Tag Archives: Czech Republic

art, musings, nostalgia

The many stray paintings and sculptures in my life…

If you read my first travel blog post yesterday, you might know that Bill and I went into Wiesbaden. We were on a special mission to have some newly acquired paintings professionally framed. This may not seem like the most exciting thing to be doing on a Saturday. I know that for many years, I would have preferred to have done almost anything besides visiting an art gallery with picture framing services. For most of my life, I found most anything involving picture framing unbearably dull. Why? Because I literally grew up in the business.

In 1980, my parents moved from Fairfax, Virginia to Gloucester, Virginia. For so many reasons, that move rocked my world. My dad had retired from the Air Force in 1978, when I was about to turn six. We moved from England, which was the only place I remembered living, to suburban Fairfax, where we lived down the street from my Aunt Doris and her family. Now, we were in very rural Gloucester County, where my father was going to be running his own custom picture framing business called The Corner Cottage.

The Corner Cottage was the name my parents gave the business, which was literally run out of our house. Prior to that, the framing business was called Ellis Smith Enterprises. That was the name of the tacky guy who had owned the house before my parents bought it. He really was pretty tacky– I remember he had put a mirror over the bed in one of the bedrooms. I guess he liked watching himself with his wife. I remember the bathroom in that room had a plastic, brown, padded seat and ugly mirrors all over it. My parents promptly redecorated that room, starting with taking down the mirror over the bed!

My parents’ decision to move to Gloucester and buy Ellis Smith Enterprises changed everything for me. My dad went from being an Air Force officer, to a salesman for the Solite Corporation (he sold gravel and concrete and such), to a self-employed picture framer who also sold art. I hated Gloucester when we first moved there. I still didn’t like it when I permanently moved away from there in 1999. It’s only recently that I’ve started appreciating the county where I grew up and can see why people love it. Of course, Gloucester has changed a lot since 1980, although a lot of the same people (or their descendents) live there.

As a kid, I had no interest in art, other than enjoying elementary art classes at school. I truly thought my parents’ business was really boring. Making matters worse was the way my dad would make me do things like clean behind the chopper, where he would cut moulding into precise pieces. I had to vacuum the shop and dust the pictures. All the while, he’d be watching CBS day TV, especially The Young and the Restless, which was his favorite soap. Or worse, he’d be listening to WFOG, the local easy listening station, which played absolutely cringey Muzak, which he’d sing along to. I’d watch him when he was on the phone, using his left hand to doodle mindlessly while he talked. I was reminded this morning of the many doodles my dad made over the years. He probably had a gift for drawing that he never explored.

For most of the years he ran his custom picture framing business, Dad had a woman working with him. For the first few years, it was our neighbor, Joanne, whose daughter was a year older than me. Joanne later opened her own framing business, which failed. Then he hired Deborah, who was a much better fit on many levels. In some ways, she was kind of an angel. She was, and still is, a tremendously talented artist in her own right, and she didn’t/doesn’t have a drinking problem. When my parents retired, Deborah eventually bought their house and the business. She still runs it today.

As I got older, the framing business sometimes came in handy. I never had to buy posterboard, because my dad had the vastly superior matboard available. He also had professional grade window cleaner, which I wish I could get ahold of now. Sometimes, he’d do fun things with products from his business. One time, he made me a periscope out of matboard, mirrors, and tape. That was cool.

My mom was also part of the business. She had her own shop, where she sold knitting, candlewicking, needlepoint, cross-stitch, and other art related supplies. My mom is super talented with a needle, among other things. In her 85 years of life, she has made many beautiful things with a needle and thread or yarn, as the case might be. And her business survived, even when Walmart came to town, because she offered high quality products, professional services, and had incredible talent for turning a canvas into a masterpiece. My mom’s business also occasionally came in handy for me, too. I grew up showing my horse, Rusty, and I never wanted for yarn for braiding his mane and tail. I never learned to knit or cross-stitch, though. I had no interest.

