Murder in the bedroom.

One of the problems with leaving my Czech house empty for months at a time is there are sometimes some nasty surprises when I get back. Once it was a blooming of dryrot fungus in the kitchen. This time it was the signs of a murder in the large bedroom.

While I was away my neighbour with my agreement showed a friend around the house, as the friend was looking for somewhere to buy in our part of South Bohemia. What my neighbour did not know was that you needed to make very sure the cellar door is closed because the local farm cats like to jump through the cellar window and get in to a nice warm house. There was a definite cat smell about the house when I arrived and paw prints on my furniture, but that wasn't the worst of it.

In the large bedroom the floor was covered with tufts of fur, and flecks and smears of blood. When I swept up the fur it was apparent that the creature that came to a grisly end there was not exactly a mouse, the hair was longer, had an orange tinge and there was a large pile of it. I still do not know what the victim was, but I do have a good idea about the identity of the murderer. I suspect that the creature that did the deed was a beech marten. I have seen them around occasionally. They are capable of taking quite large mammals: such as rabbits and squirrels. They will also take kittens, something my cat-loving friend was always worried about. It may well have been an immature cat which was followed and cornered in my bedroom. I will never know for sure. Whatever it was, I had the unwelcome job of clearing up.

Happy New Year

Another graphic from my collection of Czech exlibris and PFs (Christmas/New Year cards). This is of course Happy New Year card and was created by Ruda Svab. 

So to all of you a happy 2019, may it be a better year than 2018. 

A Major Decision - Leaving the Czech Republic.

I have finally decided that my Czech adventure must come to an end and that I will be selling my Czech home. It is a heart-breaking decision to have to make. I love this house, this country and its people and they have all enriched my life tremendously, but all good things must come to an end they say.

Over the last two years it has become difficult to sustain my home here.  There was/is of course Brexit which has thrown all expat lives into question. But in the end it is not Brexit that is the reason for my decision. It is something far more important than that: family. My father died in 2017 and my elderly mother is finding it increasingly difficult to manage by herself. She has heart failure and Alzheimers and over the last few months I have seen a decline in her. She needs my in England all the time.

But what tipped the scales against keeping the house going are two financial changes. The largest cost re the house is electricity, which is very expensive here. I have electric central heating for when I am away (when I am in the house I used the much cheaper wood stoves), obviously being in the UK all the time would necessitate having the central heating on more plus an email arrived the other day from EON warning of a price increase. Quite simply I cannot afford it, especially as my husband is about to retire and can no longer support my Czech adventure as he has in the past. Of course selling the house will liberate some money which will allow me to come back here regularly and see my Czech friends.

Will this be the end of this blog? Well of course there are going to be posts to come about my travails selling up and moving. And then there is the backlog of subjects that I never got around to blogging about, which I still want to cover. So no, not for some time.

They are made of tough stuff here...

 

Yesterday I went for a walk in the Sumava Forest. It was a delightful day - pleasantly warm and the forest had that lovely smell of resin and mushrooms. 

My walk began with a visit to the ruins of Hus Castle. The castle like so many in the Czech Republic was built on a promontory above a river thereby maximising its defences. The path dropped steeply to the river, and I found myself watching my feet as I clambered down. In front of me was a family of four. The father was carrying a wheelchair. His wife held the hand of their teenage son,  who appeared to have something like cerebral palsy - he clearly was unable to straighten his legs. At one point the father abandoned the wheelchair in the bracken and went to help his wife support their son in his perilous descent. 

I passed the family as they recovered on the river bank. The next trial was a very high metal bridge over the river. Whilst the steps up were steep, it was the ones down that made me hold my breath - in two places steps were missing and in another the step rocked alarmingly. "I can't believe they will make it over that," I thought. 

The climb up to the castle ruins on the other side was another steep one. When I got to the top I turned to see the family had made it across the bridge. I pushed on along the path to discover that the way was not now flat, as I had expected, but rather a series of descents and climbs where parts of the castle had fallen down and where there may have been an inner defensive ditch. All the time on either side the ground dropped away to the river. I made it out of the castle walls and looking back I saw the father and his daughter (but no son or wife) working their way along.

There in front of me sat an old woman in her wheelchair looking out across the scene. I said hello and we had a chat. She told me her daughter was in the forest collecting mushrooms. The old lady beamed "It is so lovely here," she said and I agreed.

How did she get there? Ah, there was broad path. As I walked along it, I realised that even negotiating that route would not have been easy for someone pushing a wheelchair (and its occupant)  - they were plenty of holes, bumps,and tree roots to make life difficult. And the path was about 2 kms before we came to a tarmacked road.

