The decision to spend our sabbatical year abroad was made several years before we actually applied for sabbatical leave. The seeds may have been sewn during our first sabbatical year, which was spent in Lawrence, Kansas. It was a year rich in mathematics, but low on the scale of cultural or personal enrichment. The decision to spend our sabbatical year in Prague was less well thought out. There was some serendipity involved, for we had closer professional and personal contacts in other parts of the world, but it was not entirely a dart-board choice. While there is a universality of mathematics that transcends location and culture, the nature of business is more place-dependent; location and culture play significant roles in business practices. Central Europe, having recently emerged from the clutches of communist rule, was a perfect research laboratory for the business-researcher spouse. The Czech and Slovak Republics have a rich tradition of mathematics, a field that was not thwarted under communism. The seeds of our decision were sown in August, 1996, when the TopoSym conference presented an opportunity for a short reconnaissance visit to Prague. Prague, the capital of the Czech Republic, had an American International School for the 11-year-old son, the University of Economics and nearby Czech Management Center for the business professor, Charles University and the Center for Theoretical Study for the mathematician, a well-restored downtown area complete with theaters and restaurants, and a public transportation system that connects all parts of the city. In short, all the essential ingredients for a comfortable year, with potential benefits for all three of us.
On August 12, 1997, we packed six large suitcases, a laptop computer and portable printer, bid farewell to our college-bound daughter, and boarded a plane to Prague. With the help of a Czech friend, we had rented a furnished, two-bedroom flat in Prague 6, which is north-west of the city center, close to the Castle district. This is a very nice area of town even now, with shade trees, public parks, and private gardens. However, Prague was quite a contrast from suburban America.
A big part of the success of our trip would turn out to be the hospitality, both personal and intellectual, we where shown by mathematicians all over the world. The first example of this phenomenon was Rick's invitation to affiliate with the Center for Theoretical Study (CTS). On the basis of no previous mathematical contact, Rick had approached Professor Bohuslav Balcar about the possibility of working with him on mutual interests in topological dynamics. Balcar not only responded with an official letter of invitation from CTS, but also shared an office with Rick for the duration of our stay. The CTS is an interdisciplinary think tank affiliated with both the Czech Academy of Sciences and Charles University, the latter founded by Charles IV in 1348. Rumor has it that CTS grew out of collegial gatherings that took place in the apartment of Ivan Havel, physicist brother of the playwrite-turned-stateman Vaclav Havel, before the Velvet Revolution, when private discussions required a secure place to air controversial and/or philosophical points of view.
The University of Economics in Prague traces its history from the Prague College of Commerce, founded in 1919, one year after Czechoslovakia was founded. Following World War II, during which all Czech universities were closed, the Independent Prague School of Economics was established in 1953. Since 1990, the University of Economics has undergone major changes in its curriculum, including the addition of business degrees in finance and accounting, international relations, business administration and management, and public administration. As the demand for competent western-educated managers increased, so did the number of new providers of management education. The Czech Republic's first English-language MBA program was a joint venture established in 1990 with Rochester Institute of Technology in New York. The Czech Management Center, under sponsorship from the University of Pittsburgh, began English-language MBA education in 1991 in a refurbished 150-room hotel that used to host Communist Party dignitaries, about 25 miles east of Prague. By 1997, there were nearly a dozen business-education programs in at least four languages.
The International School had moved into a lovely new facility the previous February. It was run by Americans with some modest support from the US Embassy, but mostly paid for by tuition. Most of the teachers are American, but the students come from all over the world (they have a substantial ESL program). You could tell that the school was in Prague, both by the lunch menu and by the fact that the phone lines took over a year to be connected (they operated on cellular phones in the interim). The school curriculum followed traditional US models, with drama, music, PE and foreign language requirements, and several interesting elective options, such as "Rubber Band Powered Cars & Ping-Pong Ball Catapults," Drama Games, Czech Civilization, chess, keyboarding, country line dancing, and a school newspaper. Believe it or not, they had a boys' (and girls') softball team. Of course, they also had soccer and tennis and track/field activities.
International Schools have almost a college-campus flavor since students come and go, typically at one- to three-year intervals. Turnover among students is high; half of a class may be first-time students in any given year. There is no one "new kid" in class and few strong cliques among students. Teachers are used to this turnover of students and have refined their strategies for integrating newcomers. This situation contributed to our son Matt having an easy time with the transition to his new school. The ease of public transportation in allowing him to stay for after-school activities or visit friends on weekends also facilitated the transition.
