Our last breakfast in Prague is a kind of farewell to the city and to the boys who are about to get on a train to Berlin to stay for a week while Karol and I are getting a short flight to France. We'll all re unite in Paris for our last week of holidays. Wow so far so good. Time now for the boys to uncover the grunge and art of Berlin on their own terms. They'll be staying in a youth hostel and being on their own for the first time OS.

Touch down in France is something special for Karol and I. We last did it on our honeymoon 26 years before. Before our boys were born, our house bought, our debts amassed, our dreams put on hold and replaced by other ones, for a short while at least. We were also now in a country without a translator, with virtually no language skills of our own and where the cars drive on the opposite side of the road. The last one was what I was worried about. We picked up a beautiful new Citroen 5 with GPS guidance, plugged in our address to Tourny in the Normandy region and in a state of complete angst set off. My mantra was “keep to the right, keep to the right” - where was my helpful Jiri now? At least I had that one day in Bohemia with him by my side to get used to an inversion of 30 years of driving habit!

We arrived in the late summer afternoon, in one piece, phew. Tourny is a small town with winding lane ways edged with tall mud brick fences. Our bed and breakfast or “Chambre d’hote” is behind one of these on the edge of town next to fields of wheat and orchards of apple trees. Our host is an adorable local lady, Laurance. After she showed us to our room, we sat outside with a bottle of her best local red and a simple fare of pizza and salad she quickly whipped up - perfect. Here are some pics..

Her country style house has been elegantly and imaginatively decorated in every detail. There’s a touch of French provincial, layered over with shabby sheek, Parisienne elegance and the whimsy of collectables and the cunning of a film set. Our room is a converted attic with dormer windows left and right so we have a lovely cross breeze. The toilet closet has white flock wall paper and a series of 5 small Monet postcards made to look like gilded framed miniatures hanging off little hooks. The bath and wash basin are divided off from the rest of the room by a short Romanesque balustrade with sheer lace curtains partly hiding the bath. All very cute - makes me smile it does. Sister Chris would love this room. I kept on saying how much she would love this place. It’s love of all things decorative, rustic and edible! Funnily I had been doing the same thing in Prague but raving to Karol that sister Linda would die of happiness in the Hotel Paris with it’s touches of 40’s Hollywood glamour in the deco furnishings and massive interiors. There were even a series of black and white film stills from that Hollywood era along one corridor next to the foyer - were those films shot in the Hotel? Could have.

Laurance gave us some easy directions for an afternoon walk, a ‘bon circuit’ I think she said - a big loop that took us from our edge of town, along the wheat field, through the quiet empty lane ways of Tourny and past the old crumbling Gothic Church. It is still in use and I could see up in the roof with an open window that the pigeons use it too. Karol and I decided that this small town should be called a village because as the sun was setting we could hear a long empty stillness and smell the sweet dirty smell of chicken shit and the dank smell of flour coming from the wheat fields. We slept deeply relaxed that night. We were now well away from the hectic all night energy of Prague and listening to nothing. A small breeze moved through our attic ‘Chambre d’hote’. Here are some pics..

Dion and Remy went back to see their cousins for a night out to local pubs and disco halls to meet their cousins' friends and just hang out.

Karol and I started our  day sending back 4 small boxes of clothes and books. We all brought too many clothes and bought extra things. The shopping in Prague is excellent value and the quality brilliant - cotton, linen, cashmere. Actually everything is reasonable price wise. Karol and I mentioned more than once what a gouge it is in Australia for clothes and food.  

This looks like Karol waiting at a train station - wrong - it's the post office. That's the thing with this wonderful city. History, architecture, art, music - it's all ever present and it's normal. It's not revered with distance. It's just part of every day life. It's not from the past like a fossil is, dead now, once alive. That list of cultural things lives on in an everyday way here. Every night we've heard wonderful music in amazing old buildings. But it was cheap, performed by a handful of people who looked like they had just popped in after dinner and were on the way to a late night drink, or to pick up their kids. The audience is maybe 20, maybe 50, maybe 5 people. No big deal it's only for an hour. An hour you spend transformed by the pearls of genius from Bach or Mozart or from some other obscure musician who lived here we've never heard of.

