Burning Witches in the Czech Republic

In keeping with the Czech tradition of holidays that seem somewhat brutal at first glance, let's talk about Pálení Čarodějnice or in English ''The Burning of the Witches''.

Ah yes, the age old tradition of burning ones enemies at the stake in hopes of ridding the world of evil, but here it's not so much evil as winter that is being chased out (although when the latter hits -23 I would argue that it falls in to the evil category) and not so much enemies as dummies being burnt, making it a much less sadistic holiday then the title suggests. Thankfully as far as I can tell the history of the holiday never included setting fire to an actual person but rather has always been centered around the burning of an effigy or sometimes even just brooms, which should warm your heart a bit considering it dates back to the pagan days when we weren't quite so scrupulous about what, or rather, whom we burned.

How exactly the witch ties in to all this is a bit vague, legend seems to suggest that witches had a scheduled annual shindig on the 30th of April and that burning fires in high places, such as hills, would deter them from making pit stops in your village, while other articles suggest it has more to do with the witches powers being weakened by warm weather and that burning a pretend witch would bring an end to winter (In which case, why not do it earlier? Surely there is no one out there so masochistic as to wish for the extension of a bitterly cold season...), but whatever the reason it's a good excuse to get together and have a bonfire and some beer.

Last year I missed out on the celebration and wasn't about to make the same mistake twice, so when my friend, Dana, mentioned that her family would be burning a witch at their house I asked if I could come along. When I arrived they had already constructed a sort of teepee from branches topped with a dummy dressed in old clothes and a hat that was sitting waiting to be set aflame. We began by first roasting sausages on a separate fire as the big bonfire remains unlit until around sundown, so with a beer in one hand and a klobása in the other I was ready for my first Čarodějnice. The fire was massive and Dana's 3 year old nephew thoroughly enjoyed launching whatever he could (from a safe distance of course) in. By the end you could see a cloud of smoke hanging over Liberec as fires burned  across the country and fireworks were set off in the distance. I'll be honest it was pretty great, so if I make you partake in a bonfire next April 30th at least you have a reasonable idea of why, you know warding off witches and shite weather or something like that...

A Masochistic Easter

Since I seem to have an affinity towards holidays/celebrations these days, Easter can most certainly not be overlooked. Especially when celebrated Czech style.

Similar to Canada (where we give a quick nod to Jesus but more or less take the chocolate and run giving credit to the Easter Bunny) references to this being a religious holiday are more of less completely swept away, which isn't shocking since Czech Republic prides itself on being the most Atheist country in Europe.

In the weeks leading up to Easter all around the Czech Republic Easter Markets are set up and a lamb is baked in the form of a cake or rather a cake in the form of a lamb, a bizarre 3D masterpiece that involves a baking tin shaped like a lamb resting. While the girls are working at ornately decorating eggs the boys are roaming the woods considering branches for their Pomlázka (read: Easter Whip) potential. Whips that come Easter Monday will be turned on said female population in hopes of encouraging youth and beauty. How very quaint.

Last year when I first heard about it, I thought it was a joke, some ancient tradition that is no longer practiced, but I was mistaken and spent Easter Monday hiding in my room watching groups of boys roam the streets with whips swung over their shoulders.

The only consolation is that after noon you are no longer allowed to whip the girls and should that particular boundary be overstepped you are encouraged to take the handy bucket of water that you happen to be dragging around with you and throw it at the offending individual. Convenient how very inconvenient that is.

While I was safe hiding away inside my house last year many were not so lucky, the boys can (and will) come knocking, one would think that out of self preservation you simply wouldn't answer the door before noon but it seems the women here harbour some masochistic tendencies, and in return for being whipped happily hand the boys/men an age appropriate gift of a shot, painted egg and/or sweets. As you do...

I managed to avoid a whipping last year since my male roommates didn't return from their hometowns until after noon, this year, however, I am not sure I will be so lucky as I'll be staying with two friends in Prague, both of whom are Czech and both of whom are male. So wish me luck I suppose and Happy Easter everyone!

so, do you speak Czech?

The most common question I am asked by both Canadians and Czechs alike is "But isn't it difficult to get by when you don't speak the language?"

The short answer: No, not really. I mean there is of course the fact that I am essentially illiterate and deaf, but for the most part my life here is comparable to a Choose Your Own Adventure novel, what could instill in you a greater sense of childlike fascination than not having any clue what's going on, ever.

It was serendipitous that I ended up here at all and then it dawned on me that I had accidentally chosen to live somewhere with an inexplicably difficult language that I had no inclination to be apt at.

