Medora Musical

Friday night and we’re at the Medora Musical. We had tickets for the steak fondue first (fondue?), which was really just a cookout. The food was OK, drinks extra and not really worth the price. But the setting was incredible. We were up on a plateau looking out over a 360 degree view of the Badlands. A breeze was blowing and a band was playing country music.

The ampitheater sits in a valley below the parking lot and entrance. Outdoor escalators are built into the hill and you have to take two of them to get down to the mezzanine level. The set for the show is a main street Medora—train station, church, post office, saloon, hotel, and general store-all different colored buildings. There’s no curtain, no backdrop, just the stage, the buildings and the sky.

We were front row center, since I bought the tickets back in April when I planned this whole trip.This show is a big deal for North Dakotans, probably something like the Radio City Music Hall’s Holiday show is for New Yorkers. On the escalators, we overheard a few people say that they’d been there a few times and that it’s different every year. I think most of the people who visit Medora are either from North Dakota or Minnesota. At least it looks that way from the license plates and the pins stuck in the map in the office of the horseback riding concession.

The three hour show was mostly cheesy and nationalistic country music and dancing, but a few things amazed us. They have the Rough Riders, who ride horses on and off the stage at a gallop. They have trails from the canyon and part of the stage between the buildings and the dance stage is dirt. And then they had acrobats from South Africa who did unbelievable things with their bodies. By the time we left the temperatures had dropped down to the 70s and it felt cold. We all fell asleep immediately.

Medora Storm

I got back from doing laundry and the kids were playing with the new National Parks version of Monopoly we had just gotten at the visitor’s center. They were sitting in the T@B with the AC on to escape the severe Badlands afternoon heat. I was about to take a shower to get ready for the show we were going to that night, when I saw a black cloud coming over the hills from the west. I had the kids help me close the windows on the tent room we had set up for the first time the night before, and we brought all the chairs, shoes, towels and other things we had lying around the campsite. When the storm started, quarter-sized hail came down with heavy rain. I waited for it to stop before going out to take my shower, because I would have gotten hurt. It cleared up soon--the whole storm consisted of one large cloud—and as I went to go take my shower, I discovered that the tent room had leaked. Not just through the windows, but through the roof. The air mattress, sleeping bags and blankets were all damp and the tarp underneath them. I had the kids help pick everything up. I set up the tent, because if it rained that night we would need it. We deflated the air mattress and put it in the tent. Winds had picked up, so for the first time on the trip we made sure to put in the tent stakes.

I’m disappointed in the design of the T@B tent room. What’s the point of having a tent if it leaks? In the morning we had to pack up both the tent room and the regular tent. I cannot believe how mature and helpful the kids have become. It must be from their month at camp.

Little Missouri River Bank

We spent the afternoon on the sandy banks of the Little Missouri River. Our campground sat on the opposite side of the river from the National Park. Conor and I came down here first to hunt for agates, which we found in abundance. I also found my first arrowhead, made of reddish stone, to add to the collection.

After seeing our prizes, Chloe wanted to go to the river. We returned this time with a chair and water bottles. It was a hundred degrees with little shade, but very dry. I felt like I had to apply Blistex every 20 minutes. I sat staring at cliffs in the Park, which had to be 300-500 feet high. Across some of them you could see coal veins. It was burning coal that baked the clay in the hills, creating the red-colored stripes. I could have sat there all afternoon writing in my journal, except that red ants were crawling up from the sand and biting me on the legs.

Chloe and Conor crossed the river and ended up in knee-high grey clay on the other bank. Neil had told us about this clay when we were horseback riding, but I can’t remember the name. It’s used in all sorts of manufacturing processes like cosmetics and some milkshakes. I had no ideas of possible dangers there, so I was more relaxed than I might have been at home. Were there any poisonous snakes in the river? I asked a park ranger afterward, not mentioning that I had let my children play in the river before inquiring about dangers, but she assured me that there were no water snakes in North Dakota. Besides, she said with this heat you won’t see any land snakes either.

