Emigrants Abroad II August 27 - September 10, 2007 Czech/Moravian Highlands, steam trains and sandstone castles

	Jindřichův Hradec (a.k.a. Neuhaus)

	Trip to Jindřichův Hradec with our grandfather

At our grandfather's country house, we took advantage of the back yard with a garden, where the kids could run outdoors. There were also a few cultural highlights we planned to cover. It made little sense to stress the patience of ours, the offspring's, but also of all the guides and docents at the various castles and fortresses in the region. Still I wished to show my children the Kryza's Mechanical Nativity Scene in Jindřichův Hradec. First, there was the sticker shock, although we were already getting used to European prices. The second surprise was the limited access: the exhibit would open every half hour. Even that we would be able to work out -- but when the guides had herded about fifty people into a tiny room and turned off the lights, I almost threw a tantrum. I can stay in control of my mild claustrophobia, if I know what I am getting into. Going to a museum, I had surely not expected to be treated like a concentration camp prisoner freshly ushered into a gas chamber.

I appreciate that the museum aims to inform visitors about the Nativity scene history, its mechanics, manufacturing techniques and details of the setup. But is it really necessary to force it upon everybody, standing up, in a pitch dark room? Numerous kids either screamed due to the darkness (we were by far not the only silly family to think a Nativity scene being a show suitable for pre-school youth), or else they demanded to be let out of there; the more resilient ones played tag or hide and seek in the dark crowd. After the twenty minutes of lecture were over, and one really felt like at a mandatory school trip, which can transform the most interesting spot into a dull, forced affair, they finally conceded to let the mechanical Nativity run for a few minutes. They turned it off before we could even have a good look at the various pieces, and the whole crowd was herded out of the room.

	Lisa atop Jindřichův Hradec tower

	Lisa has seized the coveted blue bike, but Kuba is following her closely!

Tommy loves lighthouses and towers, therefore we headed for the castle and its tower. Tom said that he was an express and hurried ahead with granddad. Lizzy tried hard too, but the steps were simply too steep for her, and the ascent took a lot of time. This part of the available castle tour seemed adequate to children's patience, while offering partial discharge of our offspring's energy.

By that time, not only Hippo was starving. We checked out the castle restaurant -- and were pleasantly surprised. It was not smoky, meals were offered for two-digit prices (in crowns, that is), it was no problem to order a dietetic version of granddad's choice of lunch -- simple satisfaction. In the afternoon, we went to a flooded quarry. Sid and Tom had refused to enter the crystal clear - and horribly icy -- water; Lisa went in and dipped her bottom at most. I was resolved to swim, and I have to commend myself for this heroic deed. One of my motivators was the local weather forecast -- it was to become rapidly colder.

We had planned a trip to Brno for Wednesday -- to meet with some friends again, and to visit our Brno granny once more. Taverna turned out to be the best place for friends again, although some of the time there was wasted on putting more and more layers of clothes on freezing kiddies. And on resolving their fights over bikes -- Blanka had loaned Tom and Lisa two vehicles from their numerous fleet; naturally, the most coveted was a BLUE motor bike. By Blanka's children, and by mine. And thus one or more kids rolling in protest on the ground, where we would step over them in cold blood, became a common background of our lunch. I'm rather very glad that this sport (i.e. rolling on the ground in protest) was attended equally by all diners below four years of age -- at least I don't have to feel like a bad mother -- scenes and tantrum apparently belong to this developmental phase.

	Stone House in Kutná Hora

	Kutná Hora

We, the adults, had generally ordered fried cheese for lunch; though we wanted to allow the kiddies having somewhat healthier meals. Yet when it came to eating, Tom had sat at the table and said in a cute, excited voice: "Wow, I got fried cheese!" I could not bring myself to force him back to a risotto. Henceforth Tom would, for the duration of our stay, demand fried cheese -- sometimes we granted him access to this wonderful delicacy, and sometimes we did not. Unfortunately Lisa had, too, discovered fancy in French fries dipped in ketchup or mayonnaise. So much for healthy food.