Afterwards when I chatted to my husband on Facebook, we came to the conclusion that Czechs are made of tough stuff and that they must have a special specification for wheelchairs: able to negotiate forest paths and coming with dedicated mushrooming basket.   

Update on St Agnes in the Garden

My talented neighbour has been chipping away at the statue of St Agnes of Bohemia at the bottom of the garden, and now she is revealed in all her glory.

See https://czechproperty.blogspot.com/2018/07/st-agnes-in-garden.html for the story of how she appeared in my garden.

Alas I can no longer look out of my window and gaze on the medieval Bohemian saint. Three strong men have taken her to her new home. 

St Agnes in the Garden

At the bottom of my garden an oak tree trunk is being transformed into a Bohemian saint and princess. The stillness of the evening is normally disturbed only by the call of my redstarts and the farmer's cows, but now there is the chip, chip, chip of a hammer on chisel.

My talented neighbour, Jitka, has been commissioned to carve a statue of St Agnes of Bohemia. Her house is built on a slope and there was no accessible level site where she could work. So she approached me and I of course said yes she could use my garden.

St Agnes was the daughter of King Ottakar I of Bohemia. As a medieval princess Agnes was a political pawn and at various times was betrothed to the son of the Holy Roman Emperor and King Henry III of England, but in the end as a nun Agnes was married to the King of Heaven, when she  became a member of the Poor Clares. Her life there was, as the order's name indicates, in total variance to her life as a princess.

Agnes built a religious complex in Prague, which included a monastery and a hospital, where she lived and died. The Convent of St Agnes is now part of the National Gallery and is home to a wonderful collection of medieval art from Bohemia and Central Europe, including some beautiful carvings of saints. Jitka is part of a long tradition.

Neighbours

Redstart on the fence next to the strimmer

I spent the afternoon strimming the jungle that has grown in the yard. As I did so, I was watched by the redstart that lives in a hole in the back wall of my neighbours' house. When I sat down exhausted to peruse my work, the redstart moved in to pick up insects the nice human had revealed for him. We don't seem to get robins here the way we do in England, but the black redstarts have taken their place. Like robins they are fearless, feisty little birds who happily live alongside humans. They even have a flash of reddish orange. The blackberry bush was covered with bees and butterflies enjoying the nectar. Overhead there came a small murmuration of starlings, the rush of their wings sounding like a wave on the shore.

(Not my photo - I wish...)

At dusk I walked down the garden to pick some berries for tea. The bees and redstarts had gone. The mown grass was covered with large slugs. As I picked the berries, the corrugated iron that covers some planks of wood creaked and I turned to see the lithe shape of a beech marten spring up on to the barn wall and away. Now it is dark and I stand at my window watching the the lights of fireflies blink and float over the garden. No matter how much I love my English garden, and I do very much love it, I never feel as close to nature as I do here. 

Remembering the Last GI

On the side of the road between Volary and Lenora is a simple memorial. You can drive past easily without noticing the large rock with the granite plaque. As the Czechs commemorate the end of World War II in Europe and the liberation of their country from the Nazi tyranny on this day 73 years ago, it seems a fitting point to blog about Charles Havlat's death.

As the memorial states Havlat was a soldier with Patton's 3rd Army. He had fought a long hard war  across Normandy, the Rhineland, and finally found himself in the land of his ancestors - his parents had emigrated to the US at the beginning of the 20th century. On the 7th May 1945 he was on reconnaissance, when his platoon was caught in a German ambush. In a hail of bullets Havlat was shot in the head and died.

He has the dubious distinction of being the last American to die in action in Europe. Indeed the ambush should not have happened at all, as a ceasefire had just come into place. Only six hours later the Nazis unconditionally surrendered. The German officer who led the ambush was to later apologize, but neither he nor his American counterpart knew about the ceasefire.

Private Charles Havlat was just one soldier who fell in a war that claimed millions of lives, but due to the cruel timing of his death he has this memorial.

Galerie Hollar & Vladimir Suchanek.

I am embarrassed to say that until this year I had never visited Galerie Hollar in Prague and yet it is so up my street. As regular readers will know I am a fan of Czech graphics and Galerie Hollar is the gallery of the Association of Czech Graphic Artists. The Association celebrated its centenary last year. 

The gallery is to be found just along the embankment from Cafe Slavia and the National Theatre. It is not particularly well signposted so it is possible to walk straight past the entrance of what looks like a large town house. Inside there is a small gallery with changing exhibitions and a shop. The size of gallery is just perfect for me. I don't like feeling overwhelmed by displays and visitors jostling to look at the artworks. 