My mom taught many people– mostly local women– the secrets of her craft. I wasn’t among her students because I also found her business boring. I don’t have a gift for creating things with needles and threads. I don’t have the patience or diligence to stitch beautiful designs into cloth. Although I appreciate colors, I have a hard time deciding on color schemes. Consequently, a lot of my own artistic creations are a mess. My sister has artistic talent, no doubt taken from both parents. Me? My gift from them is music… but when I was growing up, I wasn’t interested in doing that, either. It wasn’t until I was an adult that making music captured my heart.

As a middle-aged adult, I’ve discovered that I like art, too. I like to buy art more than make it, because although I do like to draw, I’m not particularly good at drawing. I don’t come up with cool visual concepts like artists do. When I think of something I’d like to draw, something else intrudes and it turns into something too busy and messy. When I was growing up, I liked art class… until I had a teacher who asked me to draw only what I could see. I found it very difficult, even though being asked to do that was kind of revolutionary. It was at that point that I stopped taking art classes. I simply don’t have the knack.

My own personal artistic expression comes in the form of music and writing, probably in that order. I’m much better known as a writer, but probably more appreciated as a singer… especially when I behave myself and sing nice songs. If you’re a regular reader of this blog, you might know that sometimes I’m provocative. I like to cuss, and I’m not always nice or politically correct. I like to challenge people and make them think. And I won’t lie… sometimes I enjoy shocking people. But when I sing a pretty song written by someone else, people usually like it. They don’t always like what I write. Of course, if I start writing songs, all bets are off as to how that might turn out. I’ll keep working on learning guitar. Maybe sometime, I can experiment.

So what does this all have to do with yesterday’s outing? I’m getting there…

As I was talking to the guy who took our order, breathing in that familiar smell of art supplies, moulding, matboard, and window cleaner, I noticed a very weird sculpture on the top of a curio. It was a very provocative piece of art. I have a feeling it’s no accident that they put it where they did. It would be easy to miss it. And yet, it seemed to jump off the curio at me, as if it wanted me to take it home. I kept looking at the sculpture and even snuck a photo of it.

It’s ugly and weird… and I would love to own it.

We didn’t buy the sculpture yesterday. We were too busy talking about what we wanted to do with the paintings. I had two kitschy dancing cat paintings we bought in Prague that I wanted to be framed. But I also had a gorgeous painting (see featured photo) that I found in Cesky Krumlov. Like the above sculpture, it had jumped off the wall at me… like a stray dog, begging me to take it home.

I remember walking into the gallery, noticing all the usual landscapes and modern depictions of people… and then I saw this fascinating painting of a bunch of different birds. I loved the colors. I enjoyed the weird paranoid mood of it, even if I’m not particularly interested in birds. It stopped me in my tracks and made me think, just like the weird sculpture above did. I found myself telling the proprietor I had to have it. She was delighted, especially when we threw in a pretty but somewhat less interesting painting of a snowy church in Cesky Krumlov.

The way I found myself saying “yes” to the painting is the same way I said “yes” to adopting Noyzi the Kosovar street dog. He was unlike any other dog I’ve ever had in my life. I worried that he’d turn our house upside down… and right now, he’s lying behind my chair, quiet and contented. I don’t regret bringing him home.

I also don’t regret bringing home any of the weird art in my house. And I do have a lot of weird art. I suspect it annoyed our former landlady that my taste in art is so strange and unconventional. I’m sure it helped convince her that I’m a terrible, peculiar, perverse person who deserved to be disrespected and cheated.

If that sculpture is still in the gallery when we go back to pick up our dancing cat paintings, there’s a very good chance I’ll buy it. I think it might be meant for me. I don’t know where I’ll put it. Maybe in the downstairs bathroom? I can’t stop talking about it, though. Just this morning, I was talking about how the way the artist depicted the hairy spots and the breasts… it reminds me of the face of panda bear. You see? I love that. I love art that makes me see other things and think about what else could be. I don’t care if it’s ugly, obnoxious, or weird… or depicts things like someone taking a shit, which is a universal part of life for every creature.

Some of the weird art in my office. Each piece has a story.

If the sculpture isn’t there when we go back to the gallery to pick up the art, I guess it wasn’t meant to be… We will be back at least twice, though. The painting in the featured photo has to be mounted and stretched before it can be framed. That will take time.

