Origami Advent Calendar

It's nearly midnight, and I'm in the middle of folding boxes for the children's Advent calendar. The Playmobil people look concerned, but I'll find a spot for them all, I promise!

Czech Glass Ornaments

One of our favorite stands at the Namesti Miru Christmas market specializes in hand blown glass ornaments. Every December, the children and I choose a new figure from their collection, and each year I wonder - where did you come from?

Today I decided to find out. The Czech Republic (and Czechoslovakia before it) has a long tradition of glass making, and I've even visited a few bead making workshops. I didn't know, though, if the factories for hand blown ornaments still existed.

Happily, I discovered that they do. One factory, Opavska Tovarna, creates over a million ornaments a year. Most are sold abroad, but at least 10% stay in the country. Another, Ozdoba CZ, has a history that stretches back to the 19th century, and is a family run factory restituted after the Velvet Revolution. Glassor's selection of ornament shapes is one of the most extensive (and beautiful) I've seen.

As you can see in the video below, it still takes a great deal of manual labor to make glass Christmas ornaments. After watching the factory ladies handle the hot glass, form it into many different shapes, then decorate the results with glue, glitter and color, I have a new appreciation for the figures we collect, and for the people who create them.

Snow (and Ice) in the City

Czech dailys get excited when the weather starts to change. "Snow invades - prepare for ice!" runs one headline. "WARNING, Icy Roads!" cautions another. The Facebook page for our favorite cross country track sounds decidedly more optimistic, and keeps updating its snow forecasts. They know their fans are ready to hit the trails again.

Here in Prague, we'll probably see a centimeter or two of slush on Friday, with a side of ice and cold weather. We're in a river valley and the clouds that keep the sun out also keep temperatures warmer than up on the plains a few kilometers outside of town.

If it does snow, though, the kids are just as ready as cross country skiing fans. They can make tiny snowmen out of almost any frozen stuff that comes their way. When it snowed at the end of October, they scraped snow off park benches, rolled out snowmen, and gave one flowers for eyes, the other, a golden crown of leaves. (The seasons collided that day).

This time around, they're hoping for more than just a dusting, and have begged me to bring out their sled. I think I'll wait until Friday to climb into the top of our closet and haul down the toboggan, but, just in case all the newspapers are right and the city does get icy, I've got my eye on a pair of cleats for my boots. It sounds like they could come in handy this weekend!

Richard Scarry's European Word Book

Every now and then, the kids and I play a word game with simple rules - we work our way through the alphabet, trying to think of a word that starts with the same letter in both Czech and English. For extra points, we add German too.

A is for alligator or aligátor, B is for banjo or bendžo, C is for circus or cirkus...

It's particularly fun to run with a theme - animals for five letters in a row, musical instruments for three. When we think of a new word pair we like, I write it down. For years I've wanted to illustrate a bilingual alphabet, and these lists inspire me each time we play.

Maybe one of these months I will finally create my abeceda. In the meantime though, I've just discovered a Richard Scarry word book* that is bound to take the game to new levels. I was tempted to do some secret cramming with it before our next round (both James and Caroline are way ahead on the Czech side of things), but then James did a little closet excavation, and the gig was up.

Like all Richard Scarry books, the illustrations are beautifully detailed and full of animals. I'm fond of the fins on the cars, James likes the old fashioned machinery. What makes Scarry's European Word Book (or Evropsky Slovnik) perfect for us, though, is that it is in English, German, French AND Czech.

It is, as Caroline would say, fantastic (fantastický, fantastisch, and of course, fantastique!)

 * We found Evropsky Slovnik at Amadito and Friends, an international children's bookshop in Prague 5.

Night Tram

If you read the comments here at kolokolo, you will already have met Robbie, from Tone Deaf. He's an excellent writer and the type of editor who can nudge a person into straightening up a bit of prose by simply quirking an eyebrow. He also inspires me to keep thinking (and sometimes writing) about music.

Today on Tone Deaf, he wrote about Elliot Carter's Double Concerto - a puzzling piece to listen to the first time round. I found a Youtube recording and thought about it for the rest of the day, wondering if I could possibly articulate why it winds up working.

Then on the way to choir tonight, reflections in the tram window caught my eye. Just for a snap shot of a moment, I realized that this is the way I see Carter's music - layers of sound (or image) that are not designed to respond to each other, but that, if we listen long enough (or look at hard enough) unravel from each other and begin to make sense, and then (because we're human and we make connections even if there aren't any to be made) come back together again into something that we can hear (or see) as a whole.

Tomorrow - back to the everyday, I promise! In the meantime, a picture hint - look for the cross walk.

Spelling without sound

A few months ago, Caroline asked me to teach her the alphabet in American sign language. We went from A to Z several times, but it never really stuck.Then her babysitters showed her the Czech manual alphabet, or prstová abeceda. She memorized it nearly instantly, and started spelling to me in the tram or in the metro, or when she was across a noisy room and didn't want to shout.

Because Caroline learned the two handed version, (or dvouruční prstová abeceda), many of the signs look very similar to the letters of the alphabet and are easy to remember. By the time I'd found a chart with all the letters, she'd drilled most of them into my memory.

Now that she's turned from student to teacher, I tell Caroline it's time to move on to harder stuff. She's debating between working on my downhill skiing or Czech pronunciation. I'll keep you posted on the results!