The exhibition we visited was by the Czech artist, Vladimir Suchanek, whose work includes exlibris and larger prints. I have only one of his works in my collection (below) and would love some more. The ones for sale in the Hollar eshop are too expensive for me, no matter how much I covert them. Suchanek has a fascinating style. His preferred technique is coloured lithography, which he explores constantly.

Suchanek is partly responsible for the existence of the gallery and the Association of Czech Graphic Artists. In the 1970's the Association was repressed by the hardline Communist authorities, but in the 1990's Suchanek helped resurrect the Association, becoming president in 1995.

Suchanek's other love is music. With fellow members of the Association, Jiri Anderle and Jiri Sliva, he founded a band called Grafieanka!

The gallery is usually open Tuesday - Sunday 10-12 am and 1-6 pm. 

Czech Exlibris Celebrated

Tomorrow an exhibition of Czech exibris (bookplates) until 1945 opens at the National Monument at Vitkov in Prague and I will definitely be going. The exhibition celebrates the 100th anniversary of the SSPE (the Association of Collectors and Friends of Exlibris). On display will be 365 exlibris created in the first half of the 20th century by ninety artists, as well as the equipment used to create them: printing blocks, presses and other tools. The final part of the exhibition is about the origin and development of the art of exlibris in the Czech Republic. 

I have very much caught the exlibris collecting bug. I tend to collect exlibris since 1945, but some of my favourite artists will be featured. For Christmas my husband gave me some exlibris by Anna Mackova, whilst the among the first exlibris I ever bought was one by her life partner Josef Vachal.  Both were amazing artists and exlibris is the only way I could afford their art. 

Vachal exlibris

The exhibition is open Wednesday - Sun 10.00 - 16.00, from 25th March to 9th September, at the National Memorial on Vítkov Hill U Památníku 1900, Prague 3 (metro Florenc). 

Bottle stoppers and puppets.

As a former arts manager I have always got a buzz with helping my creative friends, especially if I can do so by introducing them to each other. So when my friend Kristina, who runs my favourite hotel in Prague, was asking me about identifying Czech crafts to sell to her customers, I immediately suggested the work of my neighbour.

I have talked before about  Jitka, and the easter eggs she paints and the puppets she carves.  Both the eggs and the smaller puppets would make excellent gifts for Kristina to sell. I am very much aware of how little space there is in the luggage  of those of us who travel on budget airlines. Stuffing a bulging bag full of treasures into an overhead locker can be alarming. Small non-breakable souvenirs are what is needed. Jitka has come up with  solution - hand-carved bottle stoppers. They are just wonderful - you will find more examples here on Jitka's website. I gave a load to my family and friends one last Christmas and they went down a storm.

Horice Na Sumave - Masopust 2018

Yesterday we celebrated Masopust (Czech Carnival). It was the first time my husband had been at our Czech home for the festival. I am not sure why but he normally has returned to England and left me to celebrate alone. 

The Masopusters arrive here on their procession around the villages in the mid-afternoon, after a several hours of dancing and singing. Our neighbours Jitka and Eliska had joined with us to offer the Masopusters food and drink. The table had Czech delicacies of stuffed hard-boiled eggs, pastries, small open sandwiches and strudel, to which we added Scottish shortbread. We could hear the Masopusters approach through the village, stopping at various houses to sing and dance, thus blessing the homes with prosperity for the coming year. 

At last they arrived in our little cul de sac. We slotted our donations into the Masopust charity box and were swept into a dance. After the dance and the songs we offered our food and the Masopusters already replete after their travels very nobly ate some of the food and drank some of the cherry brandy. They left inviting us to attend the traditional Masopust ball that evening.

When my husband and I turned up at Horice Na Sumava Cultural Hall things were in full swing. The beer was flowing and everyone was feeling very mellow. We arrived just in time for the highlight of the night. The Masopusters processed into the hall together with an old man dressed up as a priest and two women comperes. The traditional dance resumed, with the Masopusters ending up encircling a man in a costume of multi-coloured rags who personified Masopust. Masopust made some lewd gestures at the dancers and was shot by the others.

He was lifted on to a stretcher and blessed by the priest. A fake funeral ensued - the priest's words causing hilarity in the audience. How we wished we could understand Czech! The stretcher was lifted onto the men's shoulders and led by the priest they processed twice around the hall. All the time the priest was sprinkling "holy" water from a chamber pot using a lavatory brush, making sure we all got a dose of water. The funeral done, the band struck up a Czech song which we recognized as Roll Out the Barrel and the Masopusters took partners from the audience and started to dance.

