Playing Hooky

Reed gazing down from the tower.

On Tuesday, Elliott's Dad was supposed to visit. He canceled. Earlier in the fall, my parents were supposed to visit. They canceled. Both health reasons and we are hopeful for a speedy and full recovery of both grandfathers, who we love very much.

Needless to say, we were all hugely disappointed. The boys were so excited for their Grandpa Marty to come this week, so they could meet him at the airport, show off what they know about Prague, share our favorite places and restaurants. So, in honor of our love for our parents and grandparents, the boys and I played hooky.

First, we slept in. Hallelujah! For a brief second, Elliott thought I might get up at 6:30 with him and make him breakfast. But, alas, that was not in the cards for poor Elliott.

After a small amount of bickering between the boys that began with hunger and started to gain momentum, we headed to the Globe Cafe; our favorite Sunday brunch expat place where they serve American-style breakfast and play Motown. The boys got some good old-fashioned pancakes with maple syrup and bacon, of course, and I got some cinnamon french toast with slivered almonds. Not such a bad start.

The funnel of books.

After breakfast, we wandered down some side streets to Old Town Square. We went to the library. Why, yes we did, and it wasn't all my idea. Here we saw a cool funnel of books exhibit in the lobby. Apparently, I was the only one who didn't immediately realize there were mirrors involved to make the funnel look like it was many stories long. We went in the library to see what English books they had, which weren't many, but I did pick up Peter Mayle's, French Lessons, just because I sort-of miss the french scene. Reed found some Czech sports magazines.

When we left the library, we saw two men trying to hang crystal chandeliers as part of an art exhibit. Leo struck up a conversation with an older couple after hearing them speak English. We talked with them for a while and then moved on to the square where we climbed the tower for some more great views of Prague. It never gets old, looking at Prague from different vantage points. Taking in autumn is sort of melancholy because I know this will be our one and only fall here, so I stare at the colors in the hills surrounding Prague and try to take in its beauty every chance I get.

The funniest thing about observing the square from the tower was first hearing some crazy lady ranting as she walked down the street. Reed was afraid she was going to come up the tower. I assured him that crazy people (sorry to offend with my political incorrectness) don't typically tour. Then he spotted a young college-age couple playing the karate game. A game that I thought the boys made up, but Reed said cousin Jonah and Gill taught them. You start out by bowing to your opponent and then you take turns making karate moves and the first person to hit the other person loses. So we watched them play down below and when we were done with our tour of the tower, they were still playing. I wanted to say something to them, but the boys wouldn't allow it.

We saw the usual suspects in the square: the medieval band (Reed can now identify new members), the silver mime guys, and the puppeteer. A segway guy came and asked if we wanted a tour. I hate segways; I think they are an embarrassment. No one looks cool on a segway. Am I right? But, they are fun, and the guy was nice enough to let Leo and Reed try it out. When Leo got on, I fully expected him to point north and take off, but he didn't.

Reed was still full from breakfast. Small miracle, so we put off getting a nutella crepe. I convinced them to walk down Pariska, which is now a ritzy street, but once took you into the Jewish ghetto. We walked down the street, nodded at the Old-New Synagogue, and walked across the Stefaniku Bridge to Letna Park to see David Cerny's Metronome. Crazy. It used to be the spot where Stalin's humongous statue was (1955). It had taken the country 5 years and millions of dollars to build the monument and soon afterwards, Krushchev denounced Stalin and had the monument blown up (1962). I guess the communists had a bunker in case of nuclear war in that big pedestal you see under the metronome.

Next to the Metronome is a string of random shoes--some pretty nice Nikes according to the boys. Not sure what it all means, but reminiscent of when we were students at Madison and would often see shoes hanging over State Street Mall.

View of Prague from the Metronome.

Reed throwing his hat. Not sure why, but does he need a reason?

And that was our hooky day. There was a 50% chance of rain, but the rain held off all day. Small amounts of bickering between brothers, but mostly all good. I call it a huge success and we actually saw what I had thought we'd see, which we all know is fairly rare with kids.

That evening, we met up with Elliott for Leo's baseball game where he pitched the whole game, and only let in a couple of runs. The rain held until the very end of the game. All good. We ended the day with dinner at one of our local places, CafeTerapy, for pasta, paninis,  stirfry, and red wine (right, no pivo).

Locked in Love

Yesterday was another gorgeous, sunny day in Prague. I spent the morning at the Kampa Museum, a small modern art museum. It has a few terraces where you can walk outside and get a beautiful view of the Charles Bridge and Prague Castle. Right now, it has drawings of Mucha, Klimt and Krupka, along with contemporary Central European artists. I happened upon a free day; they were celebrating their 10th anniversary. Bonus!

