My niece Elsa.

Highlands (around our country cottage).

September, Tuesday 14 - Wednesday 15
Thousand times checked passports, thousand times re-packed bags, for there was always something I had forgotten, but eventually the time to depart had arrived. I loaded my kids and all luggage, and we headed to Tony's, where Hippo left his wagon in service of the rear-view mirror (busted off of a cow in previous journal), we had our last ceremonial Thai lunch in Shana, and we sped off to the airport.

The chap at the counter gazed at our tickets and said, that's strange, you're not seated together, and he quickly offered a fix in reservations. It took me a moment to explain that although we did not plan our seats to come out that way, having two window spots was not so bad, as I would for once try how it is to fly with two children who don't fight over a privileged spot.

Hippo soon left us; he had to be back at work, while the kids and I loitered around the airport. Tommy, who has (un?)fortunately a phenomenal memory, had an idea that he would again like to see the aircraft museum they have there, so we entered this copy of the original airport hall. I did not mind — this time the museum was staffed by an ex-stewardess of long-defunct PanAm, and we received a rather interesting lecture alongside the exhibits of models of the original China Clipper.

Tom plucking a mushroom.

An excellent toadstool specimen — we also found many edible mushrooms.

The kids naturally asked to ride the elevator into the 2nd floor of the museum, to which I had to put a stop; we had to catch our plane. Perhaps due to this snag I had lost my fleece — as I was trying to lift three carry-on cases (I stuffed them solid with complete kids' clothing sets for two weeks), kids' fleeces (poor babies could feel chilly on the plane), grab my camera, ready our passports and boarding passes, finish our drinking water to only leave an empty bottle that you can refill past the security check — somehow I overlooked my ancient black jacket laying in the car's basket. I remembered it somewhere above Greenland, too late to do anything about it.

Tom was ecstatic, when he discovered that our seats were in the second floor of the plane. My blood pressure shot up during the logistics of moving our carry-ons up the narrow staircase and subsequently at finding out that there was no room for them anywhere. The attendant kept convincing me that I should take only what I really need out of the cases, while they store them in a cabinet next to the stairs. True, I had no immediate use for heaps of spare clothing, but what about the camera, phones, wallets, kids' snacks, toys, books and similar necessities? They filled at least one full case, and the attendant had to somehow find some space above our heads. I must say I don't envy attendants their jobs. As soon as I finished bugging her with my carry-ons, I needed her help again. A man was sitting on Tom's place, and he reacted to my announcement that we held the relevant seat number, by turning towards the window and ignoring me. Apparently one had to invoke a higher authority; the attendant eventually managed him quite smoothly despite his back-talking. Even she was, however, surprised that we WANTED to sit separately, i.e. Lisa and I in the row IN FRONT OF Tom's, but at the moment I had received several request for a swap from other passengers, so I thanked her for her concern and told her we'd try it out as it was.

And it worked wonderfully. Apparently Air France has been using new aircraft with somehow more leg-room that I ever had before; moreover there was a small storage room under the windows, and when closed it forms a foot-wide ledge, which is a welcome bonus. Juniors could spread their toys and stuff over the ledge, and late put their feet up on it, making their sleep rather comfortable. They could also use the ledge as catwalk from one row to the other, passing stuff between each other, which was great.

Our harvest (or what we bothered to carry home).

A swing in the neighbors' back yard.

Thus I was rather well equipped to fight the Paris airport with a good mood and physical condition. It would not diminish the chaos and completely illogical arrangements inside this behemoth. Dysfunctional elevators and escalators turned it into a workout (the children are capable to drag their cases on a flat surface, but can't lift them up a stairwell) combined with an intelligence test — we were to depart from Terminal D, gate 58. Gates in said terminals are numbered one through twelve — and you can toss a coin which one of those leads to your flight. My brave, broken French did not help any — airport employees would vaguely wave in a general direction, never giving any concrete information.

Nevertheless we were eventually aboard our plane to Prague and the kids were fighting over the window seat. Lisa was surprised that passengers on this flight would speak mostly Czech, and played peek-a-boo at some little boy in the next row. Boy's mother, alas, directed mean Czech faces in my direction; a form of cold shower — I don't know till today, what made this lady hate me so much.

We landed in Prague amidst an autumn sleet, and it did not bother the kids a single bit. I was rather cold without my lost jacket, but since grandpa came to pick us up, all it took was crossing the parking lot and loading our stuff into his minicar. And I also tried to exchange a few words with my friend Martina and her daughter Elizabeth and arrange our later meeting at some quieter time and place.