Riding in Theodore Roosevelt National Park

Woke up a couple of times last night to a train whistle, then alarm at 6 AM, so that we could be on time for our horseback riding lesson. I think I’m fighting off a cold, or I’m allergic to something here. I wake up having sneezing fits and feel drained.

Our reservations were for the 2.5 hour advanced ride. I hoped that they wouldn’t question us too much. We had our cheap boots, jeans and sweatshirts and asked for the optional helmets. We were the only three along with the guide to leave the ranch at 7:30. Conor and I were both on quarter horses and Chloe on a mule named Molly. For most of the beginning of our outing, Chloe was begging Conor to pick up speed. We were asked to keep one horse length between us, and Conor’s horse (by choice of the concession I’m certain) was pokey and liked to eat grass along the way. Our guide started to get after him, and told him to kick Elbert until he told him to stop. Conor obeyed and eventually it only took him 3 or 4 kicks and not much more for Elbert to stop eating.

We rode through a prairie dog town. Of the 46,000 acres in Theodore Roosevelt National Park, the prairie dogs have about 1,300 acres claimed. Neil, our guide told us that one of the low-lying weeds near the holes, was wormwood. I knew from reading about absinthe, which is legal in the Czech Republic, that the active ingredient, thuyon, comes from wormwood. Neil said that the prairie dogs eat it, so they’re tripping down there in those holes.

We saw numerous cottontails, two eagles, wild horses and three lone bison bulls. Male bison who are away from the herds are younger or weaker and pushed away by the more dominant males. Neil called them Lonesome Georges.

The destination of the trip was a limestone formation called the Eye of the Needle. We rode through it, ducking our heads, and came out on a high field with the best view of the canyon. Ahead of us, directly on the trail and about 50 yards away, was a Lonesome George. Neil led us to the left, toward some trees and the buffalo followed us, getting even closer, now about only 30 yards away and staring straight at us. I thought if it charges at us now we’re screwed. I had faith in Neil, but doubted that Conor would be able to handle an escape at a gallop, besides we were on top of a mountain now and heading to quickly in any direction could lead us right over a cliff. Neil then decided to take us back to the right, toward the trail and the buffalo continued down through the trees.

Neil’s horse spooked once as we were about to head downhill. He was riding a three-year old who didn’t have a lot of trail experience and the turkey family below us startled him. Our three were good old souls and barely lifted their heads during the commotion.

When we returned to the ranch, we saw more wild horses munching on hay. Neil said that he would have to chase them away later in the day. (Pictured--we could not bring a camera on the ride).

Fargo to Medora

The Healthy Highways Guide has proved its worth. We Found Touchi's Products in Fargo. Wow! Best selection in a health food store I've ever seen. Rooms of international products. Not just typical Japanese or Indian, but Eastern European, even Croatian. Nice people too. The kids told them all about our trip, and the owner went into the back to find gifts for us. He gave us their anniversary jar opener and plate scraper.

We drove on Interstate 94 all day. Seems that big sculptures are popular here. On the way we saw the biggest bison in the world and then the biggest Holstein cow. We figured it must be a way to try to draw travelers into town, off the Interstate, to spend their money.

We stopped at two small museums, the National Buffalo Museum, which had Native American artifacts as well as buffalo facts and animal pelts--hands on, which Conor couldn't get enough of.

The Dakota Dinosaur Museum has a skull of a Triceratops that was found nearby in Eastern Montana in 1992. The kids loved both of these museums and we were through each of them in under an hour.

The eastern side of N.D. is lush rolling farmland. Just west of Bismarck the landscape starts to get more interesting. Little hills and buttes start to appear in the middle of fields, and just at the border of Montana, in Medora at the Theodore Roosevelt National Park, sits the Painted Canyon, a stunning, colorful piece of Badland heaven.

Fargo

Made it to Fargo KOA at around 5:30 PM. Stopped at a store in Moorehead, ND to get cheap boots with heels, since we all forgot to pack something for horseback riding and we’re going at 7 AM on Friday.

