easter in praha

Two years ago I came back to Vienna.  I stole the phrase ‘delicious strangeness’ from Ian McEwan’s Atonement to describe my re-immersion.  It was used when Cecilia came back home from being at university.  Older, independent, and now a woman, she recalls memories and imprints from her youth as she settles back into her bedroom, strolls around the yard, sits by the fountain, remembers hidden places—gratifying familiarity—delicious strangeness. 

 

So it was two years ago, and so it is now.  My first night here, last Thursday, I strolled down with my jetlag, jacket and scarf to Karlskirche.  I visited this same cathedral one of my first nights as a student six years ago, only then, I got lost (the kind of lost where the vastness of the city demands your respect; akin to the reaction of mountains when you find yourself cliffed out).  But not this time.  As a seasoned veteran I took my camera, sat, watched, and thanked God’s hand for placing me here—what a gift. 

 

In not even a week’s time, I have found this group of 28 students so easy to love.  Smart, kind, passionate, curious, they are eager to learn, find their way to 19 countries, explore, appreciate and include.  Matt, Bintu and I meandered our way to the Hundertwasserhaus Friday to experience yet another of Vienna’s eclectic treasures of art and architecture.  And before we knew it, Daniel took us all to Prague. 

 

The first day was an entire afternoon of free time to roam, so I ate lunch with Daniel at a classic, non-touristy Czech pub with warm, spicy food and cool, tasty beverages.  I spent the rest of my time walking past statues of Franz Kafka, signs that encouraged U.S. citizens to make their absentee vote count (sponsored, of course, by those crazy Democrats Abroad), wander across the most famous Charles Bridge where artisans sold their craft, and all the while kept my footing over the beloved Czech cobblestones. 

 

Tired and satisfied, our group settled quite nicely into one large hotel—with a bowling alley in the basement.  Naturally, we all went down and either made fools of ourselves or made fun of those making fools of themselves.  I was the latter, and it was fun.

 

The next morning we enjoyed the company of the most adorable, Eva, our stylish 27-year-old tour guide.  She had a very professional, contemporary, and realistic manner of speaking to us.  She went into depth about the reign of communism that began after World War II when the Allied Russians came in and that fell with the Berlin Wall in 1989, and that has not only casted a dark shadow over her generation, but how the new ‘democracy’ has been a painful experiment; in fact, she considers her entire generation a kind of painful experiment.  She spoke truthfully and with some shame about the rampant materialism that plagues younger people, and the atheism that is a considerable foundation for the same younger people.  There was an honesty in her that was respectable and trustworthy. 

 

Eva took us around the castle’s grounds where she convinced me that this very Prague castle has the largest castle grounds in the world…beats Versailles…believe it or not.   After walking down a couple hundred steps past pubs and stores, we stopped in front of Saint Nicholas Cathedral where she explained to us the traditional Czech St. Nick day and Easter.  And you got to hear about Easter. 

 

To her credit, Eva mentioned that we would not understand this custom before she told us the Easter story.  Apparently, single women spend weeks preparing elegantly painted eggs to give to suitors that hopefully come to their door on Easter.  The men, on the other hand, don’t do a thing until they all get together early that morning with their sticks.  Yes, their sticks.  These men and their sticks then go to the houses of the women they find attractive, knock on the door, and then proceed to beat the best looking women.  The best looking women then limp to the table where the detailed eggs lie and thank him for thinking so highly of her.  Soooo, Eva says that the next day, women desire to go to work or university with the most bruises or sore butts.  And in her words, the women who don’t have sore butts but instead are butt ugly have “psychological issues”…no joke.  Oh, and let’s not forget that this just encourages abusive relationships in an entire country. 

 

My mouth was open the entire time she told this story.  And she was right, I don’t understand. 

 

Easter aside, we had a delightful end to our time in Prague, and took the bus back to our home at Hotel Theresianum.  We are trying to eat Tichy Eis gelato as much as possible since it closes next week, had a movie night last night with Before Sunrise as our featured film (a sweet tribute to Vienna and good dialogue), and everyone is getting details in order for this weekend’s adventures.

 

Today I spent more than half the day with sweet Chelsea.  She had her purse stolen yesterday, which included everything but the kitchen sink.  For future knowledge, if you lose your US passport in the city Vienna just give me a call.  After spending hours figuring our way to the Embassy we find that passports are issued at the Consolate.  Oh good, where in the world is that?  Again, call me.  Chelsea and I later found our way to the Austrian Police Station and a Western Union on the other end of town.  We are such pros at appearing lost and in need here in Vienna.  She is our Georgian Belle with the friendliest demeanor, most inviting smile, wakes her roommate up with a “Good morning, cupcake,” and desires to know and understand people from around the world.  What a trooper she has been in light of losing everything, and what a cohesiveness she brings to the group. 

And what joy it is for me to know and understand these students of Wien Zweitousandacht.