Last Day...Nove Straseci

Hello everyone...it has been a while! I have been oddly reluctant to post this one, since it is my last batch of pictures from the Czech Republic. And I have been oddly reluctant to even think about the whole experience. I miss some of it, especially my boys, and especially my baby boy, but I am also so glad to be home. I am very happy I chose to return to the US, and I don't want to go back, yet it is still a little painful to think about it. Not quite sure why. The whole thing seems very surreal. So besides some strange dreams where I have returned to the house in Nove Straseci and suddenly realize, "Oh no, I am back, help me!" I have not been thinking or talking about it much. I haven't made my photo albums (after Venice they were done in a matter of days) or gone through my souvenirs or anything. It is a harder adjustment to make than I anticipated. Very weird to go from Czech Republic to America, from that family to mine, from being a mom every afternoon and night and weekend for seven months to suddenly being the "kid" again in my parents' house. I am confused. But here is my last day in Nove Straseci.

So my Czech family left for Austria on the morning of December 19th. I cried and Vojtisek cried and Lukas cried. Honzik was pretty happy though, I think. Although I had attempted to tell the boys that I was going home to America and that Mike (my replacement from New Jersey) was going to stay with them, Lukas was still very confused. I don't think Eva had talked to them about it, and although he can talk about monkeys all day long, the "leaving" and "not coming back" were more difficult concepts for his four-year-old-learning-English brain. I started to get teary as Eva and her parents began loading the car for the trip. Lukas looked at me, his little face all confused, and asked, "Why are you crying?" He said it hesitantly but perfectly in English, which made me even more upset. I told him that I wasn't going with them to Austria, and I tried to stop crying so he wouldn't get upset, too. I didn't want to freak him out. Eva told me that after Lukas was buckled in his car seat he saw me and asked his grandparents why I wasn't getting in the car, and they told him I wasn't going with them and then he started to cry even more. Apparently Honzik even cried a little.

It was so hard to say goodbye to my baby Vojtisek. It is probably good that I left when I did, because otherwise I would have smuggled him home with me. I wish he was here. He would love my dogs and my family and I have a bunch of fun things planned that we could do. Like play with bubble bath. There wasn't any there, but I think he would like that. He could even sleep in a crib in my room. Whoa, calm down the crazy.

So, they left. Eva's boyfriend actually stayed with me for a little while and we had tea and we talked a little (always an adventure since his English is not great and my Czech is not even terrible it is so awful.) But that was sweet of him.

I wasn't flying home until the next day, so rather than sit around the empty house all day and miss Vojtisek, I headed to Prague to meet Julie. (See the Flora and Prague posts for the first part of the day). She was awesome enough to come back to Nove Straseci with me and go to the airport with me at 6:00 the next morning. We got to the village around 4:30, so of course it was already dark. And so so cold. It had been snowing all day. We shivered to the main square so I could show her the high school and the cukrarna and the clock tower and the Christmas tree.

The whole place was empty, but that was nice in the dark and the snow. Here I am:

Here is the pink clocktower. It rang every quarter hour. I could hear it from my room. And it wasn't as obnoxious as one might think. I rather liked it. As usual, thanks Julie for the pics of me!

I love this picture. I would love it more if the light in the corner was the moon, but it is a street lamp.

A few pictures were all we could stand in the cold. So off we hurried through the snow to my house. A five minute walk. Here I am on the same block with my house. The house is bright blue and they had a Santa and reindeer light on the porch. Which is funny, since in Czech Land the Jesus Baby brings the gifts.

We drank some tea and got warm in the house. Here is the view from the house to the backyard. How lovely does that tree look all lit up and covered in snow?

And look how great this looks. The grandmother made all of these herself. It is a tradition there to make beautiful Christmas cookies, and the more varieties and the more intricate and fussy the better. They were super tasty.

