Watch This Video, Part II

Look at how beautiful Slovakia is!  Well done, whoever made this ad.

Here is a Website for You to Peruse

from ICHC, of course

My ma alerted me to a new website that she came across the other day.  It's called Historvius, and you can use it to find historic sites to visit around the world.  You can search by country, time period, or even historical figure related to a site.  Visitors can also upload sites not yet listed; there are currently no Slovak and only three Czech places listed, but you can rest assured that I've already uploaded one as a test and will upload more once the first's been accepted.  Right now Historvius is in beta, so things may change on the site as time goes by, but I encourage you to check it out.

Guláš O'Clock (Pacific Time)

Last month when we had visitors and my brother came home, I decided to attempt to make guláš.  It was a bit daunting to think about being my own guláš master, because I didn't want to screw it up.  But with Rudy's excellent training and my brother's superior cooking skills it turned out really well.  I was quite pleased.

The real obstacle to making genuine guláš wasn't the ingredients--I brought several packets of guláš spice back with me--but the cooking itself.   It's just not possible to build a fire in the backyard, and even if it was, we don't have the proper "bucket" and stand.  In the end we resorted to the method pictured here: sticking the pot on the grill.  Perhaps unorthodox by Slovak standards, but it worked.

Here's the general recipe we used.  I couldn't estimate amounts for the peppers and tomatoes; I just put as many as felt right. 

equal amounts (2 pounds each) beef and pork, cubed 
2 large onions, diced
about 1 pound potatoes (enough to fill up a large mixing bowl)  
bell peppers, chopped
tomatoes, chopped
paprika
salt and pepper to taste
beer (optional) (we used some my brother brewed)
1 packet guláš mix (25 g: salt, paprika, cornstarch, cumin, black pepper, garlic, onion, coriander, marjoram, chili pepper, green pepper)
 

In a large, heavy pot, cook the onions in vegetable oil or lard until translucent. Add the meat, cover, and cook over low heat, stirring occasionally, until 70% done.

While the meat is cooking, cut the potatoes. Most of the pieces should be stew chunk-size, but some of them should be smaller, finer pieces, to thicken the guláš. Place the potato pieces in a bowl and cover them with water. When the meat has cooked enough, pour the potatoes and water into the onion-meat mix. Add paprika and stir until everything is well mixed.

Cook covered at a low simmer for about another 20 to 30 minutes, until the potatoes begin to soften. Add the peppers and tomatoes and more water or beer if the guláš looks too thick. Add more paprika or salt and pepper. Simmer for another 15 or so minutes, until all the vegetables are cooked. Enjoy with bread and a cold beer. Dobrú chuť!

Stand Ye Ready?

This weekend we went up to the area that my dad likes to call Grande Medveď to go to a Renaissance fair with JOUSTING. I've actually only been to a few Renaissance fairs--fewer than you might expect, really--but none of them had jousting. We wouldn't have gone without it.

The fair took place in what used to be a sawmill, an interesting juxtaposition of old and older. I assume the mill is 20th century, but knowing very little about these things, I can't say for sure.

I think my biggest problem with Renaissance fairs, other than the one I'll address in the next paragraph, is that for some reason most of the participants and coordinators feel that the experience must be ribald. It seems like most fairs deal in extremes: women will either be dressed as high-class ladies who are completely covered up, or lower-class ones with their breasts literally falling out of their bodices. I'm not trying to ignore that every period of history had its salacious bits, but those are not the most entertaining or interesting parts to me, and people who don't enjoy those things are mocked. And that's both off-putting and leaving out a lot of history, where, although the Renaissance definitely saw a weakening of the power of the Church, lots of people were still religious and didn't go out of their way to act "mischievous" or whatever cutesy euphemism people want to use for whorishinappropriate.

The silly thing about Renaissance fairs is that some people use them as an excuse to dress up however they want. Sure enough, there was a kid dressed as Link from The Legend of Zelda, and his friends were also in cosplay-looking outfits. Another girl was wearing fairly normal clothes but a headband with little antlers attached to it. People! When it says visitors are invited to dress in Elizabethan attire, they don't mean game characters or antlers! We didn't see a fairy until we were leaving, though, so I guess that's something.

