Raising the Maypole

The 31st April is an important day in the Czech calendar. It is the day when they raise the maypole and "burn" witches. This year I was in Cesky Krumlov for the celebrations. Here is a video of the difficult and skillful erection of the maypole.

The event is very much a community one. There are stalls all around the Eggenberg gardens featuring local community groups.

The stage is host to performances by local youngsters, from preschool dancers to a vibrant teenage samba group. The girls of the traditional dance group decorate the maypole (before its erection) with garlands and paper birds.

Paper birds also decorate the trees.

Of course there is the usual beer tent and stalls selling parek (hotdogs). Mothers and children are cooking octopus sausages on hazel sticks over an open fire.

In addition there is a unlit bonfire waiting the witchburning which will take place in the evening. Meanwhile the older witches are happily painting youngsters faces at a stall nearby.

And younger witches wander the grounds looking for their friends or should we say familiars.

Monsters in the Wood

As I was walking in the woods above my home I came across these two monsters. I walk there regularly (especially in the mushroom season) and had not seen them before, so their appearance seemed quite magical. Maybe it was just my state of mind, which led me to find the fantastical. First there was the dragon hiding in the bilberries with that self-satisfied sneer, as if he has just finished eating an unfortunate mushroom picker..


As for the witch, she fair made me jump. I was walking along a familiar track and there she was, her arm raised. She was formed, when the main body of the tree was snapped off probably by a wind leaving a ragged half stump. I walked along a bit and looked within a few paces the witch was gone and all there was an old tree stump. I retraced my steps and she magically appeared once more.

How appropriate to meet them in a deep, (and not so) dark wood in this home of fairytales.

Witches, maypoles and the unexpected

On the last day of April the Czechs set up their maypoles, light bonfires and on occasion burn a witch's effigy, oh and drink a lot of beer and eat a lot of sausages. They then have Mayday off to recover and drink some more beer. This year Mayday being on Friday this has extended into the weekend.

I have blogged in the past about a private party we went to, where we women (witches?) jumped over the bonfire for luck. But this year I decided to go a formal town event in Cesky Krumlov. The gardens of the Eggenberg Brewery was where it all happened - during the afternoon there were children's puppet shows and stalls from the various voluntary organisations in the town. I arrived before six, various young girls were wandering around in dandelion crowns (made at one of the stalls) and a gaggle of small boys were running around the puppet tent pretending to be monsters. About half a dozen witches stood around looking bored. The sausage stall and the beer tent were going great guns.

At about 6.30 the maypole was raised by local firemen, using a system of ropes and props and a lot of shouting. It was made of a moderately sized fir tree, with all but its top branches stripped off. There were ribbons tied to the crown and to a hoop that hung just below the branches. Also hanging was a bottle of slivovice or similar spirit. Then a group of traditional dancers performed in traditional costume. Why is it that folk dance is often so coy, I'm sure they weren't in the old days? A procession of lanterns was due to arrive at 7.30 when the bonfire would be lit. After that there was an evening's worth of entertainment.

My plan had been to stay for the evening but by 7ish I was feeling that something was wrong, nothing specific, just a foreboding and a desire to go home. So I walked along the river to my car and drove home. At Kajov and Horice Na Sumave the maypoles ribbons were streaming in the wind and smoke was rising from the bonfires, still I didn't stop. As I pulled at the gate, there was a slight rumble in the distance. By the time I had made a cup of tea, the sky was so black I had to put the lights on. The storm hit with great force, massive thundercracks, lightening that lit up the sky and torrents of rain that went on for ages. It would seem that the Cesky Krumlov witches were not taking this burning business lying down!

Home from Home

I am back in England now. It is all very strange to leave our house in Czecho, to come home from home.

It was almost as though the weather knew I was returning to England, for after two months of sun and no rain the weather broke. It was heralded by the cows calling in the fields. Usually at night in our village you are struck by the silence, perhaps you will hear the occasional dog barking or an errant blackbird heralding the dawn prematurely, but normally all things are quite silent. But that night the cows were lowing with an unnerving cry, almost as if in pain. I lay in my bed wondering what was wrong and then the rain began. I could hear it thundering on to the rusty corregated iron sheets in the yard. In the morning it continued, the sack of dehydrated whitewash in the yard was breached by the torrents and bled white over the ground.

By the afternoon the rain had stopped and the birds had started singing again. I locked the gate and walked up the lane and past the rocks to the nearby town and bus stop. From there I travelled into Cesky Krumlov, where I spent the night at my friend's house. In the morning a taxi took me to the station at Ceske Budejovice. As I sat on the train to Prague, I suffered mixed emotions. Drifts of wild lupins were breaking in to bloom along the track, deers started from pastures that edged the forests. This place had become very much a home for me, had in some strange way always felt like home and I was leaving it. But I was leaving it to go home.

In England instead of lupins there would be seas of bluebells, bluebells which were deeply embedded in my understanding of the seasons. When I was a little girl we lived in a house near a millpond in the Cotswolds. Beyond the pond, where I fed the swans my toast crusts, was the wood, here my mother would take me walking among the bluebells. I was three when I left the millflat, but the wood, the pond and the bluebells are deep in my memories together with my mother saying "Look, Zoe, can you see that flower" or "What do you think that root looks like?" "It looks like a witch, mummy. She's got a big nose." Ponds, witches and the dark wood, no wonder the Czech Republic feels like home.

More on Maypoles (& Witches)

In my previous post I talked briefly about the maypoles that are the centre feature of many village greens in this part of the world. It doesn't take much scratching of the Czech modern veneer to find the ancient and pagan beneath. Maypoles may have become a thing of the past in England or at least a quaint custom with school children dancing rather tweely, but here in the Czech Republic the tradition is alive and strong. Today I took the train from Prague to Cesky Krumlov and it gave me a good vantage point to spot the maypoles in the villages and towns along the route. It is clearly a matter of pride to erect (and protect) the largest maypole, created from a very tall and straight fir. The maypole stays at the centre of the village for the year's length until the new replaces it, by then of course the brightly coloured ribbons at the poles tip have faded at best or been whipped away by a winter wind, but with the dawn of the new summer a new maypole springs erect.

On the last night of April in some places the custom of burning the witch takes place. We have yet to see the ceremony although we caught sight of her on her broomstick in the town square at Prachatice. This year we were invited to a party. The wine flowed, meat was barbecued, a witch turned up together with cat on her shoulder and was welcomed into the group and our friends sat around a log fire singing Czech folksongs to the accompaniment of the local priest on accordion and a herbalist on a guitar. As it grew dark and the turn of the season approached we women jumped over the bonfire to ward off evil spirits and then we all danced in a circle around the flames. Clearly these were Beltane celebrations - a throwback to our common ancestors the Celts. But there was something wonderfully makeshift about them, things just happened as someone in the party took a mind to it, but it felt all the more the genuine for that.