Here is an image of the mine that employs most of the town.

You can see the mine in the background of this one, too. In the foreground are "garden houses." They are like little play houses with gardens. People who live in apartments or who don't have big yards or who just want a garden house use them as afternoon or weekend getaways. During the communist era, they were very important because fresh vegetables were difficult to obtain. So people grew their own. Naturally, that would be difficult if you lived in an apartment or an urban area. So they had garden houses. I think it is a nice idea. They are pretty small, one or two rooms at most. Along this trail there were rows and rows of them.

...saw the blue plants again, and this time they were flowering! They line the roads and seem to be very attractive to bees and wasps.

...spent a hot and sunny afternoon outside in the yard with the baby and the four-year-old. We sat on a blanket, just hanging out. The baby had no diaper on, just his unbuttoned body suit. (Do you think it is crueller to let him experience a diaper-free world and then bind him up again in his Pampers prison, or just keep him diapered except at bath time? I think it must be fairly awful to always be in diapers, but if he doesn't know anything else maybe it isn't so bad.) Anyway, I was helping the baby stand (he is crawling now and loves to stand up!) when he clenched his little face. When his chubby cheeks started to turn red the alarm bells went off in my mind. "He's pooping! He's pooping!" my brain shouted. I immediately lifted him off of the blanket and into the grass. He stood, holding my hands in his tiny, strong grip, furrowing his red brow in concentration. Plop Plop Thud. Yes, like a cow. Right into the grass. Fresh baby pies.

I remained calm and controlled, since I didn't want to scream and drop the baby and run in front of the four-year-old. He didn't notice what was happening at first, but then saw it, looked at me in alarm, grinned and started to giggle. "Could you please get me the paper towels that are on the table?" I asked him. Or, more accurately, "Lukas, paper towels! Prosim!" (that means please.) Fortunately, and for some inexplicable reason, Lukas thinks "paper towel" is a hilarious term. So we often say it, and he has learned it. He fetched the roll for me, and I cleaned off the baby. Then I had to turn my attention to Lukas, who was standing by the poop, alternately giggling and gagging. If he threw up...! So I grabbed the baby and the blanket and Lukas and we moved several feet away. Things calmed down considerably and I was able to properly clean and diaper the baby and remove the poop. I shall think twice before un-diapering him again.

...played dress up. Here is the baby in my Duke hat. Darn cute! I thought this would be a nice addition to his application for the Class of 2033. We have spent a lot of time together recently and we have begun to bond. Now, he doesn't think of me as a big alien who has come to take him from his parents, and I don't think of him as a little alien who has come to destroy me.

...watched the baby learn to crawl and get two new teeth! Can you imagine? Learning a new method of locomotion and increasing your number of teeth by 1/3?

...was interested to see an article in English in a Czech news magazine. Sort of their Newsweek or Time, I think. Towards the back of the magazine there was one page in English about the British railway system. Some words were in bold, and on the right side of the page those words were defined in Czech under the heading "Vocabulary." Then there were four reading comprehension questions, a true or false section, and "word partnerships," ("shoulder...the burden"). Cool, huh? Can you imagine having Spanish or French or Czech or Chinese articles in Time?

...chuckled inside to see the four-year-old spend several hours running around in the yard completely naked and wonderfully oblivious that there is anything unusual about that. Ahh childhood. It was especially amusing when he pulled up a chair, sat down at the table outside, and began to eat his dinner next to his fully clothed brother.

...received pictures from Julie from our excursion to Vysehrad. Here is the sculpture of the hands I mentioned in the Vysehrad post.

And here is one of me reflected in mirrored pyramids in the underground chamber. The left one, in a khaki jacket. Cool picture! Thanks, Julie!...bought a pair of bright purple imitation Crocs. They are my outside slip-on shoes. I was tired of tying and untying and tying my shoes all the time. It was bright purple or pale pink...but I feel like Barney the dinosaur.

Well, that was my week. Hope yours was excellent.

Movie of the Week II

This week is a double feature:

The Philadelphia Story (1941) and its musical remake

High Society (1956)

Two different people mentioned High Society to me in the last week--fate! But I couldn't just talk about High Society...had to bring in The Philadelphia Story, too.

