As I sit here, wondering how in the world I will fit all the stuff I see scattered around me into two suitcases and two carry-ons, it occurs to me that I have never written about why I’m here in the first place.  Somehow, I hit the jackpot and the Czech Republic ended up with an e-learning specialist, whether they wanted one or not.  (Luckily for me, it turned out that they did want one… ) So, a quick run-down on what I’ve been doing the past five months, in terms of a job. 

My major activity was an online seminar series entitled “Challenges of Teaching and Learning in the Online Environment.”  I geared this online course toward university faculty and staff, and the initial response was amazing.  We had almost 40 people register for the course, although only abut 13 of them actually finished the entire series.  Still, for a professional development activity that carried no academic credit, this was rather impressive. 

The best part about offering the course was that I got to meet several wonderful folks from around the country, and ended up offering seminars and workshops in Olomouc, Ostrava, Bratislava (Slovakia), and Brno, in addition to the “regular” stuff I was doing at Charles University and the National Centre for Distance Education.  There is so much talent and potential in this country, and almost all of the professors I met with were interested in improving their teaching by integrating technology resources. 

Although the campus I’m located at (Troja) isn’t exactly scenic, it looks better in the spring than in the winter…

Here is a picture of “the gang” at my send-off party at U Semika, a wonderful restaurant near the old (really old) Vysehad castle.

My "sponsor" and friend, Stanislav Zelenda, is at the far right. His daughter (Svetla) is next to him, then Petr, and Oscar to my left.

It’s difficult to express what the past five months have meant to me, professionally and personally.  I’ve felt so “at home” here in the Czech Republic that I have a physical ache in my center as I prepare to leave.  Yes, I miss my family, friends, and the good old US of A, but there’s no denying that I found something missing in myself here. Now, if could just find a way to work half-time in the US and half-time in the Czech Republic… Yeah, right. Good luck with that.

There are so many things I haven't written about (through lack of time or laziness, in some cases) that you may find yourself on the receiving end of a few stories if you would care to listen. But, in any case, thanks for reading my blog and I hope that if you’ve never visited the Czech Republic you’ll put it on your “must see” list.  It's worth it.

Susan

(This is a continuation of the previous post... and, regardless of the title, I'm still in Krakow at this point in the story.)

While still in Krakow, I also visited the salt mine at Wieliczka, which is an amazing place.  The tour guide started by informing us that we would begin by walking down 54 flights of stairs, and she really meant it, although each flight was only 7 stairs deep. (Are you doing the math in your head?)  I was counting on the way down and lost track somewhere around step number 230, or so.  She also mentioned that although the tour takes two hours, we would see less than 1% of the area of the mine that had been excavated.

Salt was discovered in Wieliczka at least as early as the 13^th century and the mine was officially in operation beginning in 1473. At that point, obviously, most of the work was done manually with pick axes and iron wedges to break the rock (which contained the salt crystals) into blocks that could be hoisted to the surface.  Roughly 7.5 million cubic meters of material was removed between the mid-1400s and 1996 when the mine ceased operation. (Cheaper sources of salt were available and it was no longer feasible to use the mine.)

Along the tourist route, we saw all sort of sculptures – all carved by miners, and all made from the excavated rock or carved into the walls.

There's even one of the last pope, who was a pretty popular guy in Poland.

The largest room is 50 meters long, 15 meters wide and over 12 meters high and is lit with chandeliers decorated with salt crystals. (I wasn’t able to get a better picture, unfortunately, because of the size of the room, so you’ll need to use your imagination a bit here.)

At the end of the tour (which terminates, not too surprisingly, in a gift shop), we got to ride an elevator back to the surface, thank goodness.

My next stop was in Bratislava, Slovakia where I had a full day free to explore before my session at the technical university. In the morning, I roamed around the town’s center a bit, enjoying the spring-like weather and I visited the old town hall which now houses the city museum.

The basement of this building also contained a prison at one time and the exhibits of the manacles, torture devices, and related paraphernalia left little to the imagination. Yikes.

I also walked along the Danube (or Dunaj, in Slovak), which bisects the city. I thought this was a neat bridge and later learned that it’s referred to as “the UFO” by locals. There is a restaurant in the spaceship part up top, which is apparently quite exclusive.

In many places, the Danube forms the boundary between Slovakia and Austria, but the other side of the river in Bratislava is just more of Bratislava, with the border a bit further west. One of the local professors told me that under communist rule, people from other [communist] areas would come to Bratislava, thinking they would cross the river and be free.  So, entire families would risk their lives crossing this river (which, even during dry months is deep and swift-flowing), reach the other side, kissing the ground in happiness, only to be picked up by the border patrol for attempting to escape.

In Bratislava, I noticed a trend that I had also seen in Olomouc and which I think is pretty cool.  Local businesses (mostly stores) “adopt” a group of graduating high school students and have window displays with pictures of the kids and at least one teacher.  Here’s one poster that was in a bookstore window…

… and another one (in a women's clothing store) that I thought was rather, um, interesting.