Back in Minnesota, near Duluth, we had stopped at a general store and bought wild rice bratwurst (a local specialty) and fresh sour cherries, which together made a fine dinner. The kids also made Annie’s Mac and Cheese in the microwave for themselves.

The T@B is a big conversation starter everywhere we go. Don’t buy one if you don’t like to talk to people. A guy at a gas station on the way here (a place called New York Mills, funny enough) told us that it had been a hundred degrees up here this summer. Kind of spoils the point of living up north if you have extreme winters and extreme summers. He said it always used to be beautiful up here in the summer. Hmm…

Plan to look for a health food store in Fargo.Our Green Highways book lists two. We need to pick up a few things before heading to Medora tonight. We’ll be at the Theodore Roosevelt National Park tonight. Conor is so excited to see the North Dakota Badlands that he packed up the tent and air mattress himself this morning. Chloe was too tired to help him.

Duluth

Duluth is a beautiful city. Somewhere I would choose to live for the outlook it seems to have. It sits on a hill, which overlooks the western edge of Lake Superior. Yes, there’s a lot of industry spoiling the shoreline, but the downtown has brick lined streets with cool shops, restaurants and views unlike anywhere else.

When we arrived at the campsite last night we saw the same little camper in a spot next to us that had been next to us the night before in St. Ignace. This morning, on my way to the bathroom, I stopped to talk to them. Their names are Leroy and Carol, they’re bikers on a Harley pulling a tiny BF Specialties trailer behind them that pops up and forms a tent and a bed.

They’re taking Route 2 all the way across to Washington State. I told them I would have done the same thing, except that we wanted to see Theodore Roosevelt National Park on the way, so we have to head south for a while. Leroy said he gets much better gas mileage when going on secondary roads at 60 mph than he does on the highway. I’ve noticed the same thing; I get almost 30% better mileage at 55-60 mph than I do at 70 mph.

Carol and Leroy are also headed to Glacier and they told me that St. Mary’s, the entrance on the eastern edge, where we are staying for two nights, was reopened. I had no idea it was closed, but they told me that forest fires have been a big problem up there this summer and they were about to evacuate the entire town. I guess I better pay more attention to the news. They also said that bears problems are worse than usual because it’s so dry (they’re looking for water?).

We had our first incident this morning. The kids were screwing around in the tent, taking 2 hours to pack everything up. Wrestling, fighting, laughing, then daughter comes out with a bloody nose said brother hit her with a pillow. Sigh…

Next Fargo—can’t wait.

Upper Penisula and Route 2

We left St. Ignace Tuesday morning with expectations of a 12 hour drive, according to the navigation system. It actually only took 9 hours, thank God. Our morning drive started out nicely. We drive by gorgeous sand dunes on the northern shore of Lake Michigan. Route 2 was smooth, quiet and vastly underdeveloped. Kept wondering where all the people and businesses were.

At our first stop, a BP station—seems they have a monopoly on gas up here—called the “Party Store,” they sell smoked fish, smoked meat, cherry salsa (bought some to bring to Seattle) and fireworks. I overheard the owner saying that gas would be up to around $4 a gallon by Monday, because of what happened in Alaska. When I asked him what he was talking about, he said that 20 miles of pipeline up there had corroded. No one knew? Bad timing for our road trip. We saw the news on TV in the restaurant where we had dinner and it confirmed this news, announcing that CA for instance gets 20% of its oil from Alaska. Too late now.

We saw our first T@B, a sliver one, in a little town in Wisconsin, about 30 miles from Duluth. We had pulled into a lot for dinner and they pulled in beside us to say hello. They were on their way back from a cross country trip from Pennsylvania to Seattle and back. They said that, for the most part, everything went well, but that they had a few problems. I didn’t ask them what the problems were, because they seemed to be in a hurry.