"Prague Cafe"

So the Czech Republic has a new president who happens to be the same one as the old one. President Zeman won 51.4% of votes, seeing off his lacklustre opponent Jiri Drahos. The electorate is almost evenly split. But not geographically or socially.

"Not my president" wrote one of my friends in a Facebook post. I am not surprised by his preference. My friend is young, well-educated and well-travelled (I first met him when he was living in Oxford), which puts him in a constituency which voted solidly for Drahos - 90.3% of all Czechs living abroad voted for Drahos or perhaps should I say against Zeman. My friend is one of those people that President Zeman dismisses as "Prague cafe", even though my friend does not live in Prague.

I don't want, as a foreigner, to get drawn into making political comments on my host homeland and it is very easy to see this election through the eyes of Western European and a Brit at that. But I thought it might be useful to look at this phrase and what it means and why it chimes with just over half the electorate. In order to do so it helps to look at the two words separately.

Prague voted strongly for Drahos (68.8%) as did other similar cities. Like London and many of other capitals Prague is seen by inhabitants of other regions as getting too much of the cake (its wages are much higher than the national average) and as elitist and out of touch. Local and national politicians play on these grievances.

Cafe is an equally damning word. It contrasts with the pub, which is so much part of many people's lives here. The pub is for hard-working salt-of-the earth types who drink that symbol of Czech identity - beer. What is more there seems to be a historic memory bound up in this. One hundred years ago this year the Czechoslovak First State achieved its independence from Austria and what culture is Austria, especially Vienna, renowned for but cafe culture?

There is also an unspoken swipe at the Czech Republic's first president, Vaclav Havel, who in the early days of his presidency was to be seen in Cafe Slavia (shown above) holding meetings with his ministers and visiting foreign politicians. If Havel was a man of the Prague Cafe, Zeman portrays himself as the man in the pub.

"Prague Cafe" is a clever political phrase, playing on all sorts of conscious and subconscious associations. In English we might say the "chattering classes" but it is bigger and deeper than that.

Jan Palach Day

Today is the anniversary of the death of Jan Palach. I have written about the young student in the past in this post https://czechproperty.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/jan-palach.html   In protest at the Soviet invasion in 1968 Jan Palach set himself on fire in Wenceslas Square and died three days later. 

I wasn't going to post about him this year. But as I was going through the boxes of photos hiding under our bed, I came across a set of photos of my first visit to Prague and the Czech Republic and among them was this photograph. It was the Easter following the Velvet Revolution and the grief that had been suppressed during the Communist Era was at last allowed expression. The site of Palach's tragic protest had become a makeshift shrine, the most prominent of many scattered across the city. I was incredibly moved by it and still am.

Austerlitz

Yet another year goes by and I have again missed the re-enactment of the Battle of Austerlitz, which takes place in early December every year. I keep meaning to travel to the rolling hills south of Brno where the battle took place, but because of the timing (the 2nd December) I do not make it.

The battle, which took place in 1805, will be known to fans of the recent BBC War and Peace serialization as the battle in which Prince Andrei is wounded. To military historians it is often seen as Napoleon's greatest victory when a French force of only 72,000 was pitted against a combined Austrian/Russian force of 85,000. Napoleon's victory was based on psychology and tactics, taking advantage of the foggy weather to lure his enemies from their position of strength into attacking. To reenactment fans - it is one the biggest annual reenactments anywhere with over 900 participants from all over Europe.

This film of the 2017 reenactment shows why I really should risk the cold and make it to Slavkov (the Czech name for the battle is Bitva u Slavkov) some year soon.

Happy Christmas

Happy Christmas to you all.

The print is a PF in my collection. It is by Czech artist Frantisek Emler.

Czech Christmas Decorations

You will find beautiful glass Christmas tree decorations in gift shops and on Christmas market stalls all over the Czech Republic. The tradition of making these dainty baubles in this country goes back to the 19^th century when glass decorations first replaced apples which had been used for centuries. Now the Czech craftsmen and factories have to compete with cheap imports from China, but the quality of the Czech product is holding its own.

There is a wide range of styles to choose from. From the contemporary twist (sometimes literally) on the old designs, to ones which would not have looked out of place in a Victorian parlour. In addition to the blown balls and twisted glass, the Czechs also make decorations out of beads. I found this complex airplane in an “antik” shop on the Castle Steps in Cesky Krumlov. Most Czech antique shops will have a selection of old decorations for sale.

The majority of Czech glass decoration manufacture takes place in the mountainous north and east. This is because the mountains had the raw materials for glass manufacture: sand, water and timber for the fires. Christmas tree decorations is part of a much wider tradition of Czech glass making, which I intend to talk about in future posts.  

