Fairy Reserve

I stumbled across the fairy reserve near my home last Autumn. I wanted a short walk and decided I would go into the hills above Horice Na Sumave. Originally it was my intention to just walk up to the open-air theatre which is home to the annual Horice Passion Play, but I saw signs to the fairy reserve and my interest was piqued. My other motivation was that the signs were pointing towards a wooded hill, and in Autumn Czech woods mean mushrooms.

At the edge of the wood was a red and white toll both, closed now, but the price list was still visible. Underneath was some graffiti in English: “I want to believe...” There were other signs in various parts of the wood. One read that it was forbidden to go under the mushrooms. A signpost's two arrows pointed “This way” and “There”. This was all that remained of a time in the summer holidays when the reserve had been full of children entertained by actors playing fairytale characters. Now I was alone to imagine their fun, or maybe the fairies just weren't showing themselves.

I wandered around the hill following in places a pilgrimage trail with its stations of the cross up to a ruined chapel and the top of a ski-slope. The chapel walls were destroyed by explosives in the 1960s. Grass grew between the stone paving stones and the winding head of the ski-lift stood rusty against the blue sky. Again here was a place that once thronged with people processing up from the small town, but now was empty.

Turning back, I started to notice strange formations of small rocks and twigs among the trees. Leaving the path, I looked closer and found that they were miniature settlements, made by the children for the fairies. I looked up and saw horn of plenty mushrooms pushing through the leaf litter. I thanked the fairies and filled my basket, before walking home.

A few weeks ago I took some British visitors for a walk. I took them to the fairy reserve and the ruined chapel. I explained to them the very Czech love of fairy tales, of how television dramatizations of fairy tales made in the sixties and seventies are part of every family's Christmas TV viewing, of how adults would talk with a straight face about fairies and other spirits, and I told the story of the builder who put milk out to appease the threshold fairies. When I told them that I was thinking of writing an insider's guide to the Czech Republic, they urged me to do so, saying that you would never find anything about fairies or their reserves in a normal guide book.

The Museum of Romany Culture

Last year I took a friend and some Australian artists to Brno. Sometimes when you organise a visit serendipity takes a hand and things just happen. We had of course visited the Villa Tugendhat and members of the group decided it would divide up to explore the city on their own.

Some decided they would follow my advice and visit the Museum of Romany Culture. Meanwhile I stayed at the hotel. The phone rang. "Listen to this," said my friend Maggie. Gypsy music and the sound of fast dancing feet came down the phone. "There's an open-air festival here. All the gypsies are enjoying themselves." I left the hotel immediately and made my way to the museum.

The Museum is easy to get to - it's on several of the main tram routes and not far from the centre - but the area is a bit run-down, as is to be expected given that the gypsy population tends to live in the poorer areas. When I arrived the open-space outside the museum was milling with people, many in traditional brightly-coloured costumes, but the music had stopped temporarily. I looked around for my party and decided they must be inside.

The gentleman on the museum counter told me that, although the museum was officially closed for another hour because of the festival, my Australian friends had been allowed in. The museum staff had been so delighted that a group of Australians had come to visit their museum, they had opened up specially.

Inside the museum the members of the group were walking around the exhibition rooms listening to their English-speaking audio guides. The museum's story starts with the Romanies' departure from India, and then follows them as they arrive in Europe. It shows their traditional way of life on the road, their traditional crafts, customs and society. One room is devoted to the Holocaust, or the Devouring as the gypsies call it. They, like the Jews, were sent to the gas chambers, but we do not hear much about that. The last room in the museum is a celebration of contemporary gypsy culture and its influence on music, film and fashion. It is a fascinating museum offering an insight into a people and culture about which we non-Romanies know pitifully little.

When we left the museum, after over an hour's visit, the festival was still in full flow. Excited girls in their lovely red and gold dresses ran through the foyer. A Brno radio station was recording a performance by one of the local groups. We walked back to the city centre and the music faded behind us.

A few days later I went online to write a review on Tripadvisor and found that alongside the 5-star reviews, there were two 1-star ones. These were in Czech and were nothing more than expressions of the blind racism that the Romany Museum so eloquently counters. I wrote a response and I am glad to say that when I looked recently the 1-star reviews had been removed.