Scattered throughout the central part of Bratislava are statues that are just plain fun.  Two in particular caught my eye.

After my presentation/seminar the next day, I had a couple of hours free before I had to catch the train to Prague, so one of the professors took me to see an old (really old!) castle in the village of Devin, about 10 kilometers from Bratislava.  What is left of the castle and its walls is really amazing, mainly for the size of the place and its location way, way, way up on a hill above the river.

The original castle was finished in the year 899 (no, I didn’t leave out any numbers), and there have been several archaeological expeditions to retrieve valuable artifacts from the area. The location was quite strategic, not only because it’s on a hill, but because it’s at the confluence of the Danube and Morava rivers.  Here, the land on the other side of the river really is Austria.

Finally, even though the hotel I stayed in was clean, quiet, and in a lovely neighborhood (thank you to my colleagues at the technical university for putting me up!), I couldn’t resist taking a picture of the telephone in my room.   

As my time here in the Czech Republic draws to a close, my calendar is fuller and fuller. Last week I spoke at the University of Ostrava, where I had a terrific turnout of faculty members and administrators interested in e-learning and although I was scheduled to meet with the group for 90 minutes, the session lasted for over two hours because of the great conversation. (Really, it wasn’t because I wouldn’t shut up.) 

Getting there was a breeze because the “new” (in use less than a year) Pendolino trains run between Prague and Ostrava and take only three and a half hours each way. Although the carriages are comfortable and the ride is smooth, the Pendo is known mostly for breaking down in the middle of nowhere. Apparently when these trains were initially put into service there were some “software problems” and so the passengers were never quite sure when they’d arrive at their destination. (I once saw a cartoon that showed a guy walking along the railroad tracks and the conductor leaned out of the train to say, “Why don’t you take the Pendolino?” The man replied, “Not today – I’m in a hurry!”) Anyway, I’ve taken the Pendo several times now without incident, but it will take a while before people forget its bad start. 

The countryside in the eastern part of the country is quite lovely – all farms and small villages amid rolling hills. I finally asked someone what this crop is because I was so taken with the bright yellow blooms. It’s rapeseed (similar to canola) grown mostly for the oil it produces.  Apparently it is cultivated in the US, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it in bloom like this. (Sorry for the blurriness, but they refused to stop the train so I could take a better picture.)

From Ostrava I journeyed to Krakow, Poland.  (I was scheduled to speak in Bratislava the following Monday, so it didn’t make sense to go all the way back to Prague for only two days.)  I read recently that Krakow is “the new Prague” which probably means that tourists are discovering it, although it might simply have been an indication of terrible restaurant service.  The town square feels a bit like Prague with sidewalk cafes, horse-drawn carriages, street musicians, and plenty of tourists! Here are a few scenes from the central part of town.

The surrounding streets are mostly shops and restaurants (another way it’s like Prague) and I laughed when I saw one shop called “Oh, Calcutta!” that – oddly enough – sold clothing.  Surrounding the central part of town is a greenbelt area, known as the Planty.

From the central square I walked up to Wawel Castle (pronounced VAH-vel) where I took this shot of the chapel...

... and this one of one of the castle gates. (The statue at the lower right is a man on a horse, with his hand -- holding his hat -- in the air.)

Rather than making this too long, I’ll split my travelogue in two and continue the saga in the next blog entry: “If it’s Monday, This Must be Bratislava.”

I’ve gotten to go hiking twice this spring and it’s easy to see why the Czechs enjoy hitting the trails on the weekends… The scenery is beautiful and there are literally thousands of miles of trails to explore.  On the first trip, Stan Zelenda and Zdena Lustigova (colleagues from Charles University) suggested that we take a leisurely (ha!) stroll in an area north of Prague. 

We stopped first in Melnik, where the Vltava and Labe rivers meet.  Although the Vltava is the larger of the two, the merged river is known from then on as the Labe (or Elbe, in German). Here is where the two rivers come together.

Next, we traveled to the Kokorinsko region, north of Melnik, and prepared to walk for maybe a couple of hours.  This is a protected area (sort of like a national park) and the hiking trails are beautiful and … steep. The region is known for its sandstone boulders that have been sculpted by wind and water.

When we got to the top of the trail we were rewarded with an excellent view (although there was a bit of humidity in the air).

At this point, we’d already been on the trail for a couple of hours, and it was a long way back to the car… but ultimately was well worth it.

The next trip was supposed to be a biking expedition, but because of imminent rain we decided to go hiking instead.  (You know, it seemed to make sense at the time, but the logic of that decision now escapes me.) Anyway, this trip was me, Stan, and Oscar (a student from Spain) and we headed southwest of Prague, to an area near Karlstejn. We abandoned the car and hiked about a mile through a rolling wooded area to this fairy-tale castle tucked into the hillside.

