A Džbánek for the Road

St. Martin's day and wine go hand in hand, so today I thought I'd give beer its equal due. The pitcher above is a Czech beer pitcher, or džbánek, handy for carrying tapped beer home from the pub.

When we first arrived, low these many years ago, it took a while to get used to seeing liquor in the grocery store, beer drunk openly on the sidewalk, and kids eating dinner with their parents at our local pub (or hospoda). This was all very refreshing after growing up with blue laws and red dot stores. What really got our attention though were the beer pitchers. We'd see people head into a hospoda with pitcher in hand, then walk out a few minutes later, the pitcher (or džbánek) brimming with beer. Our friends told us that if we kept an eye out, we'd even see children fetching beer home.

I've got enough Victorian left in me to say that I'm glad I've never spotted a kid on beer duty,* but we do have our very own džbánek now. I found it in a bazaar tucked behind the theater on Náměstí Míru. The old pitchers stand in a long row in the bazaar, just above the beer glasses and brandy snifters. They're usually ceramic, and come in varying sizes. Ours holds four beers (or 2 liters) and is a hefty weight when it's full. Luckily there is a pub on nearly every street corner in Prague, so the trip home is never long.

*According to our babysitters, children stopped carrying beer home before the Velvet Revolution - but you still see references to kids buying beer in books and movies. (Thanks Anne!)

St. Martin's White Horse

St. Martin rode in on a white horse today at Jiřího z Poděbrad, at exactly 11:11 on 11/11. No snow arrived with him,* just the new wine carried with medieval pomp and basketry to be presented to the crowd.

And what a crowd it was! Hundreds of people came out for the festival, and even at 11 most were already testing the new wine, drinking from glasses hung around their necks. We carried our bottles home with us, but before we left we sampled the music and the freshly made potato chips, and of course watched St. Martin arrive in style.

*According to Central European tradition, St. Martin's white horse ushers in the first snow of the season.

The Carp Harvest

Every October, towns across the south of the Czech Republic drain their ponds, preparing for the carp harvest. As the water disappears, the carp school together until they're cached in water shallow enough for nets.

On harvest day, fishermen begin their roundup at dawn. Each is assigned a position - as a beater, slapping the water with a long pole to frighten the fish away, or on the nets - pulling the fish in to shore.

Once the catch is secure, the fishermen sort the carp from other fish and into holding tanks. Later on, once the sun is high in the sky, the men will reenact the hunt, wielding their poles and nets for the crowds that arrive for the harvest festival celebrating the day.

In the early hours of the morning though, it's just fishermen and fish working their way through a ritual their forebearers have followed for over eight hundred years in the ponds of southern Bohemia.

Birds fly, leaves fall

Running to a meeting this afternoon, I stopped at Namesti Miru to take a picture of a favorite statue before all the leaves behind her blew away. There are many statues around town - they're historic, and even heroic, but I think she is my favorite.

Backstage at the fashion show

We went to two shows this fall during Prague Fashion Week. They featured young Czech designers, with avant-garde flair. I enjoyed watching the designers cheer for each other as their collections premiered, and Caroline and I got a kick out of deconstructing outfits and figuring out their inspirations. "Monster movies," decided C during a collection that was clearly zombie inspired. I introduced her to Mondrian after another.

The shows were well choreographed, with music and images on screens behind the runway, and the models shone (when they weren't dressed as zombies), particularly our babysitter, who made every outfit she wore look like it was sewn with silver and gold thread. After the first collection I asked Caroline what she thought it was all about. "It's funny," she said. "I thought a fashion show would be about clothes, but it's really not, is it. It's more about art."

Watching the Results Come In

Last night I stayed up to watch the U.S. election results at the American Center here in Prague. As the sun rose and the light filtered through the archways of Mala Strana, we watched Ohio slowly become a certainty. It was magical.