Our first week was centered on food and logistics. Walking around the center of town felt like we were in a time warp. The Old Town dates from 1100, the Lesser Town was called New Town in 1257. New Town was founded during the reign of Charles IV in the mid 1300s. The downtown streets are narrow and winding and we usually got lost trying to find our way. In the typical European fashion, there were people walking everywhere; no one seemed to be in a hurry (including us). We stopped in cafes oftenÑthe food was good and the beer was cheap. Rick would say the food was cheap and the beer was good. Every grocery store had a deli and a bakery so we had lots of fun sampling things that we don't typically see in Denver. Deli fare was disproportionately cheap in Prague. Everything was sold in small containers, including laundry soap. Milk and juices were in cartons that didn't need refrigeration until they were opened. We have American buying habits, so it took awhile to learn to buy only as much as we could carry home in a sack on a bus.
Despite our language handicap (or maybe because of it!) we had some interesting adventures in our first few weeks. We found interesting places by going the wrong way on bus lines and streets. We chased around town for a computer-plug adapter, and finally found out that the laptop cord is identical to an electric-shaver cord. One of our more interesting encounters occurred when we went to CTS for yet another attempt to get on e-mail (the server had been down most times we had gone there). We met a group of exchange students from Northwestern University who were finishing a two-month course, writing papers to get their credits. One young woman was from Boise, Idaho, where we had lived for nearly 15 years before moving to Denver, and she turned out to be a good friend of one of our best friends in Boise! We had other "small world" encounters during our stay but none quite so close to home.
One of our most frustrating encounters was at the Passport Police office, the place where one gets long-term residency visas. We had dutifully obtained all the forms from the Czech Embassy in California and a Czech friend helped us fill them out in Czech. The required documentation included an affidavit that said we didn't have a criminal record nor had we been engaged in illegal activity. We had been assured by the Czech embassy officials in California that the completion of our visa application would be routine once we reached the Czech Republic. Once there, however, we found the rules had changed and that they varied with the official with whom we talked and with the day on which the talk took place. For example, we were informed that we needed a statement from the Czech police certifying that we have no criminal record in the Czech Republic; since we were no longer in America, our American affidavit was worthless. We also learned that we needed $6000 in a Czech bank or a translated and notarized American-bank statement, that we needed our birth certificates in addition to our passports (we had carefully locked the birth certificates in the basement of our home in Colorado), and that we were supposed to have these documents submitted within 30 days of our arrival. As if this weren't daunting enough, the lines at the immigration office looked like ticket lines for rock concerts in the US. (They also resembled the lines at the American Embassy for Czechs trying to get visas to visit the USA.) Our several frustrating and eventually fruitless encounters with the immigration police gave us a good feeling for what life must have been like under the recently departed socialist bureaucracy.
The officials at the American Embassy explained the constraints on their office to interfere with any Czech agency. Their role was to help Americans in trouble and to help Czechs obtain visas to visit America. Eventually we opted to play the typical ex-pat game of staying 30 days as tourists, crossing the border for a short holiday, and returning for the next 30 days. Since we were not earning any money in the Czech Republic, there was no compelling reason to have a residency visa. Unfortunately, the lack of this visa would come to haunt us before our stay was up.
September
After less than a month we felt so settled in Prague that our Denver life seemed like an old memory. Perhaps the city's magic was casting a spell on us. Prague is undoubtedly one of the most beautiful cities in Europe. It is a maze of narrow streets and eclectic architecture, with pubs and tiny restaurants in every nook and cranny.
Nonetheless, you could feel the remnants of Soviet occupation in the behaviors of the people in the stores and on the streets. Czechs still displayed caution towards foreigners. Customers were still at the mercy of the clerks, cashiers, and bureaucrats who "serve" them. Tragedies like the tremendous flooding in Moravia in the summer of 1997 were particularly severe, partly because the socialists did not maintain the infrastructure and partly because people were not used to fending for themselves. Few people have insurance unless it's mandatory. Housing was still controlled for the most part. Buildings all had locked doors; people carry passports and state-issued or company-issued IDs for everything from picking up packages at the post office to entering an office or bank.
Prague had a democratic self-government until the Nazis invaded in 1939. The town was liberated from the Germans by the Red Army in 1945; Soviet control terminated in 1989 and the Czech and Slovak Republics separated in 1993. The most visible remnants of Soviet occupation are the stark, gray apartment buildings that flank the city. A major gift of the Soviets was a subway system modeled after the one in Moscow. It reminded us of Boston or Atlanta, but the escalators in Prague would never pass OSHA because they are very steep and very fast. The subway and buses linked all parts of the city, running from before 5 AM until after midnight every day, with limited night bus and tram routes after midnight.