That being said, most of the vendors and the court were really, really well-dressed. We sat behind Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth and her ladies during the joust, so we got to see their costumes close up, and they were quite impressive.
The jousting was done by a group called Knights of Mayhem, who are helping resurrect the sport after centuries. I'm not gonna lie, much of my perception of jousting is based on A Knight's Tale, so while we were watching, lines from the movie kept going through my head (as they do in daily life anyway), and I daresay my mom's as well. Before they actually jousted, the two knights played a few games, like picking up a ring on the butt end of a spear and then throwing the spear at a target on the ground, and then taking swings at a head of lettuce perched on a poor volunteer girl's head. As you can see, she was wearing a helmet and a modern foam helmet underneath (and pretty good garb too, well done young lady), but it couldn't have been relaxing to hear the big horses riding toward you and not know exactly what was going on.


Sir Charles was using a second-string horse, Nightmare (above), who decided after two passes that she didn't want to do this anymore. She stopped short, which for some reason caused him to slide off the side. Twice. The first time was scarier, because we weren't sure what had happened and I for one thought he'd had a heart attack or similar. After the second time, it took rather a while to get back on. Here's when he finally managed it. I like it when the idiot woman behind me says, "Hurry up." Yeah, lady, you hurry up climbing on a horse in 140-pound armor.


I'll definitely be looking for National Geographic's special on the Knights of Mayhem. I suggest you do as well.

Culture shock is

after being home for over a week and a half, still looking at the toilet bowl and thinking, 'It's so clean.'

Leaving Home, Coming Home

I'm leaving Tisovec tonight; I'm leaving Slovakia tomorrow morning. Right now I have no words of my own to tell you what this means to me. I can't believe this day has come. I don't yet entirely believe that I won't be back in six weeks. I'm ready to see the people I love in the States, but I'm not ready to not see the people I love here.

As always, in the absence of my own words, I turn to someone else's. From The Prophet, here is Kahlil Gibran's "The Coming of the Ship" from Juan Cole's website.

Almustafa, the chosen and the beloved, who was a dawn unto his own day, had waited twelve years in the city of Orphalese for his ship that was to return and bear him back to the isle of his birth.

And in the twelfth year, on the seventh day of Ielool, the month of reaping, he climbed the hill without the city walls and looked seaward; and he beheld the ship coming with the mist.

Then the gates of his heart were flung open, and his joy flew far over the sea. And he closed his eyes and prayed in the silences of his soul.

But he descended the hill, a sadness came upon him, and he thought in his heart: How shall I go in peace and without sorrow? Nay, not without a wound in the spirit shall I leave this city.

Long were the days of pain I have spent within its walls, and long were the nights of aloneness; and who can depart from his pain and his aloneness without regret?

Too many fragments of the spirit have I scattered in these streets, and too many are the children of my longing that walk naked among these hills, and I cannot withdraw from them without a burden and an ache.

It is not a garment I cast off this day, but a skin that I tear with my own hands. Nor is it a thought I leave behind me, but a heart made sweet with hunger and with thirst.

Yet I cannot tarry longer. The sea that calls all things unto her calls me, and I must embark. For to stay, though the hours burn in the night, is to freeze and crystallize and be bound in a mould.

Fain would I take with me all that is here. But how shall I?

A voice cannot carry the tongue and the lips that give it wings. Alone must it seek the ether.

And alone and without his nest shall the eagle fly across the sun.

Now when he reached the foot of the hill, he turned again towards the sea, and he saw his ship approaching the harbour, and upon her prow the mariners, the men of his own land.

And his soul cried out to them, and he said:

Sons of my ancient mother, you riders of the tides,

How often have you sailed in my dreams. And now you come in my awakening, which is my deeper dream.

Ready am I to go, and my eagerness with sails full set awaits the wind.

Only another breath will I breathe in this still air, only another loving look cast backward,

Then I shall stand among you, a seafarer among seafarers.

And you, vast sea, sleepless mother, Who alone are peace and freedom to the river and the stream,

Only another winding will this stream make, only another murmur in this glade, And then shall I come to you, a boundless drop to a boundless ocean.