Today We Wait

It's election day in the U.S., and voters will soon be lining up at their polling places, while volunteers help get out the vote. Here in Prague, it feels funny to be sitting on the sidelines on such a busy day. Overseas, voting starts early - in the last few months I've helped first time voters sort through their paper work, worked help lines, organized voter registration, and of course sent in my own ballot. Voting from abroad ends early, too.* The die is cast, our ballots are in. Today we wait.

Back in August, I decided I'd try to register fifty people; I wound up registering many more. I thought I'd call five or six of my friends; I called pages of friends, acquaintances and strangers. I thought I'd never stop an American on the street and ask if they'd registered; I ask every English speaker I hear now, "Where are you from? Have you registered? No? Here's how." It's hard to stop the momentum once you get started. There's so much at stake, and always something more to do. Until today. Today we wait.

I'm trying not to obsess too much about the outcome. It will be morning by the time a winner is declared (if we're lucky). I'll be up before dawn to watch the last results come in. But today, today we wait.

*At least for most states. There are a handful that accept ballots received after November 6th as long as they are postmarked by today. Votefromabroad.org has a full list here.

The Land of Counterpane

The Land of Counterpane
by Robert Louis Stevenson
When I was sick and lay a-bed,
I had two pillows at my head,
And all my toys beside me lay,
To keep me happy all the day.

And sometimes for an hour or so
I watched my leaden soldiers go,
With different uniforms and drills,
Among the bed-clothes, through the hills;

And sometimes sent my ships in fleets
All up and down among the sheets;
Or brought my trees and houses out,
And planted cities all about.

I was the giant great and still
That sits upon the pillow-hill,
And sees before him, dale and plain,
The pleasant land of counterpane.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I asked Caroline to overhaul the sloop today for James, so she set it to rights, and then played a little. Apparently the ship sails sweetly, even beam on to a swell of sea green duvet.

Dragon in training

{Late fall light on facades at Grebovka park; Halloween story telling at the park's pavilion; first star of the night; Caroline, dressed up and ready to roar}

This weekend C helped out at a story telling of Room on the Broom. Part of a Halloween party held at our favorite local park, the show entertained little kids in between the three legged races and a treasure hunt. Caroline played a dragon hungry for a snack, and roared her way through her lines with glee.

Which wasn't how she'd first approached the part. When I first talked to her about it, she was disappointed. "If I'm the dragon, I'll be the bad guy, and a scaredy cat. I don't want to play a wimp!" We talked a lot then about what it meant to be in a play, about teamwork and putting a good face forward even for scaredy cat parts.

C sings in a choir ruled by a choir master with regimental leanings. She loves the discipline - the way the choristers are taken seriously, and are themselves expected to take the music seriously. She goes to practice thirty minutes early so she can get organized, review theory homework, and hang out with friends as they warm up. She understands the importance of team work there.

Theater has always been about playing pretend to her, but once she realized that she could treat it just as seriously as choir, she straightened her shoulders and decided to be the best wimpy dragon in Prague, and to have fun doing it.

And she did.

Just a Peek

Walking along Pragerstrasse in downtown Dresden a week ago, we met a man and his flag. We weren't sure why he was there. The rest of the crowd wasn't sure either, and pointedly ignored him or peeked over their shoulders after they'd walked by, to see what he might do next. The dogs did not care.

Sculpture in Motion

{picture and carving by Mirek Trejtnar}
A well carved wooden puppet shows off a new mood with a turn of its head, dip of its chin, lift of its hand. It's sculpture in motion, designed for story telling.

When a puppet maker works on sculpture, it's no surprise then, to find that his creations shift expressions almost as easily as a marionette. Posed, they let our motions redefine them, as if they're waiting to go on stage, ready to be set to life by a puppeteer. Or, perhaps, a room full of children.

A few weeks ago, James, Caroline and I went to the opening of a new sculpture exhibit by Mirek Trejtnar, a master puppet maker here in Prague. Galerie Výtoň celebrated the opening with a production of the Snow Queen, and the rooms were packed with people. After the show, kids roamed about the exhibition, peering into carved eyes, turning cranks to watch wooden faces spring to life, trying to decide what this angel might be thinking, or that man in the moon about to do. I imagined the stage set and story for a few favorites, and then it was dinner, and time to go.

