There's no snow in Prague right now, but the weather reports are full of the news of snow in the Czech mountains. I'm spending my work breaks piecing together snow reports, train schedules and Google maps in search of the closest open cross country track and day dreaming about our Christmas vacation in Switzerland.
We didn't have a lot of days free for skiing, but any free time we had found us out in the mountains with the children. They practiced their down hill skiing, built snow men and Caroline stepped away from the ski lift to go cross country with me once. The weather was too warm for ice skating on the lakes, but we're hoping that when we head back to Switzerland in February for ski break the Christmas thaw will have ended and the deep freeze set in for the season.
In the meantime, does anyone in Prague have a favorite cross country track they'd like to recommend? And are you skiing where you are?
Years ago, in another life, I went to music school, and for four years got to indulge in that most nerdy of all analysis - music theory. By the time we graduated, if you handed me a score I could take it apart chord by chord and tell you its harmonic progression, no problem. Everyone in our class could, it came with the territory. We also had to chant the chords to "A Star Spangled Banner" while playing the piano as a prerequisite to crossing the stage at graduation, and one memorable night a bunch of us learned how to Texas two-step while singing the alphabet backwards, but those are different stories.
I've forgotten almost all my theory, and only twitter around with Caroline's piano music now, writing out the chords for improvised duets. I hadn't thought about the language behind the progressions for a very long time until our viol da gamba teacher from university posted today's video in Facebook. It's a terrific illustration of the way music is a language that we understand even if we don't know all the words.
If you're new to chord progressions, watch the video and pay attention to certain chords and their effect on you as listener (and also on the little doodle guy in the video). Watch out for those dramatic ii7s in particular!
I promise my next post will be something easier to swallow, but I couldn't resist sharing the little dude and his reaction to Mozart. Thanks June, for posting him!
Back in November, I posted about Sandmännchen and the package Caroline mailed to his show. Guessing she wouldn't hear back, a few weeks ago I bought C a small thank you for her effort.
At the time, Caroline's German listening skills were quite decent. Give her a few days in Germany or Switzerland, and she'd become positively chatty. But she'd never been able to decipher any of our German kids books, and while I understood simple books I couldn't reliably translate text into speech. I decided to find a bilderbuch mit DVD to help us both along.
Die kleine Hexe feiert Weihnachtenarrived to much fanfare one Friday not long ago, just in time for the weekend. Caroline set its DVD on repeat and read the story over and over again, working on figuring out letter to sound patterns. She decided (and I agreed) that German is much easier to learn to read than English. When she was satisfied we all sat down to hear her read the story of a young witch's Christmas celebration.
The Little Witch Celebrates Christmas opens in the middle of a snow storm on Christmas Eve. We meet our little witch and find her feeling frazzled. All she wants to do is prepare her house for the Christmas witch's annual visit. Instead a covey of other witches and their mediums drop by, warming their toes in front of the fire and getting in the way. In the end, of course, everyone gets organized and helps out, the little witch realizes how much fun she's had with her friends and the Christmas witch thanks her for her generous Christmas spirit.
(Short pause while I consider a daily reading, starting around the 15th.)
So yes, it's a story with a nice moral, but it's also super to listen to on DVD because the story's reader has a marvelous voice. The weekend of the great Die kleine Hexe read-a-thon, C and I vied with each other to see who could most closely copy her accent. (Neither of us conceded. I'm more dramatic, and she voices k sounds to perfection.)
My working theory with accents is that if I put my heart and theatrical leanings into them I'll at least surprise someone. Thanks to our impromptu lessons, I'm hoping that when we visit family in Switzerland this Christmas I can not only surprise my nephew but read to him too. And Caroline is planning another reading marathon, this time with her cousin and James as fellow members of the team.
The angels and devils were out in full force at Náměstí Míru tonight. Caroline thought she'd be too old this year, but changed her mind at the last moment. She's decided that next year will be time enough to change hats and don a halo or horns.
