Crawling into E.U. April 27 - May 10, 2004 About two grannies, one grandpa, several castles, Czech and Moravian motherland, and a cursed child

	To the castle! (Ruins of Děvín Castle on Pálava Hills)

	Sisters: Josephine and Agnes

Our twenty-hour globetrotting journey has ended by falling into bed in Brno, Czech Republic. I had been slightly afraid about Tom's reaction to another - so far unknown - grandmother. No problem. Our quite sociable child was totally fascinated by this very interesting person. To give you some clue - our granny from Brno is about twice as intense (= noisy, talkative, sociable, always waving hands) as our Hippo is. And I look like a shy creature next to the Hippo. So Tom has been shown a great performance, often concentrated on watching granny very closely, he shouted out and laughed in the midst of her speaking, despite the talking being not always aimed at him.

I wondered how we would all cope with a nine-hour time shift. Tom apparently decided to work out this life crisis (just like all previous life crises) by eating a lot and sleeping a lot, which proved best for the rest of us as well. While still being up between three and five a.m., playing with a very livid descendant, it was the only irregularity we encountered. Tuesday was our stumble-around day, but at least we managed to do some essential shopping - disposable diapers were needed. There's a new Interspar store near granny's place, which we had approached with a strong resolve to resolutely demand access to with a stroller, hardened by a discovery that a 5,000 CZK bill (~US$200) does not get you a right to use a shopping cart (You have to rent one using a common large coin, which we did not have, and they don't make change without you getting into the store first, which used to be restricted to those already having rented a cart -- a local version of Catch 22. Much later we discovered that the coin system would accept a US quarter dollar, which we used from then on whenever we were out of Czech change; the thing returns exactly the same coin once you surrender the cart). One must simply not believe everything there is to read on the 'net about the horrors of living with a baby in Czech Republic -- we shopped only with Tom in his stroller, without the staff giving us even a quizzical look.

	A view from the tower of Roštejn Castle, near our family's country house

	A view from Pálava Hills onto the town of Pavlov and Nové Mlýny Reservoir in Southern Moravia.

Eating in restaurants turned out to be unproblematic. Admittedly, the weather played along, so we could use open patios. At Hanáček Inn in Nedvědice, the waitress was surprised we opted to freeze outside; she subsequently kept running out to us, feeling sorry, and trying to ease this "cruel exile" of our somehow. We had been all by ourselves on the patio, not counting a couple of very courageous ducks, hoping to have something fall off our table into their gizzards; all the locals were smoking themselves indoors.
Quite the opposite, at Křivoklát's prestigious-looking hotel Elk, we were "greeted" by an ugly frown and a terse "I wonder who do you think would wait on you out there." Promptly, we marched off to find their competition at the Sýkora hotel: the owner behind the bar responded amicably that he'd be happy to let us sit and wait on us on the patio, but why could we not take our baby to their non-smoking dining room? By the way -- theirs smoking bar room was empty, while the non-smoking hall was packed with guests. Don't anybody tell me that Czech wish to have only smoking restaurants, and that a non-smoking diner would go bankrupt!
On a similar vein, there was always someone on a patio of The Farm, an American country style place in Brno. They had a great idea to attach a small kids' playground to the patio, fenced all around and therefore unmarked by dogs. A substantial part of their clientele are mothers who come for a chat and coffee with strollers or more grown kids.

	The Highlands - on our way to Javořice (2,750 ft)

	Tom with granny explored the castle in Telč only from the gardens

But of course we did not visit the Czech Republic for bars and pubs (although I must say that a situation does not occur often in California, when BOTH of us can have a beer -- i.e. neither must drive again). We came mostly to show off with Tom before various relatives. Besides our closest family we met, for example, Sid' eighty-five years old aunt Agnes, and in the other extreme we checked out three-weeks old Anna of my cousin Bara. In the company of Sid's aunt, you begin in a while to feel somewhat immature at your age, and you take away a nagging impression that the real life (traveling, theatre, social clubs, swimming...) begins after eighty.

Encounter with Annie was no less interesting, though perhaps more dramatic. I was looking forward to putting our babies to sleep and chatting with my cousin Bara about births, breastfeeding and other essential things. Naturally, we did it the other way around. Annie got hungry just as we arrived, and Tom simply must not hear a baby crying. He will immediately conclude that a catastrophe has occurred, during which all little babies are being deplorably cheated, and he will put on a preemptive squeal to avoid having someone think of cheating him as well. Through most of our visit, Bara and I tried to prevent a screaming duet by radical separation of the infants. Lengthy motherly information exchange was over, though I managed in the end to seize sleeping Annie and hold a tiny baby again. Not that Anna would be miniscule, but in comparison to our nineteen-pound Tom she felt like feather. I confess it made me think that it would be great to have another small baby again, but I've got too fresh memory of sleepless nights and feelings of helplessness (Sid, no matter how willing he might be, simply cannot breastfeed).

	We caught the best sunshine at Lake Mrzatec

	Pernštejn Castle in Moravia

For now I'm genuinely glad that our kid is big enough to do things with him. We spent portion of our vacation at our family country house, to which I hold sentimental ties. I did not want to stay in cities anyway -- it seems brutal to evict Tom from a quiet suburban house with a backyard into "holidays" in hectic metropoli of traffic. Besides, part of my family has roots in the Czech-Moravian Highlands, and so after years I could again meet with my aunt and my uncle, who so inevitably and lovingly belonged to my childhood's holidays. In the Highlands, we took a more leisurely pace and did some hiking and tripping; some into civilization as well. There we (also leisurely) witnessed as Czech Republic entered the European Union. Tom celebrated the occasion by trying to crawl - see his page (he did not get anywhere so far; we hope that ČR will do better with the Union).