The University of Economics in Prague traces its history from the Prague College of Commerce, founded in 1919, one year after Czechoslovakia was founded. Following World War II, during which all Czech universities were closed, the Independent Prague School of Economics was established in 1953. Since 1990, the University of Economics has undergone major changes in its curriculum, including the addition of business degrees in finance and accounting, international relations, business administration and management, and public administration. The demand for competent western-educated managers brought new providers of management education. The Czech Republic's first English-language MBA program was a joint venture established in 1990 with Rochester Institute of Technology in New York. The Czech Management Center, under sponsorship from the University of Pittsburgh, began English-language MBA education in 1991 in a refurbished 150-room hotel that used to host Communist Party dignitaries, about 25 miles east of Prague.
The Jewish settlement in Prague dates from before 1000. Jews did well economically despite increasing persecution dating from 1096. The core of the Prague Jewish settlement was the enclave to the north of the Old Town Square, between the Old Town and the Vltava River, a location which gave Jewish merchants access to trade routes. In 1215 Prague Jews became legal servants of the Czech Kings, which provided protection for them, but not their property. Restrictions on Jews intensified with the Roman cardinals and a pogrom in 1349 almost eradicated the Jews of Prague. In 1852 the Jewish Town, officially called Josefov, was added to Prague as its fifth district, but the Jews were not granted full civic rights until 1867.
There were attempts to drive the Jews from Prague in 1419-1422 and 1518-1543. There was a plague in 1680, probably a result of overcrowding in the ghetto. "Family laws," first enacted in 1726 and not revoked until 1849, fixed the number of Jewish households in the city, forcing many Jews to live outside the city limits. In 1744 a decree exiled all Jews from Prague, and later all of Bohemia. There were disastrous fires in 1689 and 1754; anti-Jewish riots in 1844-1848; and the Slum-Clearance Law of 1893 which destroyed the Jewish Ghetto. And, of course, there were the transports to and from Terezin (Theresenstadt) in 1941-1945. Despite these tragedies and persecutions, there are still Jews in Prague.
At the time of our stay, there were four Jewish organizations in Prague. There were two orthodox groups which held services Friday evenings and Saturday mornings. The official orthodox community meets in the Old-New Synagogue (it was new in 1280). Proof of Jewish lineage is required for registration. (One source claims that this synagogue gets its current name not from the German Alt-Neu, but rather the Hebrew Al-tnai, which means provisional.) There was also a group that held services in the Jubilee Synagogue, also called the Jerusalem Synagogue, which was built in 1905 outside of the Jewish Quarter in New Town to replace the synagogues that had been destroyed in 1893. Allegedly they have a rabbi and a cantor.
Despite the orthodox community's opposition, there were two reform groups. One met in a building near the Spanish Synagogue; the other in the old Jewish Town Hall. The Spanish Synagogue was constructed in 1868 on the site of the oldest synagogue (the "Old School") that was demolished in 1867, and was undergoing renovation. The Spanish Synagogue is so called for its Moorish style, although there are Sephardic roots. Allegedly there was a "reformed divine service" there as far back as 1837. The old Jewish Town Hall is next to the Old-New Synagogue. It was built by Mordechai Maisel in 1590, rebuilt in 1763, and underwent substantial renovations over the last few years.
The first reform group was started in 1991 and met in the apartment of its founder. They held services (in English and Czech) every Friday evening and on holidays. During the year we were there, the service was conducted by a young Czech woman who was studying to be a rabbi. This group also hosted visiting rabbis from the World Union for Progressive Judaism, most of whom were from England.
There was also a new group, started in 1994 by some Americans with funding from the American JOINT Distribution Committee, which was trying to legitimately coexist with the orthodox community. It had permission to meet in a small room on the second floor of the Jewish Town Hall They also conducted Shabbat services (in English) on Friday evenings. There was no Torah service, and of course no praying, since men and women sat together; this is forbidden by the orthodox and was a condition of their permission to use the building. They had no rabbi, but periodically they hosted visiting rabbis, most of whom were from the US. They needed advance approval for all events and were only allowed to conduct Torah services in buildings not controlled by the orthodox community.
There are quite a few Jews in Prague, mostly from Israel, who find doing business here profitable. There are a lot of American and Israeli tourists who book tours and buy souvenirs. There's a kosher deli that's open from 9am-9pm every day. It's owned by a family from Haifa and specializes in kosher foods, Czech beer, Israeli souvenirs and t-shirts.