If you haven't been in the Czech Republic for Mikuláš Eve before, it's always on December 5th, the evening before Mikuláš' saint's day. Starting around 5 pm, trios of saints, devils and angels head to the big squares around Prague to hand out candy to children willing to sing a song for a bonbon and agree to a yearly review. Kids take the drill seriously; we saw many a long face on our walk to the square tonight. Once past their first talking to, most children cheer up considerably. Caroline sang for at least six trios before we persuaded her to head home to see if the real Mikuláš had stopped by. James refused to talk to a single saint.
Sure enough, at home the children found treasure bags of candy waiting for them (with only one well wrapped potato as a warning from Saint Nick to behave). James sighed with contentment, happy to be home and free from the devils. Caroline hummed her song of the night and decided to start working on her outfit for next year.
{1} Caroline sings a song for one trio; {2} Two devils catechizing a kid on the street (no 4 year old was harmed in this picture, but he did look guilty afterwards); {3} It's a busy night at Mirak, the angels have to catch up by phone; {4} The devils have already met up, but they're more interested in snacks than quizzing little kids; {5} St. Mikuláš and his devil and angel team up to ask Caroline if she's been good this year; {6} A devil with tail hanging out, bell at her side.
Zdeněk Miler, Krtek's creator, died yesterday. I've written about Krtek, the little mole, before. He is the most gracious and kind of Czech illustrated characters and a dear friend of the children. He's also a constant in young kids' lives here, ours not excepted.
Every evening just before 7, a little fellow with a red felt hat and cotton beard visits German kids' TV, taking his viewers around the world on all manner of rides. Monday might find him on a carpet in India, Tuesday, a submarine under the sea, Wednesday, he‘ll guide a troika into the wilds of Russia. The little man, Sandmännchen, visits children in these far off places and watches a short cartoon with them before he sprinkles moon sand into the air and sends his audience to bed. He’s a popular figure in our house, and if Caroline is not too busy with homework, the kids like to curl up together on the sofa and watch his show while we make dinner.
When she first started watching, Caroline was terrified of Sandmänn's power, and would hide her eyes or run from the room when he blew his sleepy sand. A big eight, she laughs at her baby self now, and watches the show with the vast superiority of someone who knows all the words to its nightly song.
"Sandmänn" the kids yell when he appears. I'll scoot in from the kitchen to see which clip is on, cuddle James and talk to Caroline about the fairy tale behind the story or the puppet featured this time (the show is more than 50 years old, so there are many styles to choose from). Then I'll jump back to finish cooking while the children watch the cartoon that's being introduced. Thanks to these shorts, C has learned a fair amount of German, so she'll often summarize for us over dinner later, with James adding his two cents to the story.
Part of Sandmänn's long running appeal is that children can send letters and drawing in to the show. If they're very lucky they'll have their pictures shown on television and even get a prize. After watching for so many years, Caroline decided that before she got too big, she'd send in her own contribution. She drew an illustration from one of her favorite cartoons, wrote a short letter in German, and mailed her package off.
She's still waiting to see if her picture will show up one evening. It's been a few months though, so I recently decided to take matters into my own hands. But that's a post for another day.
Kinder, liebe Kinder, es hat mir Spaß gemacht.
Nun schnell ins Bett und schlaft recht schön.
Dann will auch ich zur Ruhe gehn. Ich wünsch euch gute Nacht."*
Children, dear children, we've had a lot of fun.
Now quickly, to bed and sleep well.
Then I will also go rest. I wish you all good night.
*The last stanza of the last song of the show each night.
Blue skies and above freezing weather this weekend made it easy to explore the Christmas market at Náměstí Míru and take lots of pictures. The sun (sun!) and shadows kept tempting my camera though, so I gave it free rein, and decided a portrait of a bush was my favorite picture from a morning of clicking shots of Christmas booths.
For those of you with access to the market, do drop by. I'd vote Náměstí Míru the nicest Christmas market in town and am particularly fond of the hot apple cider at the crepes stand just across from the tree. You can drink it with or without a dash of rum. Yum.
(As usual, click on the collage to see a bigger picture.)
"T-D, T-D, T-D-ahhhva. T-Dava," said Caroline, standing at attention in front of her kindergarten’s director, years ago. "T-D-am. T-D-aktor," she continued, giggling a little as familiar words turned to nonsense. She repeated the list again, faster this time. We were in the director’s office and Caroline was learning to roll her Rs.