So, the first thing I did was to start learning foods so I would know what I was buying at the shops, and though most products are easily identifiable some are definitely not, meat conveniently comes with a picture reminding you what animal it is printed on the packaging while milk is not as easy to identify in it's many forms. To get an idea of what I mean, imagine being illiterate and trying to decide what to pick for your cornflakes, you could very easily accidentally pour whipping cream or buttermilk all over your breakfast. Once you learn the basics you can adeptly do your shopping solo. I try to deter people from talking to me by wearing my ipod but in the Czech Republic you don't really have to worry too much about strangers trying to communicate with you. In two years the only people that have tried to engage me in any type of conversation in the shop have been old people that needed help with something and other foreigners. Czechs just don't really talk to people they don't know, maybe they had really intense 'stranger danger' talks when they were small?

After that I focused on learning words at work and trying to understand more of what the children were saying, although being as they are roughly 3 years old they aren't always coherent even to the Czech teachers. But I did learn some useful things like how to count, colours and clothing along with the likes of vampire, ninja, tree, shadow, sand, tissue and ghost, to name a few.

See the hard thing about being an adult and learning a new language is that you are expected to just pick it up on your own, no one congratulates you every time you say a word correctly or offers you a sweet if you can remember all of your colours. People don't speak to foreigners slowly using easy words or sing you songs to teach you new ones. In fact they usually imitate your bad pronunciations and when you are congratulated it's more patronizing than encouraging. Think about all those times when you have seen people raising their voices at foreigners as if they are deaf. We're not deaf, we just don't understand you, and now we are even more confused because we think we are being scolded for some unknown reason.

Since Czechs aren't particularly chatty people there was very little else I needed to learn. There is no banter with waiters and waitresses, you simply order and say thank you when the food arrives. And you definitely don't try to ask for modifications to your meal the way you would in North America, your food will come as the menu says it comes and that's that. Indonesia was a different story because they are particularly chatty people and very interested to know more about buleh (foreigners) and so I learnt to answer and ask quite a few questions about family, religion, work, holidays, food, kids, my fictional husband etc.

I know more than I let on and if I was moving here permanently I would feel an obligation to learn more, but I am not. I can get by and at this point that's what really matters. It sounds harsh, but I work a 35 hour work week and teach 4 private classes, learning a new language takes dedication and energy that I would rather focus on something like watching hockey or getting to know the local beers. Seems more productive in the long run.

a little bit of independence

Every now and again when you are abroad and feeling a bit nostalgic you find something that feels a bit like home.

In Indonesia I found it in an air conditioned coffee shop while it was raining, I turned to my friend and said 'If you pretend it's cold outside it kind of feels like home.' We both laughed at the idea of missing cold rain but none the less found some twisted comfort in it.

In the Czech Republic it happened when I walked in to a hockey arena. The smell of sweaty hockey players mixed with the cold, the puck hitting the boards, the sticks and the skates cutting in to the ice. This felt like home. If it wasn't for the fact that they strictly played songs that were popular at least a decade ago and made announcements in a language I couldn't understand, it really could have been home.

But for the first time I didn't need someone to translate for me. I could watch the ref making crazy hand gestures and understand, I didn't need anyone and it was like being given my independence back.

The thing is about travelling on your own, is that while you have to be independent to do so you also have to have a certain level of dependence on others. Whether it be trusting the information they give you, following advice on directions or simply trying to communicate with others. When your language and their language aren't the same there is a certain loss of independence required of you.

A prime example of this happened to me last year when I woke up with one of my eyes stuck closed. Something I hadn't realized could happen until then. Eventually slightly creeped out and still disoriented from sleep I walked to the bathroom pirate style, one eye closed against my will to check out the offending eye. With a hot facecloth I washed my face and discovered I looked like a stoned demon. Definitely not my best look.

I did a quick assessment of the situation: eye doesn't hurt (that must be a good sign, right?), look evil (though may be useful), other eye looks normal. Can't be anything too exciting, I decided and headed to work. Makeup seemed like a bad idea, an appealing one, but a bad one no less, so I pulled on a hat and kept my head down, trying not to freak out the other people on the bus. 

When I got to work I quickly cornered Lisa.

'Look at my eye!!! How freaky is it? Is it super noticeable?' Apparently more concerned with the vanity of the situation than any possible ramifications.

'Um, it's pretty bad.' She said diplomatically. In all honesty, I looked like I had been up on a 5 day killing spree. 

'What do you think it is??' 5 years my senior, I expect Lisa to have answers to all my questions like a child asking an adult. I figured I may have rubbed something in it while I was sleeping, but she looked at me and replied thoughtfully, 

'Well, it may be conjunctivitis.'