The timing was in our favor and although it eventually did begin to rain, we were roughly 100 feet from a café, where we sat out the storm and had lunch.  Next, we headed west and tramped over hill and dale, enjoying the beautiful spring weather and meeting dozens of other hikers on the trail. Seven kilometers of up-and-down later we arrived at the village of Svaty Jan pod Skalou (roughly translated: St. John Under the Rock).  I thought Stan was kidding when he pointed to the wooden cross up on the hill and said, “That’s where we’re going.”  (It’s that little teensy thing about a mile up in the air …)

This is one section of the trail on the way up, and it’s actually steeper than it appears.  Although there are stairs, at times it was like going up a ladder. And, of course, just to make me feel bad, a couple who looked to be in their mid-70s were hiking down (and looking fresh as two daisies) as we were heading up.

So, here’s proof that I did, in fact, make it up there.  (Me on the left, Oscar on the right.) Unfortunately, it had begun to rain again, so I believe here I’m saying, “Take the picture already so we can get out of here – I’m freezing!” 

Ideally, I'll get to go biking at some point before I leave, but I think I'll opt for a flat-land journey!

Okay, dumb title but it at least it rhymes...

Last week I got to spend several days in Olomouc, a small city (about 120,000) that is probably where my long-lost ancestors emigrated from. My only reason for believing this is that when I checked the online phone directory for the Czech Republic, almost all of the Zvaceks live in or near there. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to track down any records of these alleged great-great-grandparents (or whatever variety of relative they were) and know so little about how our branch of this clan ended up living in Iowa that it may have been a futile search, but it was still pretty cool to be there.

Olomouc is located in north-central Moravia and is a thriving university town.  Palacky University is there and like many (if not most) European universities, the campus buildings are clustered in small groups throughout the city.  (Most of these schools were founded when the towns were much smaller and as the schools grew, there was no room to expand within the immediate surroundings.)  There is also an extensive system of parks that encircle the town, providing walking and biking trails galore. These photos show one of these greenbelt areas, with the central part of town (on the other side of the wall) located up above the park.

Besides the university, Olomouc is also known for its fountains, its astronomical clock, and its plague column – one of the largest in central Europe.  I’ll simply clump a few photos of these items together, since I suspect that most people viewing them will be able to tell the difference between a fountain and a clock…

I had some free time one of the days I was there, and Dana Nezvalova (professor of science education) took me to see the Bouzov Castle, a national cultural monument not far from Olomouc.  This castle has been rebuilt and enlarged several times, and claims a real-life drawbridge and (now-dry) moat. 

 An inner courtyard is equipped with rainspouts in the shape of dragons, designed to channel water from the gutters away from the sides of the building.

The castle tower provides a terrific view of the surrounding countryside.

On the walk from the castle back to the parking area, I couldn’t resist snapping a photo of this fence, decorated with upside-down coffee mugs.

Coincidentally, while I was in Olomouc, the District Court ruled that this castle would not be handed over to the German Order.  This organization claims to be the successor to the Order of Teutonic Knights, which owned the castle from the late 1600s up to 1939, and the newly-formed German Order wants “their” castle back.  The judge, however, did not recognize the newer group as a renewal of the Teutonic Knights, but rather as a different organization, so no castle.  Not too surprisingly, the group plans to appeal the decision.

Walking through Olomouc one morning, I passed this pub and have to say that I was (and still am) a bit puzzled by its name…

And, finally, I simply had to take a picture of Pilsener Urquell being delivered via horse-drawn cart.  Very cool.

The Terezin fortress was built in the late 1700s to protect Bohemia from Prussians coming from the north.  It turned out to be a not-so-great military stronghold (although it certainly looks like a well-placed fort) and evolved into a village with bigger than normal walls surrounding it.

Unfortunately, Terezin’s modern infamy comes from its use by the Nazis as a sort of holding area for Jews, political prisoners, and other “undesirables” before shipping them off to one of the other concentration camps to be killed.  The village residents were forced to move out in the early 1940s, and by the end of WWII, over 150,000 inmates had passed through the gates of Terezin.  More than 20% of those men, women, and children died at Terezin, so even though it wasn’t intended as an extermination camp, illness, starvation, cold, and injuries inflicted by guards took their toll.  In addition, nearly 300 prisoners were executed for attempting to escape, for helping others to escape, or simply as a reminder to others that their lives could end at any moment.

The Small Fortress was the section of the town that originally served as a prison, mostly for political prisoners and those awaiting execution.  The photo below shows one of the cells that housed several hundred prisoners at any given time.

This photo shows the railroad tracks laid by prisoners to accommodate the train cars arriving with new inmates, and the building where inmates were processed (registered and relieved of their belongings), and the photo below that is of the storage facility where clothing, luggage, jewelry, and other personal items were kept that had been taken from prisoners.

This photo is of one of the “dormitories” where male prisoners were housed after arriving in Terezin. Families were split up and children were separated from parents. Some arriving prisoners were sent on almost immediately to other concentration camps, while most stayed at Terezin waiting to learn of their fate.