We had a funny dinner. Salads with all kinds of yummy stuff on them, and a frozen garlic bread thing that we popped in the oven, and my last packet of macaroni and cheese that Brittany sent me from America. And some goat cheese, I think. And some more stuff I am forgetting. Delicious.

While Julie watched High Society--she had never seen it so I was so excited when she suggested it!--I tried to pack. It was tricky to fit everything in. I left a lot of tired clothes there and pressed various things on Julie. Finally, she had to step in and save me from myself. I was rather certain one or both bags would be overweight, but shockingly they let me through at the Prague airport without saying a word.

Oh I have skipped some steps. I wasn't sad to pack or to dismantle the few things I had mantled in my room, or to say goodbye to the house or the village. I was ready to get out of there. I was so excited to be coming home. (Perhaps that is why now I am a bit more conflicted--I didn't "grieve" when I was there...oooh) The driver who had taken me to Vienna (three times) picked us up when it was still dark and dropped us at the airport. We checked my bags and headed for some coffee.

I hated saying goodbye to Julie. I miss her so much. I really don't know what I would have done without her. And I cannot wait for her to come visit! Yay!

I changed planes in Munich, my favorite airport in the world. I couldn't sleep on the long flight across the ocean since I was so excited. They played terrible movies and a show about pandas. I was in the very last row on the plane. Customs was easy but I was worried they would detain me since I was just about jumping around, so excited was I to be home and to see my mom and dad. My bags shot off the carousel but since my flight was a little early and my bags were so fast, my parents weren't at the airport yet. But, hurray, they arrived in a few minutes. What a lovely homecoming!

Then it was Christmas, then I sent in my last two grad school applications, then I started work, then I fell back into life in the US. And now we are up to date. Confused, feeling-like-I-lost/dreamed-the-last-seven-months, missing a little Czech boy, loving free water, ice, and refills, back at home. Up to date.

Last Day...Praha

After our sobering, gorgeous, quiet, COLD visit to the cemetery by Flora, and after our cheerful, cozy, chatty, hot drinks at Costa Coffee overlooking the cemetery, we took the metro to Malostranska and walked across a bridge to the Old Town. We didn't go on Charles Bridge. Shocking, perhaps, but I prefer looking at the graceful stone arches from a distance to walking across it. There are usually too many people, plus they are doing construction on the bridge, so everyone is squeezed even tighter together to avoid the scaffolding and the workers. I usually end up staring at my purse and my companion instead of the statues and plaques lining the bridge.

So we took a plainer bridge that gave us even nicer views of Prague.

Here is documentation of this stroll. Charles Bridge behind me, graffitied looker-thing beside me.

Julie took this stunner of Charles Bridge: (and all the pics with me in them, dekuji!)

I believe this is a performance hall. It is right by the bridge. I thought it looked imposing and solid in the snow.

Here is a tram running by the building. Have I mentioned that Prague has trams? Metro and trams. I usually took the metro since that was easier for me to figure out, but I learned some basic routes on the trams and enjoyed them. It was nice to travel above ground once in a while.

After we crossed the river we strolled alongside it. Here are some views of Mala Strana and the Castle, looking back from whence we came. That whole mass of buildings, from the tower on the far right and the cream colored building beside it, to the two white spires in the middle and the several black spires on the left, is Prague Castle. Often people think that the black building on the left is the castle, but that is just the Cathedral within the castle, St. Vitus. Prague Castle is the biggest contiguous castle complex in the world.

(The recent movie The Brothers Bloom is partly set and shot in Prague, and there is an important conversation with this wrought iron fence and the castle as a background. I saw it a few days after I got home and could squeal "I was just there!")

And I have proof. Here I am. The camera is looking in the direction of the Castle, but I was looking at the most expensive hotel in Prague, the Four Seasons. It has lovely views of the river.
Julie: "Jump, Cam!"

Cam: "Okay!"Nice pink glow sunset by the mini-Eiffel Tower on Petrin Hill. It was around 3:00 in the afternoon, I think, but it is completely dark by 4:30 or so...ouch.

