I should warn you that I took over 600 (oops! corrected -- 600 not 6000!) photos in Prague, but I'm not going to make you look at them all, promise. I have been going through trying to reorganise them into something that might be a little interesting. Where to start?
Probably the most amazing place is the Staromestske namesti (Old Town Square). It's a must-do sight for tourists or, frankly, anyone who loves beauty. My first sight of the Tyn Cathedral is one of my most lasting travel memories.
Squares are a very European thing and they make a lot of sense. You could probably get a lot of business done in the old days (in this case, the 1100's) with all the main businesses in one area. Smaller squares could shelter people from cold weather and in the summer it's a place to gather and walk around talking with friends and showing off your expensive clothes and sunglasses (in Italy I'm convinced that is what squares are for).
Prague's Old Town Square includes not only the incredible spires of the cathedral, but the Old Town Hall
with its Astronomical Clock.
The crowds that gathered around it preventing my getting pictures of all the action when it struck 12 noon, but there are You Tube videos of the whole thing happening. There is a lot of symbolism in the clock, my favourite being the skeleton that dings the bell.
There is this gorgeous pink building (I love the colours of buildings in Prague) that I think is the other side of the Old Town Hall.
Also this one that I call the "Tapestry Building".
and other colourful buildings.
We seemed to keep returning to the Old Town Square, partly because a lot of what we were looking for was in that area, but also because it we never got tired of looking at it.
There was once an eccentric American woman who lived in the North of England. She had funny ideas about useful things not being wasted, not being needlessly sent to landfill to rot. She sometimes went 'running' for some exercise and often walked as a form of transport. This means that she saw things dropped by other pedestrians.
One day she was running her usual route and saw a black sodden mess by the curb. She was curious about it. She thought if it was still there the next day, she'd pick it up and take it home to look at it. Several times in the past she had picked up broken umbrellas and cut away the fabric from the frame, folding it away for later use. She'd read somewhere that a charity used old umbrella fabric to make raincoats for the homeless (but of course she couldn't find the link again). She did this sort of thing even when she still worked and made tons of money.
Sure enough the next day she saw the black fabric just as before. It being a wild, windy day with escaped bits of litter about, she scooped up a plastic bag from the fence across the road, popped the wet garment into it and tucked it into the pouch of her running jacket. At home she found it was a size 12 top from Dorothy Perkins with 3/4 length sleeves and a sweetheart neck line. Into the washer it went. When it came out the top had no flaws, fitted perfectly and become one of her favourite pieces of clothing. Who would want to leave such a thing on the street in the rain? Given the neighbourhood, she did think it unlikely she'd removed evidence from a crime scene...
Another day a black knitted scarf was blowing down the sidewalk. One evening, a small pair of black gloves had been ditched on the pavement. No people in sight to hail with what they'd dropped, she doubled back and picked them up, having small hands herself. They had holes in the fingertips, but she knew what to do about that.
She needed some black gloves to go with her charcoal trench coat, a veteran of many seasons.
Using the red top of the Vaseline Lip Therapy container made the mending a snap.
The next running night, as she was passing an art gallery she noticed a pair of leather gloves lying in the street. Thinking of all the expensive gloves she'd lost, having taken them off and put them in her lap to drive, only to have them fall silently to the street when she stepped out of the car, she thought "This is karma". When washed they turned out to be a dark brown instead of black, but she was planning on building the chocolate aspect of her wardrobe anyhow, that shade going well with auburn hair or blonde hair.
Just the other day as she walked to the sewing group, she spotted a black fluffy garment draped over the park fence. "If that is still there when I return, I'm having it" she thought. It was and she did. It lies damp and drying on the floor behind her now, layered with other sweaters between towels. It's an acrylic, angora and silk mix shrug from TopShop. It's probably no coincidence that the items are all youthful, dark coloured and that the dark nights are lengthening.
Sorry to have been 'away' for so long. I had company, you know. They left today, which is very sad, but they needed to go home and play with their new Granddaughter Nelly and we need to get ready for Thanksgiving, not to mention a few other upcoming events, like going to Manchester to see Simon tomorrow.
Also, we've changed Internet Service Providers (from Tiscali to BT) and there was a bit of down time in the transition. I'm hoping the service will be a bit more reliable. It would be true to say it couldn't be any worse, but then I'm afraid I'll jinx us by saying that.