There are also some classically American places in Prague. There's a Planet Hollywood right off Wenceslas Square. There's a New Orleans-style restaurant owned by a woman from Texas, "Buffalo Bill's" barbecue, "Oscar's" which also has Hollywood dŽcor and big-screen TVs, and a few very California vegetarian restaurants. A Dixieland band performs on the Charles Bridge every weekend. There was a sports bar around the corner from the American Express office that showed CNN and real-time US football games via satellite feed. They served a weekend brunch that included pancakes, omelets and American fries with salsa. They even served American beer. All places serve American soft drinks in cans. Good Czech beer was cheaper than either a glass of water or any kind of soft drink. Wine was cheap too, but it was usually cheap wine.
Food was cheap by American standards. Clothing, shoes, electronics and imported goods were not. I had visions of our local Denver supermarkets, with their large open glass doors and the customer service counter and shelves of "specials" greeting us as we enter. In Prague, many stores were up or down an escalator and one was greeted first by the liquor shelves and then by the (always long) line at the deli counter. Every supermarket had a deli and bakery. The breads in Prague were very good, especially the traditional chleb, or rye bread. Most sandwiches in restaurants or cafeterias were made with mini-baguettes. We were on a high-vinegar diet, sampling as much of the local fare as we could.
The word for Sunday in CzechÑNedeleÑliterally means "no work", but work is done on Sunday. Most stores were closed, but construction crews were often in full swing. Small vendors still did business in the main town squares where the tourists were. Some restaurants were open, but none before 10:00am. The nice thing about going into town on a Sunday was that the people and car traffic were greatly reduced from the typical during-the-week throngs. People who drive drive fast. Vehicles, not pedestrians, had the right of way. There was no place to park so double-parked cars were common, as were cars parked on sidewalks. We were constantly amazed that there weren't more accidents. There are "walk" signs for people, but cars don't yield for pedestrians, and most pedestrians ignore the signs. Taxi drivers were particularly obnoxious, but buses and police cars weren't much better.
English is the official language of the ex-pat community. It's the common language for Germans, French, Dutch, and Americans (and others) who do business together. There were several professional-women groups that met at various times during the month, largely to provide information and support, but also for referrals and networking. There was also a group of ex-pat wives of businessmen who met for support and philanthropy. There were Czech business groups that met as well, but those were distinctly separate from the non-Czech groups. There was still difficulty in cross-cultural business dealings; the Czechs were typically suspicious of foreigners and the foreigners often have difficulty dealing with the Czechs. I was told that Czechs do not care about efficiency or productivity or profitability. They are mainly concerned with trust and comfort. American friendliness was interpreted as fake, not courteous.
English is also the official language of mathematics. At a fall math conference in the high Tatras in Slovakia, all talks were given in English despite the fact that there were only two native English speakers at the conference. As is sometimes the case at math conferences, the talks were in the morning and evening, with afternoons free for hiking. Fortunately, the weather cooperated. The literal high point was an ascent of Rysy (pronounced reesee), a climb from 1355 to 2500 meters. Legend has it that Lenin ascended the peak in 1913, and for that reason it was climbed by thousands of kids in Communist youth organizations during the socialist era. The peak itself lies on the border between Slovakia and Poland, and Vaclav Havel has met Lech Walensa on the summit several times in a symbolic gesture of amity between the two countries. From the top Rick had about fifteen minutes of glorious vistas before the view was obscured by swirling clouds. A hot bath and a liter of good Slovak beer ended a great day.
October
Prague is known for its theaters and concerts. Even during the soviet suppression, the Czechs expressed their cultural independence and individuality through music and theater. On any given night there were no fewer than six concerts, two operas, and four plays, in addition to jazz, rock, and folk groups at various clubs in town.
Most of the jazz clubs are underground caverns that used to be used for clandestine meetings among dissidents. These places have great acoustics but poor ventilation. We usually were choked out from the smoke. Drinks could be purchased at the bar (no one comes to your table), but rarely was any food available. The talent was a mix of local and imported musicians. The Ray Brown trio played at one of the jazz clubs to a standing-only crowd. Joan Baez performed at a concert hall, not a jazz club; tickets were sold out, including standing-only, in three days, several weeks before the concert. There were also local groups that played blues, jazz, dixieland, and American rock'n'roll.
Most of the churches near the city center sustain themselves by hosting chamber-music concerts, ranging from string quartets to wind ensembles to organ recitals to vocal arias. These were heavily attended by tourists and were casual-dress affairs, especially since some of the churches are not heated. Tickets were usually sold the same day of the performance and seating was first-come first-served. Signs of each day's concerts were prominently posted and street hawkers, sometimes in period costume, handed out flyers to passers-by.