The old part of the city has 3 distinct building styles that I can gather. Not in equal measure in terms of quantity. There are dark spooky gothic buildings with spires and turrets and gargoyles. The stone is black with time, then there are lighter, more classical (in the greek sense) baroque buildings. They are the leaps forward from the medieval, god fearing darker ages to the Renaissance that re discovered the brilliance of the Greeks, their concepts of human proportion and the art and equality of the soul. There are fewer of these. Even fewer are the next style. The early 19 century leap forward with what's called the Art Nouveau style. The new style. The style influenced by the past, but absorbing the new technologies across art, construction, energy. This is where I nod to Alfonso Mucha.

The boys had earlier returned from a Bohemian sojourn with their cousins, so we all went out for dinner in the Restaurant on the ground floor of the Municipal House. It proclaims to be the most beautiful Art Nouveau Restaurant in the world. Mucha’s work is also on the walls there. This was our last night together in Prague and our last night together for a week. Dion and Remy were off to Berlin by train in the morning and Karol and I, off to the Normandy region of France by plane. We’ll meet together again for our last week of holidays in Paris. After dinner Karol and I went to a small concert hall at the Municipal House and listened to a chamber orchestra playing Mozart and Handel. This was accompanied with period ballet by a couple and also opera with a soprano and a tenor. Loved it. The small hall was once a cellar but later converted to a dance hall for the raging Czech party goers of the 1920’s. The music may have been from long ago but it seemed anything but ‘resurrected’. It was just another bit of music being played, danced and sung by the natives of an old city very much in the present.

Check out our pics..

Here we are waiting for the tour bus. It was good, but nothing like the one we experienced in London. This was very impersonal with taped audio descriptions in the language of your choice. Good to be driven around anyway. Funny that we've become connoisseurs of open air tour buses. The boys left in the afternoon for a train ride back to the Jince to hang out with their cousins for one last time. Here are some pics from the tour and later at some chamber music in another beautiful old church decorated with the pomp and symbology of a time far far away.. click here

We left cousin Jiri's place at Jince today. The last few days with Jiri were remarkable because we created a bond, a connection with him and Karol's other relatives that was unexpected and very real. Anton, Karol's Dad, would be smiling down on us and would be real happy that his legacy has passed onto the boys as well.

What was even more unexpected was the life and times of Cousin Jiri. Jiri's skills and interests are many and wonderfully diverse. He has the same adventurous and far minded spirit as Karol's father, Anton. As mayor of his town (and fire warden) for many years he pushed for the community to respect it's open spaces and resist over development. When he wants something he builds it. If he doesn't know how, he figures it out. His house is full of his creations and surrounding it are his many tools, equipment, constructions, animals and landscape projects. He has taught himself to play violin and flute as well. Really liked the cross bow he made from an old set of plans. Check out Jiri's world..

Cousin Jiri organised our trip to Prague from the village of Jince where we had been staying for the last four days. Cousin Jitka, his neighbour, turned up with a small hatch of a car after having spent the hours since dawn collecting mushrooms. She jammed us and the luggage all in while giggling and talking continuously in Czech. We had luggage filling the rear hatch to the roof so there was no rear view and all of us had smaller bags in our laps or under our feet or both. Jitka is a small but energetic power house of a woman as well as being a paediatrician. Her car suits her and she drove it at break neck speed through the blind country lanes and winding alleys of the village until we got to the freeway where she increased the speed to a blinding 150 kmh average. She’s a sweety but on the road she cursed and thumbed any drivers who dared not drop away into the slower lane fast enough - while she literally jammed up their arses.