Thursday was a day I was looking forward to and feared at the same time. We had agreed that we would leave the kids all day in granddad's care, while Sid and I drove to Kutná Hora. Mother's instincts are a terrible thing. Our granny had passed the test long ago, but I was wary of grandfather's baby-sitting. Still the kids had waved us good-bye very pragmatically, obviously wondering why driving away took us so long. Sid had navigated, I was at the wheel, and thus we zig-zagged through the countryside to Kutná Hora. Right as we got out of our car, the Stone House captured our attention. We took a guided tour through this magnificent historical building, got issued a map and recommendations where to turn next. Sid had never been to this ancient city before, yours truly last visit dates ten years back. I knew I wanted to drag my Hippo into the silver mines and into the St. Barbara Cathedral.

The Museum of Silver Mining did not disappoint us. I had noticed that prices went up significantly, but our guide did a good job and we had learned a lot about history and mining methods of silver and other precious metals, in the two and half hours. The part which takes visitors directly through one of the better accessible mines, even seemed better than last time -- again, very informative a rich. A re-creation of the ancient mining village at the surface was news to me. Overall, I would say for this rather high fee we got a truly good tourist attraction. Moreover, we had managed to have a decent lunch in Kutná Hora -- with two-digit prices in crowns, that is. And it was a rare trip without our beloved children. We had found our granddad and the kids in good spirits, sane and unscathed. It would seem that even my "mamas" Lisa accepts care from her grandparents matter-of-factly, while disappearing parents aren't a reason to worry.

	Depressive crawl space inside the silver mine

	Impressive cathedral of Saint Barbara

Blanka, Petr, Kubíček and Eliška had arrived on Friday morning. They had originally planned to live in a tent in the back yard, but with the temperatures now they had very quickly given up and taken advantage of a hitherto un-occupied, unfriendly, cold room in the corner of the house. Interestingly enough, everybody except for Blanka and me fell asleep in the afternoon -- so we two jumped in the car and made a short trip to a grocery store and a pharmacy in Počátky. That evening, we had prepared for the little ones a bonfire to fire roast some sausages (Czech kids don't do s'mores). Tommy kept asking for ketchup. Then, for most of the evening, he and Kubíček trucked logs from the wood shack to the fire with such verve that I had to put on a virtual dispatcher's hat and direct our eager drivers to take most of the heap back.

Our early intentions had included a hike to Fort Roštejn, but thanks to variable weather we opted for a "covered" attraction: narrow gauge railway track near Jindřichův Hradec. The station is rather confusing, as it is shared by both regular, national train network, and the narrow, private branch line; neither one puts out any sign with indication, how to obtain tickets. A cashier at the CSD (national railroad) turned us severely away. Eventually it turned out that one is to purchase branch line tickets on the train, from a conductor. I don't understand why can't such simple fact be made obvious with a sign in the station? Thus the whole circus boarded the steam train (Blanka, grandfather, (4) kids and I). Men (Petr and Sid) became designated drivers of our service vehicles - the choo-choo takes two hours to reach Nová Bystřice, and then two hours back -- the little one would not last this long. We agreed to meet in Malý Ratmírov -- after half an hour ride. It had worked out; the only one who insisted on going on farther, and cried when forced to leave the train, was little Tom.

The lunch hour was approaching, and a decision was made to return to Jindřichův Hradec. My Hippo had spotted a patio restaurant from the castle's walls on Tuesday, but it was not easy at all to navigate through the maze of medieval streets and alleys. Before we finished dithering to the place, with all the children in tow, a gentleman rushed in, who in accordance with a Czech custom, posted a "CLOSED TODAY" sign on the entrance. Peter and Sid then discovered another business and the rest of us reached it eventually, with minor complications (kids had discovered feces on a bench in the castle park, hopefully of a dog, and Kubíček had no better idea than to pick it up with his hand).

	While mines are claustrophobic and dark, miners' patron gets a cathedral filled with fresh air and sunshine

	Finally, Saint Barbara minus the scaffolding

After our last experience with the castle restaurant, the one in the town was a mild disappointment. The presentation was eagerly exclusive, prices had three digits, and meal mediocre. A sand box for kids was nice, but they played so vigorously that they refused to eat at all. Then came the scene with a fish. We were sitting at an outdoor table and chatting, when Sid, sitting opposite to me, suddenly yelled, "Watch out, fish!" I truly had no idea what was going on, and how to interpret such confusing exclamation, and I must have looked quite dazed -- until a real fish landed, with a loud slap, on the table in front of me. A dead fish. On a hook and a line. In the neighboring garden, some high power outdoorsman had been using large bait and a long-range pole, but lacked the correct bearing.