Sunbathing on a Saturday

After weeks of inversion, the clouds lifted today and Prague got busy washing its windows.

The light was delicious and when we finished washing windows, we bathed in the sun, content as cats. Rosemary, as you can see, sunned herself too.

L is for Alto

In the morning, James climbs up into our bed and puts his head next to mine. He doesn't want to get dressed quite yet, so he picks the longest game he can think of - the alphabet game.

"A is for...apple! What's next, Mommie?."
    "B", I say. "As in 'Be quiet, I'm sleeping!'"

"Funny Mommie," he says, then keeps going until halfway through the alphabet, when he gets to L.

"L. Hmmm. L. Lalala, how about, L is for Alto!"

I swing him off the bed and carry him upside down and giggling to breakfast, wondering how many more mornings we have where he'll still be small enough for me to whoosh him around like a small boy, how big he already is to be able to play with words, and how these moments I must remember.

This Way to Thanksgiving

I've celebrated Thanksgiving in many places, but when I imagine the day, this is the road I see leading up to it. At the end of the road is my grandparents' old house, the houses where my aunts and uncles and cousins live, the farm. Today, my great uncle tells me, they expect only a few people for dinner. In family parlance, that means less than twenty. There might not be fifty relatives* showing up, but I know there will be lots of good food, kids and dogs running around, jokes laughed over, and stories retold. Afterwards, my aunts will send everyone home with leftovers and big hugs.

There's a song by Mary Chapin Carpenter that reminds me of the road we take to get there and home again. Here's the video:



*Fifty people equals a crowd, one hundred, a large crowd.

Prague castle, from the tram

The Namesti Miru Christmas Market is Open!

The market at Namesti Miru opened yesterday, a welcome brightness in the days that darken so soon this month. This afternoon, on the way home from writing club, Caroline and I stopped by to see if our favorite vendors were back. Happily, they all were. We quality controlled a few - testing out a trdelnik, or sweet roll, and some cider - and C declared them ready for the season.

Tuesday evening, mid November, and still locals packed the square, meeting with friends after work. By the time we finished our cider, the sun had set and it was time for us to head off, content in the thought that for the next month, the market at Miru will be here to make the evenings bright.

Start with String

It's grey, cold, and foggy here in Prague, so the children are spending lots of time rummaging through the art cabinet, looking through projects and books we've saved for a rainy day (or month, or two). On one rummage, Caroline finds a Klutz book on string figures. In no time at all, she's an avid fan.

"You start with string," she tells me, authoritatively. "It's really amazing because that's all you need!" Her voice goes peeping high in excitement. She thinks it's almost magical that, with a bit of advanced thumb twirling, she can build the Eiffel Tower, twist together a witch's broom and cat whiskers. She's even conquered Jacob's Ladder, her proudest feat.

Magic might not be involved, but there's definitely something meditative about making a string figure. I think it's the way our hands work together, mirror imaged, to create further symmetry. Or maybe there's something to be said for twiddling our fingers, some sort of innate soothing ritual our ancestors developed along with their opposable thumbs. It's certainly an old game. Anthropologists tell us that string figure games have prehistoric roots, and are also well known in cultures around the world.

Caroline has already memorized all the figures in her book, and we're on the hunt for new challenges. Let me know if you have a favorite pattern to recommend!

Sunny Side Up

Sometimes it's easy to overlook the basics when it comes to food. Especially week day mornings, when you don't want to even pretend to think while you're hustling children into clothes, making breakfast, getting everyone out the door on time.

Weekends though, I like to experiment when I cook. So when The Wednesday Chef posted a recipe for the perfect fried egg, I decided to try Wednesday's sunny side ups for breakfast Saturday.

And they were good.

A cinch to cook.

Tasty even for the four year old who likes all food just so.

Here's how:

1. Melt a lump of butter in a pan over low heat.
2. Crack your eggs into little bowls and then slide them into the pan. You can also crack them directly into the pan, but then your yolk will get bubbles in it. This might not bother you, but if you have a perfectionist in the family, or a four year old, go for the little bowls.
3. Cover your pan with a lid.
4. Leave the heat on low, and let your eggs cook for 3 to 3.5 minutes, depending on how runny you like your yolk.
5. Slide your eggs from pan to plate and enjoy!

Thanks to popular demand, I made them on Sunday too. Caroline modeled them for me this morning, along with her toast and tea.

Nicholas Daniel at the Rudolfinum

Every now and then I'll leave a concert floating on air because of a performance. Last night was one of those times. I felt bubbly all the way from the Rudolfinum, to the metro, to our short walk home, excited by what we'd heard.

The Czech Philharmonic opened with Kodaly's Dances of Galanta, and I thought we'd just listened to the best piece of the evening. Then Nicholas Daniel began to play James MacMillan's oboe concerto, and I realized I was wrong.

If you ever have the chance to hear Daniel play the oboe, grab it. He's a virtuoso with remarkable technique, but he's also a powerful performer; I could read the composer's notes from his expressions. And the music - if modern classical music is going to survive and thrive, it will be because of composers such as MacMillan writing for performers such as Daniel.

Unfortunately, the oboe concerto doesn't seem to be recorded anywhere, so I can't link to it, but as an encore, Nicholas Daniel played "Arethusa" from Britten's Metamorphoses after Ovid, and I did find its recording. The setting in the video may be slightly less formal than the Rudolfinum!