"T-Dava, T-DRava, Trrrrrrrrava." It didn’t take many visits for Caroline to catch on. Rs in Czech are easy to pronounce once you realize that they begin in the same place in your mouth as a D, and then roll. Soon Caroline was rolling her Rs with great drama and length, applying her lessons to every R in Czech (as you should) and every R in English (as you shouldn’t).
We learned rhymes together, lines like: Trubač troubí, vytrubuje, trubka se mu blýská. Trubač troubí tramtarata, trubka zrovna výská.
(All about trumpets and trumpeters)
And my favorite to say really fast: Franta frká: frky, frk, holub vrká: vrky, vrk
(Frank has to blow his nose, a dove has to coo)
From R, lessons moved on to Ř. An Ř is typically the last sound children learn to pronounce when they are growing up here, because of its difficulties. Caroline's teacher explained that an Ř is a rolled R spoken through nearly closed teeth. She had Caroline practice by baring her teeth like a wolf and whispering her Rs to create the famous rrrzh sound. "Řepa, řeka, řekla, řekl", Caroline worked on her word list until she finally graduated to a nursery rhyme:
Řežu, řežu dříví,
až jsem celý křivý. Cut cut wood,
I'm already all crook'd.
This time, the lessons were useful for more than just Caroline. I worked along with C until we could both bare our teeth and pronounce our Řs. Remember the fairy tale from a few days ago? Tři oříšky pro Popelku becomes easy to say if you can remember to roll your Rs, and keep your teeth together. If I were to mangle an English phonetic spelling, it might look like this: Trrzhee orrzheeshky pro Popelku. Go ahead and try, then let me know how it goes!
Notes:
In Czech pronunciaton, a háček, or hook, softens letter sounds. Š = sh, ž = zh, č = ch, etc.
All over town Advent wreaths are on sale, in various states of readiness. You can either buy a wreath off the shelf or be bold and make your own. Foam core wreaths, hot glue guns, candles of all color and decorations of all types - the world's your oyster when it comes to construction. We made our own again this year (minus the glue gun), and even James helped decorate. This evening, Caroline set the table to show off the wreath, and even though dinner was simple (thankfully, as I'm feeling like a stuffed turkey myself), it felt like a special occasion - a fitting way to end our Thanksgiving weekend and begin the holiday season.
Yesterday and today are our days to celebrate Thanksgiving, so we're cooking up a storm over here, which doesn't leave a lot of time for writing. In lieu of something longer, I thought I'd post the sweet potato recipe that's become our party favorite, at least for adults. The kids prefer marshmallows,* which just leaves more for us!
Tipsy Sweet Potatoes
4 pounds of sweet potatoes or yams
1/2 stick butter
1/4 cup brown sugar
5 TB dry Sherry
Preheat oven to 425F/218C. Wash your sweet potatoes well and stab them several times with a fork for ventilation. Bake for about an hour, or until you can easily run a knife through one.
Slice potatoes in half and scoop pulp into a large bowl. Add butter and brown sugar to potatoes. Using either a potato masher, a big spoon or (if you've got one) an electric mixer, beat until smooth. Add Sherry and salt and pepper to taste. Transfer to large pan.
When you're ready to serve, rewarm the potatoes on the stove, stirring often.
*Are you in Prague, looking for marshmallows that don't taste like strange fruit? Head to Marks & Spencers for vanilla flavored goodness. M&S also stocks Sherry.
Germany may have been home to the Grimm brothers, but the fairy tales they collected grew in both Czech and German lands. Like regional recipes, these stories share common ingredients if not a common language, more similar to each other than to the saccharine sweets whipped up by Disney. Three Hazelnuts for the Ash Girl,* or, as you might know it, Cinderella, is one such tale, and the clip above** shows the first scene from a famous retelling of that story.
Famous in central Europe, that is, especially around Christmas time. Produced in 1973 in Czechoslovakia and Eastern Germany, and distributed in both Czech and German, Tři oříšky pro Popelku has turned into a Christmas classic, broadcast each year in the Czech Republic, Slovakia, Germany, Switzerland and Norway. We saw it for the first time in Switzerland a few years ago, and now watch it in German there, and in Czech at home.