Only once so far have I had fleeting feelings of self-pity. It happened the night we arrived in St. Ignace and I thought I had 12 hours of driving ahead of me the next day. My neck was sore and it was starting to feel like we were in the Army. Get up. Pack up. Move out. Over and over. It was the fourth day and we hadn’t been anywhere for more than one night. Once we’re on the road though, I’m so glad we’re doing this. I’ve wanted to see this part of the country for as long as I can remember. I realized that part of the reason I wanted to do this, is because I was always a map geek and staring at maps and planning this trip was the ultimate game for me.

Mackinac Island

On the way from Port Huron to St. Ignace, we stopped in Flint, MI—home of Michael Moore-to hit the Target store for some microwave-safe, plastic bowls. I wondered if Flint would be as desolate as Moore portrays it in his films, but it seemed solidly middle-class inside Target. Lots of tanned, thin, blonde women shoppers. Flint?

We arrived at the Makinac Bridge around 5:30. It takes a lot to terrify me, but driving on this bridge in high winds, with the T@B, and construction forcing me onto a steel deck was enough to do it. I looked out over the water to stay calm and was fascinated by the rich blue and turquoise color of Lake Michigan. I was expecting dark grey and blue like Lake Champlain, not a Caribbean palette. With colors like this, why are there so few people around St. Ignace?

We checked into the campsite at 5:45 and I knew that if we were going to get to Mackinac Island that we would have to do it that night. The staffer told us that the next ferry was at 6:30 and if we wanted to catch the shuttle we would have to be back at the office at 6:00. I made a decision to give it a try, since the ferry after that wasn’t until 7:30 and it had been a long day. We drove to the campsite, plugged in the T@B, grabbed my camera, sweatshirts and pocketbook and made it back in time for the shuttle. The kids were asking a lot of questions, where are we going, what’s the rush, why do we have to do this? I should have explained our plans ahead of time, but they were caught up in the DVDs that we got at the Blockbuster in Flint, 4 for $20 and they didn’t say a word to me the whole day.

The ferry moves fast. We were at the island in 15 minutes. The Harbor was lit up by the setting sun and the white church and buildings were gleaming. We had a great dinner with fast service at Goodfellows and made it back for the 8 PM ferry. Mackinac Island will not suffer from rising gasoline prices, since no cars or trucks are allowed on the island. The bicycles and horses are not an anachronism as I see it, but the way of the future. Now, just how to deal with the smell of horse piss everywhere?

Niagara Falls to Michigan

We’ve been on the road for two days. Day one from home to Niagara Falls and day two from Niagara Falls to just west of Port Huron, MI. Our plan was to actually be in the Upper Peninsula by now, but we spent the entire morning today taking a professional tour of the falls and then got stuck for two hours at the border, reentering the US from Ontario. We decided to just take it easy and call it a day at 7:30 PM after being in the car for six hours today.

Niagara Falls was so much more beautiful than I had imagined. I had this grainy, black and white honeymooners-from- the-1950s-image in my head. I thought of tacky Americana, but the water and the setting were National Park stunning. I didn’t know that the US side was forever wild and the Canadian side, while built up, is shiny and full of enthusiasm. Right before us were two gleaming examples of environmentalism, one even involved an international agreement (with Canada to cut back flow of the Niagara River at night to help prevent erosion of the escarpment, without which there would be no falls).

I looked up at this mass of plummeting water from the Maid of the Mist boat and thought that this alone is worth fighting for. I know as we travel further into the wild that more of these examples will become evident. And yes to many people this would all seem obvious, but I’ve been discouraged for so long that I need reminders about my country. Reminders that I do have things to be proud of, many, many things.

After the Cave of the Winds tour, where you get to stand on what’s known as the Hurricane Deck, just at the bottom of the Bride Veil Falls, Son told me that it was the most awesome thing he’d ever done.

For those skeptics out there, yes I’m still holding it together. The children are rising to the occasion. Daughter packed up the air mattress and the tent this morning, because we were in a rush to leave the campsite by 8 AM in order to the make the tour. I’m finding it easiest to leave the camper attached to the car hitch, because getting it on and off intimidates me. My only gripe, and it’s nothing I can’t learn to live with, is that they play country music in the bathrooms of the KOAs. It’s loud and at 6 in the morning, not what I want to here. Can’t wait to see the U.P.