The Mark of Three

Wander around many Czech towns at this time of year and you might notice on lintels and doors the letters K, M and B written in chalk as above. Sometimes the letters come with the year and sometimes you will see several sets of letters dating back several years. You may wonder what these stand for. Perhaps it is a sign that the electricity meter has been read, you think, or some sort of building work. Perhaps it is a sign like those one used to see in English villages - a coded message from a tramp or hobo, gypsy or fellow inhabitant of the road, that this is a house where the inhabitants are generous.

In fact of those options you would be closer to the truth with the last - it is a sign that the inhabitants have been generous. But the visitors were not down-at-heel beggers, but three kings. Twelfth Night in the Czech Republic is known as Three Kings Day, because on that day children (and adults) dress up as the three kings - Caspar, Melchior and Balthazar (in Czech Kašpar, Melichar and Baltazar) and go around the streets asking for donations to charity. When the householder has put their donation in the tin, the "Kings" write the initials K M and B above the door. What do the initials stand for? I have heard different answers - one simply that they are the initials of the kings' names and another that it stands for the words: Christus mansionem benedicat (Christ, bless this house). Of course both answers could be true.

The Scottish Referendum Seen From the Czech Republic.

I have frequently observed that being a Brit in the Czech Republic makes me understand my own nationality better. It is a combination of distance and being around people who see things differently, who find remarkable what I have taken for granted, that makes me look again at my country. And thus it is with the Scottish Referendum.

Yesterday I was sitting with a Czech outside a cafe in Brno when she asked me what I thought about what was happening. My answer was that it was up to the Scots to decide their future and as an English person it was not my place to interfere. She leaned forward with a disbelieving smile and said "But what do you feel?"

My response was one I have until now not expressed anywhere publicly and that is that I hope with all my heart that they say no. "My grandmother," I added, "would be turning in her grave, as we say in English."

"We have the same saying," she replied.

This grandmother was Betsy, who proudly displayed the family tartan on the mantlepiece. She was proud of being half Scot and half English and 100% British, I explained. I added that what I found so difficult is that like her I consider myself to be British first and foremost and that being English came a poor third after being European and possibly fourth after being a Gloucestershire girl.

What being British means for me is being part of a union of different races, countries and cultures. We retain our differences and respect (indeed love) those of the others in the union. But the sum of the union is greater than the parts and as a result we have been able to achieve so much more as a country than we should have. It is the principle of diversity writ large and enshrined in my country's identity. It is part of my identity. It is a principle and an approach to community that has constantly informed my work of community regeneration. And it hurts like hell to see it under threat.


I can't quite understand why it hurts so much. As a believer in community democracy I should be supporting self determination, shouldn't I? But for the Union to lose one of its founding members is to tear out a key thread from the diverse tapestry. The Scots have done so much, given so much, that to lose them would I fear make everything else come apart. As I said to my Czech interrogator I am afraid of what will follow.

In response she shook her head in sorrow. Like so many Czechs I know, she grieves for the reborn Czechoslovakia which was strangled in the cradle. "It was bad," she said, " for both of us, but worse for the Slovaks. I feel sorry for the Slovaks. You know Slovakia?" I have not been there. "It is beautiful, more wild than here, mountainous, further away. They had more problems." The two nations both paid economically for the split, but the Slovaks more than the Czechs. "They lied to us, the politicians. We still do not know the true cost of the separation. So many things had to be paid for - new money, new offices."

But it is not really the economic loss that counts, it is the loss of what might have been. A relatively small European country became two even smaller ones, dictated to by German and other foreign investors and in the case of  Slovakia by the powers of the Eurozone. For the Czechs there was another less easily defined loss - one of identity. Even now they do not know what to call their country - they dislike "The Czech Republic," sometimes using Czechia or just Czech instead. In this I can see my problem as an English woman: I don't actually know what my country will be. I would like to think it will be the Albion of William Blake, but I fear that is more likely to be the England of Nigel Farrage.

"They lied to us, the politicians..." Indeed they did and indeed they do. The Velvet Divorce was agreed by the Czech and Slovak leaders without any form of referendum. The divorce was amicable, despite some arguments over gold reserves and the division of the military. A divorce is a good analogy and in the British case one partner is leaving the other, with all the anger, pain and insult-throwing that tends to come from a one-sided divorce. I would like to think that if the Scots vote yes, our respective leaders will sit down and negotiate a deal which works for both sides. But I don't believe it will happen. Already we see the peevish posturing and lies of politicians on the question of the £.