*****
The show runs three more weeks at Galerie Výtoň, two blocks from the Výtoň tram stop, close to the river on Vyšehradská 3. If you stop by, let me know what tales you imagine too!

Trick or Treat

{Caroline tries out a levitation spell on James; J practices being scary; one of our favorite decorations of the evening; tightly woven braids gave C the frizzy head of hair she's always longed for; witches a prowl on all Hallow's Eve}

Last night, as we inched our way past parked cars, and streams of children rushing from house to house, James worried about candy.

"Will there be any left? Are we too late?" he asked, prepared to leap from his seat the moment I turned off the car. Caroline, deep into her role as Hermione the defender of reason, answered him before I could. "Now then, even if they're out of candy, at least the houses will be decorated." Her British accent was perfect.

To the kids' delight, the houses were not only decorated, but still full of sweets. Many thanks once again to the families in Nebusice for opening their doors to the hordes of candy loving children in Prague, and making many an American feel that, just for an evening, they'd headed home for Halloween.

Writing Club

{Reading the last pages of Harry Potter IV; up the stairs in the sunshine; jazz hands at a Saturday concert - pictures only vaguely related to post ;-}

"She’s a ballet dancer, twirling around?"
   "Wait, she looks guilty about something, see her smile?"
"I know, she’s about to grab those Oreos. She’s pretending to sneak a cookie!"
   *Bzzzz*
"You’ve guessed right, Caroline’s a cookie thief!"

This week in writing club, we’re working on expository paragraphs - the hard working support staff behind so many essays. I love digging into words and making them recognizable for kids, so we start by chopping "expository" up to find "expose" and "pose." Then I promise the class that if they can play charades (and expose a pose) they can also write an expository paragraph without even knowing it.

Prepped ahead of time, Caroline poses as a cookie thief while everyone else yells out their guesses. Afterwards, I write up the class’s first thoughts, the cues that clued them in, and finally, their winning guess. Once done, I introduce the girls to the first draft of their paragraph, complete with thesis, supporting sentences, and conclusion.

**

We’re not home schooling Caroline, and I haven’t decided to switch from the IT world to education. We are sending the children to Czech schools that teach ESL English though, so we supplement. Caroline goes to class with grammar and spelling workbooks from the States. She writes book reports in both English and Czech, and does assignments for her writing club, a mother-run after school class that meets twice a month.

Six weeks into the semester, C’s worked on poetry and creative writing, written a news story, and expanded her vocabulary of expressive adverbs, verbs and adjectives. Today, we’re talking about expository paragraphs and linking words. It’s the first time I’ve taught in front of Caroline’s friends, so she’s asked me to make it "fun and teachy too."

I try. The time disappears in a flash, but each girl gets to pose and have her charades skit turned into a paragraph that the class writes together. By the end of our hour, the paragraphs evolve from bullet lists into well linked sentences full of transition words and active verbs. I consider writing blog posts using a committee of fourth graders. (I’d at least write more!)

The only cloud descends when Caroline gets her feelings hurt; I haven’t called on her as much as I do at home. On our walk back to the house, she’s still upset. Looking into her ear I diagnose a case of "mami-ucitelkitis" or "mother/teacher syndrome" and explain that the only cure is repeat application. In the meantime though, we might bandage it up and do a little window shopping as we walk. We do. But that’s a story for another day.

A New Year (and the First Day of School)

James gave his teacher a big hug before running to play this morning, and Caroline told me that walking into her old classroom, with her friends and her teacher waiting for her, felt a little like coming home. It’s been a long summer apparently!

1) James eats breakfast with his jacket on so that he really is the first person all ready to go.
2) The rush to the door.
3) C models her first day of school outfit.
4) Who can grimace more during an official picture? Always a question!
5) Caroline didn't want to forget to tell her teacher all the fun things she'd done this summer, so she wrote her a letter this morning after breakfast. Which inspired me, in turn, to post a note of my own on Kolo. It's been too long.