One driver was already in the right, slower lane, way out in front of us. I watched it curiously as we approached. It tried hesitantly once, twice, to overtake the massive cargo truck in front of it. As we approached at nothing short of the speed of a flying bullet, the driver finally dared to attempt the overtake (on this 2 lane freeway). This meant we were on a direct collision course as we caught up with them and began the pass to the left of the truck. Jitka jammed on the brakes, all the luggage lurched forward and whacked a few heads. I was in the front wondering why my life hadn’t already passed before my eyes while stiff arming the dash. The driver finished the 3rd attempt at the overtake and Jitka continued her tirade. The driver immediately pulled to the right after passing the truck, we passed him and Jitka gestured a series of hand movements that can either be described as porno with fingers or an intricate medical procedure. She pushed on to 155 kmh and kept up the tirade without any subtitles.

When she dropped us off in the center of Prague, in front of the cobbled stone street of our amazing art nouveau hotel, Hotel Paris, she was actually panting as if she had just done a sprint to the corner shop. I took the opportunity to remind the family that if they ever complained about my driving ever again, that I would remind them of the last 40 minutes. Everyone was exhausted, stunned and completely relieved to still be alive.

Yesterday, at Chateau Zbrioh, we were shown the ballroom like studio of Alfonso Mucha, the premier art nouveau Czech artist of the early 20th century. We were privileged to be shown some private photographs of his art practices with models in various dramatic poses. Here in Prague his presence is in the signage, the facades of buildings, the organic yet symmetrical iron gates of entrances and in the decorations of our hotel which even has a Sarah Bernhardt restaurant - she was a kind of muse for Alfonso - he designed her performance posters and even went on tour with her.

Karol's cousin Petra met us at the hotel with her parents, her 2 children, her brother and his 2 kids. They hadn't seen each other for 26 years! We walked around Prague with them, first to their favourite ice cream parlour and then to a wonderful walled park so the kids could play. 


Martin, Petra's brother is in his early 40's. He walked with me and we chatted about the usual things. I dug a little deeper as we compared our different worlds. I foolishly made a link with laconic Aussies and casual Czechs. Martin put me straight and told me about the endemic corruption in Czech society. This he said is normalised. It is normal for an official to line his pockets if he can line yours as well. Czech society had a long period of Communist domination from after WWII to the late 80's. Authority was heavy handed and a culture of side stepping developed. After all authority had been imposed by another country..

He was a university student when the Berlin wall fell and countries that were once Communist decided it was time for a change. Russia was now the bad friend and the West the new big brother. The "Velvet Revolution" occurred and although there was initially physical resistance from the authorities, the Czech youth, like Martin and his fellow students, organised themselves and travelled around the country speaking and disseminating their ideas.

Like all great ideas in politics, the broom of change somehow misses the rich and powerful who easily metamorphose like a Kafka cockroach and re invent themselves into a new society. Oh well, life goes on and it was time to say our farewells as Martin, Petra and their respective families went off for their summer break. How great to have that small window of opportunity to connect and reconnect.

Have a look at our first impressions of Prague as Cousin Petra showed us around for an hour or so just before she took her family away on their summer holidays..click here

Cousin Jiri offered to show us the nearby Gothic castle called Karlstein, once the epicentre of The Holy Roman Empire in the 14th Century. This was interesting because he was our guide but had unfortunately lost his driver's licence for a short period of time. He had arranged for his father to drive us while he stayed home, as the car could only fit 5. When I realised his father had just got home from his night shift and although he communicated great warmth, we had no common language. I offered to drive but as it was my first time driving on the right hand side of the road, in a left hand drive vehicle, the family was understandably nervous. It was OK though and I only scraped the curb once, failed to give way once and didn't understand any of the heiroglyphic road signs. They indicated all sorts of subtle things about speed and stopping distances before approaching railway tracks using red slashes in various combinations. Jiri gave me a continuous set of instructions on the way to the castle and showed great patience and encouragement, unlike the family members behind me occasionally gasping and digging their fingers deeper into the upholstery.

Karlstein castle is perched high on a mountain peak and so the tourist is obliged to do a 20 minute brisk walk up a steep path to the gates. Here are some pics..