Letters to the Baby Jesus

If you are thinking about sending a letter to Baby Jesus you better get a move on.  The special Baby Jesus post box opened on the 3rd and will close on the 10th, when the White Lady will be visiting the town to take your letters to the Baby.

In the Czech Republic tradition it is not Santa Claus who brings the children their presents on Christmas Eve but the Baby Jesus (Ježíšek). It is therefore Baby Jesus to whom children address their letters.

The tradition of Baby Jesus goes back at least 400 years and has survived Nazism and Communism, but since the Velvet Revolution Czech children have come under a cultural and commercial onslaught from the West. Is it any surprise that the Baby Jesus is under threat from the American Santa Klaus? Part of the problem is that no one knows what Baby Jesus looks like, unlike the highly branded Santa. Is the Baby a baby? No one knows.

In response to the Santaization of Christmas the Czechs have fought back - there are organisations set up to save the Baby Jesus. As one website states "We fight for traditional Czech Christmas and practices. We want the Baby Jesus to be saved from the invasion of the red fat man and his reindeer underlings." But it is going to be a hard fight.

If you are wondering where to send your letter, please note Baby Jesus does not live in Lapland or at the North Pole, but like a true Czech he lives in the small town of Boží Dar in the Czech Mountains.

St Barbara and the Miners

I was in Cesky Krumlov two years ago today and thought I was just there for the Christmas market. Nothing was due to happen until the day after (5th December) when St Nicholas, accompanied by angels and devils would arrive. I was wrong.  

In the distance came the sound of a brass band and into the town square marched men in uniform carrying standards and flaming torches. These were not soldiers or firemen, but miners from all over the country. They had gathered in Cesky Krumlov for two reasons.

First this was St Barbara's Day. St Barbara is the patron saint of miners, which was why the great church at Kutna Hora by the gold miners of that city is St Barbara's church. In a profession as dangerous as mining it was important to have a saint interceding for you. In one version of the story Barbara fled the ire of her father into a mine where the miners gave her refuge and she has been returning the favour ever since.

Secondly Cesky Krumlov was also a mining town and has its own guild of miners. Gold and silver were to be found in the hills around the town. The other metal, which continued to be mined when gold and silver ran out, was graphite. As you walk along the river path at the foot of the castle you can see the boarded up entrances to small mines and you can even go down the graphite mine on the Chvalsinska Road.

In this old picture of Cesky Krumlov miners you can see most of them are wearing the smart black uniforms that appear on the banner image (above) and that I was seeing in the square. If you look closely the miner behind the truck coming out of the mine is in his work clothes.

After the marching, the music and the speeches, the miners got down to enjoying themselves with their families. And posing for photos!

Honouring the Czech airmen

Wellingtons from the RAF 311 (Czechoslovak) squadron.

Having just passed through the security check for my flight from Prague, I sat down to wait the opening of the gate. As I often do I started talking to the lady on the seat next to me. 

"How long have you been here," I asked.

"Only two days," she replied.

"Not long enough," I said

"No, but I have been here many times. I just came to attend a ceremony for the families of Czech RAF airmen of the Second World War."

We talked and she showed me a picture of her father's name on the plaque just unveiled on the flying lion monument opposite Malastranska Metro station. I was honoured to sit next to the daughter of such a brave man and asked her about him. Here is his story:

He and his cousin left the country in order to fight the Nazis, first they went to Poland to fight, then to North Africa to join the Foreign Legion, before going to France and from there to England. During the war he piloted Lancasters and Wellingtons, until a serious accident put an end to his active service and he moved to training pilots instead. After the war the Czechoslovak squadrons were transfered to the reformed Czech airforce and he returned to his homeland. 

When the Communists came to power and started to purge the airforce, he flew a business man and the man's plane to freedom in the west and came back to Britain. His cousin stayed behind with his family and suffered under the Communists. After all that adventure her father's story should have ended happy ever in England, but it didn't. Still eager to continue flying, he went to Canada. There his luck ran out, his plane experienced mechanical failure and crashed in the vastness of the Canadian wilderness. 

For Those Who Gave

In the hills around my Czech home you can come across many memorials. Often they are wayside shrines to people who died on the roads. But a few remember those who died in the battle to free the country from the Nazis. In this part of the battle zone it was the American army and air force that were fighting.

On the 17th April 1945 a squadron of US fighters led by Captain Reuter had been strafing German airbases at Klatovy and Eisendorf, when Reuter and Lieutenant Preddy both in P-51 Mustangs spotted two German Me-262 jet fighters and commenced pursuit, The faster German planes led them to Ceske Budejovice airport, then a German base, where the Americans undertook another strafing run. It was to be their last.

