Leaving

Ok, so we've been really busy and the blog has suffered. But we are leaving Budejovice for Italy and packing/moving... its complicated. ...but good. More later.
Ciao, Mark

Homer J. Rockwell

As it so happens I teach English to a some adults. The group is mainly composed of a country and western band called "Duha". One of the members, Pavel, works at the nearby nuclear power plant. He is one of the safety engineers. So he offered to give me a tour.

Look, lots of buttons, schematics and gauges. What's not to like?

ah, that's better, nothing like a good sit.

More like Homer already. Just missing the donuts. I really wanted to put my feet up and act like I was sleeping... but I didn't want to offend my host.

Prior to exiting the secure reactor area, one must be scanned by the objects on the left that take a reading of how much radiation you might have received.
I guess if you're a safety guy you don't have to change your clothes. As one of the brave core workers, you get to wear...yellow. I guess this means that when you go home and put on your regular clothes, they won't glow and upset the family. If these glow, who would know?
Honestly, I would have loved to take one of these home. For those of you who have seen "Bottle Rocket", this is a nice homage.

Ah, the core... where all the magic happens.
See the black object on my chest? That is a miniture gygercounter. I scored a .0001! I beat Pavel! Maybe I have latent nuke powers?
Hmmm to use my powers for good or evil... that is the question.

"Look out Radio Active Man!"
Hmmm, a big red button. Buttons are for pushing. That's my philosophy.

Look! Another scanner! Something is flashing
"Neurodny"
Wonder what that means? Whatever it is, I'm sure it's over rated.
Oooo, it's funner than it looks. Weeeeeeee

Now really. It was a great trip and really fascinating. The complexity of the design and implementation of such a system is really impressive. My thanks to Pavel who went to a lot of trouble. He certainly was informative. Actually, it was a good test of his English. He speaks quite well, but explaining the plant pushed the limitations of his English. But he did a great job. I'm sorry I don't have a picture of him... he was taking all the pics. It was his camera.

Biking for Pork

Sunday here in Moravia is family day. It is not unusual to get the fam together and go walking or biking. So we joined Tom and Svetlana and their two kids on a ride through the forest.

What could be better than riding 15 km through a Moravian forest?

A stop at Budkov.
After 15 km through the forest, it's all down hill...wind at your back.

Hmmmm, a restaurant. Svetlana is happy not to have to cook Sunday dinner.


Now the truth comes out. We biked here because of the local delicacy...

PORK KNEE!

Drool on you slack jawed yokels...

Actually, I must confess. This is a picture of Tom's Pork Knee. I meant to take a close up of mine when it came. ...and plumb forgot. Slightly diverted.

Now I must say something I found funny. I will chalk it up to cultural proximity... this isn't the right word really; what I mean to indicate is that sometimes you are so close to your culture that you can't see its presumptions.
Here is my case and point: This pork knee, which goes great with beer, is probably 50% fat. Those in the know will understand just how good this makes the meat. Now, I ate the meat and left all most of the fat. Tom finished his, all of his. Then he chided me in a friendly manner that I must eat the fat with the meat and I should eat all of it. I made a comment about thinking this is unhealthy to consume so much fat, by way of saying that in America this would be considered quite unhealthy. This inadvertently turned the conversation to how fattening American food is. I promise, I have never consumed so much fattening food in my life as living here... and by fatting I mean specifically in terms of fat and carbs. These seem to be staples here and hence almost unavoidable. I have the kilos to prove it. Let me put it this way, if you're going to bike 15 km to get some great pork knee... take the long way home and add another 50 km. The knee is worth it.

Svitavy

One of the main reasons I applied for the Fulbright award was to experience European history first hand. Maybe that doesn't logically work, since one cannot really "experience" history. Regardless, history confronts us here daily, and our trip to Svitavy was no exception.


Svitavy is best known as the town where Oskar Schindler was born and raised. If you have not yet seen Steven Spielberg's Holocaust film "Schindler's List," then you might not have as much appreciation for this entry as you would if you had seen it. I would then suggest that you rent the film, for while it is a difficult movie to watch, I do think it demonstrates the redeeming qualities of humanity in spite of great evil. Sometimes we need to be reminded of the strength, courage, and selflessness humans are capable of - traits Oskar Schindler demonstrated by the end of WWII.