On the way home we stopped by a field of sunflowers - awesome to see so many of those iconic oversized droopy eared faces. A nice old man happened by and started up an animated conversation with me. Jiri helped translate and in no time we were laughing and shaking hands to his well wishes and goodbyes.

Dinner that night was arranged at the home of some Karol's relos, the family Sladovník. It was humbling how much we were all so warmly cared for, fed special foods on special plates and shown bundles of family photos, hunting trophies and the guns they used to fell the wild boars and roebucks,
check out the pics..

Don't worry this is isn't a history lesson, although history is alive and well for my Czech brothers. Our enthusiastic guide Jiri planned an excellent morning visit to 2 local castles. Pictured here is the ruins of a medieval fortress, Valdek. We had unique access to it thanks to Jiri's father who works for the military. They control the surrounding forests and have vast areas set aside for missile launching practice, seriously. Jiri delighted in showing me a cutting into a small hillside fortified by huge slabs of concrete. "This is where they can drive in the scud missile launches". It looked like an ad hoc intrusion into a quiet dense forest. We walked past it and along a small gully to find the medieval ruins.

Jiri, Remy and I climbed up a metre wide old wall that started off as a kind of ramp. At the top we were standing on a decaying old wall perched on the edge of a huge cliff overlooking the valley stretching away under our feet. The feeling of vertigo gripped my knees and self preservation quivered me back down fairly quickly!

Check out some pics..

Our next stop before lunch was a chateau in the nearby district of Pilsen (have I mentioned everything beer is a national obsession). The other day at our first castle visit at Karlstein, the once center of The Holly Roman Empire, built by Charles the IV (OK maybe this is a history lesson), well I saw a small sign with a beautiful art noveau illustration. I remarked to Jiri that I've always loved that artist and he was well loved by my hippy compatriots in the the 70's. Jiri told me he was a famous Czech artist Alfonso Mucha - we'll go and see his old studio where he painted an amazing series of huge paintings, 'The Slav Epic' - about the history of the Slavs of course.

So we arrived at the Chateau of Zbrioh (shbr-eeroock). After a punishing hour long guided tour in the ear crushing Czech language (sorry Karol), we arrived in a great banquet style hall with a wonderful vaulted glass ceiling that gave the room a perfect diffuse light. On the walls were huge mural reproductions of Mucha's work.

As it turns out, Mucha was not your average 1920's art nouveau artist. He was intimately connected with the heritage of the Knights Templar as were the historical and present owners of the chateau we were inspecting. The guided tour was littered with hints to this connection and is still used for ceremonial meetings. As it turns out, Alfonso was a Grand Master of the order of the Free Masons. I thought this was surprising as his work was so sensual and organic. Remy of course corrected me and pointed out that there was a strong geometry in his work.

After the tour, the curator, Katerina, engaged us in further in depth discussions about old Alfonso. Seeing how interested we were she got out the rattling key ring and we descended down some steps into a kind of private cellar that had been set up as a display of photographs of Mucha's work practices. It showed beautiful large images of Alfonso setting up models in various poses and above them the actual images he created. Alfonso's grandson actually owned them and they were on loan for a while, but not on public display.

The forests around the valley we are staying here in Central Bohemia are packed with tall dense conifers. They are excellent for hunting wild boar, roebucks, deer and finding mushrooms. After lunch I fell into a deep siesta due to last night's family feast and mini beerfest. Karol was whipped off into the forest by Eva and her beautiful 2 children, son Nikki and daughter Ellie. Here's what they did..

After I woke from my siesta I went to Jiri's mother's place where all the relos were in party mode under the pergola, next to the chook pen. They had started the fireplace and beer was flowing. The Sladovnik's had mentioned the night before that they were getting close to finishing their house. The family had been building it themselves for the last five years. It was at lock up and did we want to see it? Sure, let's go! Remy and I jumped into the 4WD and off we sped. It was around 7 and there was a few hours of light left. The party continued without us of course. The house was about 40 minutes away and the family had been working on it during weekends and holidays. Here are some pics..