If the gallery does a good job on this, I may go back with more art that needs framing. We have a dinosaur painting that has great sentimental value to us. We bought it from a Russian artist named Korelov in Karlovy Vary (Karlsbad) in the Czech Republic, back in 2009. At that time, we couldn’t afford custom picture framing. Now that we can, maybe it’s time I had it done… You can see it below with the cool painting we bought in Greece in 2013 and had framed in North Carolina.

When I saw this in Karlovy Vary, I had to have it. The artist talked us out of it at first. He said it was “expensive”. We bought a different painting that wasn’t as cool. Later, I had Bill email the artist and he sold it to us online and shipped it to Germany.
A painting I bought in Greece. It was a lot cheaper than the Plaka scene we bought that was done by a known artist. This was done by a student. It’s another one of my favorites. It makes me think.

If you come to my house, it won’t look like my mom’s house. My mom has beautiful stuff everywhere, artfully arranged. She’s a very neat person, so clutter is minimal. My house is messier. Not everything matches or coordinates seamlessly. I have some stuff that is odd and even offensive. You might not like it. But I’ll bet some of it will make you stop and think. That’s my goal… Come to think of it, making people stop and think is also often my goal when I write blog posts.

Yeah… some of my art is like a stray dog, begging to come home with me, where it will be loved and appreciated. I know it’s crazy, but I kind of love that sculpture. I almost wish we still lived in our old house in Jettingen. I’d buy it and display it in a conspicuous place just to annoy our former landlady. 😀

I’m kind of petty that way… 😉

We’ll see if I am meant to buy that piece of art. If I am meant to give it a home, I may have to ask for opinions on where it should be displayed… Seriously, though… maybe I’d put it in the bathroom and remind myself that my body could always look worse than it does. At least my body doesn’t remind anyone of a panda bear.

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family, good news, memories, travel

Our vacation is now winding down…

And boy, do I have a lot to write about on my travel blog. We have had an absolutely awesome time. I’ve enjoyed this trip a lot more than I did our trip to Scandinavia a few months ago, even though that trip was a lot more expensive. Every day, we’ve met new people, had unusual experiences, taken lots of photos, bought new things that are unique and original, consumed good food and drink, listened to excellent live music, and walked and climbed ourselves ragged. I’ve managed to surprise myself by being up to the physical challenges I’ve asked of my body, even though I currently have a cold.

Next month, we will prepare to go to Armenia, which I hope won’t be dangerous. I doubt we’ll have too many problems, though, because we plan to mostly stay in Yerevan. I just want to show Bill around my old stomping grounds. I wasn’t super mobile as a Peace Corps Volunteer, so I think we’ll be alright.

This has probably been one of the best trips I can remember, and we’ve had some really good ones. I hope we can equal the fun next month. I am looking forward to getting home tomorrow and writing up the whole story of this journey we’ve been on for the past ten days… or so it will be by tomorrow.

The Czech Republic is a lot like a big melting pot now. We’ve met a few people who have found refuge here as their home countries have fallen on hard times. A Ukrainian lady who knew a phrase in Armenian waited on us at lunch time, and a Russian man sold us paintings that he and his wife created. A few days ago, we bought more art from a Czech woman. We also bought some traditional Czech art from a man two doors down from our hotel. We got some toys for Bill’s grandchildren from a Greek woman who spoke better German than English…

Speaking of grandchildren. We learned a couple of days ago that Bill’s latest grandchild is a girl. I hope that the world will someday become a more peaceful place for her and her still very young siblings. But for now, we’ve found peace and comfort in Czechia. I hope we can come back soon. And if you want to know the whole story, watch my travel blog. I will soon be filling it with new photos, videos, and funny stories!

See you all tomorrow… I’m kind of worn out now. Need a rest, and to read more of Cassidy Hutchinson’s book. 😉

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book reviews, family, psychology, religion

A review of Women We Buried, Women We Burned, by Rachel Louise Snyder…

Greetings from Brno, in the Czech Republic. We had quite a drive from quaint Cesky Krumlov to this eastern city about which I’ve been curious for some time. Our hotel, which is very highly rated in reviews, is located outside of the city center. It’s quite modern and comfortable, but surrounded by many apartment buildings. The hotel itself shares space with a gym/spa and an ophthalmologist’s office, but there is a Vinotek nearby. I look forward to seeing the city and doing some exploring over the next few days. We’ll be here until Sunday.