So, about Prague. It's a wondrous and foreign place, but funny enough we've all been singing about it at Christmas since childhood. "Good King" Wenceslas was a Duke of Bohemia and St Stephen (of the feast) is also a local martyr. The story about Wenceslas and his brother is startling: Wenceslas was murdered by his brother Boleslav who later made a big deal of placing his brother's remains in the cathedral. When Wenceslas posthumously acquired sainthood, Boleslav managed somehow to bolster his own status as the new king, having a saint in the family. I think he would have done well in 'communications / public relations', don't you?
It's all a bit hair-raising but so was much of that period in history. And Prague definitely has history. Wikipedia talks about the beginnings of the castle at Prague as being around 590, but they have found prehistoric relics that long predate that time. I know, it all sounds very dry, but perhaps some pictures will liven this up.
The first thing that hits me is always the amazing architecture. I think I'm first drawn to the Victorian, but there is a huge amount of Art Nouveau and a bit of Cubism, and not a little of the stern looking statues on what Bill and I called "The People's Buildings" as of course Prague was behind the Iron Curtain for a good while, but it took us a while to discover all those.
The first day we walked from the hotel along the riverside to the Charles Bridge. I almost didn't get there because I was so busy taking pictures along the way.
It wasn't raining, but it was misty and everyone commented on how romantic the river looked.
The bridge was having major repairs, but it was still open and still amazing. (Click on the pictures to make them bigger).
We passed by this gateway many times in the few days we were there and each time, I felt compelled to photograph it, just because it was so amazing to me each time I saw it again. Crazy, I know.
Charles Bridge, constructed in the 14th Century, is lined on both sides with replicas of statues (the real ones are now in a museum). 
These statues are not all sweetness and light, but then neither was life in the 1300's. 
I can't tell you who these three were, but the pigeons (as usual) had no respect for them. 
This guy had an interesting story. Apparently he was the priest to whom King Wenceslas' queen made her confessions. King W thought she might be having an affair, but this guy, John Nepomucene, refused to break the confidence of the confessional and so King W had him bagged up and thrown into the the Vltava River where he drowned. The story is that when he was thrown in 5 stars flew out of the bag (or were reflected from the sky onto the water) and he became the first martyr of the Seal of the Confessional and, bizarrely enough, a 'patron against calumnies' and 'a protector from floods'. Personally, I don't quite follow the logic, but you have to respect his commitment to his beliefs.
I have a confession to make. I wasn't posting from home last week, but from Prague. I know it's silly to think that anyone would actually target my blog, work out where I live (it is vaguely possible, but you'd need specific insider knowledge and that's all I'm going to say about it) and burgle my house, but even so I choose to be pretty anonymous online. So I didn't broadcast that we were away.
We are back -- as are Jane & Chris for a few more days -- and I just have a few minutes while J&C are out on a shopping trip and Bill is out for a run (isn't he being good?). I should warn you, I took PICTURES while we were away. Having been to Prague before, I wouldn't probably have chosen to go there, though it is an amazing place. However, with Bill having a week's leave to use by the end of the calendar year and with the invitation from his dear sister and brother-in-law, it was an automatic choice. Having a digital camera made the trip for me. My only limitations were the life of the re-chargeable batteries (we took the re-discovered charger with us) and the capacity of the memory card. I had a great time. You might guess you'll be seeing a few pictures (ha).
The other news is that just before I left I invited 55 people for Thanksgiving. Yeah, I know, insane. They won't all come of course, but I'm waiting to see how many accept. It's only a few so far. One of the things I'm planning to do in the next couple of days is a 'mini-Thanksgiving' with Jane & Chris, as they won't be here for the party. I don't know what that means yet, exactly, but we'll figure something out.
We turned the clocks back last weekend so it is lighter in the morning and dark earlier. What is the use of that, I don't know, but the kids do: time for firecrackers! They have to practice, you know, get warmed up for the real event: Guy Fawkes Night, the 5th of November. Oh, right, you say. OK. Here's the background:
I think most people are vaguely aware that Henry the VIIIth established the Protestant church so he (and millions of men ever after) could dump his older wife and replace her with a newer model. Consequently, with the new church with the King as the head of that church, it wasn't really a good time to be Catholic. Though his daughter, Elizabeth I, was perhaps a bit more tolerant having lived through scary times herself, it was definitely healthier during her reign to be a Protestant.
Being the 'Virgin Queen' and never having any children, she arranged for her successor to be James I (of England) / VI (of Scotland), also a Protestant in spite of the fact that his mother, Mary Queen of Scots, was Catholic. Elizabeth died in 1604 and in 1605, there was a Catholic plot to blow up Parliament because they were unhappy about James I not being nicer to them than he was.