A major concert series and a major opera series usher in each season. This year's two-week-long Prague Autumn (concert) Festival boasted two performances by the Israeli Philharmonic, conducted by Zubin Mehta, for the first time in Prague. We were able to get tickets for a Prague Chamber Orchestra concert, featuring violin soloist Evgueni Bushkov (in true flamboyant Paganini style), and one of the two Isaac Stern and Yefim Bronfman (pianist) performances. To maintain precision, the piano was tuned during the intermission. Both concerts drew long well-deserved applause from the audience, which resulted in two very lovely encores.
These concerts were held in the Rudolfinum, a neo-Renaissance structure named after Crown Prince Rudolf. It is prominently located overlooking the Vltava River, at the base of Manes Bridge (erected in 1911), formerly known as the Vltava Bridge and originally named for Crown Prince Franz Ferdinand. The Rudolfinum is also known as the "House of Artists" and is the "home" of the Czech Philharmonic. The building dates from 1876, but was renovated in the early 1990s at which time an underground parking facility was added. Inside the building there are imposing marble columns and statues of Czech composers. Inside the concert hall is a large pipe organ. The auditorium seats about 600 in the main gallery, with balcony seating of about 400-500.
The Prague Symphony Orchestra performs on the second floor (Smetana Hall) of the Municipal House, which is next to the Powder Tower, on the former site of the medieval royal court. This ornate art nouveau building, originally a civic center, was built in 1906-12 and only recently restored (it opened in the spring of 1997 with much ceremony). There is an elegant restaurant, cafe, and exhibition hall on the ground floor. In keeping with the other performing arts centers in Prague, Smetana Hall has a large pipe organ, ornate ceilings and gilded balcony boxes. We went to a concert of the Prague Symphony and the Prague Philharmonic Choir performing an evening of Bruckner, a bit heavy for our tastes.
Assuming that Italian in the Czech Republic would probably be no more challenging than Italian in the US, we decided to go to the opera. The State Opera House is a neo-Rococo building that was designed by the famous duo Ferdinand Fellner and Hermann Helmer for the German Theater Association. It first opened in 1888. The main gallery of the theater seats about 300 people, and there are four levels of balcony boxes along the three walls facing the proscenium. Above the stage is a light-board with Czech subtitles! We saw an absolutely splendid performance of Puccini's Turandot, which prompted us to go to several other operas during our stay.
Theatrical performances have been performed since 1783 at the Theater of Estates, which is the only theater of its kind in Europe that has been preserved almost in its original state. In 1798 the theater was purchased by the Bohemian Estates. It had previously been the Royal Provincial German Theater, with performances in German until 1920 (with occasional performances in Czech from 1875), when it became part of the National Theater. Mozart himself conducted some of his operas here, including the premier of Don Giovanni. Other famous performers included Carl Maria von Weber, Niccolo Paganini, Anton Rubinstein, and Gustav Mahler. This theater is currently used for Mozart operas (in his honor) and occasional drama and ballet productions. We enjoyed a superb production of Don Giovanni from the loggia of this wonderful theater, but Mozart did not conduct.
The most important cultural center is the National Theater, the "Golden Chapel on the Vltava," which is the main stage of the National Opera, National Ballet and National Drama companies. The National Theater is a prominent Neo-Renaissance building on the bank of the Vltava at the base of the May Day Bridge (south of the Charles Bridge), on the site of the former Salthouse. It was financed entirely with public donations, by the Czech Society for Founding a Czech National Theater in Prague, formed in 1851. The partially-complete theater first opened in 1881 in honor of a visit by the crown prince Rudolf of Austria, and reopened in 1883 after a tragic fire. The National Theater building was designed by a collaboration of all of the leading Czech artists of the time, and is easily recognized by the sculptures of Apollo and the Muses and the three-horse chariots with the goddess of victory on the roof gables. Inside, the foyer is decorated by wall and ceiling frescoes, painted allegories, and busts of great national personalities. The proscenium arch is flanked by sculptures of Apollo, Dionysis, Melpomene (the muse of tragedy) and Thalia (comedy). The stage must be at least 50 feet high. On the right side of the stage is a royal box. We never found out for whom it is currently reserved, but it held the only two empty seats in the theater when we were there. There are three levels of gilded balcony boxes, with two full balconies (galleries) above the boxes, which seat an additional 300-500 people.
The current National Theater building was closed in 1977 and reopened after extensive reconstruction in 1983 on the hundredth anniversary of the original opening, with a performance of Smetana's "Libuse" that had been composed for (and performed at) the original opening in 1883. Part of the reconstruction effort included a "new stage" building, the Lanterna Magika, which produces innovative multimedia shows mostly for tourists.