At 1:00 I rushed home, ate lunch, fed Leo his hundredth sausage with cucumber, tried to convince Reed to come with me, and ran out the door to meet Elliott and his students at the foot of the Charles Bridge.

One of Elliott's English classes consists of 15 & 16 year olds, and about 10 of them wanted to spend their afternoon giving us a tour of their favorite parts of Prague. As Leo exclaimed, "I can't imagine wanting to spend my free time outside of school with my teacher." Well, as we know, Elliott isn't just any teacher. He's warm, funny, approachable (one of his kids asked him if his red hair was natural!), and just plain inspiring.

I wait for Elliott and his crew and soon see him waving, and am quickly surrounded by a group of smiling, vivacious teenagers, sticking their hands out to shake mine.

Our first destination is near the Charles Bridge where the tradition is to declare your love by locking a padlock on a bridge railing and throwing away the key. The story goes that your love will last as long as the lock lasts (but as an earlier Fulbright tour guide told us, Prague workers come around every few months and cut off the locks, leaving room for new ones; would like to think that's not true, but...). One of the girls, Hana, stops us all and says they have a surprise for us. She hands me a little box and in it is a gold padlock. So Elliott and I find a spot and lock it to the rest. I felt like it was our wedding day and we were stomping on the wine glass. The kids even provided a sharpie, so we could write our initials on the padlock and maybe find it again when we show our friends Prague (are you coming, friends?).


Second stop, the John Lennon Wall. We had to pretend we hadn't seen it so as not to disappoint our tour guides. The kids told us the history of how young people began writing on this garden wall after hearing of John Lennon's death. Each night, the Communist regime sent workers to whitewash the wall, and each day the young people wrote again. Truthfully, it's not too exciting. If you look hard enough, you can find images of John Lennon and maybe some lyrics, but it's mostly "we were here" type graffitti and worse. There's a guy strumming the guitar and singing Beattles songs. We added to the graffitti mayhem by writing a small heart with our initials. One of the kids got the ingenious idea to stick the sharpie in the netting of his floorball stick, so they could reach up high to write their names (look closely at the pic below and you can see the upstretched arm and pink floorball stick).


Last stop, through Old Town Square to Wincelas Square to treat the kids to pastries at their favorite pastry shop. Can't remember the name, but believe me, I can remember how to find it again. We selected some chocolate banana cake that sounded a little gross, but was delicious, a cheesecake, a cake with rasberries, panis, and something else that was traditional to Czechs and equally yummy. The kids chose their favorites and were genuinely surprised and grateful that we would treat them.

My favorite part of the tour was to talk to the girls and find out what they liked to do and how teenagers spend their time. They asked me if kids still said, "Duh." Apparently, it was all over a YouTube video. They wondered about Range Rovers and talked about the states they'd like to visit. We had a fun conversation about our favorite serials. A few sweet moments (forgive the pun) was when Elle was talking about how much she loved drawing animals, especially unicorns, and Hana said how amazing her animals were, which clearly touched Elle. And when we were eating pastries, Cristina said something about being fat and the two other girls quickly went to her defense, saying she wasn't fat, she was beautiful. And she was, as were they all.

I ain't no smitten kitchen

It ain't smitten kitchen here in Prague, but on a rainy day, I've got my 50's apron on (just for fun; had to bring it), listening to some Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, and a little Cat Stevens (Grooveshark radio--i.e., Czech's version of pandora, but even better because you can listen to entire albums. Amy Winehouse is next to get the cooking groove on).

Making curried carrot soup. Taking a chance on some ingredients left here--curry, for one. Thinking about Elliott and how he's been trying to get me to measure just a little less. Improvise Robyn! I don't improvise, I follow the recipe as if I were the first born. But today, I improvise. Out of necessity. No tablespoons here, no cups, no butter with those ever-so-useful hash marks.

Poured a small glass of Burcka that I got from the farmer's market, along with the carrots, onions, and bread. Sweet, white wine isn't normally our thing, but when in Prague in September, one must. And, as the article says, it's so sweet you could easily chug it down like grape juice, but best not.

Slav Epic

Traveled the Tram 17 to Veletrzni Palac where Alfons Mucha's Slav Epic is on display. I felt my age in the exhibit because it was dimly lit and I had trouble reading the damn program. I had to walk over to the paintings where there was more light and hold the program just so. I guess I have to start bringing those readers wherever I go. Oy.