Behind the memorial is the childhood home of Oskar Schindler

Now - again - a bit of a history lesson is needed here I think. Svitavy is a town that was once part of the Sudentenland - Czech land that was largely settled by Germans for centuries. Hence the reason why Schindler, a German, was born in a Czech village. You may recall, but probably not since many textbooks conveniently leave out this piece of history, that after WWII all Germans were forcibly deported out of Czechoslovakia. Since Svitavy was 85% German, the town was pretty much abandoned and inhabited only by the remaining 10% of Czechs. The missing 5% was the Jewish population, which were all killed in the death camps. In 1948, the Soviets took over and because Svitavy had available housing, it became a stronghold for the Communist Party. After the Velvet Revolution in 1989, Svitavy has been able to look at its past a bit and to claim its German Native Son - Oskar Schindler.

Svitavy has a lovely museum with one floor dedicated to Schindler's life and at the end, there's a small section that highlights Spielberg's film. One of the many moving scenes in the film comes at the end, when the actors accompany the Jews they portray to put a stone on Schindler's grave, which is located in Israel.
Interestingly enough, the very factory that Schindler owned and operated for the sake of those 1200 Jews is just south of Svitavy, but there is absolutely nothing that commemorates this history. The factory is still in operation and now makes industrial fabrics instead of defunct artillery shells. We walked down the same ally, stood next to the same gate that swung open for the Jews, and looked at the very building that housed Schindler's office. Here they are below.

The ally

The gate
And Schindler's office

Here are-what was once-the living quarters for Schindler's Jews.
One last picture - the very railroad tracks the Jews traveled on from Auschwitz.
OK - maybe I'm being silly to show such mundane images. But I tend to believe that it's the small, tangible things that help us better grasp the gravity of history - of our own small, seemingly benign actions towards people. A simple train track can symbolize anything, but in this case, it symbolizes the path to redemption for not only the 1200 Jews, but for the one soul who risked his life and fortune to save them.

Moravian Easter, ( whipping day)

How does one create a blog that has to follow the last entry regarding the deeds of Oskar Schindler in light of the holocaust? It can't but seem light and trivial. Perhaps then something light and trivial is called for... perhaps I should invoke the comedic... even comedy with its own dark thread.... but I promise you, not nearly so much as the former.

MORAVIAN EASTER

(the views that follow in this blog are not necessarily held or condoned by CzechRockwell Inc.)

It's Easter in the Czech Republic! or it was as this entry finds itself a bit late. So Easter... of note we will skip the lack of church going traditions, which for the most part are non-existent in this country. Now let me be clear; of course there are churches and there are some attendees. But I think by large, there is little relative involvement. So then... What makes Czech Easter "unique"?

Well, to begin with the Holiday, which is held on Monday, has a special tradition... let me walk you through the steps. And let me add for those savvy readers... think of my involvement as merely anthropological in interest.

Step one:
Monday morning, Easter morning... get your son and get in your car... drive to your neighbor's house. Then open the hatch back and pull out your willow woven... switch. It may have ribbons. The ribbons will become clear.

Step two:

Walk up to the house... let the other guys who have been visiting exit and call on your friends...

Step three:
Go up to the house, knock... gain entry

Step Four:

Then "greet" your host.
Ok, some explanation; This is a male tradition. The guys go to the houses of women they know and the women invite them in and the men whip their... ah... posterior. And as they do this the following mantra is spoken...
"Hodie hodie, Give me a brown egg and if you don't have a brown egg then give me a white one, the chicken will give you another."
This is the English rendering, of course.

Svetlana nicely seems to tolerate one of our party's "greetings".

Step Five:
For the whipping you recieve a ribbon on your whipping stick. Now let me add I've been told that this tradition of whipping is suppose to keep the women young and healthy for the next year.
(HEY!... I'm just reporting it. Don't shoot the messenger!)

Step Six:
She feeds you...
One important thing... and it is part of the tradition. The clear liquid in the small glasses. Take a guess. You should know by now that nothing is done in the Czech Republic without this substance: Slivovice.
Let me be clear... you get a shot at every house you visit. Since Tom is a Doctor he felt that it was important to visit several of his patients.. not to mention all his close friends.
Do the liquid math. My poor liver.
Above and worthy of mention because I really like these guys and it makes me mad I don't know the Czech language better... is, from right to left, Radek or "Czechy", Ivo, me and Tom.
Btw, "Czechy" : closest person I know who is like Jason Barrett. Same good hearted and natural warmth, and the soulful laugh... identical.

Time to stumble home.

Veprove Karma!