Prague is also well known for its puppet shows. We went to a rendition of the Hobbit, in Czech but with English subtitles flashed on a computer screen above the stage. The puppets ranged from a 2-ft Bilbo marionette to a 10-ft Gandalf (who blocked some of the subtitles) to a dragon head that nearly filled the stage. The lights and music were as impressive and creative as the puppetry.
In the spirit of adding to our cultural education, we attended a Champions' League soccer game between Sparta-Praha, the home favorites who had never before qualified for the Champions' League, and AC Parma of Italy. I've often thought that American Football should be renamed "kickball" because the players don't handle the ball with their feet, except for the kickoff and an occasional field goal. I've now decided that soccer should be renamed "bodyball" because the only part of the body that doesn't touch the ball is a player's hands, except for the occasional catch by the goalie. I had to admit that these guys do pretty fancy footwork.
This Sparta-Praha/Parma match reminded us of a cross between a rock concert and a college football game. There was fanfare and music before the game and at half time. As the players came onto the field, many fans lit firecrackers which they had smuggled into the stadium despite security precautions. There was non-stop cheering or whistling throughout the game. Unfortunately for us, there was no score so we never observed what fans here do when their team scores a goal. Sparta-Praha subsequently lost to Borussia Dortmund and was eliminated from the world cup playoffs.
I'll add a few comments about this experience, at the risk of boring you. The stadium, rebuilt in 1994, seats a bit more than 20,000. We found the soccer fans quite polite--albeit vocal--in their enthusiasm, not at all rowdy like the western Europeans we read about. The Dutch brewery Amstel is the exclusive beer distributor for the Champions' League, so no Czech beer could be sold or provided at this game, either in the stands or the VIP lounge. There was very little smoking among the crowd; no eating until half-time; no vendors in the stands soliciting sales of any kind. Beer was sold, but by one lone person in an isolated kiosk pouring (Amstel) beer from individual bottles, so very few people bought beer. Security guards at the gates checked for beer bottles as well as knives, sticks, and fruit--anything that could be thrown or used as a weapon. We never found any soft-drink vendors, but I trust they existed somewhere. There were several sports-memorabilia stands and one person selling bratwurst with rye bread and mustard. The main food fare was rotisserie chicken, sold as 1/4, 1/2 or whole, with rye bread and pickles. Lines for all food and drinks were long, of course, since most of the concessions were one- or two-person operations. No one left before the end of the game.
Another cultural experience this fall was the "Prague Marathon Grand Prix" 10K race around the Old Town Square. The first event was a 3K media race, followed by several aerobics/dance performances sponsored by Adidas. The main attraction was the 10K which boasted some of the reigning world championship runners, including Paul Tergat from Kenya, the reigning world-record holder, who also won the Prague race. Despite the rain--a common occurrence in the fall--it was a fun evening. Vendors sold "hot dogs"--brats with rye bread and mustard, and beer. Other booths gave away candy and popsicles and soft drinks.
The Old Town Square was the place for many Sunday events. We stumbled upon a bicycle race one Sunday as we were heading for a concert. It seemed to be sponsored by a local club and there was "sideshow" type entertainment throughout the race, pausing only for the final lap. There were street entertainers in the square most evenings and weekends. There was also a large marketplace--sort of a farmer's market and crafts fair--in an area that used to be a fruit market; other squares used to be horse markets, hay markets, coal markets, etc. In the center of the Old Town Square is a prominent monument to Jan Huss, unveiled in 1915 on the 500th anniversary of his execution in Constance.
Our most frequent form of entertainment was dining out. We found some delightful restaurants. An elegant dinner for two for under $15 made the experience a lot nicer than paying $40 in Denver or $60 in London. In the name of research, Rick drank Czech beer and I drank Moravian wine, both of which were about the same price as mineral water or a Coca Cola.
November
Christmas in Prague starts about mid-October (since there's no Halloween to get in the way), with displays of ornaments and decorations commanding prominent places in grocery and department stores. Toward the end of November, the anticipation of Christmas became very visible, as outdoor markets, decorated with lights, offer home-made toys, jewelry, ornaments, candles, nativity figures, perfumes, holiday foods, and winter clothing (especially scarves, hats, and gloves). Flower stands, which still sold roses and carnations and assorted bouquets, also offered gold-painted mistletoe and poppies.