When the Czechs and Slovaks divorced both economies were hit and that was not when the world was recovering from a major recession. Fortunately because of how the politicians stitched up the divorce, the people of both countries were able to blame their politicians for their economic problems and not each other. The Czechs, when polled about which other country they would choose to live in, opt for Slovakia over any other.  But in the British case - one country will have voted on the subject and one will not. If England goes into decline as the consequence of a yes result, would the love many English bear for Scotland survive the divorce?

Related articles

• Czechs and Slovaks were better together

Czech Signs

Here's another in my occasional series of Czech signs. The sign warns that there are breeding rams in the flock! 

The photo was taken near Trosky Castle in Czech Paradise. 

Going into hospital in the Czech Republic

I had sometimes wondered what the healthcare would be like in my adopted homeland. Would it be as good as the NHS in the UK? As an EU citizen I carry a health insurance card which means that the British Government picks up the tab for emergency healthcare I receive in the Czech Republic, but how easy would it be and would there be lots of extra costs?

In April I was taken badly ill in the Czech Republic with what turned out to be a strangulated umbilical hernia blocking my gut. A friend dialled 112 for an ambulance, which arrived promptly and, watched by concerned neighbours, I was whisked off to Cesky Krumlov hospital. There I was seen immediately by a consultant in A&E, who ordered several tests - CT scan, xrays and the like, again these happened immediately. Within three hours I was being prepped for surgery.

In total I spent twenty-one days in Cesky Krumlov hospital, eleven in the intensive care ward and ten on a general surgery ward, and not once did I find anything that I would complain about. Whilst the hospital is obviously an old one from the communist era and so was not the highest spec, it was spotlessly clean and functional and the medical equipment was modern. My concerns about the Health card proved unfounded. I simply had to show the card and my passport to the ambulance man and the hospital administrator on arrival.

I was struck by the levels of care shown to me and other patients, especially on the intensive care ward. Staffing levels per patient are higher than those in the UK and so the nurses weren't running around the way they do in Britain and had time to care for you. On one occasion, when I was in pain and distressed, a nurse sat with me and stroked my face. It's hard to imagine British nurses having the time to do that.

The Czech nurses seemed to have been trained to speak softly, but authoritatively to the patients, which I found extremely calming, even though most of the nurses did not speak English and what Czech I could speak and understand disappeared in a cloud of pain and pain relief drugs. But then the language problem didn't seem to matter - care doesn't need translation. After a few days a sister discovered she could use Google Translate on her phone and so soon we were communicating with ease. Most of the doctors did speak at least some English and the consultant spoke it well. The one Czech phrase you need to know is "Boli me..." which means "I have pain...", then finish the phrase with pointing at the place that it is hurting.

As I said to my husband the place felt like a British hospital used to, before the administrators started walking round with clipboards and stopwatches, when patient care came first ahead of cost-cutting. This sense that I had slipped back to my childhood, when I had several stays in hospital, was reinforced when one of the nurses brought in a small radio tuned to a programme that played English-language pop music from the 1960's. The first time this happened I was so out of it, that the music merged into my hallucinations, but the second time I was amused to find myself to Billy J Kramer's song "Little Children", which I had loved as a child, and grateful to the nurse for thinking of me lying in my bed surrounded by the Czech language.

Breakfast was bread rolls with jam and fruit and sometimes cake, supper was similarly simple and monotonous: soup, bread rolls with cheese or pate. But lunch was usually superb. It was cooked on-site and consisted of a soup, and main course of typical Czech food, such as goulash, svickova, beef in pepper sauce. In the general surgery ward we ate together in a dining room, which allowed me to chat to fellow patients. I paid a grand total of 100 crowns (£3.30) a day for board and lodging. I could easily pay twice that for a lunch of a similar standard in a restaurant.

Thanks to the staff of Cesky Krumlov hospital I am now fully recovered and feeling better than I have done for years. I am now totally confident of Czech healthcare, so much so that I think I was probably lucky to be taken ill in the Czech Republic rather than the UK.  

The Oldest Puppet Ever Discovered

I have just come back from the wonderful exhibition  Ice Age art: arrival of the modern mind   
which is currently on at the British Museum. This once-in-a-lifetime exhibition brings together some of the finest paleolithic works of art, including some superb pieces from the Czech Republic. 