As we walked into the Narodni Trida metro station, we paused like crazy people to take pictures of snowflakes as they landed on us. (Ironically, this metro stop is where a lot of the crazy people in Prague do hang out.) This is my coat sleeve and perfection. Well done, photographer Julie!

It was so cold. But that is alright when Prague looks so peaceful and frosted, and snowflakes land on my arms and Julie is there to photograph it all.

Last day...Graveyard at Flora

The day before I flew home the family left for their Christmas trip to Austria. More on that later. After they headed off, I went into Prague to meet Julie. She had been talking about going to a shopping mall next to a beautiful cemetery...weird, yes, awesome, yes...so we met on the metro and headed to Flora and the Olšany Cemetery. The cemetery dates from the 17th century; an outbreak of plague forced its founding. Yuck.

It was freezing cold, about 15 degrees below zero in Celsius, which is very approximately 5 degrees Fahrenheit. That is really cold for me. Really cold.

Fortunately, it was a beautiful cold day with fat, perfect snowflakes spiraling gently down. Excellent weather for a contemplative visit to a cemetery in Prague.

I shan't add much more commentary; I will let the pictures of the snow and the stones stand alone. Let me just say that the graveyard was big. In fact, it is the largest cemetery in the city. These avenues led off in several directions from one central snowy circle.

All the headstones are different, and most are massive, like the Vysehrad cemetery that Julie and I visited back in July. It was much warmer then.

Headstone break. Hi, Julie!

Headstone break. Julie found some cute bird tracks in the snow.

Lovely and decaying chapel. Like a prompt for a creative writing class. Or the setting or conclusion of a Poe story. Or it is just a hauntingly derelict chapel in a cemetery in Prague next to a shopping mall.

This little blue beamed house was at the entrance to the cemetery. We don't know why.

Here I am, all bundled and yet still very chilly.

After this somber visit we headed directly next door into a shopping mall for a cheerful lunch and coffee/tea break. There is a Costa Coffee on the side of the mall with the cemetery, which is where we had our hot beverages. There is a huge window so you can sip your latte while looking at the graveyard. After we warmed up and recharged we hopped back on the metro (Flora is relatively far east in Prague.) Our next stop was Malostranska. Stay tuned for that adventure.

They Make Me Keep Skiing

We were in Bruneck for five days and four nights...that is a lot of skiing. Especially for someone who does not particularly enjoy it...(me.)

The ride to the ski slopes in the morning was unpleasant; as are all journeys that take us somewhere we don't want to go. Especially when you have to watch/listen to the "Peppa Pig" cartoon. In Czech. Over and over. And over.

The queasy tedium was occasionally broken by the lovely scenery, like this random castle perched on a hill by the side of the road.

Or I listened to Lukas, seated behind me. Here is a video taken in the dark (so just audio) on our way home from the ski mountain one night. I have provided a transcript because his accent can be a little hard to understand at first.

Lukas: Five little monkeys jumping on the walls. One fell off and wumped his head. Okay!

Cameron: Momma called the doctor?

Lukas: Momma called the doctor and the doctor said, 'Yes, please, monkeys jumping on the wed.'*

Cameron: Did a monkey fall off and bump his...shoulder?

Lukas: Tummy.

Cameron: He bumped his tummy?

Lukas: Bumped his tummy. Momma called the doctor, doctor said, 'Yes, please, monkeys...'

Cameron: Where else do the monkeys jump?

Lukas: House.

Cameron: They jumped on the house?

Lukas: Jumping on the house. Monkeys jumping on the walls...Five little monkeys jumping on the bed. One fell off and bumped his head...

*He likes to play with sounds. He was into a "w" noise for this one: "wumped" and "wed." He also prefers for the doctor to encourage the monkeys to jump on the bed; hence the "Yes, please, monkeys jumping on the bed" instead of "No more monkeys..."