For us, the Christmas season started at Thanksgiving. While there is no Thanksgiving or Halloween celebration here, there were enough American and British ex-pats to keep restaurants busy with costume parties on Halloween and turkey dinners on Thanksgiving. The restaurant we chose had a very elegant turkey dinner with all the trimmings---giblet dressing, succotash, herb potatoes, nut bread---and apple, pumpkin, mince, and pecan pies with whipped cream or ice cream. It was almost like a family gathering since we saw many people we knew from other ex-pat hangouts, including Matthew's school and our synagogue group. We topped off our evening listening to madrigals at St. Agnes Convent.
December 6 is St. Nicholas Day. St. Nicholas was apparently a historical figure of the second century. Born into a wealthy family in Asia Minor, he suffered the death of both parents at an early age, whereupon he distributed the family wealth to the poor. He lived into his eighties, whence the white beard. He enjoys a prominent place in both Greek and Russian Orthodox traditions.
The traditions of St. Nicholas Day celebrations in Czech lands date back to the Middle Ages. At that time students organized masquerade processions, dressing up as satyrs or as St. Nicholas, "the one who helps people to victory." Today St. Nicholas is accompanied by both a devil figure, a reminder of the satyrs of yore, and an angel figure. St. Nicholas himself wears a bishop's miter, a tall white cap with a gold cross on it, usually made of paper, and holds a crosier, or staff usually covered with silver foil, in his hand. Cert (pronounced "chert") has a long tail and horns, wears a mask or black face paint, and rattles a chain. The angel wears white, sometimes with gold trim, and has white paper wings. On the evening of December 5th many St. Nicholases, accompanied by angels and certs, accost unsuspecting youngsters and interrogate them (with parental assistance) as to whether their behavior has merited candy and fruit or potatoes and coal in their stockings the following day. The angel pleads the child's case, while Cert, equipped with a bag for the wayward, makes threatening noises.
The Old Town Square was the center of this activity, with various performing groups (mostly singers and musicians and lots of kids) on a semi-permanent stage while teams of St. Nicks roamed the square. Most of the trios we saw were teenagers or preteens, but they played their roles well. Outdoor vendors now advertised mulled wine and cider in addition to the regular food and drink, mostly sausages and beer but also baguette sandwiches, candy and soft drinks. On weekend evenings there were carolers near the Old Town Hall.
At Wenceslas Square there was a large Christmas market, complete with a live-pony merry-go-round for children. Here and at the Old Town Square there were pens of goats, llamas, donkeys and sheep that children could pet. As Christmas approached there were a few "live" nativity scenes. Piped Christmas music could be heard around town. Shortly after St. Nicholas day had passed, the Santas appeared (sans Salvation Army bells and kettles) passing out candy and gently suggesting that people shop in certain stores. However, the Christ Child, not Santa, brings presents on Christmas eve.
Christmas is baking season. Stores stock entire aisles with sugar, flour, dried fruits, cookie and pastry mixes. Gingerbread cookies and cakes are common, as are braided fruit breads. Of course the liquor aisles were also amply stocked.
Christmas is also party season. Embassies, business associations, and companies host parties and balls, most of which are formal invitation-only affairs. There are also many Christmas concerts, including madrigal groups, children's chorales, Gregorian chants, Renaissance and Baroque Christmas music, and of course, Mozart's Exultate jubilate, Handel's Christmas Concerto, Dvorak's Biblical Songs, Ryba's Czech Christmas Mass, and the Nutcracker ballet. Many concerts are in local churches, many of which are unheated, a fact which does not seem to deter the audience or the performers. Some churches are only open once a year for Christmas mass. The International Theater Company of London performed A Christmas Carol (in English, of course) at Prague Castle this year. The alternative jazz and international film festivals run through November, so there were entertainment options to suit every taste. (And, of course, for those of us with children, there were school concerts as well.) The Prague State Opera had a special New Year's Day concert, which launched the Prague Winter Concert (Symphony/Opera/Ballet) series.
There were several decorated Christmas trees around town. This custom is of German origin, and spread to Prague in 1812, when the director of the Estates Theater, Karl Liebich, invited actors and friends to his villa and astonished them by lighting up a tree in his drawing room. He handed out presents and paychecks around the tree. Trees here are now strung up with electric lights instead of candles. Like the US, even non-evergreen trees outside had strings of lights and stores boasted lavish Christmas-gift displays and played Christmas music, some with English lyrics by American artists. The city center became quite festive, with decorations strung high above the streets. In residential areas, individual houses were not externally adorned with lights and decorations, but you could see Christmas lights in some of the windows. People start buying evergreen boughs and trees before the first of November. The big Christmas-tree stands were set up in early December and many families engage in discussions about whether to buy a real or artificial tree.