I already written a post about the first ceramic representation of the human figure - the Dolni Vestonice Venus. But the sculpture that attracted my son's attention was the first example of a puppet in the world. The Czechs love puppets and clearly this love goes back to the very beginnings of human habitation in their country. This marionette or stick puppet was discovered in the grave of a man in Brno in 1891 and it is thought to have belonged to a shaman. 

The British Museum captions states: 
The time and skill required to shape and articulate potentially movable limbs on an ivory figure make this a remarkable piece of craftsmanship.

Its spectral appearance and the shadows it could perhaps have made on the walls of a tent if suspended in firelight add a sense of theatre to the way it might have been seen 26,000 years ago.

One of the most remarkable theatrical experiences I have ever had was a production of Gilamesh by an Italian shadow puppet company called Gioca Vita. By moving the puppets between the light source and the screen the puppets grew and diminished on the screen. The impact was extraordinary even when I knew what was happening, it is hard to imagine the impact this puppet would have had on its original audience.

It doesn't surprise me that puppets date back so far. The animation of inanimate objects is something that is innate to human nature. It is something the Czechs understand very well. So if ever you find yourself watching a puppet performance in Prague, don't be surprised by how skilled the performers are, the people of this country have been practising for 26,000 years.

The exhibition is on until the 26th May.  

Christmas Shopping in Prague

I came back to the UK in time for a family Christmas and New Year, but stopped off in Prague on the way home to do a bit of last minute shopping. The Old Town Square was the site of a large market made up of little wooden huts, selling for the most part the same touristy goods one sees everywhere in the city.

Instead of buying presents there, I went to the Kafka Bookshop and picked up a guide to Kafka's Prague and a set of Kafka bookmarks. I have another blog, in which I read and review magic realism books and on which I reviewed I recently reviewed Kafka's masterpiece Metamorphosis (http://magic-realism-books.blogspot.co.uk/2012/12/metamorphosis-by-franz-kafka.html).  The bookmarks will make great prizes for that blog.

Next to the shop I visited the Stone Bell House, which is a space for temporary exhibitions of the City Gallery. It is always worth visiting the city's many public galleries and museums for their shops, which often have unusual and reasonably priced gifts, books and cards. The Museum of Decorative Arts on the riverside near the Rudolfinum is particularly good.

Another haunt of mine is the antikvariat opposite the Narodni Trida tube station. I have found many treasures there - a wonderful old calendar, lots of beautifully illustrated children's books, prints and posters. This time was no exception: I found some lovely acetates of Czech fairytale illustrations and a bookler with lovely line drawings.

Update

Thanks to everyone who voted for the blog. It came fourth which is remarkable given it was up against blogs based in Prague, which of course have a bigger audience. I was really touched by your comments.

Street Art - Litomysl

 I found this wonderful sequence of street art literally painted on to a street in Litomysl. So Czech!

Crossing the Iron Curtain

My Czech house is only a few miles from where the Iron Curtain used to be. After the collapse of communism the Czechs tore down this symbol and means of their oppression. The minefields were cleared, the watchtowers and the multiple barbed wire fences were torn down. So there is very little left for the interested visitor to see. 

Of course if you're looking, you will occasionally come across remnants: rusty iron hedgehogs from which barbwire would have been hung, concrete anti-tank barriers and the ruins of houses which were cleared to create the no-go zone several kilometres deep which ran the length of the frontier. Having understandably wanted to clear away these painful memories, the Czechs now find that a new generation has grown up, which has no memory of the past and to whom the story of a dark time in the nation's history needs to be told. Visitors also ask to visit the historical remains of the Cold War. 

One of the best places to visit is Bucina in the Sumava. It's a strange haunted place on the German border. You cannot access it by car as the area is still protected. Instead you approach by one of the minibuses from nearby Kvilda or on foot or bike. If you want to come by coach you have to arrange to pick up a permit. Even the process of doing that reminds you of a scene in Tinker, Tailor, Soldier Spy. Clutching a numerical code on a piece of paper, you search a derelict building before finding a hidden wallsafe. You tap in the code, the safe door opens and you take the pass within. 

There is virtually nothing left of Bucina, the village houses and church were torn down to remove hiding places for those trying to cross the curtain. In among the grass and wildflowers low ruined walls and farmhouse floors are just visible. In the grounds of the one building there (a newly built hotel looking across the Sumava towards the Alps) you will find a reconstructed segment of the Iron Curtain together with information panels. 