The Ghetto Museum displays a room full of children’s drawings – all that remains, for the most part, from the thousands of children who lived for a time at Terezin. Few of those children survived and I wasn’t able to stay in the room with these artworks, but had to go outside to calm down. I suspect that the museum staff members get used to seeing people come out of this exhibit in tears, but it would be a tough job.

Probably most disturbingly, Terezin was used as a propaganda site for foreign visitors (including the Red Cross), who were treated to displays of children playing, inmates engaged in musical presentations, and sporting events featuring the healthier prisoners, with others acting as spectators. With the acuity of hindsight we can only marvel at the naiveté of the visitors who bought the Nazi's act -- hook, line, and sinker. I’d like to think that we’re no longer so easily duped, but places like Terezin carry a simple message: Never again.

Tony and I took a two-day trip to Cesky Krumlov, riding the train to Ceske Budejovice (where they make the “real” Budweiser) and then catching a little commuter train the rest of the way.  These train cars are far from luxurious but they make up for it with terrific scenery and a very non-touristy feel.

Even after riding the “locals” train, however, once in Krumlov it was easy to tell that we were from out of town – the tourists are the ones with their mouths hanging open at every turn.  This place has the look of a fairy tale village and I took more pictures than anyone will ever want to look at, so I’ll share only a few here.

The town’s centerpiece is the castle and its tower, and we climbed the stairs to the top where the view was just as wonderful. 

The Vltava river winds through Krumlov in sort of an s-shape, and you can see here where it curls around the base of the old town center.

Our first evening there, we ate dinner at Krcma v Satlavske, where they grill the meats over an open fire.  The bald guy in this picture ordered the pork knuckle, which was HUGE, and every time we saw him and his wife afterward (you know how you sometimes see the same people over and over again when you’re on vacation?), we simply referred to them as “the pork knuckle people.”

Tony had the Carnivore Special (I think they called it a mixed grill), with sausages, pork loin, beef, and turkey, and a potato pancake. I had the best grilled pork loin I’ve ever eaten and we both left the restaurant well-stuffed and barely able to waddle back to our hotel room.

The castle tour was wonderful (no interior pictures allowed, unfortunately) and a nice Japanese lady took our picture from one of the upper walkways outdoors.  (Notice the little white building on top of the hill behind us, directly above my head and to the right of the church spire.)

That little white building is a church situated on a hill above the town, so we hiked up to give it a look.  The walk up was tiring but the view was worth it, even with a bit of drizzle.

We had the place to ourselves and when we left the church grounds, we decided to take a different route back down, using a back road that was little more than two graveled ruts in the hillside.  The spell was broken, however, when a pizza delivery van came chugging past us on its way to the church.  Welcome back to the 21^st century…

I love holidays and I'm a firm believer that you need not be affiliated with the group that "sponsors" the holiday to be allowed to enjoy it (for example, who isn't Irish on St. Patrick's Day?).  Prague, as one of the least religious cities you'll find in Europe, has a terrific Easter Market  consisting primarily of small wooden stands, draped in willow switches and flower garlands, selling food, beer, and souvenirs.  Wenceslas Square and Old Town Square (below) are the two prime locations for vendors, it seems.

These pictures were taken before the crowds rolled in, when you couldn't see the pavement for the sea of humanity observing the holiest of Christian holidays by purchasing tee shirts, bratwurst, and a few tall, cold ones.  I'm not complaining, however.  Any holiday that manages to combine three of my favorite activities (namely: eating, drinking, and shopping) is okey-dokey by me.

There were actually a few vendors selling authentic Czech stuff, and I snapped a picture of this authentic Czech babicka (granny) painting decorative eggs ... shortly before she took out her cell phone to make a call.

The nice thing, however, is that for several days around the holiday weekend, groups of performers from around the Czech Republic entertained the crowds of tourists with singing, dancing, and general merry-making. 

And, of course, I couldn't resist snapping a photo of the sign on one of the beer stands:

That that, Adolph Busch. 

(I have been remiss in blog postings, but my excuse is that my husband was here visiting. However, now that he has returned to the US I'll be catching up, so visit often!)

Last week, Tony and I went to the village of Trebon, southeast of Prague.  This is a medieval town with several claims to fame, but the two biggies are the fish hatcheries and the spas, which offer mud baths of peat (ugh), reputed to contain healing properties -- but I couldn't be convinced to indulge.  We traveled to Trebon on the train with friends, Dana and Jeff (and Ricky, the wonderdog).

Although we decided to take a pass on the mud baths, we ventured onto a hiking path around the largest of the lakes, getting thoroughly chilled in the colder-than-usual spring temps.  The numerous ponds and lakes in the area are man-made, most dating back to the 1500s, and were created to deal with the marshy, lowland peat bogs and to build an economy based on fish farming. It’s really amazing to consider that dozens of these lakes are connected by a sophisticated canal system, dating from that same time period (i.e., when "earth movers" were animals and people). 