     

Captain Reuter and Lieutenant Preddy

Both airplanes were hit by anti-aircraft fire. Captain Reuter's plane exploded on being hit and he died instantly.  Metal detectorists are still find fragments of his plane, showing the force with which it hit the ground. Lieutenant Preddy was able to get away, but with his aircraft badly damaged he was only able to get as far as the nearby village of Zaluzi, where he crashed. A local man, Jan Smejkal, took the seriously wounded Preddy by cart to a German emergency treatment centre where he received first aid only. When the Germans refused to transport Preddy to the hospital in Ceske Budejovice, Smejkal took him there in his horse-drawn cart. Preddy died in the hospital, having never regained consciousness.

You will find the above memorial to Lieutenant Preddy on a small road above Zaluzi near the crash site. The memorial to Captain Reuter is near Borsov nad Vltavou at the edge of the woods overlooking Budejovice Airport where he died.

So what is this building?

I was researching a trip for a friend of mine when I came across this building. The area I was exploring is the Sobeslav Blat area south west of Tabor, which is famous for its folk traditions and architecture. The buildings are often ornately decorated with Bohemian Baroque plasterwork and I wanted to show this to my friend.

I had travelled through several lovely villages and this, Svinky, was the last on my list. I drove past this building and did a double take. On first appearances it was the village chapel, which indeed it is. But what was it doing with a huge arch at the back, big enough to allow a cart in?

Some online research and I discovered that the building was chapel and smithy! Two of the most important buildings in a farming village were combined in one.

Update 9th November 2017
I have been thinking about this overnight and it has occurred to me that there is something archetypal about this. The blacksmith traditionally is seen as having magical powers. The ability to master fire,so you can turn rocks into first liquid and then solid treasures, must have appeared magical. There is the famous British ballad (No. 44 Child's Ballads) - the Twa Magicians - in which one of the magicians is a magician. At Stonehenge archaeologists have discovered the grave of a smith/shaman.

The Extraordinary Portmoneum

I gave my Australian artist friend a tour of the more unknown treasures of the Czech Republic and Litomysl's Portmoneum had to be on the list of stops. From the outside the Portmoneum is a humble single-storey house on a back street in Litomysl, but oh boy what wonders await you inside!

The story of the Portmoneum is the story of two men: one the artist Josef Vachal and the other, Josef Portmon, a teacher and a collector of art especially Vachal's. Portmon's collecting fervour bordered on the obsessive and eventually his demands on Vachal put such a strain on the relationship that the older man wanted nothing more to do with his admirer. In the Portmoneum we benefit from that fervour, for how many collectors would invite an artist to decorate every surface of two rooms in their small house – ceiling, walls and all the furniture? Even then it was not enough for Portmon who sought to commission more, but Vachal refused.

It is quite impossible to fully describe the impact of the Portmoneum. Vachal's art is vibrant, full of strong colours, metaphor and spirituality. Created in the early 1920s Portmoneum's expressionism stems from the Art Nouveau movement, but it both looks back at the Baroque and forward to today. In this his greatest work Vachal manages to combine a sense of humour with profound psychological depth. There is so much going on in the art, which literally surrounds the viewer, that it is impossible to take it all in.

Vachal has a very contemporary appeal. However it was not always so. Obviously his spirituality did not sit easily with Communism, so it was not until the late 1960's that his reputation began to recover. Even so the Portmoneum suffering from water damage was allowed to decline until the 1990's, when at last restoration began. I have visited twice and on both occasions we found ourselves alone to enjoy Vachal's amazing work.  

If you want to own a Vachal, it is quite possible to do so, as he also produced ex libris. Here is one from my collection: 

Stamp Collecting & President Benes

It is funny how people can be drawn to visiting a country. Whenever I meet a British visitor I always made a point of asking why people had chosen to come here, what had sparked their interest. In one case it was stamp collecting.

Anyone who has collected stamps as a youngster will know that Czechoslovakia produced loads of great stamps. I assume stamp production was a way to generate income from the West for the then Communist state. I no longer collect stamps, but I do collect Czech graphics and many of the artists I now collect also were hired to design stamps and first-day covers.

But it wasn't the graphical flair that had caught the man's interest, but the story of the presidents whose faces appear on the stamps. In particular he was fascinated by President Benes. Now Benes has a very mixed press among Czechs. Many do not see him as the wartime leader, but as the president who failed to stop the Communists. To the Sudetenland Germans he is the man responsible for the forced expulsion from their homes and the deaths of those who fell or were slain on the route. But this British man made the pilgrimage to Benes' home near Tabor and came back enthused.