I felt that driving across the whole Prague from the airport to granny's flat took longer and was less comfortable than flying from Paris to Prague. It seems that the capital of Czech Republic has finally burst in seams and simply won't take any more traffic. Of course we made it in the end, filling granny's tiny entrance hall with our luggage — and set out to buy some necessities. Granny stayed in America and her flat was devoid of any perishables. By then my sight started to blur, but more so my mind — hence after having dithered for half an hour inside (supermarket) Albert, I later at home discovered I forgot to buy my coffee. On a second try I only found regular ground beans instead of instant in the market, but I could no longer muster any strength to think about it and I resolved to survive regular coffee.

A rack for drying children.

Telč Castle.

Evening putting to bed carried on in a similar spirit. Having finished reading notes from granny, which said that sheets were to be found in the large cabinet in the living room, I took out one sheet and put it on my bed. Then I sat down on the couch where one of my children was to sleep, and wondered in vain, where could the sheets be? Finally I picked up granny's notes, read that sheets were to be found in the large cabinet in the living room; I took out a sheet and put it on the couch. I proceeded in gaping meaninglessly on another couch and wondered in vain, where in the world could the sheets be? And so it went on with pillows. Fortunately I had packed kids' sleeping bags, and I did not have to look for comforters — I might be sitting there and gazing meaninglessly at those notes till today. And yes, there were some less obvious entries on that list (such as which one of the two couches was expandable) — those I had given up on right away.

The worst moment was still to come. Once the kids were stuffed in their sleeping bags and the lights were extinguished, I doped myself with nyquill (a cold & cough medicine, which is sure to make me sleep), and I lied down. After one hour of sleep, a phone call from grandpa woke me up — he was at the airport, which failed to produce my sister Kristina and my niece Elsa. I was so confused and beat, I was not even able to speak consistently, much less think, hence I gathered that my sister was most likely stuck waiting for her luggage, and I hung up. Only in the morning I realized that I could have tried to call my sister from my cellphone (borrowed from granny — grandpa did not have her number). Anyway, the situation got resolved but I feel sorry that I could have been a little bit more lucid, and I could have saved everybody several hours of worrying (and perhaps not so much, for I could not reach an American number from this phone, and so I don't know if I could a Spanish cell).

Thursday September 16
Surprisingly, we were getting up only around six — so far our jet lag had not materialized. I had somewhat returned to a normal mental level of a scatter-brained housewife and stopped having a feeling that I move through a world filled with a thick fog. I managed to run a kid's show on TV and complete a whole series of phone calls regarding meetings and visitations. And then I, loaded with back packs and hand bags, set out with kids to the bus stop. I mustered buying tickets, hand over to my climbing partner's mother one bag with some small things, and then we continued to Vršovice to grandpa. There we found ourselves in the midst of grand arrival and unpacking of my sister Kristina and her Elsa, multiplying chaos. But I also found out that it was one hour less than I had thought, which weakened my conviction about being at my usual mental level, but it meant we had time to catch lunch with Gabka.

Lisa taking picture of the castle.

Telč town square.

Gabka brought Radim along to our favorite Thai restaurant, only poor Luky had to stay in school. Still it was a weird feeling, having a familiar meal with friends — only six thousand miles elsewhere. I am happy to point out a shift towards better service in that kids received free drinking water along with food (they don't like carbonated water and enjoy juices — but then they ask for something to quench their thirst with).
And then we were on the move again, making a trip to Čimice to my cousin Bára a her girl Adélka a Andulka. It was great, we Bára and I had a good laugh and children could totally run and play. Girls played some songs and danced, and eventually convinced Tom to join them in jumping. What he lacked in elegance, he added in vigor (I hope their neighbors were out working). Too bad I did not have my camera along! Children got each a wonderful gift from Bára — plastic bugs that can move around erratically. Of course as soon as we finished our pilgrimage back home, Tom released his bug in the kitchen, the thing immediately crawled under a refrigerator, and Tom squealed; the bug kept buzzing and resonating the fridge, and I looked for any sticks and rods and tried to force the robotic monster to leave its hiding place. Were it featured in some comedy show, I would have rolled on the floor laughing, but this way I just wheezed angrily, threatening my son, the beetle, and the fridge with exemplary punishments.