Packing for a Cross Country Trip

I've already cited Onebag.com as an excellent resource for packing advice. But what about a camping trip across country, one that includes children and cooking and hiking, and extremes of temperature? Well, for that I found the Universal Packing List site to be invaluable. It has drop down menus for you to choose the length of your trip, the temperature ranges, and activities. For me, having a packing list frees up much of my mental energy for the fun of making choices about which shirt to bring rather than agonizing about forgetting a crucial item. I can also hand one to my children and have them do their own packing.

Last Day in Prague--Memorials

I have one more thing to tell you about Prague, before we start reporting on our cross country trip. I spent my last day in there visiting memorials for the communist resisters.

Jan Palach is remembered all over the city. The large square in front of Charles University--where we had our classes--was named for him and a replica of his death mask hangs from a wall near the front door. His friend Olbram Zoubeck a sculpter cast his face for the resulting sculpture and then hid it for over 20 years.

If you don't know the story of Jan Palach, he set himself on fire in front of the National Museum at Wesceslas Square in 1968, to protest the Soviet invasion of his country. Another memorial, which I found to be so moving, sits on the ground at the spot where he committed this act. All the memorials that I visited in Prague had fresh flowers placed on them. Each day, someone is placing them there. Who I wonder?

Zoubeck's other sculpture related to Communism is the Victims of Communism Memorial, found at the foot of Petrin Hill. I had heard about this sculpture of the disappearing men, but missed it the first time we climbed the hill. I returned at night, to see it lit up and once more on my last day, to take some pictures.

These heroes seem so big in this little country, and they leave me with a new realization about power. I thought my Big Idea from this trip was going to be that there's hope for the US, because the Czechs went through two terrible occupations by totalitarian governments and look at them now. Doesn't this offer hope to us here? But Hana, once again gave me a new way to think. She thinks that the Czechs' suffering was to some degree self-inflicted. Why didn't they fight back? Who else, she asks, was invaded by the Swedes (Thirty-day war). I'm left with that uneasy feeling that I often get that I'm constantly over-simplifying everything, but no, we aren't talking about self-defense in the case of the US really, are we?

Air Conditioning and Climate Change

Did I mention that they had no air conditioning in Prague? Well, at least not in any of the places that I spent time: my dorm room, Charles University, the Ypsilon Theater, pubs, restaurants, stores, and tour busses (although the bus drivers and tour guides assured us that it was on as we sat red-faced, fanning ourselves). Apparently, last summer it was cool and rainy, so maybe they are simply unaccustomed to the 90 degree weather that they had the entire month of July.

Regardless of what type of weather they've come to expect in July, the Czechs handled this heat wave with grace. People stripped down to essential clothing--tank tops, skirts on women, short shorts. After a while, I did get used to being hot and sweaty. It just meant changing my clothes more often and maybe adding a second shower to my daily routine. I only really missed the air conditioning at night, when despite having a fan in my room, I would wake up sometimes with my face against a sweaty pillowcase. I know, it's disgusting.

Today, to help prevent a city-wide blackout, Mayor Bloomberg required all New York City-owned buildings to raise the temperature of their air conditioning units to 78 degrees. You know, that's a lovely temperature, not a sacrifice really. I mean who wants to carry a sweater around with them in the summer time anyway?

Last year the New York Times, in its Style section, carried an article on the relationship between the chicness of a store and its degree of chilliness. As you might expect, the more chichi a store, the lower its temperature was kept.

What's up with this? Can we get real already and stop this ridiculous charade? It's summer and it's hot. Consider turning your own air conditioning up to 78. Trust me it's better than nothing. Ask the restaurants, theaters, and stores that you visit to do the same. Tell them that they'll be doing their part for the planet and keeping you more comfortable at the same time.

Kutna Hora

I went on another adventure with our tour guide Milos. Why? Because he says things like this: "this is a very beautiful area of Bohemia where many rich Czechs have their second homes. Oscar our bus driver has inherited not a regular house, but a cottage and many famous artists that you wouldn't know like the Czech equivalent of Elvis Presley, unfortunately, he's not very talented."