And as he walked he saw from afar men and women leaving their fields and their vineyards and hastening towards the city gates.

And he heard their voices calling his name, and shouting from the field to field telling one another of the coming of the ship.

And he said to himself:

Shall the day of parting be the day of gathering?

And shall it be said that my eve was in truth my dawn?

And what shall I give unto him who has left his plough in midfurrow, or to him who has stopped the wheel of his winepress?

Shall my heart become a tree heavy-laden with fruit that I may gather and give unto them?

And shall my desires flow like a fountain that I may fill their cups?

Am I a harp that the hand of the mighty may touch me, or a flute that his breath may pass through me?

A seeker of silences am I, and what treasure have I found in silences that I may dispense with confidence?

If this is my day of harvest, in what fields have I sowed the seed, and in what unrembered seasons?

If this indeed be the our in which I lift up my lantern, it is not my flame that shall burn therein.
Empty and dark shall I raise my lantern,

And the guardian of the night shall fill it with oil and he shall light it also.

These things he said in words. But much in his heart remained unsaid. For he himself could not speak his deeper secret.

And when he entered into the city all the people came to meet him, and they were crying out to him as with one voice.

And the elders of the city stood forth and said:

Go not yet away from us.

A noontide have you been in our twilight, and your youth has given us dreams to dream.

No stranger are you among us, nor a guest, but our son and our dearly beloved. Suffer not yet our eyes to hunger for your face.

And the priests and the priestesses said unto him:

Let not the waves of the sea separate us now, and the years you have spent in our midst become a memory.

You have walked among us a spirit, and your shadow has been a light upon our faces.

Much have we loved you. But speechless was our love, and with veils has it been veiled. Yet now it cries aloud unto you, and would stand revealed before you.

And ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.

And others came also and entreated him.

But he answered them not. He only bent his head; and those who stood near saw his tears falling upon his breast.

And he and the people proceeded towards the great square before the temple. And there came out of the sanctuary a woman whose name was Almitra. And she was a seeress.

And he looked upon her with exceeding tenderness, for it was she who had first sought and believed in him when he had been but a day in their city.

And she hailed him, saying: Prophet of God, in quest for the uttermost, long have you searched the distances for your ship.

And now your ship has come, and you must needs go.

Deep is your longing for the land of your memories and the dwelling place of your greater desires; and our love would not bind you nor our needs hold you.

Yet this we ask ere you leave us, that you speak to us and give us of your truth. And we will give it unto our children, and they unto their children, and it shall not perish.

In your aloneness you have watched with our days, and in your wakefulness you have listened to the weeping and the laughter of our sleep.

Now therefore disclose us to ourselves, and tell us all that has been shown you of that which is between birth and death.

And he answered,

People of Orphalese, of what can I speak save of that which is even now moving your souls?

Epic Road Trip to the Beach

Every fall, when Slovak schools reconvene and the traditional question "What did you do on your summer vacation?" is intoned, a common answer is that kids went on holiday to Croatia. Croatia's got the closest major body of water to Slovakia, so if you want to go to the beach, that's where you head.

Robin is leaving in the middle of June, and we wanted to do something really fun before she left, so we decided to go to Croatia. This same idea had been floated last year, with no results, but this time we had a fellow English teacher (hereafter to be called Páv) with a van who was willing to drive us there. The main thing was to reach a beach, any beach; but Páv said we might as well go all the way to Dubrovnik. I was in favor of this, since Dubrovnik is on everybody's list of the best walled cities in the world.

Croatia is shaped sort of like a rocked-back P. Dubrovnik is almost all the way at the bottom of the country. If you're driving south along the coast, you briefly pass through Bosnia and Herzegovina, since it has about one town's width of access to the Adriatic Sea (Jadran). Even though you're only there for about ten minutes, they still check (but don't stamp) passports at the Croatia/Bosnia border, especially at about 3 in the morning.