Here’s a photo of the actual hatchery area, with the holding ponds for the fish.  The primary type of fish raised here is carp, but it’s not the same as the carp you may be familiar with.  This is downright melt-in-your-mouth delicious eating, especially following a bowl of garlic soup served in a bread bowl.  Mmmmmm… Tony was so enthralled with his meal, he couldn't resist taking a photo of his plate, while the rest of us wasted no time chowing down.

A third (and very important) reason to visit Trebon is that it’s the home of the Bohemia Regent brewery, makers of my favorite of the easy-to-love Czech beers. In the courtyard of the brewery is this small picnic gazebo, with a neat roof of recycled materials.

Although we weren’t able to go on a brewery tour, we did conduct our own tasting of the different Regents brews, but even after several serious research trials, never did settle on a “best” that we could all agree on.

Walking around the castle area, we spotted several peacocks in residence, which I referred to as “penguins” in a moment of brainlessness. So, penguins they were for the remainder of the trip.  Hey, at least they’re both birds…

This fountain, in a castle courtyard, shows a raven pulling the brains out of a man’s head.  The man is supposed to represent a Turkish soldier, and a similar image was added to the coat-of-arms for the Schwarzenberk family after a victory against the Turks. (The image on the coat-of-arms shows a raven plucking out a Turk’s eyeball – quite charming.) The castle was originally built for the Rozmberk family, and the Schwarzenberks were later residents there.

The village square in Trebon is quite beautiful and our hotel, the Zlate Hvezda (Golden Star) was a real treat, as well. The staff welcomed us and gave Ricky the royal treatment, too. 

This chapel is also the family tomb for many of the Schwarzenberks, and we had a wonderful tour of the place with a guide who detailed not only the building’s architectural features, but also described the accomplishments of the family members whose coffins lie in the basement crypt. 

That's it for the Trebon trip, but stay tuned... more road trip news coming soon!

Well, it's certainly not as bad as 2002, but the Vltava is quite high from spring rains and snow melt-off. The Czech Republic had more snow than average this winter and it all decided to melt and run into the Vltava when spring suddely arrived.  Our building at the Troja campus of Charles University was evacuated this morning, although I suspect the administrators are being extra-cautious.  Nonetheless, we unplugged all the computers and put them up on top of desks and tables, just in case.  We're much luckier than in a few other towns where flood waters are necessitating evacuations for more than cautionary reasons.

Yesterday, I took a walk along the river... the poles sticking up out of the water (about 20 feet from the wall) are actually part of a dock where you would catch a sightseeing boat, in more favorable conditions.  All of the tour boats were taken off the river when it began to rise a few days ago. The large boat in the background is actually a floating hotel and doesn't go anywhere (except up and down with the water level, I guess).

Maybe I should have gone to the Restaurace Vltava before now ... don't know how soon they'll be re-opening their doors.

This shot is of the flood barriers that have been erected along parts of the riverbank.  Depending on how low the area is, a varying number of aluminum sections (with rubber flanges to help keep the water out) are placed in the frame and then they're tightened down with the brackets that are attached to the upright poles. Pretty nifty.

The buildings on Kampa Island (at the west end of the Charles Bridge) are protected by these barriers. At least, that's the plan...

On the exterior wall of the Karlovy Lazne dance club (east end of Charles Bridge), this metal plaque is affixed to show how high the Vltava was in 2002.  (I had to wait for someone to come along and look at it to make it clear just how high up it is!)  And, just in case, the Karlovy Lazne has their sandbags at the ready.

Finally, you know there's a possible threat when the vendors who sell tacky souvenirs clear out.  This arcade of shops is normally crammed with every imaginable type of souvenir to remember Prague by, but I'm sure they'll be re-stocked in plenty of time for the Easter crowds.

Okay, so basketball is not a real popular sport in Prague. Folks here are more likely to attend a hockey game or cheer for their football team (football = soccer).  But, there are many good reasons to attend a professional basketball game in Prague, including the price -- an easy-to-come-up-with 40 czk (roughly $1.65).  Another good reason is that you can get a terrific seat, because you'll be one of very few fans in attendance.

I've been to see the BC Sparta team (a Division I team in the Czech Basketball Federation) several times, now. There's another team here in town, but I found Sparta first so they're my newly-adopted favorites.  Here they are warming up to take on the team from Sadska and taking the court as they're introduced.

I like this action shot of the game, which they won handily at 104-77.  Everyone is charging down the floor except one of our players there at the left (Pavel Frana) who appears to be out for an afternoon stroll.  Actually, Frana is quite good, although it does seem funny to see a bearded basketball player these days.