We started our tour of Kutna Hora at St. Barbara's cathedral (photos of this and more). This unique building has a roof like a sultan's tent, and was built by the same architect who built the Powder Tower in Prague, which according to Milos was built to face Kutna Hora. We weren't allowed to take photographs inside the cathedral, but I'll say that there is an interesting mixture of the sacred and the secular in the frescoes, which combine both working miners and crucifixes. Kutna Hora is a mining town, and the cathedral was designed with these workers in mind. There's also a statute of a miner in a prominent place.

It was inside this cathedral, that Milos told us the most interesting fact that I've learned on this trip. We were standing in front of the confessionals and he said that during the Communist Era (error) secret police would impersonate priests and allow parishioners to confess their sins to them. Then a few days later the police would come to arrest them. Milos claims that this is the reason that the Czech Republic has the highest rate of atheists in all of Europe, about 90%. This claim deserves more research and I will see if I can dig up anything else on this topic.

We walked from the cathedral to a palace, where weddings take place on the weekends. I was a disgusting tourist and snapped a shot of the groom after the ceremony, because I thought the Czech custom of the groom wearing a yoke like an oxen was priceless.

The Sedlec Ossuary with its 40,000 human bones was what I was waiting for and it did not disappoint. The bones were found when the chapel was built in the 14th century. I understand that most of these people died from the plague and the Hussite wars and that a monk built these pyramids in the 15th century.

Terezin

On Saturday last week, we were given the opportunity to take a bus trip to Terezin, a concentration camp and ghetto north of Prague. Terezin is unique among the concentration camps of WWII, in that an entire town was evacuated to create a ghetto for Jews from all over Europe. Some Jews remained in the walled-in town; others were transported out to the extermination concentration camps like Auschwitz. The Town also contains a prison, which was built 200 years ago as a fort. It housed political prisoners, or resistors to the Nazi movement, as well as Jews who did not obey the laws of the ghetto. Forty thousand Jews died in the prison, of starvation or disease. There were never any gas chambers in the Terezin prison.

Many of the photos that I took on Saturday are available here.

Our tour guide told us that 100 people were put into each bunk room, giving them only 45 cm each on the wooden beds. Originally the beds had mattresses, but they were quickly infected with fleas and were removed. The bunk rooms had no blankets and no heat with only one toilet and icy cold water. Each prisoner was given only one prison uniform. Dysentery, typhoid and TB were easily transmitted under these conditions.

Some of the smaller cells were used for Jews. In each of these rooms, 60 men stood upright, even when sleeping. If they lived more than 10 days, they were sent to Auschwitz anyway. The death rate for Jews was by far the highest among all of the prison population.

As an aside, cell one at Terezin housed Gavrilo Princip, the man who assassinated Archduke Franz Ferdinand in Sarajevo and started WWI. He survived here four years and then died of TB.

Each prisoner had a five minute cold shower once a week, and then they had to walk back to their cells through the cold air in the winter. Their uniforms were disinfected with steam only, no detergent.

Terezin was used as a model camp for Red Cross demonstrations to show them hygiene conditions. When the Red Cross left Terezin, they were satisfied by the updates the Nazis made to the prison, such as the shaving room, things that the prisoners never got to use. The Nazis also filmed a propaganda film in Terezin called “A Spa Town, a Gift From Hitler to the Jews.”

The whole town of Terezin is surrounded by walls, and there are 70 Km of tunnels underground. We walked though one of them, which was reopened in 1971, from the cells to the execution wall. The tunnels were not part of the concentration camp. The last execution in Terezin took place on May 2, 1945, when 52 young people were shot.

I was stunned that people live in Terezin now where it seems that the karma is so contaminated. In 1942, the civil population of the town was evacuated and the whole town was turned into a concentration and transit camp for Jews first from Bohemia and then other parts of Central Europe. Altogether, 155,000 people passed through the camp.