So...some background. Philip Barry wrote the play "The Philadelphia Story" with Katherine Hepburn in mind. At the time, she was labelled "box office poison" because her last few films had flopped--including Bringing Up Baby (1938) which might be my very favorite. (Isn't it odd to think of the uber-legendary Katherine Hepburn being an unpopular actress?) Since her film career wasn't going so well, she went back to the stage and starred in the play. She knew she might not get to star in the film version because of her recent movie misfortunes, so to make sure she got the part she bought the film rights to the play and exercised a nice amount of control over the production. Originally, Hepburn wanted Clark Gable to play her ex-husband, and Spencer Tracy to play the reporter, but both were unavailable. (Cary Grant got the husband role and James Stewart the reporter). This film erased Hepburn's reputation as box office poison--it was a popular and critical success. James Stewart won a Best Actor Oscar, and George Cukor was nominated for Best Director, Hepburn for Best Actress, Ruth Hussey for Best Supporting Actress, and the film for Best Picture.

Now for the basic plot. Tracy Lord (Katherine Hepburn then Grace Kelly) is a socialite who is getting married for the second time. She does not get along at all with her first husband (Cary Grant then Bing Crosby) but he still loves her and wants her back. So there is that drama. Tracy's father has left her mother for his mistress, and a tabloid threatens to publish a story complete with pictures about the affair--unless the extremely private Tracy allows a reporter and a photographer to document her wedding for the paper. Tracy's fiance is clearly not right for her, and we know that her first husband is the one she should be with...but it takes a while for things to sort themselves out. Meanwhile, the reporter (James Stewart then Frank Sinatra) starts to fall for Tracy. Everyone wears fabulous clothes, drinks a lot of champagne, dances, and argues attractively. In the musical version they sing, too.

These movies have amazing casts. Katharine Hepburn, Cary Grant, Jimmy Stewart, and the great character actor Roland Young as Uncle Willie--in one movie!

Same with Grace Kelly, Bing Crosby, and Frank Sinatra. Celeste Holm and Louis Armstrong also appear and are wonderful. Sidenote: Grace Kelly and Bing Crosby had worked together in 1954's The Country Girl, for which Kelly won a Best Actress Oscar.

I like this publicity still because the dress that Grace Kelly is wearing is a "joke" dress. She only wears it in the movie while she is pretending to be an empty headed and slightly insane spoiled rich girl to play a trick on the reporter and photographer. But they used the costume in a lot of publicity materials.

The films are visually stunning, too. The costumes and sets are fantastic.

Now for a brief comparison between the versions. For lack of a better term, The Philadelphia Story is just more 1930s. It is a little darker and a little deeper than High Society. In The Philadelphia Story there is more discussion of Tracy's "issues" that keep her from being a true "woman" and not a statue made of bronze--her "goddess" complex and her impossibly high standards. She is punished for these qualities and must release them before her happy ending. It is a little unsettling, to be honest. Also, there is talk of her first husband's alcoholism, (for which he blames Tracy), and the newspaper plot is resolved through blackmail. There are some almost cruel moments, though it does not descend too far into seriousness. It is a romantic comedy, after all. But there is some dirt beneath the shimmering black and white.

High Society is more 1950s Technicolor musical. Which I adore, by the way. The alcoholism has vanished and the blackmail scheme is also gone. Tracy still has her goddess complex, but she isn't so humiliated in this movie. I suppose it would be hard for Bing Crosby to sing about alcoholism, or for Frank Sinatra to croon a song of blackmail to Grace Kelly...

Oh, the songs in this movie! Cole Porter, baby. Personal favorites include a semi-sloshed rendition of "Well, Did You Evah?", a duet between Crosby and Sinatra over society gossip, and "Who Wants to Be A Millonaire?" between Sinatra and Celeste Holm as they browse through Tracy's wedding gift rooms. Clever songs with clever lyrics and fabulous singers.

So, to grossly over-simplify, I think that The Philadelphia Story is a more interesting version of the story. But I love both, and I highly recommend both.

High Society has some interesting backstory, especially about Grace Kelly. Elizabeth Taylor was the first choice, though I can't imagine anyone besides Kelly in the role. She was only 26, but it was her last film, as she married Prince Rainier of Monaco right after filming. The movie was actually released after the wedding.

In one scene, Kelly has too much champagne (her significant moment of "letting go" of the perfect goddess image) and her annoying fiance takes her away from the party so she can "rest." She fiddles with her engagement ring--the monstrous emerald cut diamond is her real life engagement ring from the Prince. So that is sort of neat.

Here ends this week's movie suggestion. Hope you enjoyed it!

And aren't you curious about what is happening in this picture?

Vysehrad

On Saturday afternoon I met Julie at Vysehrad, the very very old fortress (first settled in the 10th century) that sits above the Vltava. According to legend, this is where the Princess Libuse foresaw the future wonders and glory of Prague...and also where she drowned her lovers.