When I arrived in June he didn't speak a word of English. It was a struggle to get him to say "hello" or "push, please" as you may remember from this blog post. Now he amuses himself by chanting nursery rhymes and changing them around to make silly expressions! Hurray! I miss that little adorable rascal.

As Mike and I made our way to the gondolas one afternoon, we saw two people wearing skis and giant orange parachutes. So we paused, naturally.

As soon as they took off we hurried to the gondola so we could follow them down. Here they are gliding. Sorry that you have to view it through the dirty and scratched gondola.

So cool! They were airborne for about fifteen minutes before landing on the slopes and skiing the rest of the way down.

I did not attempt such a stunt, but my pitiful skiing did get better every day, fortunately. Peter was an excellent teacher and he quickly figured out that I did not want to go barreling down the slopes. On the third day during our lesson he took me to some nice gentle slopes and we skiied down and took the lift back up several times. My main issue was keeping my upper body still. I kept trying to fling myself around using my shoulders instead of skiing with my legs. I did get better with turns and the good 'ol pole plant, though. I actually started to enjoy myself at the last (third) lesson. It was fun to ski with a buddy. Especially a cute buddy with a German/Australian accent. I was sad when Peter skiied off into the distance at the end of our final lesson...sigh.

Here I am swishing down the slope. Vancouver 2010, Baby!

On the final day we were in Bruneck I did not have a lesson with Peter. Though I was rather inclined to just "pretend" to go skiing and instead hang out with a cappuccino all morning, I forced myself to try the big bad slope again. I had learned that I did not have to go straight down the slope and could instead ski across it until I found the easiest, gentlest path. I had learned how to slow down more effectively, and I was no longer terrified of making right turns, which then made me scared to make left turns because I knew that eventually I would have to make a right turn or otherwise ski off the mountain. Weird, huh?

So I skiied down the slope that had almost brought me to tears the first day. I took my time, repeated my instructor's words in my head as I went, and actually made it down. I took the lift up (see video--it was so cold and snowy!) and got myself a cappuccino. Reward! I went down one more time to meet everyone for lunch at the same restaurant where we ate lunch every day.

Here is the restaurant:

And here I am with Lukas right outside before we ski to the chair lift.

The group as we ski down.

Here are Eva and Lukas on the chair lift.

I don't have much urge to ever go skiing again, but at least I left the ski mountain not hating the sport. If I have to go skiing in the future it won't be so terrible.

The ride home was, well, seven hours. That's about all I need to say, I think. But it was beautiful, at least for the first hour or so.

Then Peppa Pig numbed my brain and time slowly ached on until we arrived in Nove Straseci. Odd how one can be so desperate to get to a place that one is normally so excited to leave....

Brunico Christmas Market

After skiing on the second day we stopped in the town of Brunico/Bruneck to stroll through the Christmas Market. I adore Christmas markets. I wish we had more in the States. The whole center of the tiny town was covered in lights and wooden house-stalls.

Glühwein, (glue-vine) the rich, spicy, hot red wine popular at Christmas (it is so gracefully named svařák (s-va-jh-ack) in Czech) was flowing at several little stalls. Teenagers and families and old people were standing at tall tables sipping their mulled wine. There were people in ski gear and people in normal clothes, but everyone was bundled. It was so cold.

Mike and I wandered through the stalls. Lots of felt slipper-shoes (?) were being sold, as well as knit caps, Christmas tree ornaments, gingerbread, candy, and lots of other edible treats. Every so often we found enclosed pavilion type places showcasing more expensive handmade items like glass ornaments and handwoven blankets. We went in each one of those because they were warm. The stuff was nice, too.

I love Christmas markets and I wanted to buy everything. I satisfied my Weihnachtsmarkt or Christkindlmarkt fervor with a 1.50 euro mug with the logo of the town and the Christmas market. That town is smart--they take advantage of all the people coming to the ski mountain and catch suckers like me with their charming Christmas market, beautiful town, and cute red coffee mugs.