The building that houses the museum was a boy’s home, where secret lessons were held by leading figures in academia, art and politics.

10,500 children were sent to Terezin, 400 died there and 7,500 were killed in extermination camps. The children’s memorial lists all the names that they have for the children who passed through Terezin. Drawings by children, who lived in the ghetto, are one of the most poignant exhibits in the museum.

Havel and Lustig

Western Michigan University, sponsors of the Prague Summer Program, presented former Czech Republic President Vaclev Havel and writer and Holocaust survivor Arnost Lustig with honorary doctorates the second night of our program. My friend Sue Mach has shared with me a few of the shots that she took the night of the ceremony. On the left, Havel and his translator shown during his acceptance speech. Havel joked that he has received over 48 honorary doctorates, so people must think that he is more interesting then he really is. He will be visiting Columbia University this fall and Untitled Theater Company #61 has organized a Havel Festival with 17 fully-staged productions in NYC to coincide with Havel's 70th birthday.


Lustig, shown below, did not use a translator, and instead spoke first in English and then in Czech. We wondered a few times whether he was saying the same things in Czech that he said in English, because we could hear laughing when he spoke in Czech. My Czech teacher Hana confirmed my suspicions when she told me that he said a few things to his native audience that he didn't share with the rest of us, such as "if you're not a Communist when you're 20 you have no heart, and if you're still a Communist when you're 30, you have no brain." Lustig was supposed to be one of the program's fiction instructors, but he had to back out, because he is fighting a serious illness.

An Ascetic's Struggle in Prague

I’m not ashamed that, somehow over the last twenty years, I’ve become a secular ascetic of sorts. It happened gradually, I first gave up smoking my senior year of college, then saturated fat for the sake of Jim’s heart. Most recently, I said bye-bye to alcohol, but I still cling caffeine, only reluctantly doing without that drug when I was pregnant. I exercise as much as I can, cook with olive oil, take vitamins, ok many vitamins and follow good sleep hygiene. Since I live on the East Coast and hang out in yoga classes, I haven’t felt like that much of a freak, or struggled with temptations.

I was too smug to think that just by bringing bottles of fish oil, a yoga mat and a list of vegetarian restaurants, that I could seamlessly integrate my lifestyle with the Prague Summer Program.

The first hint of trouble came when I e-mailed my next door neighbor’s son James, who has been living here for over ten years. Which, I asked him was the best vegetarian restaurant, and who was the best yoga teacher? James graciously reminded me that maybe I might think that Prague was a little more like home than it really was. It’s only been 17 years since the Communists left. I knew that, but realized that I probably did come off as an ass. Why were those things so important to me and why were they the very first things that I asked James when I got here?

Two people in my writing class read essays about living big, or not worrying about living forever. Die young and leave a beautiful corpse. I thought about this a lot the last time I was in Europe. It’s hard not to, when so many people smoke and seem to eat many more pastries than we do in the States. Plus, I’m married to a fatalist, so I’ve heard all this before, no need to quit smoking, I’ll die when I’m sixty anyway. Love them while they last these heathens.

I don’t live like this, because I want to live forever, God no. I just feel better, less muscle ache from yoga, clearer head with no hangovers, steady blood sugar from whole grains. So, why am I sliding? How is it that 20-year olds can convince me to hang out in the bar after our readings and drink beer until the bar closes? Why am I eating chocolate croissants with lattes made from real milk (no soy!). Will I still fit through the door into yoga class when I get home?

I’m not that much of a pushover, so here’s the thing, it’s fun to talk to other writers, and when I do I get filled up with ideas that last long into the next day, make it into my journal and keep me from feeling hungry all day long like I do at home. I may have to rethink my boring resolve and dump the judgments that I’ve had of others wasting their time talking in bars. Maybe when I get home I’ll go out more and have more fun.

I'd love to hear what you think about this too. Send in a comment. You can use the link below.

Nuclear Power

I had to share this, after just writing about the nuclear power plant here in CZ:

Documents Show Cracks in UK Reactors as Blair Prepares to Push Nuclear Power

Cesky Krumlov

This past weekend, the program offered a trip to southern Bohemia and the town of Cesky Krumlov. Photos from the stops that we made on the way there and the city itself are posted here.