Cezeta - The Pig Flies Again

The Pig is the affectionate nickname given by the Czechs to a 1960s scooter and design icon produced by Cezeta. This is partly due to the scooter's snout and partly due to the pig as a Czech symbol of luck. Cezeta had been producing motorcycles since the 1930s, but it is the Cezeta 500 series culminating in Cezeta 505 that sticks in the collective memory.

Instantly recognizable due to its distinctive torpedo shape, the Čezeta was popular for its simplicity, reliability and durability. Due to its long wheelbase, it was originally marketed as a ‘car on wheels’ and never called a scooter. Two people could go on holiday with their bags stored in the body space, whilst the larger seat made comfortable room for lovers riding pillion. The Čezeta quickly became a symbol of freedom and adventure for young Czechs. It was also raced for fun by the company’s engineers. Following Grand Prix success in 250cc and 350cc classes, the ČZ brand became famous and because of it more than 100,000 Čezeta scooters were sold around the world, many of which have been lovingly restored and are now collectors’ items.

This year, thanks to the enthusiasm of a British ex-pat, Neil Eamonn Smith, the Cezeta 506 is being launched. Whilst keeping many of the design details that so appealed to its 1960s customers, the new scooter has been brought up to date. The 506 is a high performance sports scooter with a 0-50 km/h in 3.2 seconds, a powerful bike you can control, engineered for everyday use. It boasts new proprietary technologies including the electric drivetrain, the Sway throttle and the Dynamics torque selector.

A limited edition of just 600 bikes has been launched this year. But hopefully this will be the beginning of a new chapter in the story of the Cezeta Pig.

More  at www.cezeta.com

A tinker's craft

I have been looking for a present for my cousin's 25th wedding anniversary. It had to be small enough and tough enough to survive going in hand luggage. And this is what I found. It combines a ceramic base with a hand-woven wire rim attached by holes drilled in the rim of the base. Isn't it beautiful!

The dish is a good example of a domestic handicraft, which traditionally was hawked around the villages by Slovak tinkers. Legend has it that after the tinkers had presented the Empress Marie Theresa with a cradle made of wire so brilliantly that it would rock forever with one push, the grateful empress granted the tinkers the right to travel all over the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Much of their trade would have been in repairing pots or wrapping them  in wire nets to stop breakages. Mousetraps, birdcages, whisks, coat hooks, strainers, and other household goods were also offered. All the craftsmen needed in their packs were rolls of soft flexible wire, a hammer, pincers, and a stitching awl. The wire was bent cold and so no bellows or anvil were needed.

The days of the itinerant tinkers are over. But in Slovakia and the Czech Republic some craftsmen are keeping the tinkers' craft alive, adapting it to modern markets and I was lucky enough to meet one yesterday at a stall on Ceske Budejovice's main square.

Prague - The Other City

I have just finished reading The Other City by Michal Ajvaz.

In this strange and lovely hymn to Prague, Michal Ajvaz repopulates the city of Kafka with ghosts, eccentrics, talking animals, and impossible statues, all lurking on the peripheries of a town so familiar to tourists. The Other City is a guidebook to this invisible, "other Prague," overlapping the workaday world: a place where libraries can turn into jungles, secret passages yawn beneath our feet, and waves lap at our bedspreads. Heir to the tradition and obsessions of Jorge Luis Borges, as well as the long and  distinguished line of Czech  fantasists, Ajvaz's Other City—his first novel to be translated into English—is the emblem of all the worlds we are blind to, being caught in our own ways of seeing.

It is one of several books I have read which portray an alternative Prague existing alongside the "real" Prague. I have reviewed some of them on my Magic Realism Books blog: including A Kingdom of Souls  by Daniela Hodrova,  Keeping Bedlam at Bay in The Prague Cafe by M Henderson Ellis, Gustav Meyrink's works including of course The Golem and of course Kafka's The Metamorphosis.  And there are more such books on my to-be-read list.

I am not surprised that Prague has almost spawned a sub-genre of place-based magic realism. During my first visit to the city, only a few months after the Velvet Revolution, I was acutely aware of the magical or spiritual energy that seemed to flow out of Prague's ancient stones, rippling across the Vltava and climbing the steps to the castle and Emperor Rudolf's alchemical workshops. That magical echo is less audible now beneath the footsteps of eager tourists and the kerching of cash registers, but it is still there.