What makes this a Cinderella story to add to your calendar? The score certainly helps, and the scenery - forest shots in real snow, a squalidly real manor house, one of the more picturesque castles in eastern Germany. The dialogues work as well, batted back and forth by a comic cast of characters who breathe life into an old story flattened by familiarity.
But that's not why it's so re-watchable. I'd give credit to a script twist that turns Cinderella into a strong role to play and to the actress who plays her - Libuše Šafránková. It is the beautifully clever face of Popelka as she rises from the ashes, defies the usurpers who have taken over her home, and wins her prince and freedom that makes this a Czech fairy tale to remember, and to watch again, come Christmas.
* Tři oříšky pro Popelku, also known as Three Gifts for Cinderella in the UK, Three Wishes for Cinderella in the US and Drei Haselnüsse für Aschenbrödel in German.
** Dubbed into English and shown on the BBC years ago. You can watch the complete movie on Youtube in English, but the sound quality is much better on DVD.
Hope everyone in the States is having a wonderful Thanksgiving, and enjoying the holiday. We'll celebrate Friday and Saturday, but I certainly have Carolina on my mind today.
We haven't reached Thanksgiving yet, and already I'm obsessed with...no, not Christmas, though it is looming around the corner shaking its bells and holly at me like a merry bogeyman. I'm obsessed with acronyms like NAO and AO and whether or not they are going to be negative or positive and will we or won't we get that very much needed precipitation that could turn to - snow.
Snow in the mountains, for sledding, snowmen, cross country skiing. Snow for getting us out of the house and into that peculiar crystalline world we make our way through at top speed or slow, measured tread.
My sister and I are sifting through snow news right now. Trading 10 day weather reports, and articles summarizing the European winter forecast. I've caught myself humming our sacred snow song** from high school. (One that never worked, I should add, but we were in South Carolina.) Even James has caught the snow bug. "Snow?" he asks each morning as he snuggles up to check the weather with me. "Just a cyoud Mami. Ok."
Right now the mountains we visit most are barely dusted in snow, and almost as dry as they look in today's collage, though much colder. These pictures are from a late August trip to Switzerland. The weather was dry and hot, the opposite of what we're hoping for this winter. The mountains that day had a daydreamy, end of the season feeling to them, as if they too were paused, waiting for the new season to begin.
Are you ready for snow? Or do you prefer dry and hot, thanks very much?
Last week one of the leading Czech newspapers, Hospodářských noviny, came out with a story slamming Czech food suppliers for the low quality ingredients they use in some of their products here. HN compared the same products in Germany, manufactured by the same parent companies, and found that the reason food tastes better on vacation is because, as we’ve always suspected, it is better. In Germany, ingredients are higher quality – less byproduct, more real. And, get this, on several occasions the German food item was found to be cheaper to buy than its weedy cousin sitting in supermarkets in the Czech Republic. Outrageous.
But not surprising. Stories about low quality food in supermarkets have hit the news before: for years a rumor floated about that the big grocery chains shipped their bruised fruit and veggies from Austria and Germany to their Czech Grade A bins. We gave up buying vegetables and fruit in the big stores when Caroline was born, and now only shop at our neighborhood’s Vietnamese green grocers. They seem to care about quality, and sell tomatoes that have flavor, and onions that aren’t flabby. We shop at small stores specializing in meat, cheese or bread for the rest of our groceries. And then there are the farmers‘ markets. You can see why I’m such a fan.
Many Czechs take a more extreme approach, and leave the country for their groceries. In a recent poll, 1/3 of Czechs report that they shop abroad for food and clothes. Not for all items of course, but that’s still a lot of revenue crossing the border every day. Stories like this give me hope that eventually the big retailers will wake up to the departing revenue, adjust their prices to a regionally competitive level and offer the same quality product that their parent companies offer abroad. After all, I’d rather shop at home and spend my vacations exploring something other than the jam aisle in SuperU.
If I'm not working or hanging out with our 8 year old while a bouncy 3 year old dances around us, there's a good chance I'll be hammering away on our piano, reading a book or trying to sketch. And then there's blogging. I live in Prague, Czech Republic and hail from the U.S. South.