Let me introduce you to Tom and Svetlana.
I met Svetlana in one of my English classes. Let me be clear. I am not the professional that my wife is... and I get paid a lot less. But the true worth of the few classes I teach is the friends we have made. Svetlana invited our family over one day for a typical Czech meal. It turns out that she and Tom are both doctors and have a great appreciation for wine tasting. We sat down for lunch at their house and the next thing we knew it was 9 pm. Needless to say, we hit it off with these people.

But now let us recall the true winter activities in Moravia... Balls. Yes yes, you perhaps have read the prior blog regarding Czech prom night. But let me assure you, there are Ball's for adults as well.

Here we are with Tom and Sivitlana and another couple at the official Town Ball.
But of course we are in the Czech Republic and so we must not only drink some wine or beer, but we must partake of some homemade slivovice. Everyone has their own flask. Below Heidi shows her respect to the custom.
Before...
After...
Not a preferred drink for Heidi. Why is Mark not having any? "He must be driver tonight." NO! We walked home.

Now the dancing can begin. Hmm.... looks a lil blurry. Can it be the slivovice already?
There, the lights off. better.
OK, the above was Moravske Budejovice's Town sponsored ball. But Tom and Svetlana invited us to a second Ball sponsored by their children's school. Now I'm not sure, but I will assume it is held to raise money. Either way, there were no kids.

See here? This is a classroom where jr and missy learn their alphabet. It has been turned into a bar. See the blackboard. See it converted into drink menu. Good ole Blackboard.

We were invited to have tequila shots... several I believe. I would like to take a moment and confirm what everyone already knows... what I already knew. Tequila... at least the basic stuff... not a good idea. Ever.

Now, as we made our way to our table, we passed those prizes that one might win. This is very typical at Czech balls. Always a raffle.

Hmmm. Some fruit, some bread, some dry goods, some pig heads and leather briefcase....
PIG HEAD!?
Yep... Two actually. ...Two lucky winners get a pig head.

Now let me stop a moment. It would appear that the camera lost all the other interesting pictures of the evening and somehow only captured the pig head theme. Strange camera.
For those of you not delighted by such novelties, you may choose not to continue on this journey.

Oh, I had to get a close up.
So, one regular and the other smoked.
Yes, the lighter one is munching on parsely.
Good piggy!
Those are school lunch trays btw. What else are you going to put a pig head on?
Oh, and I'm pretty sure that at this point Heidi thinks they aren't real.

Well, I must get in on this raffle!
I've never won the lotto... but then I've never played. But when a smoked pork head is at stake, the gambler comes out!

Fate was with me that day, my friends!
No, I couldn't win the lotto if I tried. But I have pork Karma!

Now I must be honest, some other guy won it... and Tom traded him a bottle of wine for it. After all, what am I going to do with a pig head? I mean really, the novelty of winning one at a Czech ball is too much to pass up. But what to do with it? So it might be said that it was some relief that I didn't actually win. But then Tom, in his duty to give me the most Czech-like experience I can, made sure I "win" anyway.

What?
What is he saying?
Tequila... that's to blame.
Yes yes, That is me holding and us posing with a pig head.

But still, what are we to do now?
Tom had a plan... we were to come over on Sunday and have soup... made from my prize.

Svetlana making preparations...
Here is Tom in his kitchen trying to cut the head in half... as the pot is simply too small... or the head too big.
It's not really working.

No fear... we can fix that right up!
Nothing like an axe!
...or a hatchet!
Nice work!

Hmmm.... no pics of soup. It was very nice. I won't order it again though. We actually ate the meat out of the skull. No, I didn't eat the brains... though some do. I don't know what parts we ate, but it was definitely pork. The hot dog parts... that's what we ate.

Look here... some pictures of their sun room.
This is where we ate. All their screens are down.

Here is Heidi on the other side.
Going out on a limb here. We've seen some great houses here...some not so great. I want one of these. Love it... best room ever!

OK, one last ball to exploit. This time it's a Fireman's ball in the village of Pavlice.
This time I know the band... "Duha" ...so I'm on the inside.
Here is the band's table. Pavel and Jirka
and below... someone and Ladia
Got to get a close up
That is fried pork fat. They like it salty. Who doesn't!
Goes well with Pivo (beer)

The band plays... in case you didn't believe me.
Now, I want to draw your attention to the left side of the photo. There is a table. I said it was a ball. So this means there is a raffle. Here is a bad close up.

Just several things I want to cover in closing... The white bottles are pork fat. Yes, you can win pork fat. ...and if you're lucky, there was also (but not pictured here) a porn magazine.