There is a very convenient metro stop a short walk from the fortress. As we walked up the hill we passed several clay tennis courts (the only kind I have seen here) crowded by the stone ramparts.

Just within the gate of the fortress/village (mainly cafes, administrative buildings, and a famous school for blind children):

we came upon St. Martin's Rotunda, an 11th century church. Apparently it is one of the oldest churches in the city. The altar faces east, which is normal, but the entrance, as you can see, faces south. But on the western side you can see the remains of the original door which faced the correct direction. The road passes very close to the western side and it is several feet below the church...so it looks like the door had to be changed when the road came through.

We walked along the gigantic stone ramparts for a while enjoying the view of Prague. Then it was time to go underground into the casemates, or casements. These are tunnels built or under a fortress so that soldiers can move around without being seen by the enemy. Vysehrad's casemates have been added to and "renovated" over the centuries. They were wide enough for about three or four people to walk through at once, and the ceilings were quite high. Holes for ventilation way up in the ceiling were a little creepy since they reminded me of how far underground we were. There were niches in the walls where the soldiers stored weapons, and even a few bricked up windows where they would have been able to fire their guns. It was cold and the guide said it is a perfect wine cellar. Unfortunately I couldn't get any pictures since it was so dark.

For some reason the trek through the tunnels kept reminding me of the movie Last of the Mohicans. I can't recall any tunnel scenes, unless you count the waterfall bits, so maybe I am thinking of all the forts and seeing Daniel Day Lewis and his buddies paddle their canoes silently and unnoticed to a fortress. It was odd to walk through this Czech stronghold and think of the French and Indian War.

After walking through the tunnels we came to a cavernous hall--still underground.

Now it is used for art exhibitions, occasional theater productions, and for displaying four of the original statues from the Charles Bridge. (Most of the statues on the bridge are replicas.) But it used to be a gathering place for soldiers. It is a three or four story room with corbels jutting out from the wall at various levels. The corbels supported wood planks so that the space could be sectioned off into different floors, if necessary. Here are some pics of the statues.

This statue had what looked like glow in the dark stickers all over it. The guide said that the statues are being digitally recorded, almost the same way that movie actors wear those funny suits with all the tiny disks on them so that their movements can be captured and transferred into animation or other effects. Like Golem. Here is a picture of the same statue but with the flash on so you can see all the sticker things.

It was lovely to be in that old, dark room with the statues. I much preferred viewing them in the relative silence and peace than seeing their replicas on the crowded and touristy bridge.

Here I am on one of the walls overlooking the river.

And here I am again with Prague Castle and the river in the background.

Next stop in Vysehrad, which is beautiful and filled with parks and benches and sweeping views, was the St. Peter and St. Paul Church. The outside is neo-Gothic:

Fairly typical...though the doors were interesting and brightly colored. Which should have given me some indication that the inside might be a little different...

The inside of this church is one of the most amazing I have seen. Art nouveau hidden inside neo-Gothic! Every surface was painted in colorful designs of plants or flowers. Saints were depicted in soft murals, and the angels looked like Clara Bow.

A column. I apologize for the quality of the images. The colors were much brighter in person, but it was dark and cameras weren't actually encouraged...

The ceiling.

A closer shot of the angels.

Outside of the church is one of, if not the most, famous cemeteries in Prague. It is where important people are buried. Columned galleries surround most of the graveyard. Families have sections of the structures and every monument and statue is different. Even the ceilings are painted. It seemed very Italian to me.

Here is a closer shot of the ceiling.

The interior of the cemetery was beautiful. Almost all of the graves had plants on them. Not just wilted flowers, but actual gardens.

This burst of color was not unusual.

I really like how the graves are covered in plants and flowers instead of bare grass or something. It made the cemetery much happier. As in the galleries, the gravestones and monuments differed greatly. Some were just slabs of stone with names and dates, some had photographs of the deceased, some had busts, and one had a sculpture of expressive hands! That grave is where a famous Czech actor is buried. It was one of the least depressing, and most uplifting and cheerful cemeteries I have ever visited.

We took another look from the ramparts to the river. We were just above the spot where Princess Libuse used to drown her lovers. I will try to learn more about that intriguing legend. It was a lovely afternoon. Vysehrad was peaceful and green with plenty to see and also lots of space to roam aimlessly. I might head back sometime for a picnic!

Children: The Definitive Study by a Childless 22-Year-Old

Having worked in child care for almost six weeks, I feel immensely qualified to publish my findings on the subject of children.