A track takes you past the ruins of Bucina and over a small stream via a small wooden bridge. A board announces that you have just entered Germany. In a matter of minutes you have done what hundreds of Czechs died attempting to do.

Czech beehives

One of the guests on my Hussite tour was a fan of beehives. As Czech beehives are a common sight on the edges of woods, I promised to point them out to her, whereupon all the beehives in the Czech Republic decided to hide! Once I had left the group at the airport ready for their flight home, of course Czech beehives seemed to be everywhere.

Unlike in the UK, Czech beehives are usually come in groups or should I say in swarms. They are sometimes in a bee equivalent of pigeonloft several hives high. These are often brightly coloured, each hive in the beeloft a different colour creating a rainbow against the background of dark pine trees. Sometimes they sit on old lorries and are presumably driven to good pollen sites.

Czech honey is wonderfully tasteful. You can and should buy it from stalls set outside cottages or on the side of the road, because this artisan honey has the best flavours, full of the flavour of the local pine woods or flower meadows.

At the Wallachian Open Air Museum we came across these wonderful examples of hives. They created in  hollow trunks (reproducing where bees might naturally nest) with a convenient access door at the back for the beekeeper. The entrance to the hives are via the mouths of the carvings on the front.     

Why I'm here. Part 2

I had two reasons when I bought my lovely derelict Czech farmhouse. The first as I said in my post of the 9th March was my friend Hannah Kodicek, the second was to create somewhere I could write.

The two reasons were not unconnected. Hannah always encouraged me to write. I think we really became close friends when she read a long poem I had written. She had known me as a manager, something that she respected but didn't love. At the time of the house purchase I was managing an inner-city regeneration programme working with the most disadvantaged. It was worthwhile work and I would have argued then that it allowed me to be creative in other ways than producing poetry that no one read. But Hannah begged to differ, she saw better than I did how one side of my personality was dominating the other, driving the poet and mystic underground. But when I came to visit her in the Czech Republic I found that side of me welling up in response to the landscape and history of Bohemia.

So I bit the bullet and bought the house. I said I wanted a hut in the forest, something that didn't need too much work, but my subconscious saboutaged that and I bought a huge farmhouse needing lots of work. I spent the next few years working hard at my job and pouring the money I earned into restoring the house, but still I did not write.

Things came to a head when one day I found myself crying in Hannah's study. It was soon apparent that I could not continue working in my wonderful but high pressured job. I said goodbye to my old career and came over to the Czech Republic and started to write. Not poetry but a children's novel. I loved the process. Even if my first book is now in a drawer in my desk never to see the light of day. The second one's there too. I am now on my fifth book. All of my books have been written in my Czech house.

Banks!

A recent Facebook post by an ex-pat friend of mine reminded me that I have been intending to write a post about Czech banks for some time. He was complaining that his bank asked him to pay 65kc (over £3) to pay 200kc into his girlfriend's account. Yes, you read that correctly, the charge was about a third of the sum being paid!

How do Czech banks get away with such extortionate charges? If they were in the UK - there would be general outrage and tv and radio programmes on the subject. I suppose the Czechs don't know that in other countries such as the UK free current accounts are the norm.

I have a Czech bank account (essential for paying my electricity bill). Most months the only transaction that takes place is a standing order to EON, or rather it's the only transaction other than a list of bank charges.

When I try to go to my local branch I am often caught out by the fact that the bank is closed for lunch and on Tuesday afternoon. And when I do manage to arrive when the door is open, I am always surprised by the fact that there is only one cashdesk and one lone cashier, all the rest are devoted to other activities. So heaven help you if you are standing behind some local trader with a carrier bag full of small change. Another difference in Czech banking is that they don't use cheques, instead you either go into the bank and fill in a transfer form, stamp it and drop it into a slot or you sign up for electronic banking, for which of course you will be charged extra.

More on Birdwatching

The area around Trebon is packed with man-made ponds dating back to at least the Renaissance and even the late middle ages. I say ponds, but they are actually often as large as any lake. They were built as carp lakes to supply the tables of the Catholic Czechs on Fridays and holy days (and frankly any other day given the Czechs' love of carp). The lakes may be large therefore but they are also shallow enough to farm carp in and therefore they make the perfect home for waterbirds - those that stay all year long, part of the year and those that are passing through. As a result of the richness of the birdlife the Trebonsko area is designated a UNESCO biosphere.