When Kubíček was leaving on Saturday evening, our Tom made a horrible scene -- suddenly he remembered that he, too, would like to go back to his little house, his trains and his big truck. I also longed for our house -- for similar, ordinary reasons. I had packed minimum clothing along for this trip, and thus I was forced to wash some of the dirty socks and T-shirts at the country house. One can certainly survive the absence of an automatic washer, as well as doing it all manually in cold water. But I brutally missed our dryer. Given the weather (cold and rainy), I had spent the upcoming two days casting spells onto all the wet socks, cursing them to finally get dry.

	This saint made us laugh - check out his gesture!

	The house is bursting at the seams - Sid, Carol, Lisa, Kuba, Eliška, Tom, Blanka. Granddad is taking the picture, and Peter is sleeping.

For we were moving again on Sunday. I have had a wish to introduce my family to Czech-Saxon Switzerland, another land of my heart. One needs to cross two thirds of the country, getting there from the Highlands, and we were slightly afraid of driving on the last Sunday before the start of the new school year. We had departed early in the morning, by noon we exited the freeway near Beroun, and hit the first restaurant in Loděnice (Ve století) that had a patio. They even had a nice playground for the kids -- only if it did not sport a heap of shit right at the entrance.

A short way from Loděnice, on can find Solvay's quarries - a kind of homestead for our friend Suchýš, who is an experienced Nevada hiker. The said gentlemen, however, has irresponsibly gotten himself a cast on his ankle, thus he was not able to be our guide. Just to locate the museum in a vast forest grove was relatively difficult; though eventually we even found out when a tour was to be given. The kids had no patience for a museum, and we were bound take turns, oscillating with them outside. The middle part of the tour included a ride on a narrow gauge mining train, which Tom spent by watching rails and points. We had given up on the third phase, a visit to an actual mine - Tom is convinced that a tiger lives in every larger hole, and Lisa just repeats everything after him.

By the evening we collapsed at the hotel Ostrov. Kids had managed to run all over little bridges on a pond in front of it, Tom demanded fried cheese for dinner, no compromise. After dinner, we loaded the whole family into an indoor swimming pool, and later a jacuzzi. Some assiduous hotel staff urged us to accept extra beds for the children, which we kept refusing -- our kids have their own inflatable beds and like to use them.

	Narrow gauge railroad at Jindřichův Hradec

	Where is that train?

Monday had been reserved for rock climbing with local champions. It was supposed to be a cherry atop a cream dessert, a reminder of being on vacation. Simply an opportunity to do something not related to children and relatives. Alas, Sid, despite having participated in planning the whole affair, in the end chickened out and refused to climb. I was terribly anxious and eager; climbing on sandstone has it completely unique beauty -- deserted towers of bizarre shapes, climber logbooks hidden at the tops, even the very structure of the rock -- all this was taking me back to by climbing beginnings. Naturally, worn out fingertips began to announce themselves -- subsequently, after returning to California, I had gradually shed skin from my hands.

Right from the start, Pavel and I got into our continuing disagreements. Pavel, a classical climber, loves flakes and chimneys and cracks. When I requested to climb "something nice and fun", he chose a route in which I was swearing like a barbarian. I theoretically understand that lodged with my back against one side of a chimney and my feet against the other, I was safe -- but I simply don't like it. Especially if said chimney is found in an overhang, with a hundred feet of empty air gaping under me, and the rope above me (yes, I was not leading) represents safety for the case of falling, but is also a trap - if I dropped, I'd hang free and have no way to get up again. It did not come as far as me (shamefully) falling, but before I managed to crawl on top, Pavel, too, was swearing -- totally freezing, with an outlook to an icy shower from dark clouds that were rolling in. They somehow rolled around us and we had finally agreed on something that I consider a nice route. Although technically more difficult, still a flat "seven" with little wavy holds, which finally brought me some fun from exercise. Despite one moment, when my too large shoes failed me, it had fixed my appetite. We did one more such treat and I had found that I could not do any more -- my fingers would refuse to close around sharp edges -- my eyes wanted to continue climbing, but not the rest of me.