Some other differences ... if you look closely at the photos you can see that the lane isn't rectangular, it's sort of keystone-shaped. This is the original shape of the free-throw area, and the US changed to the rectangle some time ago, but I now understand where the phrase "top of the key" comes from.  Also, the teams play four 10-minute quarters, with a 2-minute break between the first and second, and the third and fourth quarters, and a 15-minute half-time break. The shot clock is only 24 seconds (unlike the NCAA's 35 seconds) so things move right along. The refs signal fouls in much the same way, at least the ones I've recognized. There may have been one in there citing a player for a stupid haircut, but I wasn't sure about that one.

A few differences are related to fan behavior, including that when the song "YMCA" was played during a time-out, no one got up and did the dance, spelling out the letters.  (No, I didn't, either. Maybe at the next game I'll conduct a workshop on this.)  Also, no one chanted "a-i-r-b-a-l-l when a shot missed completely, which made it impossible for me to test the theory that fans tend to chant this in the same key from game to game and arena to arena. (See this site http://www.s-t.com/daily/09-95/09-13-95/0913airball.HTML for more on this interesting phenomenon.) Finally, only in the Czech Republic would you see people take their dogs to a basketball game. I love this place!

Oh, and I simply had to add this... If you get hungry during the game, as you leave the gym there is a sign guiding you to (what else?) McDonald's.  However, I laughed out loud when I saw just how precise they were (is it 399 meters to the drive-up window or to the door?) and the route they have conveniently included.

(Sorry about the title of this entry, but the other option was “Dances with Woofs” and that’s probably worse…)

Peg Hall (another Fulbrighter) and I attended the 2006 Dog Dancing Show here in Prague a couple of weeks ago.  For those not familiar with dog dancing, this is an event (typically a competition) in which dog owners create dance routines that they perform with their dogs.  (No, I'm not kidding.)

At this show, the music ranged from oldies rock-and-roll to new age instrumental pieces and the dogs showed off their moves by spinning in circles (forward and backward), running backwards, weaving between the owners’ legs, rolling over, and walking on their hind legs. That they did these things was less amazing to me than the fact that they did them on command, and those commands were sometimes nothing more than a head nod from the owner.

Peg got a couple of neat still photos during the show. The first two are the same performers – a young woman (the one in the tiara) and her border collie.

And, like all competitive events, there are judges…

I took several video clips (no audio, unfortunately) and they’re available on another server. (I can’t put video clips in my blog.)  If you have RealPlayer on your computer, these should open and play when you click on the link. The first one is of an owner dancing with her Doberman.

http://merlin.cc.ku.edu:8080/ramgen/ids/john/susan/DogDancing1.rm

This next one is of the owner dancing with TWO border collies, and they appeared to be having a ball.

http://merlin.cc.ku.edu:8080/ramgen/ids/john/susan/DogDancing2.rm

Finally, another border collie and owner are in this clip.

http://merlin.cc.ku.edu:8080/ramgen/ids/john/susan/DogDancing3.rm

Prague is the perfect place to have a dog dancing show, because the people here are CRAZY about dogs. Another reason I fit in so well here…

A few more notes about my short trip to Berlin…

Compared to Prague, Berlin seems to be a much “newer” city, architecturally (apparently due to the bombing damage from WWII), but there were many places where the beautifully detailed brickwork stood out in contrast to the more modern buildings. This bridge crosses the Spree River and the picture below is the sidewalk beneath the towers.

Like in Prague, however, street vendors hawk everything from costume jewelry to flowers to food, but I’d never seen hot dog vendors quite like these two.  The man in the wheelchair has the “cooker” resting across the armrests of the chair in front of him, and the man on the right (under the orange umbrella) has the grill suspended from straps around his neck (sort of like the trays that cigarette girls used to use in night clubs).  To the list of dangerous professions, I’d now add hot dog vendor.

Riding the S-bahn (similar to Chicago’s elevated trains), I spotted what appeared to be a street market. I’d heard that these markets sell fabulous meats, cheeses, and vegetables, so I hopped off the S to take a look. 

Surprise!  It was a flea market, with the usual assortment of garage-sale merchandise one finds at these places everywhere. I roamed around for awhile and saw tables full of silverware, thousands of vinyl records (LP’s), dozens of (alleged) fur coats, and stall after stall of “antique” furniture and knick-knacks.  I guess some things really are universal.   (Note: I can't show any more photos because it would spoil the surprise at Christmas...)  

The train trip home was made even more scenic by near-constant snow fall.  I did manage, however, to get a couple of photos in Usti nad Labem. This is a heavily industrial city in the northern Czech Republic, but I found the contrast of new (the beautifully designed suspension bridge) and old (the hilltop fortress) an excellent expression of the country as a whole.

I had the opportunity for a whirlwind weekend in Berlin, where I was speaking as part of a panel at the Fulbright Academy of Science and Technology conference.  Luckily, I also was able to do some sightseeing and take a few pictures.  First I took the train out to where part of “the wall” is still in place. I’m not sure what I expected, but it just looks like a cement wall… if you didn’t know that it had separated the city (in many ways), you could walk right by and just think it was a plain old wall.