Friday September 17
Even the next morning in Czech Republic found us avoiding getting up too early. Even so, we were done with breakfast and packed half hour before grandpa arrived. We stuffed all our things in his little car and drifted off to the country house. We stopped in Počátky to buy a few missing groceries. Juniors demanded extra supply of their favorite brumík snacks and Lisa announced an urge to go to the bathroom. I somewhat naively asked a store clerk if Lisa could use their facilities (this being rather commonly available in American markets). I got a puzzled look and a statement, "well, we don't let strangers go there." It set me aback a bit. I don't know — they seem to feel more cultured with a puddle of urine around the corner (Lisa could not hold it anymore, and she had to make do with the back lot), rather than letting a five year old child, who sat for two hours in the car, use their toilet.

With grandpa in Telč.

A blue cat.

Finally we could release our children in the back yard and the country house garden. And to the wood in the afternoon, going mushroom hunting with grandpa. I regretted Sid not being with us; he would have enjoyed picking mushrooms at least as much as the kids did. Eventually we started to leave mushrooms behind in the forest, for grandpa cannot eat them due to his health problems, and we won't take them back with us to California. Tom and Lisa plucked the mushrooms, we sorted out which ones are edible and which ones are poisonous. Then grandpa took us to a spot where king mushrooms grow, and we found a few. And we also collected some natural water from the spring. It ended up being a serious hike, we spent several hours in the woods, which is perfect for coping with a time shift.

Saturday September 18
Matýsek and Barborka, two neighbors' children, appeared. During our last visit, she was still a baby; now she is a little miss — however noticeably younger than the rest of the pack, and I'm afraid she often lagged behind. Otherwise, I had a feeling of a day well spent in their back yard. Kids sometimes stopped to admire our grandpa splitting wood, then we raked and carted mowed grass to a compost heap, but calling of the pack was stronger. We got invited to a barbecue in the evening, but then Matýsek whined about his aching ear. I had to drag my kids away in the end, for Matýsek was obviously unwell, but still demanded to run with other kids and not succumb to any curative procedures.

Sunday September 19
After checking out some web sites, we discovered that if we want to show the children "a real castle", we'd have to do it on Sunday. Juniors ran around a bit with recovering Matýsek, and after lunch we headed for Telč. Weather was not looking good, but we planned to stay in the castle after all. We managed to snatch tickets for immediate tour, without waiting. The docent was very stiff (compared, for example, with the ranger at Lehman Caves in Nevada), but still our kids were ecstatic. Lisa kept asking if it's true that real princesses used to live in this castle. She was captivated by a ball room, and when one of the other rooms featured a silver shoe on a pillow, she was pure happiness. I was somewhat surprised how both Tom and Lisa managed to stay quiet throughout the tour — and follow the lecture.

On a rock.

Lisa in 7th heaven.

I was bound to distribute obligatory brumík snacks in the castle's gardens, we walked around the building, bought ice cream and sweets in a pastry shop on the bridge, and headed for our car. Family council ordered a detour through Třešť — there's a grocery store open even on Sundays (I've gotten quite spoilt and I find it strange that such business SHOULDN'T be open then), but most of all — aunt Máňa and uncle Kamil live there. Our visit with them was relatively short — we came unannounced — but incredibly pleasant. They had moved to a house with care service, but otherwise everything is as friendly as it was when I was a child. My aunt still bakes exquisite cakes (Tommy can confirm it, for he devoured half of the whole thing), and their kitchen is still a very cozy place to chat and eat.

Monday September 20
We found frost on the garden grass in the morning; I had to take a picture. Kids insisted to take pictures, too, and ended up running up and down the back yard in their pajamas and rubber boots — this reminded me of my own childhood, when all dressing up, changing shoes, and even using doors while there was a perfectly good window leading out to the back yard, seemed excessive. Cold chased our rascals back for breakfast. And we also had to cover part of the homework. We were allowed to let the children skip school for two weeks, as long as we cover their topics; we actually spent some thirty to sixty minutes every morning with school work. Alas, Matýsek was gone again, and so I took the kids on a walk to the Dýmač lake. We saw a few chickens along the way and met a friendly blue cat. At the lake, Lisa demanded to wade the edge in her rubber boots, while Tom climbed a few boulders. On our way back we met a lady on a horse. The rider must have recognized a fellow soul in Lisa — she let her pet the horse and even let her ride along for a little bit. Lisa was in seventh heaven, but Tom declined the offer. I think that he did not like the English saddle — and he declared that he did not know this horse and perhaps he should not get on it. In the afternoon grandpa finished something quickly in the back yard, and then we returned to Prague. My Hippo was to arrive there on the next day, making our family complete again.