I just finished reading Rachel Louise Snyder’s book, Women We Buried, Women We Burned: A Memoir, which was published on May 23 of this year. I had not heard of Snyder before I downloaded her book. It was a suggested sell by Amazon, when I bought another book in August. I thought it looked like an interesting read, so I bought it without knowing much about it. And now that I’ve read it, I have to join in the chorus of overwhelmingly positive reviews Snyder has received for her incredible life story. I related to it on so many levels, and yet a lot of other details of her story left me completely shocked and amazed. More than once, I said “Wow” out loud. I am glad to be finished reading it, because I’ve been dying to write a review.

On to my thoughts…

Rachel Louise Snyder, the author of Women We Buried, Women We Burned, lost her mother to breast cancer when she was just eight years old. Her mother was just 30 years old when she was diagnosed with her illness, and she was dead just a few years later. Rachel and her brother, David, came home from school one day to find an ambulance parked at her house in Pittsburgh. It wasn’t unusual for Rachel to see an ambulance at the house, given how sick her mother had been for most of her young life. But usually, the ambulances had the lights going as they picked up her mom to take her to the hospital. This time, the lights weren’t on, and there was no sense of urgency. Rachel’s mother, Gail, had died.

Rachel’s dad, who was raised Christian, but had converted to Judaism to marry Gail, soon started dating again. Rachel and David also had some babysitters who took care of them when their father was working. Their father’s first girlfriends were pretty normal people who introduced Rachel to rock music and makeup. Unfortunately, no one came along early enough to help Rachel when it was time for her first training bra; that was left up to a hapless clerk at Kmart (dear God!).

After some time passed, Rachel’s dad met and married a fundamentalist Christian woman named Barb who lived in Illinois. The house in Pittsburgh was sold, and Gail’s furniture was brought to Illinois, where Barb arranged it in a rental house. Rachel was told that she must call Barb “Mom” and think of Barb’s son and daughter as her siblings. She was told she was now a Christian, and she and David were sent to Faith Center Christian Academy, a school run by their Aunt Janet and Uncle Jim. Kids in that school wore uniforms and learned silently, using Personal Accelerated Christian Education (PACE) booklets. Rachel struggled to learn this way, especially when it came to math and science.

When the Christian school closed after her eighth grade year, Rachel and David went to the local high school, where Rachel continued to struggle to succeed. Rachel’s dad became extremely rules focused, and he employed corporal punishment to get compliance from his children. He even used Rachel’s mother’s sorority paddle from college to deliver the punishments until one day, the paddle broke. Rachel became rebellious and apathetic about school. She used drugs and ran around with guys. One day, her father presented her and David, as well as Barb’s children, with suitcases. He told them to pack up and leave, even though Rachel and David were still minors.

Pretty soon, Rachel was trying to survive on minimum wage jobs. That was one thing Rachel had going for her… a very strong work ethic and the ability to learn quickly. She soon found herself in the company of a kind young man who told her she needed to go to college. That was when Rachel’s life began to turn around, and she went on an incredible journey that took her all the way around the world and to a professorship at American University (my husband’s, and my sister’s, alma mater… 😉 ). She teaches journalism and creative writing there.

Rachel’s story is long and a bit convoluted, but incredible…

There were so many times when I was reading this book that I was left shocked and amazed. I could relate to it on many levels. I didn’t have an upbringing as difficult as Rachel’s was. My mom is still alive, and neither of my parents were fundies. I was never kicked out of their house. I did okay in school, too. But we definitely had our problems. My issues were more with my dad than my mom. He always seemed to be ashamed of me, and he was a big fan of corporal punishment. Dad was also an alcoholic, and he took out a lot of his frustrations and problems on me. So, when Rachel wrote about how her dad treated her, I related.

I also related when Rachel found her way into the expat lifestyle. She found her way by starting with the Semester at Sea program through her college. It sparked a hunger to see and experience the world, which she did. She became a citizen of the world, even choosing to have her daughter in Thailand instead of the United States, the only country where her international health insurance policy would not work due to the high costs of medical care there!