In 1990, several artists painted murals and large works on the wall, but time, weather, and vandals have destroyed these pieces, for the most part. This section of the wall is one of the few remaining standing; it’s about a mile long and runs between Muhlen Strasse and the Spree river.

I also visited the Checkpoint Charlie museum (no photos allowed). This is a sobering reminder of how desperately people will resist being held captive – even if they’re in their own country. Approximately 5000 people escaped from East Germany, and the museum has an amazing collection of photos and artifacts detailing the many ingenious ways they got out – hidden inside the seats of a car or by dressing in homemade fake military uniforms, for example. One method I found especially clever was when a popular singer emptied out a large speaker he used in his concerts and smuggled his East German girlfriend out in it, after replacing the front cover. Probably the most famous photo of a successful escape, however, was taken two days after the wall went up and captures Hans Schumann, a border guard, leaping the barbed wire to gain freedom. You can see this photo here: http://www.videofact.com/cold_war/berlin/berlin43e.htm

Unfortunately, not everyone was so lucky and the museum also had photos of escape attempts that went wrong, ending in death, serious injury, or imprisonment. This museum reminded me, in some ways, of the USS Arizona memorial at Pearl Harbor, where visitors are reminded of the cruelties that humans can inflict on one another, and are frequently moved to tears by the tragic displays.  Many of the older visitors to the Checkpoint Charlie museum were visibly shaken and more than a few surreptitiously wiped away their tears.

Outside the museum is a reconstructed guardhouse where tourists can pose for photos with a “guard” and can even (for a fee, of course) have their passport stamped with a Checkpoint Charlie border crossing notation.

I also made a trip to the Brandenburg Gate, which is HUGE.  The gate was finished in 1791, but was dismantled and taken to Paris by Napoleon 15 years later. (I cannot imagine how they managed this.) The gate was then returned to Berlin in 1814 and was the only structure in the Pariser Platz left standing after WWII. This is where Ronald Reagan said, “Tear down this wall” in 1987, and Helmut Kohl walked through the gate from West to East on December 22, 1989 to symbolize the reunification of Berlin. A major project was undertaken in 2000 to clean the gate with laser “scrubbers” and restore it to its former glory.

The sculpture on top of the gate was originally a goddess of peace, but after the gate came back from Paris, the olive wreath was replaced with an iron cross to symbolize victory.

Near the gate is a series of white crosses, memorializing just a few of the thousands of people who were killed while trying to escape to the West.

More on my Berlin trip in the next post. Stay tuned!

I live in the area known as Smichov, which is in Prague 5.  This seems, to me, to be similar to the boroughs of New York City (that is, you live in Brooklyn, but you're still actually in NYC).  Smichov used to be a heavily industrial area with a not-so-great reputation as a place to live, but is going through some "gentrification" with the development of a shopping mall, upscale restaurants, luxury apartments, etc., in the neighborhood. The "luxury" part does not, unfortunately, describe my living quarters, but they're clean and quiet, two wonderful traits in a home.

In case any of you think I'm living in a third-world country or am struggling to acquire basic necessities, it may comfort you to know that within a three-block radius of my apartment, there are roughly 23 restaurants (no kidding), 2 butcher shops, 3 bakeries, 5 pubs, 3 supermarkets, 2 coffee shops, and 4 convenience stores. I'm unlikely to starve...  There is also a police station, a bowling alley, a movie theatre, 2 beauty salons, a post office, 2 flower shops, and a place called Exotic Sex Shop (yikes) within this same area.  Okay, so I'm not in Kansas anymore, but other than the buildings being [much] older, it resembles any other big city.

The Prague 5 city offices are also nearby.

The items you're not allowed to carry into the offices with you caught my eye... No guns, check. No bicycles, okay. No dogs, bummer.  But, what's this? Wait a minute!

No ice cream cones???  What is the world coming to when I can't carry my ice cream cone into a public office? 

On one of our rare sunny days this winter, it made sense to do some sight-seeing. So, I rode the funicular tram up Petrin Hill.

Once there, I decided to make the trek up to the observation platform in the tower.  I have to be nuts to do this, considering that my apartment is on the fourth floor (110 steps up, but who's counting?) and my knees ain't getting any younger.

But, up I go and am gratified to realize that once at the top, I'm actually huffing and puffing a lot less than some of the other -- much younger -- tourists.  

I'm only going to include a couple of the photos I took while up there, because it's difficult to get a sense of the view in the little snapshots I can put online.  You'll have to trust me when I say it's a G-R-E-A-T view.

After coming back down from the observation tower, I decided to skip the funicular and take one of the many paths that wind through the park to get back down the hill. It's definitely more scenic this way, even with the bare trees.

At one point, however, I was wondering, "Why isn't there anyone else on this path?" Then I came around a corner and ...

... realized that the path was not only heading downhill but was covered with a sheet of ice.  Uh oh. 