The highlight of the weekend tour was a concert in the Masquerade Hall of the Castle, where we heard Musica Bohemica performing Czech folk music. Everyone there was entranced by the joy the musicians were having, and we wouldn’t let them leave without three encores. Check them out. They remind me a little of Helicon, but their voices are as rich as any opera singers.

Along the way from Prague to Cesky Krumlov we passed countryside that looked a lot like the Hudson Valley, at least the rolling hayfields did. What’s different, are the stands of pine. Our tour guide said that 1/3 of the country is forested.

There are no shacks, strip malls, or anything else ugly, except for the largest nuclear power plant in the world. Right now it’s only running on two towers. Even though nuclear power terrifies me, it’s keeping the air quality here much cleaner than it used to be when the country relied much more on coal.

On the way back we stopped to see the National Museum of Photography, in Jindrichuv Hradec, where they were having an exhibit of the Czech tradition of nude photography. This was a great way to end the trip, because not only had I been spending the whole weekend taking photographs-no nudes unfortunately, but I did manage to catch a shot of a guy putting his pants back on after swimming in the river in Pisek—but, all of the photography students in the program were along on the trip, as was their instructor. I watched them when we made stops to see what they photographed. It was never the same thing as everyone else. They saw things that I would have easily passed right by and it made me realize that we’re all here trying to do the same things. Trying to see or say things in a way that isn’t ordinary even when the content is.

Prague-- First Impressions

I arrived early Saturday morning to my dorm, Masarykova kolej. It's rumored by the students that the building once housed the secret police during the Soviet occupation of Czechoslovakia. I believe this, since I can easily find my room when I take the stairs up five flights to the fifth floor, but I get lost for 20 minutes when I take the elevator. The hallways form a terror-inducing maze when one is in a hurry to use the bathroom after being out to dinner. I now take the stairs exclusively. When I arrived, I felt fortunate that I had followed many of the suggestions from the "One Bag" Web site. Not that I only brought one bag, but that I did pack light. Much lighter than I ever have for a one week vacation and I'm here for a month.

Now that we've been here for six days, things have settled down. We were all panicked during the first two days, when we found out that a fellow student's laptop was stolen, and then two more were stolen later in the week. Imagine coming here to write for a month and having your laptop stolen in the first few days. Each time I leave the room now, I lock my computer up in a drawer. We were even told to make sure we lock our rooms from the inside when we go to sleep, even though our suites have locks on the outside, because in past years thieves have stolen computers from people's rooms while they were sleeping.

My room is above a courtyard, which sits near the dorm pub. The first few days I had problems with noise coming up from below. Drunken laughter would erupt every five minutes or so and the anticipation of it kept me awake the first few nights, although I suspect the excitement and time change also contributed to my insomnia. I've been sleeping fine, since I made my way to Tesco, the department store to buy a small fan.

Our classes are in Charles University, which sits on one side of Jan Palach Square.


We meet for writing class M, W, and F mornings and Czech language class on T, Th. Everyone I've met is enthusiastic about the workshops and the language class. Our Czech instructor Hana is animated and adorable. We eat out three meals a day together and we always seem to have so much to talk about. It's thrilling to speak with people who have common frames of reference. Everyone has read Kafka and Kundera and together we share our amazement at how much of our experience seems to come right from a Kafka novel. He wasn't using his imagination as much as I thought he was. Certain things that we attempt to do seem to have absurd obstacles, for example, today we were at St. Vitus and I wanted to take pictures inside. When I walked in with my camera, the guard told me that I had to purchase a license (ticket) in order to take photographs. So, I walked back into the lobby to the ticket window and no one was there. I motioned to the guard and he looked inside the window and said. They'll be there in a few minutes. By this time a queue had formed behind me and no one behind me seemed to be concerned that we were waiting at an empty window.

I've posted photos that I've taken the last few days on a separate site. You can view them here.