I paused not knowing what that meant. Something about things ending in -itis sounds so serious. Like Gingivitis and all those pictures they use to scare you at the dentist, as if you forget to brush your teeth one night before bed and an army of bacteria will march through your mouth pillaging what they can beyond recognition. I have seen homeless people with better teeth than they display in some of those photos.

'What the shit is conjunctivitis?!' I asked.

 

'Um, it's nothing really. Just an eye infection.' Well that much was clear, but then it dawned on me.

'Wait. What? Like pink eye??? I have PINK EYE? How did I get it?' I asked, assigning her as my temporary doctor.

'I don't know much about it to be honest. Why don't you just see how it is at lunch.' I nodded and briefly considered making an eye patch but didn't have enough time.

When I walked in to my classroom a hush fell across the room and two of my kids just stood there staring at me, mouths gaping open. Well whatever it was, it was definitely a valuable intimidation tool with the kids, I thought with pleasure. 

I wasn't able to exercise this newly found skill for long, as news of my demon eye quickly spread to my boss who rushed me off to an eye doctor, where they shone bright lights in my eyes and then announced in Czech that something was wrong with me.

Now see here's the fun thing with ESL: unless they are studying to be a doctor, people rarely know ailments, they can tell you about their weekend and their favourite food but ask them why you woke up looking like you are among the living dead and they will talk amongst themselves and turn to you with an apologetic shrug.

It was decided that whatever was wrong with me was enough to send me home for bed rest for the remainder of the week. So i took the medicine that was given to me and sat around googling my condition, which after some research I identified as Pink Eye brought on by a child sneezing on my face the day before. Yum.

So if you are looking for a bit of independence when you are abroad watch sports and if you are looking to feel totally helpless go to the doctor.

A weekend in Karlovy Vary

I spent last weekend in Karlovy Vary, a spa town a couple of hours west of Prague, visiting with friends. And if you haven't been (or even heard of it for that matter) you should, because it is beautiful. I would even go so far as to say it's one of the most beautiful places in Czech Republic, which is saying a lot. Granted apparently there is quite a bit of Russian mafia money in the place so they obviously have the means for building restoration and upkeep unlike many other towns.

Lisa, Suzanne and I arrived late Friday night and spent the evening at Jess and Patty's flat drinking wine and eating snacks. We woke relatively early on Saturday morning and yet somehow only managed to have coffee for breakfast before heading out for the 11am tour of the Becherovka museum.

Becherovka, was originally a stomach medicine that was later marketed as a herbal liqueur to increase popularity (as you do), the tour began with a quick history followed by a walk through the cellar where they keep eerie mannequins depicting the evolution of the medicine turned alcoholic beverage, afterwards you are taken to watch a short but entertaining film and are given 3 shots, beginning with traditional Becherovka, followed by Becherovka Lemond (when I asked our tour guide why 'lemon' was spelt incorrectly, she replied that it was because 'that is how Czech's pronounce it when they say lemon', we still aren't sure if she just made that up or if it is a real fact, but I haven't found anything to disprove it, so we'll just go with it) and finally finishing with KV 14, a super sweet liqueur that's taste was reminiscent of it's humble beginnings as an early 19th century Pepto-Bismol. After the tour and our purely alcoholic breakfast we decided it may be time to get some food in our bellies to control our pre-noon buzz.

Sadly, even though Karlovy Vary is known as a spa town we didn't really partake in the whole spa aspect except to drink the 'healing' mineral water which is foul, I mean absolutely positively foul, like drinking hot rusty blood water. Apparently it's supposed to be very good for you but unless this crap makes you extremely beautiful and intelligent I just can't justify drinking it, and yet we did. Out of some purely sadistic nature we decided to try every single one of them (I suppose maybe the Becherovka had an influence on that decision), but logic was clearly overlooked. Thankfully another thing Karlovy Vary is famous for is their oplatky, a large circular wafer cookie which masked the after tastes of the cave water and has absolutely no health benefit.

So after a morning of eating and drinking, but mostly drinking, we decided to go for a small hike in the surrounding forest which was beautiful and about our only physical activity for the weekend.

In the evening we went out to a bar for drinks, but it would seem that Karlovy Vary has an inexplicably small population for such a quaint city, as we were amongst the only patrons at several places. I am sure it's a more vibrant scene if you come during the summer when they host their annual International Film Festival or even just when the weather warms up and there are more travellers, but I think it may be a rather overlooked location with most backpackers opting for Česky Krumlov and Prague instead. But if you ever find yourself in Czech Republic I recommend checking it out, and opting for a beer instead of the water.

Pancake Day, it's a real holiday...sort of...

On the theme of holidays that aren't really holidays I present Pancake Day, more officially known as Shrove Tuesday, that day on your calendar that you always wondered what the hell it was, but knew wasn't that important because you still had to work. Were it listed on calendars as Pancake Day I really feel it's popularity would peak, just a suggestion.