Two lakes of particular interest to the birdwatcher are the Velky and Maly Tisy. The Velky (Large) is easily accessible - take the 148 road from Horni Slovenice to Lomnice nad Luznice and turn right down a small road which takes you  past the fishery at Saloun. Just before the fishery the road bends, park here and you can walk along the raised tree-lined embankment of the pond.


I had a wonderful time, but I wished I had brought binoculars. In order to take a zoom photo of this grebe with a steady hand I rested on a concrete pillar on the edge of the pond. I am as my family will tell you capable of great concentration, ignoring everything else if I need to. It has been a boon when working in a busy office, but it can be a disadvantage. When I had got the shot I was after, I rose to discover I had been leaning in a pile of birdshit. My shirt was sodden and stinking and I had not noticed!

Birdwatching At Home in the Czech Republic

Our area of the Czech Republic is rightly famous as a destination for birdwatchers. There are several internationally recognised areas where ornithologists can see many unusual and common European birds. I am going to do a post or two about my birdwatching trips, but I actually don't need to go anywhere as the birds just come to me.

I am surrounded by birds and birdsong every time I work in the garden and orchard. The most common bird is the redstart (shown here in photo taken from Wikipedia) and it is as cheeky as any robin. In fact it is so friendly that the other day one arrived in my house, fluttering around the living room and bumping into the window. Then a few days later a swallow expertly flew through a crack at the top of my window, took a swing around the house, decided there was nothing worth investigation before equally expertly flying out again.

Other regular avian visitors to the garden are treecreepers who explore the rough granite stone walls of the barn for insects, woodpeckers (green, spotted and the non-British grey-headed), fieldfares, nuthatches, wagtails, tits, finches of various types,(including serins, siskins, and bramblings) and the ubiquitous magpies. A friend of mine has had the stunning scarlet rosefinch in her garden, but she lives closer to the forest edge.

Birds of prey are also to be seen from my garden. As I have said in a previous post we sometimes see black kites here and buzzards (common and rough-legged) are usually circling somewhere. The other day I saw three birds of prey being attacked by one brave magpie. The two larger birds (buzzards) ignored it, but the smaller of the three suddenly responded with a hurtling dive at the pesky magpie. You could almost hear the magpie cry, "Shit!!! It's a sparrowhawk." as it fled. 

Other parts - 1 - Litomysl

Over the last four days I have been up in the north visiting Bohemian Switzerland, the Bohemian Paradise area, and Litomysl, and I managed to call in on Hlinsko on the way back too. I have taken loads of photos and so over the next few posts I thought I would do some photographic blogposts about what I've seen. So let us begin with Litomysl.

Litomysl is like Cesky Krumlov on the UNESCO World Heritage Sites list. It has a wonderful arcaded square, the highlight in which is for me the Knights House (now used as a gallery). The facade of the house is decorated with a series of carved knights.

Litomysl's Renaissance Palace is covered with the most incredible sgraffito decoration. The decoration on the outside is just amazing:

But the work on the inner wall of the courtyard is even more spectacular and include this portrayal of the Battle of the Malvian Bridge.

 I cannot do justice to the Palace and its decoration in this blog, you will just have to visit Litomysl yourself.

Litomysl's other main claim to fame is that it is the birthplace of Czech composer - Smetana. The town plays host to a major international music festival in June - the Smetanova. I came across this fountain - currently dry for the winter - in which children were playing. What a photograph cannot portray is the fact that speakers built into the wall were playing music by Smetana.

Wood

My apologies for the slight gap in my posts. I have been otherwise engaged. One area of activity was taking delivery of 10 cubic metres of firewood.

Although I have electric central heating, electricity costs thanks to EON's virtual monopoly are extortionately high, far higher it feels (I must do a proper comparision) than in the UK and let's face it electricity prices in the UK aren't exactly low. A friend was telling me recently about the difference in EON's electric prices in the Czech Republic and neighbouring Germany, a ratio of 2:1 she reckoned. It's not as though the Czechs are as wealthy as their teutonic neighbours, the average wage here is still comparatively low. Hence energy makes up a significant proportion of the average monthly bills. One reason the prices we are paying such high prices apparently is the disastrous solar energy subsidy - more of that in my next blog.

