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So, spring is putting in some tentative appearances: the snow seems to have stopped, the cherry blossoms are in bloom, and people are venturing into the parks. I paid my first visit to Stromovka ("place of trees") Park this weekend.

The weeping willows are drooping picturesquely:

The afore-mentioned cherry blossoms are on display:

And everything is beautifully green:

(And no, I’m not sure what these buildings are.)

There’s also a planetarium in Stromovka, and I was thinking about visiting, as I dearly love a planetarium show. But the commentary would all be in Czech, so I decided against it. For now, anyway.

While waiting for the tram home, I noticed these paintings on the walls of adjoining buildings:

I’d kind of heard of Jiří z Poděbrad, though I couldn’t off-hand tell you much more than that he was a King of Bohemia and that the next metro stop from Náměstí Míru is named for him. Vlasta, on the other hand, was completely new to me, and it took me a bit of Googling to find out who she was. Turns out that she is said to have been the favorite handmaid of the mythical Libuše, the prophetess who founded Prague. Libuše had been careful to protect the rights of women, and when she died, those rights were endangered. So Vlasta rallied the other women, and launched the Maidens’ War. There is, alas, no happy ending. Which is probably why it’s so hard to find out who she was.

I haven’t yet mastered the art of taking photos at night. At the very least, I think I need a tripod, but it may just be that my trusty little Canon isn’t up to the task. I keep trying, though, and I’m actually quite enchanted with this shot of Týnský Chram (Tyn Cathedral):

Très surreal, n’est-ce pas?

Easter Markets

I was curious to know if Easter Markets were substantially different from Advent Markets. There are really only trivial differences. They’re smaller, for one; in fact, Náměstí Míru didn’t even have one. Most of the stalls sell the same touristy junk that they sold before Christmas, and the food and drink are largely the same. In particular, the trdelník stalls are hugely popular:

It’s fun to watch trdelník being made. They start with sweet yeasted bread dough. The baker rolls a chunk of dough into a long snake, which is then wrapped around a stainless steel cylinder. After two or three snakes have been wrapped, the cylinder serves as a rolling pin to flatten the dough while it’s rolled in a mixture of coarse, spiced sugar and almonds. The dough-covered cylinder is then set in a rack that spins the cylinder over an open fire so that the dough bakes and the sugar caramelizes. When the trdelník is all nice and toasty brown, it comes off the fire and is rolled once more in the sugar and almond mixture. Needless to say, they’re best hot off the fire.

The main place where the Easter markets differ from the Advent markets is that the Christmas decorations are (mostly) replaced by decorated eggs:

Easter Market at Anděl

The Easter Market at Anděl is a small one: just a couple of dozen stalls. What I like about it, though, is that it has a pony ride:

It also has a couple of other rides for children. There’s a choo-choo train:

And there’s a car ride:

Easter Market at Staroměstské Náměstí

The big Easter market, at Staroměstské Náměstí (Old Town Square), on the other hand, has a much larger collection of stalls. In addition, there’s a sort of little petting zoo:

The Easter Rabbit?

There’s also a blacksmith at work:

Instead of a Christmas tree, there’s an Easter egg:

There’s also an Easter tree (there, behind the Jan Hus memorial):

Florists and Pomlázky

A few weeks ago, I started seeing these bundles of twigs trimmed with multi-colored ribbons at florists’ stands:

I asked one of my students about them, and he became a little flustered and claimed (rather disingenuously) that they’re just a traditional Spring decoration. It took me a while longer to find out that they are supposed to be used on Easter Monday, when the men whip the women to keep them beautiful and/or fertile. Not surprisingly, the men in my classes all disclaim any participation in this pagan ritual: "It’s practiced only in some of the smaller villages these days", they tell me. And according to this article from the Prague Post, they may be correct. However, several of my women students have admitted that their husbands or boyfriends have brought home their pomlázky, which will be used for the traditional purpose. (I’m staying out of this: they’re consenting adults and I’ve no reason to believe that any of these women is in an abusive relationship.)

And, it turns out that pussy willows aren’t just for Palm Sunday:

So, I finally called Canon again and, this time, I was successful in reaching someone who spoke English. I explained the problem and was referred to an authorized Canon repair shop, which oh-so-conveniently is just a few blocks from my flat. I went in, handed over the camera with the speculation that it was a problem with the CCD. The technician looked at it, agreed, confirmed that this was a problem that Canon had agreed to fix for free, and told me that my camera would be ready within 14 days. He also told me how to check for status on their website. And so it is that, barely 10 days later, I have my camera back again: yippee!

My Friday night visit to hear Martinů’s Řecké pašije (Greek Passion) marked my first visit to any serious theater since leaving California. The opera is based on Nikos Kazantzakis’s novel Christ Recrucified.

Brief synopsis:

The preparations for the annual Passion play in the Greek village of Lycovrissi are interrupted by the arrival of refugees whose village has been destroyed by a Turkish attack. The refugees are defended by the shepherd Manolios, who had been chosen for the role of Jesus Christ. Other villagers, particularly the Passion play’s Mary Magdalene (who in real life is also the village prostitute), St. James, St. Peter, and St. John, similarly attempt to help the refugees, but the priest, Grigoris, leads resistance to their presence. Finally, in an argument, the villager Panait, the Passion’s Judas, kills Manolios, and the refugees leave the village in search of a new home.

This was my first visit to the National Theater (Národní Divadlo), since it’s not open to visitors except for performances. It’s a really lovely theater (alas that I’m still camera-less).

The performance itself was wonderfully sung and beautifully staged, and I very much enjoyed the evening out.