I love Mucha's faces most of all. He captures fear and revery so well. His love for his slavic people resonates in each of the 20 paintings, which are truly epic in size and subject. I took some photos of the entire paintings and then close-ups.

1: Slavs in their Original Homeland

3 Introduction of the Slavic Liturgy close up

close up of 1

close up of 6: Coronation of the Serbian Tsar Stefan Uros Dusan as East Roman Emperor

20: Apotheosis 'Slavs for Humanity!'

I spent three hours at the museum going through their exhibits: 19th century Czech art, modern art...they had a few masters, but not too many. What they did have were some interesting color choices for walls. I was a little surprised to find a gallery with peptol bismal (?huh?) pink walls. So, the dark purple walls in another gallery were tame in comparison.

  

Small Boy. Big Hit.

Leo got to play in his first baseball game last night with the Praha Eagles. As Leo went up to bat, the dad next to me asked how old he was and exclaimed at his small stature. Leo's first up at bat and he's one and one. On the third pitch, he lets it rip and the ball sails over center field and bounces against the fence for a triple. The dad laughs and says,"Small boy, bit hit!"

As the mom of the new kid on the team, I was nervous for him, but not after that hit. And then we got a double rainbow.

Rainy Days

At 4:00 (or 16:00, which I have to get used to), Reed and Leo ran off to their respective matches and trainings. Leo to watch his baseball team (he learned tonight that he'll get to play in games much earlier than we thought, so that's great news) and Reed off to football training. They can both go to the same tram stop and then Leo gets on the metro and Reed takes a tram to practically the end of the line.

Reed REALLY wanted me to go with him to the tram stop, which I was happy to do, but then I'd miss skyping with brother Dave, so I assured him that Leo would not lead him astray and he would be fine. He was.

Leo has a much better sense of direction (takes after his dad), and poor Reed's mind must be wandering who knows where whenever we try to lay out the path for him (takes after his poor old mom). He says he's got it, but then gets lost and calls in a panic (happened only once so far).

I decided to go on a walk without a destination in mind, which is one of my favorite things to do. I walked south and saw this dilapidated building; not sure its story.

Then I wandered through a large park with a steep incline to the west and a small creek to the east; the park is mostly used for dogs from the looks of it. I wandered through, not sure if I was up for taking the steep stairs; figured I'd leave that for a nicer day. The weather looked threatening and I didn't have an umbrella or proper jacket, but figured I could dive into a pub or restaurant quickly enough.

As I walked, I saw these statues.

Then, I dipped into Billa to buy some berries and lo and behold found a bag of simulated Cheerios--the boys will be THRILLED. But, when I was done shopping, the rain came pouring down. I made my way down the street; not entirely sure where I was, but saw Tram 22 with direction Bila Horah, so then I knew I was okay. Thought about diving into a pub, but was too drenched. I made it home, poured a glass of red wine and took a shower, but first, I got to see another rainbow in Prague. And therein lies the hope I'm looking for and patiently await.

Tonight is Kol Nidre. And today, I found out that my Dad's condition isn't malignant. The rainbow was a sign and I'm so incredibly relieved. I look forward to a night of contemplation; thinking about all that I'm grateful for, and pondering those parts of myself that I would like to change. G'mar tov.

Unpredictable Prague

I thought Chicago weather was fickle, but Prague weather has it beat. Luckily, as I left the house in a short-sleeved shirt (and the omnipresent scarf) because it felt hot when I stuck my head out our window on the 7th floor, I was determined to find the second hand shop I found last week, where there was a short purple jacket for under $10. But, they don't take credit cards, and apparently they don't barter because I was 50 czk short. I found the shop today, but the purple jacket gone. Damn. The runner up, light green jacket, was still there. So, I bought it--she took the price from 280 czk to 196 czk--so that was sweet. I cut off the price tag, put the jacket on, and was on my way, perfectly dressed for the slightly cool day.

As I made my way into the center to find a synagogue, I dove into a cool looking atrium. What do I see, but a group of tourists looking up. No surprise there. But I was certainly not expecting to see this statue hanging from the ceiling.

And I certainly didn't expect this search, "prague statue of man on horse hanging from domed ceiling" to bring up this link.
Of course, it's a David Cherny exhibit. Should have known.

Last, but not least. one of my greatest unpredictable moments was rowing down the river, looking up and seeing all three of my boys running along the bridge with flowers in hand, yelling down to me! I'm the speck in the background, of much less significance than the love and support from my boys.

