The Riches of Bída

I'm way behind on posts that have been distilling in my head. My writing energy is diverted these days by a creative nonfiction writing class I'm taking online. I'll try to chip away at some of the building blog backlog.

Back in early January, we received a generous invitation from our friends Vašek and Madeleine to spend a night out at their country house, which is called Bída, in the Czech Moravian highlands. Bída was named long before Vašek and Madeleine bought it and began renovating it 20 years ago. Depending upon its use, "bída" means misery, poverty, squallor, or woe. Put that in your brochure, eh?

Vašek and Madeleine don't own a lot of land out in the country -- maybe an acre, which includes a farmhouse, some outbuildings and a large garden -- but their property is in the middle of the open fields of surrounding dairy farms. The property is off the electrical grid. They have a well and a regular toilet connected to pipes, but no running water. Everything has to be brought in. Buckets are kept next to the commode, and the water is used "as necessary" for flushing. Which reminded me of the sign in the bathroom at my Aunt Katherine and Uncle Roy's lake house, where I visited as a child:

In this land of fun and sun,
we never flush for number one.

We should get one of those for Vašek and Madeleine. In Czech, of course.

Most weekends over the last 20 years, Vašek and Madeleine have left what they've viewed as the drudgery of Prague -- coal dust and smoke, noise, reminders of modern-day worklife, and people, including all the tourists -- to escape to the simpler life of Bída. Back in the fall we'd asked them what they did at the cottage.

"Oh, there's lots of work to be done!" Vašek said. "Something always needs to be repaired, the roof has to be made ready for winter. We have to cover all the rhododendrons so they don't become dinner for the deer, the windmill is broken -- that needs to be fixed, ..."

"...first we have to light the fires to warm up the place. At this time of year you can see your breath inside the house," Madeleine went on. "Then I get out the yeast and flour and start the bread dough. I make about 12 to 15 loaves while we're there. Once they're underway and rising, I harvest and prune in the garden. I put up a lot of fruits and vegetables. We have lunch, then we're back out ..." 

It sounded exhausting. But every weekend, off they'd go. Eagerly, happily.

*   *   *

A two-hour train ride brought us to Havlíčkův Brod by mid-morning, where Vašek met us at the train station. After a little tour of the area, we parked about a half-kilometer from the cottage. No plows go to their house in the winter. We had to make the short hike up the hill, pulling our duffel bag on a small sled.

Garrett wanted to pull the sled ...

until he saw where we were headed.

Then he let Karl help him.

(BTW, did you notice that Ben is not wearing any gloves? He seems to be hiking his arms up into his sleeves here. That's because he left his gloves in Vašek's car. Which was better than having left them on the train, the scenario we feared later when we first realized he didn't have his gloves. This is a recurring theme this year. Gloves left on trams, in cars, at church. Just yesterday we retrieved the gloves Ben left at school on Friday ... and then he left them in the back of our friends' van. Oh well, at least it wasn't the city bus.) 

The "cottage" is an old farmhouse that Vašek and Madeleine have renovated room by room. It has slept up to 25 folks comfortably. There are plenty of beds. And Madeleine has crafted and hung privacy curtains (à la It Happened One Night) for the beds tucked into corners and gables of common rooms. There's still only one toilet, though.

We arrived to find Madeleine busy in the deliciously warm and aromatic kitchen. She's standing in front of the new stove and oven they put in last summer. As with the rest of the house, they did much of this work by themselves. They might hire some men to help out, but one of them is always part of the labor.

Bread doughs already rising, Madeleine was working on lunch, including dessert: apple strudel!

Madeleine and Vašek showed us our bedroom before we got a tour of the farmhouse. Here's where we slept.

Snuggy duvets, wool blankets, and fuzzy bathrobes helped cozy up the space. Plus, we were directly above the heat of the kitchen.

The boys were eager to get out and play in the snow, so we deposited the duffel bag while Vašek found cross-country skis and boots for Karl, Ben and me.

Ben was able to fudge his way into the smallest boots they had if we double-socked him. I borrowed Madeleine's gear.

Garrett tried the skiing, but ultimately he was happier to let others do the heavy lifting. Ben, on the other hand, loved the cross-country skiing! He was eager to get out on the skis every opportunity he had. 

Lunchtime came, and it was time to head back inside.

Madeleine prepared svíčková, traditional Czech comfort food of marinated beef tenderloin in a purée of carrots, parsnips, celeriac root and onion, served with bread dumplings and a garnish of cranberry sauce and whipped cream. Yum.

It was delicious, even the boys said so.

That's one tangible benefit of the boys' time at the Czech school. Eating a bag lunch from home was not an option. If they wanted lunch, they ate whatever the cafeteria was serving. So Ben and Garrett learned all about many traditional Czech meals, including svíčková, which was one of their favorites. To sit down with a dish they wouldn't have normally chosen among kids eating the same meal with gusto opened up the boys' minds and palettes to lots of new foods.

Here's something that didn't take a lot of convincing to try.

The apple strudel!

Can almost still smell it.

With lunch behind us, Madeleine and Karl set their minds on the next meal, swapping bread-making tips and twisting some rolls for dinner. Madeleine popped these into the outdoor bread oven in the afternoon.

Back to the snow! Ben wanted to check out the view from the sled.

And then I got the best aerobic workout I've had since we arrived in Europe, pulling Garrett back up the hill to the house. 

That felt good! So did this ...

two snuggly boys in a snow squall.

We arrived back at the house just as the bread finished baking.

Garrett and Ben settled down to relax after the snow play.

But the next morning, Ben was eager to get back out on skis again.

We were delighted that he was so taken with cross-country skiing! (When we left Bída, he requested to ski back to the car rather than walk.)

There was a lot of moisture in the air, so the hoar frost was everywhere.

I hate to rely on a cliché, but it really was a winter wonderland.

My hair and Karl's hat got some frosty highlights.

Our time at Bída was over too quickly. But before we left, I poked around the cold cellar to check out the stash. As you might have noticed, squalls can descend quickly, and Vašek and Madeleine have to be prepared to hunker down for awhile in case they get snowed in.

It's safe to assume they have provisions to last several weeks. Apples, pears, root vegetables, wine, beer, medovina (mead),

dried goods: legumes, flour, salt, sugar, other baking necessities (double-bagged and encased in screens to deter mice), 

canned goods, some store-bought, but much of this was canned and put up by Madeleine.

I'd say they were set.

Vašek and Madeleine have created a wonderful retreat for themselves, their family, and friends. We were honored to be invited out to Bída. And after spending a couple of days there, we understand the draw. Especially since they didn't put us to work on the windmill.