We wished to see a nearby historic town of Telč, where Sid's grandparents came from; a cemetery where they were buried and a house where they used to live. Tom participated OK in this, but he fell asleep just when we were ready to go on a tour inside a castle - he was left with his grandmother to stroll in the castle's garden. On another day, we took off with our kid squealing, to Roštejn Castle; he fell asleep to the rattle and shake of his stroller on our way there, as we opted for a pedestrian, and more picturesque, approach. Having reached the gate, we rushed in, for it started raining.

	Pernštejn Castle Tower

	The tower used to be much higher and it had two bridges (one above the other), but the upper part was shot to pieces when Swedes besieged the castle.

We spent the following hour at a table under an awning -- outside, dry moments alternated with extended downpour, as a thunderstorm angrily circled the old castle. Sid with the granny stood a line for refreshments, when in the middle of an ugly sleet, a tourist agency bus arrived from Prague. Elderly pilgrims were let loose, some pulling out their umbrellas, some deciding to take shelter with us under the awning. When one particular woman sat down on our bench, she kicked my stroller; I regarded it as something "normal" -- with Tom's virtual "invisibility" I could not really expect her to notice a stroller, could I? Having gained a place in the dry, the old woman began to gripe that there was a bad smell coming out of a nearby drain (all drains smell during a heavy rainstorm!) and squirmed on her seat like a hen on a roost, kicking again twice my sleeping baby in the process. Then she stood up (another kick) and moved to another bench (kick number five). She continued to grouse that she won't have this kind of smell and when she got up, she bounced into my child for the sixth time. At that time I gently tried to let her know that my baby just went to sleep and that I would be very glad if she stopped hitting the stroller. Oh how dared I!
"I ain't kicking no stroller, how come you think I would... etc.". I reassured her that she had already managed to kick it a few times, and stressed the fact that my baby just went to sleep and I would appreciate to keep it that way. More yelling followed. Since she was shrieking right over the said stroller, I gave up.
"Yes, ma'am, you must be right and did not kick my stroller," I backed off hoping that it would make this predator calm down before Tom wakes. It was not enough -- the hag went on screaming that she has a right to sit down wherever she chooses and why can't she (I would not know -- I did not mention anything about sitting down, although letting her sit there actually meant that we had to squeeze a bit). She finished it off by *cursing* Tom: "...and may the child never grow!" I confess that this got me unprepared -- such a spite and hate. I did not leave it unretorted, I screamed at her that I hope she would kick the bucket really soon (well, there had to be some street fighter among my ancestors ), but today I would take it back -- I think that this bitch deserves a longest life possible -- given her sourness, an early death would be an unearned delivery from her own personal hell she must be living with herself. It's interesting enough that much of the tourist group somehow rotated through our awning, sitting down and going around the castle again, and no one else would give us any trouble. Everybody fit in, mostly ignoring the stroller (well, as much as simply avoiding it).

As the downpour seemed to have no end, we sent a quick peon (Sid) to go fetch our car and drive it all the way to the castle gate. It took him some longer time -- having missed a turn, he turned around on a narrow road and the car slipped one wheel on a muddy shoulder into a ditch. In his naive confidence, he tried to wave other cars down to ask somebody to help him push. Proud Czech citizens passed by without stopping, more often gazing than leering. If he were to rely on random locals, be assured that he would be still stuck there. Eventually he managed to get out of the ditch all by himself -- and showed up at Roštejn in a moment when the storm had finally stumbled away in a westerly direction and the sun came back.

	Baby swap: Carol with Annie + Bára with Tom

	Our collection of conquered castles completed Křivoklát.

Our other experience with castles was not as challenging. Tom enthusiastically concurred in a guide's lecture on Pernštejn Castle, yelped out in its dark hallways and overall made the impression of a seasoned connoisseur of history. Our Křivoklát lecture was very extensive, and after an hour Tom lost his patience and started to squeal. The guide softheartedly said that it was OK as kids often fear him because he looks wild in his beard; then he looked at Sid and Tom's grandfather, who was there with us, and concluded that it could not be for the beard this time. We had to change Tom's diaper and feed him in one of the castle's yards -- he had simply been hungry.

We spent our last three days in Prague; I was curious to learn how my old cat Guláš would deal with Tom's existence. On the first day, he (the cat) was quite morose and hissed at us angrily; on second day he ignored us mugwumpishly, and on the third day he started to impose himself and fawn. Alas, we were leaving by then and had no time to get friendly again. I must say that these final phases laid really heavily on us all. Tom had turned into a desperate, nervous, whimpering infant, jittery from all the traveling and constant changes. Prague disappointed us by being definitely stroller-unfriendly. I used to live here, but until I needed wheels, I never noticed all those barriers, stairs, curbs, cobblestones and other roughs.

Flights from Prague to America leave very early in the morning with no exceptions, so I departed from the idea of a quietly sleeping baby for the duration of the trip. I was therefore not looking forward to our trip home, but instead I really yearned to be home already. I don't get this comfortable all-around service I enjoy as a dear visitor; we would surely benefit from having Tom see his grandparents more often (e.g., pretty please, if somebody would like to babysit him any two afternoons every week), but nothing's better than our own home.

Copyright © 2004-2005 by Carol & Sid Paral. All rights reserved.