We walked around the town and I saw some excellent balconies.

This one seems so Tuscan next to all the solid, wooden, German architecture.

I wanted to go in the church but it was locked. So here are some pictures instead.

I have wanted to go to a Christmas market in Germany after reading a book where the heroine goes to one in Munich. Although I was technically in Italy, I still feel like I accomplished my goal. And loved it. Check!

Oh, and Happy New Year!

Learning to Ski, or, Come and Get Me, Please

I got to visit Julie at the Ministry of the Interior! Here I am, pretending I work there. You can sort of see Prague Castle outside the window. It was a foggy, frigid day, but on nice days Julie has a beautiful view.

And now on to skiing. On December 9, we (me, Honzik, Lukas, Eva, Eva's boyfriend, and my replacement, Mike) got in the car and drove seven hours to a town just over the Austrian border in Italy. We arrived at our pension near the town of Brunico (or Bruneck, in German), went promptly to bed, and then woke up bright and early the next morning to go skiing. Yes, skiing. I had never been skiing before. Unless you count water skiing, which you don't. The family, even four-year-old Lukas, are good skiiers. I was a bit apprehensive.

I am not totally klutzy and I was a good athlete in my day so I figured I wouldn't be completely hopeless, but I was not looking forward to the trip. I have never had the slightest urge to go snow skiing. I was scared to get hurt and more scared to get left on the mountain while the family skiied down the black slopes. And I was really ready to just come home. The adventure had become tiresome; more stressful than fun. Although I pondered changing my plane ticket to a date before the ski trip, I decided to suck it up and stay. How many chances will I get to go skiing in Italy? Even if I hated it, the trip was still an unique opportunity. And how bad could it be?

Pretty bad, actually. But I digress.

So we arrived. Although we were technically in Italy, German was the first language. Sometimes things were written in Italian, too, under the German, but not always. I was a bit disappointed, because I actually speak a little Italian and was looking forward to using it. I wanted to say something obnoxious to the people at the pension and at the ski mountain, like, "Hello?? You people are in Italy! What is with the German?" But I didn't. Oh, borders...

Here is the pension. Radmuller...yup, German.

The view from our window. Lovely.

It was about a thirty minute drive to Kronplatz, the ski mountain.

A little scary when a trauma center (on the right side of the building) is one of the first things you see as you drive in. I was pretty sure I would break a knee or something.

The kids and Eva all have their own skiing gear, but the boyfriend and I needed to rent stuff. I was completely clueless about what I needed and how to put everything on. I immediately hated wearing the ski boots. I thought I was being obtuse because I couldn't walk very well in the stiff boots. Then I saw other people in their boots and realized that it wasn't just me. We all looked like Frankenstein's Creature, clomping around, rocking from heel to toe in the uncomfortable, coffin-like shoes.

Here are Honzik and Lukas in their ski stuff. All kids under fourteen have to wear helmets, and most the people on the slopes, regardless of age, had some protective head gear. A lot of people were wearing plastic back guard things to protect their spines. I just wanted to skip the whole skiing thing after I saw all that.
Eva had gotten me a ski instructor for two hours in the morning, for which I am very grateful. After we were all suited up in our terrible boots and layers of clothing, lugging our cumbersome skis and poles (could someone please invent a better way to do this sport? Or at least a better way to carry everything?), everybody but me hopped into a gondola to go to the top of the mountain. I went to meet my ski instructor, Peter.

So cute. I lucked out on that one. He was about my age, from Bruneck, but he has spent the last few summers in Australia. So he speaks English with an adorable mixture of a German and Australian accent. (Can you tell I had a ski crush?) He was also very patient and kind. He said I was a fast learner (though do you think he ever tells anyone they are slow?) I learned how to put my skis on--knock off the snow, front part of the boot in first--and take them off--press the little button with the pole. I listened hard. Then we walked up the kiddie hill and started. I learned the snow plow position and the beginnings of turns. We went up the kiddie ski lift and skiied down the kiddie hill a few times. I didn't fall down until the very end. I was feeling okay. I didn't like how I picked up speed without meaning to, or how snow plow really didn't seem to slow me down that much. But Peter was very encouraging (I keep reminding myself that he was being paid to be nice so I won't be too disappointed when he doesn't come to Lewisville to find me...) That's a joke. Mostly.