	Tom would concentrate for the entire train ride and pay close attention to everything

	Lisa was taking the train ride very seriously

In the end, it was probably better that way -- even so, it already started raining when we ran to the restaurant for a late lunch; later, hail would fall, which stayed on the ground till evening. Obviously, our climbing was over regardless of the depleted situation with my physical self. That night, we spent with Pavel, Katka, Jaromír and his wife at Pod Císařem. Next morning was still ugly, and we were ever more longing for our sunny California. Having thanked the helpful staff of the hotel, we headed for Prague. After we circled around the zoo, botanical garden, madhouse in Bohnice and almost got divorced, we realized that the northern part of the Prague bypass has REALLY not been built yet, and therefore we had to take local streets through northern Prague towards the airport and Martina's place, using my feeble memories.

The weather had obliterated all plans for a farewell grill party in the back yard, we could hardly stay outside with the kids for their obligatory afternoon walk. In the morning, we rejoiced about out flight schedule - departure at 10 am so is much more civilized than seven (especially since one must show up two hours earlier -- i.e. at a truly wee morning hour). Our Prague grandmother, who had arrived from California previous night, also came to see us at the airport - and so we were saying hello and goodbye at the same time.

There was approximately three hour lay-over in Copenhagen. After we had run up and down the whole transit section, we found that if we wanted to eat, we would have to first immigrate to Denmark. Our kids have collected another array of stamps in their U.S. passports -- though they'd seen only a few yards of an airport lobby. The whole European Union had caught us slightly unprepared -- already in Czech Republic, we found the prices horribly high (comparing in ratio of Czech vs. California income), yet one lasagna, one bowl of pasta with salmon (both excellent flavor, one must say) and two oversized beers in a cafeteria did cost us more than one lunch for the whole family in a rather good sushi place in Mountain View. Still, we had to eat -- while we have had a breakfast, the next meal SAS had planned for us was an in-flight dinner.

	Panoramic shot of sandstone walls at Tisá

Rurik Viking, again, was taking us back to Seattle - apparently SAS's only large aircraft on that line. This time, passengers were somewhat less orderly and by far not everyone would sleep in daylight. We had solved it by spreading a blanket between the seats. Kids were enthusiastic to have a tent, and then did an exemplary job of getting quiet and sleeping for the larger part of our flight. Well, and then we found ourselves on home turf -- gone through immigration in Seattle, soon we stood in a lobby where people cannot smoke, where fast food joints offer meals for adequate prices, and where one can find clean and roomy restrooms, as well as DRINKING FOUNTAINS with regular water. Sid and I ordered a celebratory ice cream, I called Fionnuala on my cell phone, as she was supposed to pick us up in San Francisco -- simply put, we were back HOME. On the last leg of our plane journey, we all slept (or more accurately, endured marginal loss of consciousness). Got to our respective beds some time around midnight.

	Among sandstone wall in Tisá

	Hail in September...

I think it was one of our best trips so far to Czech Republic. Kids were surprisingly well behaved; no one turned sick, jet lag was merciful. Tommy's big dream came true and he has flown aboard six different airplanes. He rode in trains, had killed bugs with a swatter, mixed among children who spoke Czech, watched his grandfather make kindling, his granny would blow up rubber balloons for him, Blanka sang with a guitar. He has learned to eat fried cheese with ketchup. And his granddad's house "looks like a limousine" (our country house is actually a double-house, sharing a wall with a neighbor). Just think of all those beautiful things!

We, adults, have enjoyed seeing family and friends. Everybody involved treated us very kindly -- from loaning us things like the car, cell phone, car seats for the kids -- to little details like used plastic toy trucks and push carts. Restaurant food caught us by surprise -- suddenly everything seemed overly salty and lacking any substantial participation of vegetables. And then there was the problem with drinking water, along with lunch or dinner, which we are so used to. It seemed to be incredibly difficult to get anything besides beer or flavored soda. I don't think I had consumed as much beer in the last five years together, as I did within these two weeks -- if I have to choose between a half-pint of water in snobbish bottle for a dollar, and a pint of draft beer for seventy five cents -- guess what it'll be? Probably thanks to all that beer, I had gained some seven pounds -- unfortunately mostly across chest, which bloated me out of comfortable standard bra sizes back into the range of military tents. This while I previously had, filled with optimism, thrown all the parachutes out of my closet.

Copyright © 2007 by Carol & Sid Paral. All rights reserved.