The Other City is set in a Czech winter, a time of year when I have always felt the Prague magic most acutely. Maybe it is because of the way the snow deadens sound and redraws the familier outlines of buildings, smudging the boundaries between water, land and sky.  Ajvaz's Other City also emerges at night, something that is hard to imagine in the real city busy 24/7.

The alternative Prague that Ajvaz creates is too fantastical for my liking, closer to surrealism than magic realism. The author obviously had great fun inventing an amazing alternative world and mixing it in with the real Prague - "Customers at Cafe Slavia are seldom assaulted by sharks". I particularly loved the idea of the bases of the statues on Charles Bridge being used as stalls for tiny elks, but at times the weirdness just went on too long. I am perhaps too Anglo Saxon to appreciate this very Czech absurdism. By the way there are some great jokes about the Czech language in the book; "Case endings were originally invocations of demons." For this failed student of Czech, they still are!

It is hard at times, as the novel's central character pursues the Other City and is at times pursued by it's inhabitants, to see where the novel is going. But there is a resolution - a philosophical one, which comes to the central character in the last chapter.  Ajvaz is a researcher at the Prague Centre for Theoretical Studies and has published not only a book on Borges but also one called Jungle of Light: Meditations on Seeing and in many ways this book is also a meditation on seeing. I will say no more for fear of spoiling the book for you.

Limonade

On a hot day there is nothing better than to order a carafe of domaci limonade and sit at a terrace table under a parasol. This is not lemonade in the fizzy artificial sense. It is in fact a home-made fruit or herb squash. Domaci means home-made and is a useful word to look for on menus in all sorts of contexts.

Of course being home-made the flavours are only as limited as the ingredients available to its maker. Limonade may not even include lemons among its ingredients. Other common flavours are raspberry, mint, and ginger.

Walking the Bear Trail

I have been meaning to blog about walking the oldest nature trail in the Czech Republic for some time now. I actually walked the trail a year ago, but never got round to blog about it. 

The Bear Trail (Medvedi Stezka) gets its name from a stone three quarters of the way along the trail, which marks where the last brown bear in the country was shot in the 19^th century. Now the only bear you will come across is on the signsposts and information boards for the trail, which feature a bear on a yellow and black background. 

Set in the spectacular scenery of the Sumava National Park. the trail links the two former lumberjack settlements of Ovesna and Cerny Kriz, both are on the train line from Cesky Krumlov. Although the trail is only 8.7 miles long, you should allow a day for the walk, as you will need to coincide your walk with the train timetable and you will want to stop for a drink and food at Jezerni Vrch.

Cow Head Rock

The first section of the walk between Ovesna and Jezerni is probably the most spectacular, as you climb the forested slopes of Mt Pernik - the trail rises from 736m above sea level to 1037m before dropping down to Jezerni. Walking in the forest can be a bit tedious, but not so on the Bear Trail, because all the way up are a number of rock formations with descriptive names: including Pernikova Skala (Gingerbread Rocks), Goticky Portal (Gothic door), Hrib (Mushroom), Obri Kostky (Giant's Dice), Draci tlama (Dragon's Mouth) and Soutezka lapku (The Highwaymen's Gorge). In places the forest parts to afford spectacular views across the river valley to the ancient forested hill of Boubin.

At Jezerni Vrch you will find the Schwarzenberg Wood Canal and places to eat and drink. After refreshments you continue along the trail past the Bear Stone and on to Cerny Kriz and the train back home.

Saints Cyril and Methodius

The Czechs have two bank holidays back to back in early July (5th and 6th), which always catch me out.I roll up to a shop or bank only to realise my mistake. The two dates are both related to three holy men in Czech history. The latter is Jan Hus's day and I have blogged about it already here. The former is dedicated to the founding fathers of Czech and Slavic christianity: St Cyril and St Methodius.

1150 years ago the two "apostles to the Slavs" arrived in the empire of Great Moravia. The Empire was large and powerful extending as far as that of Charlemagne.

The two brothers had attended the University of Constantinople and were considered the best scholars in Christendom and they brought that scholarship to bear in their missionary work.. Their contribution to Czech and more widely Slavic Christianity and culture cannot be overstated. They invented a Slavic alphabet Glagolitic, which formed the basis for Cyrillic, in order to translate the Bible into the local language. They also put into writing the Slavic Civil Code.

For this anniversary there are a number of celebrations taking place in the country, culminating in annual national pilgrimage to the Monastery of St Cyril and St Methodius at Velehrad (above). The basilica is an extremely impressive Baroque church, but if you want to get an idea of the early churches of the Slavs go to the archaeological site of Mikulcice, where you can see the foundations of twelve churches from a thousand years ago.