But back to my heating, although my heating system is the most cost-effective that can be bought, using only off-peak power and although the house is well insulated with walls at least two feet thick, in order to keep the bills manageable I only use the central heating to maintain a basic level of heat and boost it with wood burning stoves. My stores of firewood were getting badly diminished and so it was time to order fresh.

My experience and those of friends is that you don't always get what you pay for. There are quite a few cowboy suppliers who will charge you a very reasonable price, but then when they deliver somehow there isn't quite as much as you expected. The worst example of this were some local gypsies who sold me 6 cubic metres and delivered 1! I had to admire their cheek and put it down to experience. Of course if they had supplied what they promised, they could have been supplying me for years, but such long-term logic did not enter into their calculations. This time I turned to a neighbour and a friend to organise the supply and I decided to order ten metres on the basis that I would get less.

Last weekend a small lorry turned up and emptied its entire contents on to the road outside my house. The man waved away my money saying I would pay him when he came back on Monday with the next lot. Another lot! The pile was larger than a car. I set to throwing the logs through my open gate to form the heap you can see some of above. It took me two days to move them all into the yard, where they sat (and still sit) waiting stacking. True enough on Monday he returns with a second lorry load - another pile on the road outside the gate. I start to clear away a space so that my neighbours can park their car. Then the following  morning I wake to find I can hardly move.

So the pile is still outside my gate, with the other still in the yard. My back is a lot better, but I am nervous of doing any major log moving. My husband and son are arriving at the end of the week, we were going to have a short-break in Prague but instead we may be doing something a lot less pleasant. I blame EON!

New Trains

The Czechs are busy upgrading their railway system. The latest development has been this swanky yellow replacement for the little train on the line from Ceske Budejovice to the Sumava via my home station of Horice Na Sumave. And very nice it is too. My only grouse with it is that for some stations like Hodnov which serves Olsina Lake you have to make a request stop. I found myself hurtling towards Hodnov without the means to attract the conductor who was clearly ensconced in the nice warm cab chatting with the driver. I ended up pressing the button by the door several times which seemed to do the trick. The conductor came out in time to speak with me only when I had dismounted (maybe I pressed the wrong button). But then this is only problem if you board at a station without a ticket office. The advantage was he was too late to collect the fare!

The other major change that is coming is the upgrading of the line between Prague and Ceske Budejovice. The change will mean the line can take high-speed trains, which will in turn cut the travel time to South Bohemia. Sadly part of this upgrading has been the installation of large concrete sound-proofing screens to protect houses along the route from the increased noise. I say sadly because one of the joys of the route was looking at the villages and into people's orchards and gardens.Now all you see is the corregated concrete wedges.

The new trains will replace what my nieces refered to as "Harry Potter" trains, with their individual compartments. These could be a blessing and a curse - a blessing because they afforded some privacy, a curse because if you were unlucky to get in one with someone with body odour there was nowhere to go and if you opened the window you could almost bet your fellow travellers would close it again!  Meanwhile I have stopped using the Prague train, the Student Agency Coach is currently faster and delivers me direct to Cesky Krumlov and at the moment because of the works on the line you may start your journey on a train, but you usually end up being transfered on to a coach and back again.We'll see whether the new fast trains can tempt me back.

Weekend Shopping

Do not go shopping on Saturday afternoon in the Czech Republic - you will find the shops closed. Never mind Sunday opening, Czech shops as a rule close at 12.00 or at best 1pm on Saturdays. The exception to this is often the modern shopping malls, but your regular town centre shops are closed. Even a city like Ceske Budejovice turns into a ghost town at noon on Saturdays, the streets empty and even many cafes and restaurants are closed. Walking across its huge central square on a Saturday afternoon can be disconcerting - it's almost as if you've walked in to a wild west movie just before the outlaws ride into town.

Cesky Krumlov at first sight bucks this trend - most shops are open. But look closer and you will see that only the tourist and vietnamese shops are open, the in-town supermarkets, chemists, shoeshops, etc are all closed. Even the little supermarket opposite the Castle is closed. And yet the weekend is when Cesky Krumlov receives most of its visitors. You can sit on the bench by the castle gate and watch as bemused Japanese tourists try the door. No matter that the supermarket is missing out on all that trade, the Czechs have always stopped work on Saturdays at lunchtime and disappeared off to their families, cottages and gardens and so that is what they will continue to do. Or they might be engaging in the latest pastime of going in their hordes to the new out-of-town shopping centres.