Dubrovnik used to be one of the foremost trading areas between Europe and Asia, and was even its own republic, called Ragusa.* Large parts of the city were destroyed by an earthquake in the 16th century, and then in 1991 the city was besieged by the Serbs. The city is a lot like a cross between Italy and Central Europe. Croatian and Slovak are not entirely mutually intelligible, but almost.

The one major unforeseen element in our trip was that Páv wanted to bring along his brother...his five-year-old brother. Compared to what I was imagining, Pavičko was remarkably well-behaved.

Our route was the same both ways, and was basically Tisovec to Budapest, then toward Zagreb, Split, and then Dubrovnik. We left around 2:45 PM on Thursday and arrived around 5 on Friday morning; on the way back we left around 5:15 AM Monday and got home about 5:45 PM.

There are lots and lots of apartments and rooms to rent in Dubrovnik, especially in the Old Town. We were in a place that Rick recommended. Páv and Pavičko were in a room on the second floor, and Rob and H and I got the apartment on the top floor. It had a kitchen and an air conditioning unit and a fabulous view of the Old Port. We loved it there.

The Adriatic is really salty. It's also really clear and really blue. Most of the beaches are rocky, but they're nice, rounded rocks, and were pretty comfortable. I floated in the water and looked at the Pearl of the Adriatic and it was amazing. In the foreground above is the public beach we frequented.

On Saturday we took a ferry to the island just off the coast, called Lokrum Island. The ride back is the video below; I started recording just after we left Lokrum. It's got a former monastery complex, and an old fort, and a rocky coastline where you have to climb down into the water on short ladders, and a nude section, and a lagoon called the "Dead Sea," at left, and lots of peacocks. We went to one of the rocky swimming areas first, and climbed down some rocks, then the ladder, and then swam over more rocks to get to the open sea to float around in. Getting back in was a little tricky, because you had to go over the rocks again, but this time with the waves pushing you directions you didn't necessarily want to go. I think we all got a little dinged up coming back in. It was kind of fun, though, and I'm glad I did it. Then we headed over to the Dead Sea and hung out there for a while.

Dubrovnik also seems to be a really popular cruise-ship stop. I saw more cruise ships, and really huge ones, there than anywhere else I've been. We seem to have gone at the perfect time, when it was warm enough to swim and spend the day outside, but not yet high tourist season, when the place would be packed.

On Sunday morning, H and I got up and headed out before everyone else. The city walls opened at 8, and I wanted to start walking before they got crowded and the weather got hot. The one major drawback to these particular walls is that you must pay to walk around them (70 kuna for adults, which was just shy of €10, although it does include admission to one of the forts on the north side). Because of the destruction mentioned previously, parts of the walls have been reconstructed, and in general they're very safe—well, except for the smooth and occasionally slippery stone that's used throughout the town. Inside the walls you see all the Mediterranean-style red-tiled roofs, and it reinforces the idea that you're far from central Europe. The highest point of the walls is a tower at the northeast, if I've got my orientation correct, and the western stretch is on the cliff by the sea. There are some houses built right up to the inside of the wall, but there's one bar that's actually on the outside of the western wall. (It's called Buža and we went back that night for drinks. You walk through a doorway in the wall and then down some stairs to a set of terraces with tables. Since Sunday night was cloudy, it was quite dark, and hard to distinguish where the water ended and the sky began. It was very cool.)
The way home was fairly uneventful, except for the fact that Páv promised Pavičko we'd have lunch at McDonald's near Budapest. This led to Pavičko about every 15 minutes telling his brother not to forget that we were going to go there, and also a McDonald's-hunger-induced hysteria on all our parts when we briefly got lost in Budapest, which led to Páv calling the female voice on the GPS something really inappropriate.

We drove 195 kph in a Ford minivan. We drank lots of coffee and Coke. We each got four stamps in our passports. We passed big rigs from Russia, BMWs from Germany, camper trailers from the Netherlands, and a Porsche from Switzerland. We sang along to "Don't Worry Be Happy" a lot. We held our breath going through tunnels. In short, we did everything right for a road trip, and it was a terrific experience.

*Although Marco Polo identifies himself as Venetian, there are sources that indicate that he was born on the Croatian island of Korčula. Look, it is practically a condition of my Master's that I must talk about MP whenever possible.