The First Question

Children: Are they worth it?

This is a difficult query. Obviously, we must have children in order to replenish the population. But beyond this practical reason, are children worth it? What do they contribute to society?

Children require an awful lot of attention, especially in the first few years. They sleep, eat, cry, eat, cry, sleep and eat. And all of this must be arranged and supervised by the caregiver, as children cannot walk, feed themselves, talk, read, or work. Often, they are unable to sit quietly and amuse themselves. Instead, they depend on a caregiver to provide the entertainment. Does anyone sit in front of you for hours at a time making funny faces and strange noises? No. So I am not sure why babies are entitled to that sort of attention. Colts are born knowing how to run, and monkey babies can cling to their mothers. What can human babies do? Indeed, human children seem to have been left out of the evolutionary process. I would hate to be in the wild with a human child. His or her inexplicable, piercing cries would inevitably attract predators, and I would not be able to depend on the child for assistance of any kind as we tried to survive. A baby cannot perform sentry duty, or forage for berries, or start a fire. And what if a carnivorous beast attacked during the child's afternoon nap? The baby would be cranky for the rest of the day.

But children are certainly capable of producing vast amounts of bodily fluids. Such copious amounts of spit, tears, urine, and other even more unsavory fluids seem totally disproportionate to their body size. They are fluid factories. But what they produce is essentially valueless in the marketplace.

Thus, children do not produce anything that can bring in revenue. They are definitely able, however, to spend money. They grow and grow, requiring new clothes for them every few months. They eat a great deal, and much of their diet, especially the young ones', is special. No simple bread or other affordable, easily available victuals for them! Oh no! They must have special "formulas," (as though they are robots depending on precise mathematical and chemical compounds), mixes, and miniature versions of adult foods that have been mashed and strained and pulped. The expense of such eating habits boggles the mind! And I shall not even go into diapers. I have seen enough of diapers...

Not only do children avoid contributing to the economy, which is inexcusable especially in this climate, but they seem to enjoy flouting society's rules. They see a book, but instead of reading it they chew on the cover. They see a hairbrush, but instead of using it to fix their hair they suck on the handle. Indeed, almost everything ends up in their mouths. Children don't seem to notice when they get things dirty, and their standards of personal hygiene are atrocious. Rather than follow polite society, they strike out on their own as though they are mini-barbarians. For instance, they have a perfectly good bathroom inside, but they prefer urinating outside (boys only). Fingers are preferable to silverware, and napkins are an annoyance instead of a useful tool. Rather than settling things with words, they use their tiny, tiny fists or their (unnaturally) loud, shrill voices. In short, they act very childishly. This, it seems to me, is unacceptable. I don't know why so many people put up with it.

(I myself was a model child. A small adult, really. Except for that projectile vomiting. But nobody is perfect. And my parents didn't even really like those rugs.)

Having demonstrated the expense monetarily and temporally of children, here is my advice for raising the creatures.

Children: How To Raise Them*

There is no reason why having a child should interfere with your life. But how can I keep my progeny from altering my lifestyle, you may ask? By following these simple rules.

First, use television! It was invented for a reason. Set your children in front of the TV early and often. Their eyes will fix on the screen, their mouths will fall open, their bodies will be still, and there will be silence. Blessed silence. Except for the television show, of course. Think of all of the things that you can do during the seven or eight hours when your children are hypnotized by the wonder that is television!

Second, schedule naptime. Hours and hours of naptime. And send your children to bed early. Four or five in the evening should do it. If you are not a morning person, make sure your children sleep late. If they are early birds, perhaps lock their door so that they cannot bug you until you have gotten your twelve hours of beauty sleep. Planned correctly, your children will spend most of the day asleep, and the rest of the day watching television, leaving you with lots of free time.

Third, make sure their activities and hobbies are really your activities and hobbies. If they like what you like then everyone will be happier. For instance, only let them watch television shows or movies that you also find entertaining. Do the same with music. This way, when they are watching their daily eight hours of TV or listening to music on the way to the store to get a bigger TV, what is playing on the set and the radio will be enjoyable for you as well as for them. Nothing is more annoying than having to watch a TV show that you don't love. I cannot stress this enough. Children like repetition. So don't let them form attachments to things that you do not like. If you do, you will have to see/hear it over and over and over. Similarly, only let them play with toys/friends that you like. Make it about you, and raising your children will be much more pleasant.

If you follow my advice, your children will only be awake and not focused on the TV for minutes out of every day. And you can get on with your life.**

*with the least inconvenience to yourself

**This is all in jest. Well, almost all...