But I think what was really profound for me was when it dawned on Rachel that she wasn’t responsible for the bad decisions her father and stepmother made when she was still a child! When Rachel became a mother, she realized that she didn’t want her daughter to be burdened by guilt the way she had been, asked to forget about her mother, adapt to a new religion in a new state, and finally, when she couldn’t conform, kicked out of the family home and mostly forced to fend for herself. To her credit, Rachel did maintain a distant relationship with her family. Barb’s older children and Rachel’s brother didn’t. There were two more sons with Barb and Rachel’s dad, and they also maintained relations, even though they all struggled through the legalistic approach their father took toward parenting.

Rachel’s father was also one to believe in right wing conspiracy theories, which made things much worse. Toward the end of Barb’s life, Rachel’s dad had lost a lot of money in get rich quick schemes, and his house went into foreclosure. When Barb got sick with cancer, he consulted quacks to help her. It’s a testament to Rachel’s decent– Christlike– demeanor that she found it in her heart to help them, in spite of everything.

I guess if I have to offer a criticism of this book, it’s that it’s pretty long, and Rachel’s story is incredible on many levels. I almost felt like it could have been two books. She went through several phases in her life that she explains in detail, and they take time, energy, and fortitude to read. I almost feel like some of it could have been edited out or slimmed down a bit. And yet, when I look at Rachel’s life as a whole, I’m amazed by it. I am similarly amazed by my own life, and how it’s turned out. In some ways, I feel a kindred spirit with Rachel, although she’s done better as a writer than I have. 😉

Anyway, if you have the inclination and the time to read Rachel Louise Snyder’s book, Women We Buried, Women We Burned, I would highly recommend it. It surprised me, in a good way, on so many levels. I’m impressed by her grit and gumption. She clawed her way into what could have been a very mediocre and troubled lifestyle. I applaud her for managing that, and for writing this book.

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travel

We are now in Cesky Krumlov… (cross-post)

We arrived here, in the Czech Republic, yesterday afternoon. The drive wasn’t too bad, because it was a German holiday. But once we got over the border, we wound up on some pretty primitive roads through the country. It kind of reminded me of the last time we went to Croatia, although we have been to Czechia a lot more times than we’ve been to Croatia. It just hasn’t been recently.

It wasn’t easy to find the right parking lot for where we’re staying. We ended up parking at the bus station; then left our bags in the car, and walked into the cobblestone town, which is just as pretty as I remember it from 2008. As we were checking into the monastery, Bill recognized one of his colleagues, who had brought her mom, aunt, and uncle with her. They were checking in, too! It’s yet another one of those times when I (or we) run into someone we know, somewhere unexpected. It also happened on our cruise back in June, when we ran into a guy and his wife we met on a cruise in 2012.

Prior to this year, I’ve run into people I know, or people my friends know, in exotic places. The most amazing example was back in the 90s, when I was waiting tables, and I waited on a couple with an Irish accent. They turned out to be neighbors of my friend, Chris, from Newtownards, a town near Belfast. But I’ve also run into old work buddies, like in Texas back in 2013, when Bill and I ran into a couple I knew when I worked as the cook at a Virginia summer camp as we were going to see one of Bill’s high school pals. Or back in the 90s, when I randomly reunited with a guy whose floor I slept on in Sofia, Bulgaria, at the Peace Corps office in Washington, DC. During that same period of time, I ran into the Vice President for Student Affairs at my college and another woman I worked with at the summer camp.

It always amazes me when this happens, but it shouldn’t. By now, I should expect that at least when it comes to me, and my life, it’s a very small world after all. I don’t know if other people have experienced this phenomenon, though. You can tell me in the comments if you have.

Anyway, once we got parked, Cesky Krumlov gave us a warm welcome. It’s not super crowded now, although I have seen lots of Asian families. That’s not so unusual, especially in this area. Bill and I have run into so many Asian bus tour groups in Austria and the more popular cities in Bavaria. It makes sense that they’d visit a beautiful old city like Cesky Krumlov, which is now very touristy indeed. We’ve also run into a few Americans and at least one couple from France. But it’s not totally overrun with people right now, and the weather is good. So I expect we’ll have a great time exploring, then get back on the road tomorrow, to head to Brno.