A Mish Mash

It's the Subtle Differences
Today Leo made his classmates laugh. Apparently, the Czech language has some subtle differences. When his teacher asked the kids to get out their peros, Leo took out his pen and said pero with a long emphasis on the e. Unbeknownst to him, when you emphasize the "e", pen becomes penis. Why, Leo asks, would a people create a language where such errors would occur?

L'Shanah Tovah
When we first learned we were coming to Prague, I researched some synagogues and read about the Spanish Synagogue as being a beautiful and welcoming place for the holidays. My new friend, Liz, who is a close friend of Sarajane, one of our Early Childhood families, turned me onto a progressive Jewish congregation. I looked up their website and was shocked to discover they were Reconstructionists, too. Who'd a thunk? They advertised their services to be at the Pinkas Synagogue, which is known for the inscriptions on its walls of all those from Bohemia and Moravia who perished in the Holocaust (Madeline Albright's family members included). So, I took Tram 17 to the Pinkus Synagogue and saw no signs of Jews congregating for Rosh Hashanah. I asked the security guards about a service and they didn't seem to know. I went to a museum around the corner and asked, but got a surly woman (my first) who declared I must be part of the Jewish community to attend services. I said I was, and she pointed me to the Spanish Synagogue. I walked through its lobby to see a woman putting out an oneg of apples and honey, wine and challah. It felt so comforting to wish her L'shanah Tovah, and to be understood. The sanctuary was stunning with detailed designs and gorgeous stained glass windows. It was a small space with an intimate gathering of about 20 people--some young in their late teens, early 20s, others middle aged and beyond. Two rabbis led the service, one American and the other from the Czech Republic. When it came time to say the Mourner's Kaddish, the Czech rabbi talked about one of their congregants who either died that day or her yartzheit was that day; I wasn't sure, but she was the congregation's only Holocaust survivor and had lived to age 100, so we held her in our hearts for that Kaddish. One of the lighter moments came when the rabbi asked an older couple to come up for an alliyah. The man refused, but his wife stood up, plucked the kippah from her husband's head, and to chuckles throughout, made her way to the bimah. When she was done, she sat down and her husband good naturedly plucked the kippah from her head and placed it on his.

images of the Spanish Synagogue

First Day of School

Thankfully, we have a lift, but it sure is tiny.

Getting up at 6:30 was the easy part. Getting everyone out the door by 7:15 wasn't too bad. Getting on the tram and arriving plenty early was easy. Leaving the kids at the school entrance, surprisingly difficult.

When we get off the tram, we walk through the Andel mall to school. Reed decided at the last second that he would like to have flowers for his teacher, so we made a pit stop at Tesco and he chose some small purple flowers, which he zipped in his backpack.

Walking through the mall, we saw other parents with their children; a boy in a blazer, girls carrying bright yellow and purple flowers, parents dressed up. Leo wanted to be on his own; felt like a baby having me take him to school. I assured him that most parents would be there, and they were. The boys wouldn't let me walk them into the school, though. Reed threw me a quick "I love you." No look back from Leo.

I stood there in the foyer and the lonliness and sadness seeped in. Parents were greeting each other and I understood nothing. I had no friends who I hadn't seen to hug and greet. Peeking through the crowd, I could see Reed in the lobby, and I felt so sad for these two boys going to a place where they know no one and barely speak the language. Truthfully, I just wanted a quiet place to cry, but school was out in an hour, so I only had time for Tesco. I roamed its aisles, found laundry detergent, bandaids, bubble bath, and a bright pink sweater for $10.

At 8:30, I returned to the school lobby. Parents were milling about. Some parents were sitting behind a desk, apparently selling mice and some slippery little red & white snakes. No thank you. Leo's teacher, Martina, found me and shepherded me to the cafe to help select lunches for the week. My guardian angel. She told me there's an Israeli girl in Leo's class who speaks English and helped him. And in Reed's class, there's a boy named Martin. I thought Martin had lived in Aspen, Colorado, but turns out he only spent two weeks, but he does know English. Unfortunately, he hates football; only loves skateboarding.

The purple flowers never left Reed's backpack, as I anticipated might happen. Turns out, no big kids were doling out flowers to their teachers. Perhaps it's only for the little ones. Now, I have lovely flowers in my kitchen.

The boys have already run off on Tram 10 or 16 to the trampoline park in Vinohrady to meet Alex and Arthur, their expat buddies. In two hours, I'm off for an hour of sculling. Jan, my coach, will put my boat in the water for me, and then I'm on my own. Let's hope I don't catch a crab.

First Day of Classes for all 3 Hurtig Boys