Hello, Ogilvy?

Every school day we walk to and from the Hradčanská metro stop where we catch a trolley to the boys' school. It's about an eight- to ten-minute walk, depending on the prevailing winds from the atmosphere and the children.

We pass what appears to be a lovely restaurant/cafe. The decor is tasteful: dark wood furniture and white linen table runners. Non-fussy artwork in simple frames on the wall. Several bookshelves graciously lined with reading material. Wine goblets reflecting a satin-y gloss at each place setting. Sophisticated and yet cozy, it's all very inviting.

But while they do have patrons, it's rarely -- dare I say, never -- hopping.

We think it may be a branding issue.

Škoda!

jedna, dvĕ, tři, ... (1, 2, 3, ...)

Acclimating the boys to lots of walking required courting, cajoling, demanding, and diverting. Still does, actually. Diverting their attention (from all of this walking!) proves again and again to be the best bet. But with what? We can point out buildings' cool architectural features only so many times. Dogs are quite popular, but we can't count on spotting them often enough to keep boys' minds off of their feet. (Although, however distasteful pointing out the sidewalk poop mines may be, it does serve a useful purpose of keeping other things off of our shoes.)


sedmnáct, osmnáct, devatenáct, ... (17, 18, 19, ...)

Instead, we count Škodas ("shkodas" -- which makes it all the more fun to say!).


čtyřicet čtyři, čtyřicet pĕt, čtyřicet šest, ... (44, 45, 46, ...)

Almost as ubiquitous as Pilsner Urquell in the annals of Czech industry is the Škoda, a line of automobiles first manufactured in the early 1900s. For many years the car had a dubious reputation. Weak motors, maintenance problems -- Škodas had a good news/bad news story, both stories being that they were cheap.

But they were everywhere.


šedesát osm, šedesát devĕt, sedmdesát, ... (68, 69, 70, ...)

The quality of Škodas improved dramatically when Volkswagen became a company partner in 1991 and then took over in 2000. Škoda's image was slow to improve, but ironic ad campaigns ("It is a Škoda, honest," brought the Brits onboard) helped massage public perception.


osmdesát tři, osmdesát čtyři, osmdesát pĕt, ... (83, 84, 85, ...)

Though durable, Škodas are not nearly as prevalent as they used to be. It's not a given that every car -- or even every other car -- is a Škoda. So they must be counted.


devadesát devĕt, sto, sto jedna, ... (99, 100, 101, ...)

Here are the rules: we're one team, it's not a competition among the members (learned that lesson early). We spot the Škodas, point them out, and count them up. In Czech. Spotters identify the different Škodas by their color. The final tally includes Škodas counted to and from school. Škodas observed from the trolley are fair game. On the trip home we count every Škoda we spot, even if we suspect that we already counted a particular one in the morning. (What do we know? Could be a whole new car. Did we mention there are a lot of Škodas here?)


sto dvacet osm, sto dvacet devĕt, sto třicet! (128, 129, 130!)

Our family record is 130. We keep counting.


(... shhh. Don't tell the boys, but they've learned to count in Czech. ...)

sto třicet jedna? ... (131? ...)

Základní škola Tusarova

Last fall, as this Czech odyssey was taking shape, Karl and I discussed various aspects of our potential life in Prague. My first instinct, with regard to the boys' schooling, was that we send them to one of the international schools such as Riverside School or the International School of Prague or The Prague British School. My rationale was that moving to a foreign country for a year would be disruptive enough for the boys -- let them at least be in an English-language environment.

Then we saw the price tag of such an education. My instinct to preserve our retirement fund trumped hard.

Czech public schools rocketed to the top of the list. And, frankly, the public school route was always Karl's first choice. His parents pitched him -- at 8 -- right into local schools in Lima, Peru, and Mexico City. His rationale was, "I survived, right?"

Karl visited three city schools during his trip in January to set up his contract. He honed in on Základní škola Tusarova in Holešovice. ("Základní škola" literally means "basic school" or elementary school, and Tusarova is its street address. It's kind of the equivalent of, for example, PS 21.)

Holešovice, an area east of our neighborhood, Bubeneč, has a large immigrant population, mostly from Vietnam. Vietnamese were first brought to the Czech Republic in the 1970s as guest workers from a brother state during the communist era. After the Velvet Revolution in 1989, many Vietnamese families chose to stay and became quite entrepreneurial, setting up small businesses all over the city. As they built up their lives and their bank accounts, they were able to bring other family members here from southeast Asia. Many families have lived here for a few generations, but new folks keep coming and their children often start school before any of them speak Czech.

Perfect!

As a result, ZŠ Tusarova is one of the most ethnically diverse schools in the city. And as for language, in Ben's class alone there are three children who began the school year speaking zero Czech: Filip, My, and Ben.