I suppose you are wondering what the association between pancakes and penance is and to be honest, it's a bit of a leap. Essentially because it is the day before Lent starts Christians figured they needed to eat something delicious to make up for the fact that they would be eating 'plain' food for the following 40 days (this tradition is considerably more mild now with people only abstaining from something they enjoy rather than everything, it's also not a requirement but something more along the lines of a friendly suggestion). Pancakes were apparently chosen to celebrate Shrove Tuesday because of their content - sugar, butter, flour and eggs - foods that were commonly fasted during Lent, although it doesn't seem like any one could agree on what was considered appropriate fasting back in the day with some ruling out all animal products and others refraining from eating anything at all during the day.

Now no matter what your religion it would be hard to turn down a holiday that celebrates eating pancakes even if you don't intend on shriving anything afterwards.

This year instead of making traditional pancakes I decided to go a different route and combine all the best things that are associated with pancakes, the outcome: Maple Syrup and Bacon Pancakes. And they are pretty marvelous.

They are so good I am posting the recipe:

Maple Syrup and Bacon Pancakes

2 c flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 egg
3/4 c milk
1/2 c maple syrup
2 tbsp melted butter
200g bacon

1) Cook the bacon to desired crispiness (I like it really crispy but whatever floats your boat, they're your pancakes), chop in to pieces and set aside.

2) Combine the dry ingredients.

3) In a separate bowl combine the wet ingredients. Mix well and then slowly add to the dry ingredients mixing until there are no lumps, add the bacon to the batter and mix. If it's too thick for your liking you can always add a couple more tablespoons of milk or maple syrup.

5) Heat a buttered frying pan (medium high heat - you can use oil if you like but butter tastes better). Pour or scoop the batter onto the pan, using approximately 1/4 cup for each pancake. Brown on both sides and serve hot.

Ta da!

Seriously, try and not celebrate now. Happy Pancake Day, everyone!

Valentine's Day

I always think it's interesting the really strong attitudes people have towards Valentine's Day. I mean you would never hear someone proclaiming how stupid Easter is, and if you did you may consider whether they are really worth being friends with, after all it is a holiday about bunnies and chocolate, and if you don't like bunnies and chocolate, then frankly we probably don't have that much in common.

But Valentine's Day has a special place in the resentful hearts of many. It's certainly not my favourite holiday, I mean for starters it's not even a real holiday, you still have to work, you don't get to run around gathering sweets and there's not even really an intoxication angle (unless you are single and depressed).

But even as a perpetually single girl I don't find myself in allegiance with all the haters out there. For me Valentine's has almost always been spent with friends, sharing food and wine, with the exception of a few years when I got take out and watched hockey instead. So what about this holiday turns up the bitter in so many?

Some people claim the self-righteous stand of it being "all about commercialism" which I find rather hypocritical considering none of these people seem to abstain from buying into Christmas just months earlier. Others wallow in their grief subjecting anyone who will listen to a tyrant of complaints about couples and love. But are quick to change their tune once they become one of the dreaded couples. While others take more aggressive and not so appropriate approaches like burning memorabilia, mild stalking and hate filled messages. I would not be at all surprised if the police were just as busy on Valentine's Days with disgruntled singles as they are at Halloween with firework-induced teenage rebellion.

My theory is that because it's supposed to be a celebration of love people somehow get caught up in only one kind of love, the girlfriend/boyfriend, husband/wife, mistress/cabana-boy type. But there's more love than just that of a significant other. The love I received on Valentines Day came in the form of a package from my mum, my students all aged between 3 and 5 shouting "I love you Tatina/Tatine/Katina/Katrine" and launching themselves at my legs in to a massive group hug and finishing the day off with dinner and yoga accompanied by Laura, Whitney and Dana.

Aside from the moment when Laura's private student proclaimed '26?!? It's marry time! You must find a husband!" The fact that I am single wasn't even acknowledged, I suppose that's partially because they don't actually celebrate Valentine's Day in the Czech Republic, but I'll take my victories where I can find them.

My point is, it's a holiday that nobody genuinely knows anything about, including why it started, it has no important significance and it's only religious tie is to numerous Saints from history named Valentine that as far as anyone can tell were no more romantic than any other Medieval men. That whole bit about Saint Valentine secretly marrying people is just a legend that people commonly mistake for fact. So, who cares? If you want to celebrate it, do, and if you don't, don't. No one will judge you unless you start turning in to the mildly creepy bitter single that should be cautiously avoided at this time of year.

And if you find yourself in that category then maybe you should consider holidaying in Malaysia next February 14th, where you can be jailed for up to 2 years for celebrating.