Returning meant a quick tour to a nearby Cathedral, the most famous and ancient in the area. King Charles IV had planted a tree there 400 years previously. As the sun was setting and the light fading we came across it in the half light on our brisk up hill walk, up the 200m path to the cathedral. It was massively wide and had 2 steel straps around it's trunk to ensure it's survival. On we went up the hill. The cathedral was closed but Roman (the dad) was keen for us to stand in it's presence. In the fading gold of the light, it did indeed have presence in this land of castles ruined, alive and ecclesiastic and in which you have all the time in the world to build your own, especially when the parents, the grand parents, the aunties, uncles, nephews will help out too.

Remy and I and the Sladovniks got back to the party stumbling through the dark of the backyard (through a small pack of barking, dancing dogs). The fire was blazing, the beer was flowing and conversations intense and excited were in full flight. As delicious bits of spiced meet came out of the flames, Jiri and I started discussing Anton, Karol's dad. He after all was the reason we were all there together.

The transition from London to the Czech Republic took most of the day even though the flight was only 2 hours. I sat between Karol dozing and an Indian lady listening to her iPad. I, the cool and very experienced traveller sat pondering the milk pak and my cup of hot tea. Oh I see, you peal the lid like a yogurt snack. Must be easier to just peel and pore at the same time. BIG mistake. Holding the pak inverted over the tea and pealing the lid means squeezing the flimsy plastic pak, therefore vastly increasing the latent pressure within. Oblivious to these matters of science I slowly peeled the film like lid. A perfect jet of white milk squirted to my right, completely missing the tea and baptised the apostle next to me. oops - done it again.

It's been about a decade since cousin Jiri at 25, made the long trip to Oz. I remember him at Sydney Airport smiling happily and none of us with a common language. He was with us for some months and while we went off to work and such he often went next door to Mum's. Mum's english is good enough - not great, but she taught Jiri English in no time - amazing all of us.

It was great seeing him again. He picked us up at the airport with his brother in law Costas. Costas, like me has Greek parents and brought up in another country. He's married to Jiri's sister and have 2 delightful kids, Nikki and Eli - boy and girl.

After we arrived in the small town of Jince (yeensay) we went for a walk with Jiri down the hill through the fields to his mum's place with her 2nd husband, Francis - big burly wood cutter. We sat outside under a grape vine next to the chook pen. The smell of chook was excellent. Memories of the old country as a kid came flooding back. Love that dirty rotting smell with the promise of an egg surprise if you look hard enough - and I did!

I squatted down to take a pic of the chook pens and frightened a chook squatting in a small nook next to me. It left behind this nice warm egg - thanks mate!

Our common languages at this lovely gathering were enough to discover each other's worlds. Costas and I talked Greek and when he couldn't find the words, would ask Jiri in Czech and he would tell me in English. It went like that for a while and then little Nikki jumped up and mimed magic tricks with bits of rope and coins - hilarious. Francis, Meerka's husband took us to meet his neighbour, Brunusak Frantisek. His passion has always been model planes. As a kid during the Communist Era nothing from the west was available, but magazines of the time showed what was in the other side of the wall. If you wanted something, you figured out how to make it. Brnusak went for it. He started with small balsa models. He now has a small company designing aeronautical gadgets like camera steadicams for radio controlled flying machines for the forces... I can't emphasis this enough. The man's a genious. From a wood shed like workshop he has built a series of excellent radio controlled flying machines. We walked down to a nearby field and stood on the lane next to it. He made them fly in huge figure eights, twirling, dropping with engines off, recovering at the last moment, and then zooming up through tight cork screws to find a gentle arc again and then glide into a perfect landing on the narrow lane at our feet.

After many beers with big burly Francis I crashed quite early. On the way to sleep I stuck my head into Jiri's private rooms upstairs. I could hear him with the boys sounding very animated. Spread out on the floor and spilling out of his huge safe was quite an impressive armoury..