I made it down okay, but if anyone was watching they saw a couple of rather acrobatic saves as I kept myself from falling, in a Wide World of Sports "agony of defeat" style. I wasn't the only one, as it turned out. As I continued downhill, I heard some others who apparently had encountered ice, as well. This went something like, "EEEEEEAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!! [thump] [shrieks of laughter]  So, I guess I did all right, but I believe I'll wait for warmer weather before I try this again.

Just a few blocks from my apartment is Bertramka, the villa where Mozart lived while he was finishing Don Giovanni. At that time the villa was out in the country and old Wolfgang knuckled down and finished the opera, but just barely. The story goes, and is well-documented, that Mozart handed the orchestra members the final pages of their music (which they hadn’t previously seen, let alone played) on opening night.  Bertramka was owned by his friends, the Duseks, although it is now a national landmark and open to the public as a museum.  The home is situated on a hill and it’s a steep climb to reach the grounds, but well worth it.

Inside are a variety of period musical instruments, including this pianoforte that Mozart played on his first visit to Prague in 1787.

The museum also has on display this double manual harpsichord (built sometime around 1722) that Mozart played at the palace of one of his benefactors, Count Nostitz. It's not easy to tell from this picture, but there are two rows of keys, thus, a "double."

The museum also displays copies of letters written by and to Mozart, portraits of him and several of his contemporaries, and miscellaneous items that give a feel for the time period (for example a combination candy box and opera glasses that were owned by Josefina Dusek).

Finally, I couldn’t resist taking a picture of this “hook harp,” (a precursor to today’s lever harp) that was probably built in the late 1700s.  Apparently Mozart had heard a pub musician playing a similar instrument and was intrigued enough by it to pen a few ditties specifically for the harp, as a result.

Although the actual building and grounds aren't in themselves spectacular or amazing, the fact that Mozart was there -- walking on those floors, looking out those windows, writing in those rooms -- is inspiring all by itself.  Time to go practice... :-)

It’s been snowy lately, and while the city is too warm for much of anything to accumulate, it makes for an excellent walking-around environment.  This morning I managed to find the church of the Maltese Knights (also known as the Knights of St. John).  Apparently this order was founded more than a century before the Knights Templar (see the previous post about visiting their winery), but is, alas, also now extinct.  The church is quite beautiful and the Malta Embassy is right next door. Coincidence?

This is a closer view of the churchyard gates.

I walked all the way up to the Charles Bridge, and had it practically all to myself in the early morning snow.

On the walk back home, I noticed this poster in a window.

Neat sentiment, but I wondered if the proprietor of the business was actually favorably inclined toward refugee issues, or if it was there mostly because of the name of the business – Einstein Pizzeria. Somehow, I think Albert would have gotten a chuckle out of it either way.

I spent the last several days with the other Czech and Slovak Fulbrighters at an orientation (sort of like a retreat) in Velke Bilovice, a small town in southern Moravia. We shared our plans for the time we’ll be here, and those on full-year appointments discussed what they’ve learned and accomplished thus far. The variety of scholarly activities was fascinating, and we heard presentations about everything from biomechanics to poetry, and from linguistics to chemistry. Some of the most interesting presentations, though, were from the people who are teaching high school classes in the Czech Republic and in Slovakia. These teachers told of preparation for standardized tests (yes, even over here), pen pal activities between students here and the United States, and the dance given for the graduating class that is in many ways like a senior prom.

We also visited the Knights Templar Winery, where vino has been produced since 1280, although the Knights disappeared from the landscape long ago.  The wines are aged in a cavern-like cellar and we passed row after row of barrels, some with red trim (indicating red wine) and some with green (white wine).

Here’s a picture of a wine barrel that was made to commemorate the 700^th anniversary of the winery and the second photo shows me in front of this barrel, to give a sense of how large it is. The guide told us that it would hold over 22,000 liters of wine!

The next day we visited the nearby Lednice castle, which served as a hunting lodge/chateau for some of the Lichtenstein monarchy. A bit of snow (okay, a bunch of snow...) gave this huge place a beautiful, fairy-tale appearance.

My favorite photo from the interior of the lodge is of this “unsupported” spiral staircase, built from the wood of a single oak tree, according to our guide.

Now that I’m back in Prague, it’s back to work getting ready to teach my course, do some seminar presentations for the faculty at Charles University, and plan my research projects about online learning here in the Czech Republic.  Stay tuned!

In my walks around Prague I’ve enjoyed the many architectural details that adorn everything from government centers to apartment buildings to shopping districts. Here are a few pictures that I snapped as I wandered around… the first one is a door in the Old Town Square, and if you look closely at the lion in the upper right corner, there is a man’s face in his mouth!

I liked this particular sculptural detail that was on the front of an apartment building about a block from my place.

I like this building, too ...

I don't believe I've ever seen so many KFC outlets per capita. Can Wal-Mart be far behind? (sigh)