I’ll put this post on the travel blog, too, for the half dozen regular readers I have there who might enjoy it… 😉

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Bill, funny stories, love, marriage

A funny thing happened on the way to Tübingen…

It’s Monday again, and Bill and I are hanging out in our deserted hotel. I mentioned in the previous post that there isn’t enough staff to run the hotel, so they closed it until tomorrow (which is a holiday in Germany, anyway). Because we rented an “apartment” (which actually looks more like a former suite with a kitchenette), we were allowed to stay and self-cater. The lobby is closed, but we can come and go through the garage and a side door with a chip activated key.

Yesterday was an amazing day. I described it briefly in my travel blog. We visited a different type of cave– one that is only opened on the first Sunday of the warm months– and we visited another cave site and had lunch. We didn’t go into the other cave, as we’ve seen it before. Instead, we just people watched and enjoyed beautiful weather and scenery. We also met another couple, who were curious as to what we were doing there. Caves don’t usually attract Americans, I guess.

Today, we’ll go into Stuttgart and have some lunch, then see our dentist. I’m sure the dentist will be shocked by the big hole in Bill’s mouth. He lost a tooth in August and had to have it extracted by a different dentist, since our regular one was on vacation. After that, we’ll head back for our last night in this beautiful old college town, then head out on our fall vacation to Czechia. I’m sure there will be lots of conversation, as there was a couple of days ago.

Saturday morning, as we were heading down here, I was talking about how I spent last week, while Bill was in Bavaria. I mentioned that I got really bored one day and ended up watching a really disgusting, but apparently legal, porn video. Bill looked amused as I explained. I said, “Well, it was a really dull afternoon, and I was missing you…”

So I started to describe the video to Bill, who was nodding his head and saying, “Uh huh, uh huh… Yeah, I know.”

And I laughed and said, “Oh, so you’ve seen that one?”

That made him bust out laughing. “No!” he protested, “I haven’t seen it, but I’ve seen enough of those types of videos to know where this description is going.”

I didn’t even watch the whole video because it was just too gross for me. If the truth be told, I don’t like watching those kinds of videos because they’re either boring or disturbing. I don’t enjoy watching graphic sex scenes, especially when they’re kind of violent, as that one was. So I only lasted about two or three minutes before I moved on to something less obscene. I’d much rather read something or even write something stimulating myself, than watch a video that is poorly acted, full of nothing but mechanics or acrobatics, or liable to give me nightmares.

I did think it was funny, though, that Bill and I could have an honest conversation about that video and end up laughing. We really are good friends, as much as we are husband and wife. And we always somehow manage to have a good time together, no matter what. Like, for instance, yesterday’s excursion… which ended up consisting of visiting a much less physically challenging cave, seeing some beautiful natural settings in gorgeous fall weather, meeting new people, and watching a huge flock of sheep being driven to a new pasture. It was kind of magic… and amazing that we could share it together. I’m grateful for the time I have with Bill. He is a wonderful partner– the perfect partner for me.

I’m ready to get back on the road tomorrow. I’ve been looking forward to visiting the Czech Republic again. It’s an amazing country, with a lot to see, neat people, good food and beer, and lots of art to buy. Or, at least there was the last time we visited. I want to buy some new stuff to put on our walls.

I don’t look forward to seeing the dentist today, but once it’s over, we can focus on having a lot of fun. I’ve been missing fun lately. And these kinds of trips are what really keep us over her, anyway. I love doing deep dives into Europe, and visiting places where most Americans never have a chance to go. Best yet, these trips keep me busy, so I don’t end up watching videos that Bill can describe without having seen them.

He did say he couldn’t wait to tell his therapist about that conversation. I’m sure the guy will get a huge kick out of it. He told Bill that I probably represent the most stable relationship he’s ever had in his life. I could probably say the same thing about Bill. He loves and accepts me for who I am. In fact, he actually prefers me to be who I am, even if I do sometimes venture onto questionable Web sites when I get bored. Anyway… at least I’m still interested in sex, right?

Featured photo was taken yesterday near the Nebelhohle (Mist Cave). I miss living near a lush forest. Especially at this time of year.

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