Though he was not the leading conspirator, Guy Fawkes was caught guarding the 36 barrels and thus the Gunpowder Plot was foiled. Guy Fawkes was hung, drawn and quartered, and thanks to the movie Braveheart we all know just what that means. Strangely, it was a long time before I understood exactly what the celebration meant, as Guy Fawkes' name doesn't seem to provoke any sense of him being a bad guy. In fact, kids go around asking for a 'penny for the Guy', something like American kids ask for candy on Halloween. Strictly speaking they should be with their effigy of Guy Fawkes, but the few I've seen had painted faces and some sort of scrappy costume.
5 November celebrations used to be about collecting wood and debris and building huge bonfires. One of my first trips to London after moving here in September was on a train the night of Bonfire Night. It was eerie seeing all the towering fires along the railway line and it felt as though a modern day revolution was being undertaken. Effigies of Guy Fawkes are burned on the bonfires (I don't know if he gets hung drawn and quartered first), but I read that other effigies are sometimes burned in current day celebrations (depending upon the politics of the pyromaniac in charge).
So, the celebration is that the Gunpowder Plot failed and that King James I (yes, the one gave us a version of the Bible) and Parliament did not get blown up and everyone in the UK (and some of the other Commonwealth countries) is happy about that. In fact, up until 1859, there was a Royal Decree making it compulsory for people in the UK to be happy about that. Apparently someone during Queen Victoria's reign though it was OK to lighten up about it. More recently, the fire department goes around putting out bonfires and the Environment Agency says that people shouldn't use the occasion for burning toxic rubbish (duh). Air quality isn't so great with all those fires either.
At some point it looks like the Halloween thing (which Bill reminds me has European roots, not American) and Guy Fawkes got caught up with New Years Eve's fireworks. Perhaps fireworks are considered ecologically (or economically) superior to big bonfires. Or maybe they just need to get in a lot of practice for the New Year thing.
Bill reminded me last week we needed to get out for another blackberry picking session. We went a few weeks ago, but he got upset with how cautiously I picked them over: he thought I threw away too many 'good' ones. It's hard to tell with wild food sometimes, but I did err on the side of only the wholly formed berries, which did lose us about 1/3 of the crop. So the next time I kept more, thinking he would eat most of them anyhow...and he'll get what he gets, hmmm?
We have a 'secret' berry picking place not far from our house. I wouldn't go here by myself, as there is evidence of other use either by vagrants or bored kids, but the berries are generally plentiful, not to mention free. I make a conscious choice to eat these berries, knowing that the residue left by the previous land use isn't likely all that healthy. Bill won't consider picking or eating blackberries that grow in the nearby cemetery...but I know others who do and laugh about it. I applaud them, but lean towards Bill's view. Some things don't really bear thinking about, do they?
One of the gardening/cooking shows here is something called River Cottage and the chef is big on getting people permission to grow food on unused land (Landshare). Interesting idea, but I'll be surprised if it gets off the ground. It's a really good show, though, one of the other few I'll watch.
Unfortunately, our berry crop was very sparse and I resorted at one point to picking rosehips, though I've not ended up doing anything with them.
Remember the Robert Redford movie, Jeremiah Johnson? I got the book after seeing the movie and one of the food mountain men ate a lot of was rosehips. The guy I dated at the time later married and named his son Jeremiah...I sometimes wondered if filming that movie was when Redford got the idea of living at Sundance, as it was filmed in Utah.
Anyhow, during WWII, apparently some government department here in Britain encouraged picking of wild rosehips as they were rich in vitamin C. I need to do more research to figure out how to cook them.
At one point, my most pressing problem was how to get rid of this wasp...
I'm always drooling over all the 'free wood' here as well, though we don't have any way of using it...just with the rising price of fuel, this looks like money to me. As with most things, though, it's not quite that simple. We looked at getting a wood burning stove -- a proper smokeless fuel one. We have four fireplaces with chimneys in the house, but small ones built to burn coal. In the two downstairs fireplaces, there are gas stoves under the original tiles and mantles. To put a wood stove in any of them would mean losing the original tiles and I'm not willing to to that. Putting a stove in the most likely place in the kitchen would require creating another flue, etc., and this was going to cost about £4,000. Since we're never sure how long we'll be in this house, it was a lot to spend and not recoup, so we passed on the idea. Still, the wood looks good...
Like I said, we didn't get a lot of berries, but it's always a good experience. Looking for berries makes you focus 'in the now' and you're out in nature, which is relaxing. Stretching for the always just-out-of-reach, really nice berry is a good work out as well. So put it on your calendar to get out there next year!