He even helped me figure out the big gondola (skis go on the outside in the slots!) and rode to the top of the mountain with me. I was supposed to meet the family for lunch.

But, surprise! When I called to say I was there, Eva told me that they had decided to eat an hour before the appointed time and were off skiing again. So I had this lovely, healthy, and fresh meal by myself at a place on top of the mountain. Eww.

Here is the view from the top of the mountain.

Gorgeous.

Here I am, trying to look happy.

Trying to look happy? The rest of the afternoon was not great. Read on.

After lunch I met them as they were skiing off a chair lift. Lukas had cried all the way down the mountain but they kept making him ski. Eva, Mike (an excellent snowboarder) and Honzik went off to ski fast and the boyfriend and Lukas and I went down one of the blue slopes. Or, that was the plan.

Here is Lukas with Eva's boyfriend.

I was feeling fairly confident. I had done well in my lesson and I assumed the slope would not be too steep since it was a blue (their lowest), and Lukas was going down it. Silly, silly Cameron. I started down and immediately was going way too fast and darn snow plow wasn't working. It was so steep in parts that I couldn't see down--the mountain just seemed to drop off a few feet from my skis. I was terrified. I fell several times, usually after making a really sharp turn just to stop myself. I was afraid I would start going, be unable to slow down, stop, or steer, and crash into something or someone. I didn't know that you could basically ski in a horizontal line across the mountain to find an easy path, and I didn't know how to slide down the steep parts with my skis sideways. That was in the next day's lesson.

I had no idea how to get down that mountain. People were whizzing by me, I had lost Lukas and the boyfriend, I was all alone and cold and I couldn't get down. It had not dawned on me that once you start down a slope you have to finish. You can't stop halfway and get a taxi to the nearest chair lift.

So there I was, stuck on the slope. I was quite literally paralyzed for a time. I couldn't decide whether to walk back up, to walk down to the nearest lift, or to try and ski some more. I did use that time to take some pictures. So that is a--the--positive. Also, I didn't cry. I felt like it, but I didn't.

I was stuck by this fence for a while. Its image will forever be imprinted on my brain.
At least my terror had a beautiful backdrop.

I decided to unfasten my skis and walk awkwardly down to the nearest lift. After that embarrassing journey I thought everything would finally get better. I would go down the mountain in the lift, take off the terrible boots, and wait for the family. I almost enjoyed the ride. I do like mountains.

Here are my skis sticking out of their slot as we float down the mountain.

But...no. That lift didn't go all the way down the mountain. So I had to get out and hop right back into a gondola going up the hateful slopes. Expletive.

Then I had to figure out a way to get to another lift that would take me to the very top of the mountain so I could take the gondola all the way down. I decided to re-click my evil boots into my untrustworthy skis and try to make it to the chair lift. I ran into Eva and Lukas on my slow, painful, terrifying way. He thought it was hilarious when I fell. Then they disappeared again. After nearly crashing into a pole holding up a chair lift and losing a ski in the process, I removed my other ski and trudged the rest of the way to the lift.

This was my first chair lift. I had trouble getting my right ski back on, and I almost toppled forward and was run over by the lift when I tried to get on, but I made it. Then I worried about that troublesome right ski, convinced it would fall off and possibly hit someone below. And then would I have to slalom down to get it? Help.

Fortunately, that did not happen.

I made it to the top of the mountain and waited for the family. My main thoughts? "I hate skiing," "Someone, come and get me, please!" and "Why would anyone do this for fun?"

Not a great first day. It gets better.