The school administration and teachers were unfazed by the fact that our kids had no Czech. They manage this situation every year. By contrast, one of the other principals Karl met with visibly blanched when Karl noted the language issue.

Thus far we've felt very fortunate to have discovered ZŠ Tusarova and its teachers. It doesn't have anywhere near the financial resources that the international schools have, it doesn't have a gorgeous campus, and it doesn't have a pool or a soccer field. But we think our kids are getting a richer experience than perhaps a hefty tuition could provide.

(Interesting 2007 article on the assimilation of Vietnamese in Czech society here.)

First Day of School!

Although September 1^st was Ben and Garrett's official first day of school, it was really more of a quick Welcome Back day. Everyone arrived at 8am, found their classrooms, met their teachers, and got to check out all the new renovations done to the building over the summer.

Still. It was all a little intimidating (to mom, anyway). It didn't help that we kind of mixed up the parent/kid thing. Karl went with Ben, who fell right into line in the 2nd grade class. Apparently he even jumped in and answered a number question. (Ben, not Karl.)

I, however, was with Garrett in Kindergarten. And it was more or less an orientation to big school for the kids and parents. The teacher spent much of an hour speaking just to the parents. I have no idea what she said at all. The other parents busily took notes and asked questions. Karl finally joined us and was able to catch the last bit, plus the information regarding what G should have in order to be prepared for the next day.

So that was humbling.

The principal and teachers assured us that the boys would be fine and adjusted to Czech within a couple of months. I hoped then – and continue to hope – they're right.

Here is Garrett at a table with some classmates. Doesn't he look excited?


Actually, the boys were okay with everything mostly because we were at school for only 90 minutes and then we went to the zoo for 5 hours.

What kid wouldn't think that was an ideal school day?

Stromovka Zip-Line

How often do you happen upon a zip-line? In Prague, you can do it pretty often. Off for a stroll one evening, we were delighted to stumble upon one in Stromovka, the city's largest park. We all tried it out.



Even Mom.

Bears and beers and Bara

When Karl was in the Czech Republic in 1991-92, he lived in Plzeň with a young couple, Zbyndá and Marketa, and their children, Bara and Voita. At the end of August we spent a delightful day with them. We went on a hike to the ruins of Radyné Castle.

Garrett guards the Hunger Chamber at Radyné.

Along the way we geocached, finding the three caches we set out for (much better luck than we had this summer in NH, where we were 0 for 4).

Ben crawled in and found the "Bear's Den" cache. Here, Ben, Garrett, and Bara check out the loot.

Back at their house, Marketa and Bara showed us their egg-decorating technique. Marketa has already started building up her stash for next Easter, as she sells them locally.

The boys and I tried our hands at egg art.

Marketa's gorgeous eggs (bet you can't find one of ours hiding in the bunch).

Finally, we had a feast of grilled food, veggies and many drinks (homemade black currant wine and -- of course -- Pilsner) outside in the shelter they built in the backyard. No hunger chamber here.


The boys had a fantastic day (we did, too!), but they especially loved hanging out with Bara who did magic tricks, played hide and seek, and in general was more fun than anyone's parents. Especially Ben and Garrett's.

Everyday Gawks

Gotta work on my I'm-so-cool-and-unfazed-by-acres-of-stunning-architecture face. It's hard when you encounter this on a daily basis ~









I haven't even attempted to photograph Staromĕstké náměstí (Old Town Square). I need all my faculties to ward off the local version of Stendhal Syndrome. Well, that and all the tourists. (They are so annoying.)

Bennie and the Jet Lag

Jet lag is a bear under normal circumstances. Shepherding two boys through it is a real chore. But we played them hard during those first few days, especially on Sunday: walking to and from the metro and spending 4 hours in the sun at Žluté Lázně, this great swim park down on the east side of the Vltava. I can't really compare Žluté Lázně with anything I know in the States. It wasn't huge, but the children's area had multi-layered pools with slides and fountains. One pool had mini paddle boats and kayaks.

The boys ran and swam and shrieked and romped with other kids for four hours. Even made friends with an English-speaking boy named Lenny.

Garrett practically fell asleep at dinner. Ben? Up until 1:00am.

Balancing recreation and residence

Our major goals for the first 10 days in Prague were (1) organize and outfit the apartment, (2) get over jet lag, and (3) keep the boys entertained so they didn't resent being dragged halfway around the world. We made headway on all three. But Ben really missed his best friend – the first two days he kept asking me what time it was in Michigan, where N. was on vacation – so we arranged a couple of Skype dates. Skype (internet-based video phone) has been wonderful for feeling connected to our “real” life. But honestly? Getting two eight-year-olds and a five-year-old on a video call? It's little more than goofy faces, couch acrobatics, and Lego show-and-tell.

In other words, a play date.