A week before Christmas there will be carp for sale. Carp are sold live in large barrels and it's not uncommon to see people riding the buses or trams carrying buckets or plastic bags with wriggling carp. The live fish are kept in the bathtub until the day before Christmas. Christmas dinner, which marks the end of Advent, contains at the very least carp soup. The traditional dinner is fried carp and potato salad, with cookies and strudel for dessert. Legend held that anyone who fasted throughout Advent would see a golden piglet on Christmas Eve. Today, children receive pig-shaped chocolates wrapped in gold paper; you can also buy St. Nicholas, Angel, Cert, carp, and pinecone-shaped chocolates wrapped in gold decorated paper.
For those without adequate kitchens, many restaurants take reservations for Christmas as well as New Year's Eve gala dinner celebrations. Christmas is high season for travelers, so hotels and restaurants get booked early and command high prices.
The day after Christmas there is an annual swimming race in the Vltava. Only the hardy take part in this event, but many come to watch.
December
We did the only sensible thing one can do to combat the shortening days and increasingly cold temperatures: we headed south. We arrived in Cape Town, South Africa, on the 12th of December, slightly more than a week before mid-summer. Christmas in mid-summer seems a bit out of place, more of an interruption of one's summer holiday than a respite from the dreary, short days of winter.
Cape Town is a modern city for the most part. Some parts are very British, others show a lot of old Dutch influence, other areas distinctly Malasian or Indian. The Dutch influence is particularly marked in the wine country. There are several old Dutch wine estates which still produce wine and give tours. The Cape Town waterfront is very new, having been built as a tourist and recreation center only a few years ago. It's probably the safest place in town, since there are surveillance cameras all over and police on duty at all hours. This is where you'll find people of every color and age at any hour of the day or night. The city center, on the other hand, is still a dangerous place and businesses close up at 4:30 even though it stays light until nearly 9pm. Even though Cape Town is not nearly so dangerous (or cosmopolitan) as Johannesburg, we didn't spend much time walking through the city.
The University of Cape Town boasts a world-class group in general topology. It had been particularly gratifying for Rick to attend a conference at the University of the Western Cape in September, where he was able to meet several mathematicians whose work interacted with his own. During his nine days in Cape Town he had even been adopted by the family of Christopher Gilmour, who made him feel thoroughly at home by taking him into theirs. He had returned to Prague with tales of the beauty of the country and the warmth of the hospitality he enjoyed there.
This time, however, we had different reasons for our visit to Cape Town, among them being to spend Christmas with the family of some good friends of ours who had recently moved to Denver. In addition, the International Organizational Behavior Teaching Conference was held in Cape Town this year. This is a group of management professors who come together annually to share teaching techniques and educational research.
After a typically-tourist shopping spree at the recently-opened Victoria and Alfred Waterfront mall, we headed down the cape in a little VW Golf (reminiscent of our 1981 Rabbit). We spent three days touring the "Garden Route," a scenic drive through some of South Africa's lushest coastal areas. The coastline features many areas of indigenous forest; these fantastic copses reminded us of nothing so much as a jungle set from an Indiana Jones movie. The route also features sweeping coastline vistas reminiscent of southern California. Our destination was Storms River, where we had been invited for a very English Christmas.
January
Our trip back to Cape Town took us through the Karoo desert and through mountain passes. The topography is very similar to the basin-and-range country of Nevada, except for the vegetation and ostriches. Instead of sagebrush there are finbos and succulents; along with the herds of ostrich are sheep and cattle. We arrived in Cape Town in time to spend New Year's Eve on the Waterfront with about 100,000 other celebrants.
The first week in January has become a Cape Town tradition for coloreds (not blacks) to dress up and parade through town. This "Coon Carnival" is done in fun, with choreographed groups dressed up in outlandish costumes competing for prizes. The many marketplaces are good places to watch people, as are the beaches. Whereas the shopping malls in Cape Town and Johannesburg would fit in any American city, the street markets are distinctly African. It was tempting to buy carvings and jewelry, but we reserved most of our spending for food, entertainment, and a few postcards.
One of our more emotional experiences was a trip to Robben Island in Cape Town Bay. This is the island where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned for 17 years. Our guide had himself been imprisoned on Robben Island for 11 years. What was so interesting to us was the discipline imposed by these prisoners. So committed to their cause were they that they never tried to escape, for fear that doing so would work a hardship on their comrades who would be imprisoned after them. They worked together and studied together and prepared for their release as best they could. The political education they underwent while there formed the basis for the subsequent success of the ANC. How remarkable to be able to use the dehumanizing circumstance of incarceration as a tool for the political transformation of the regime.
We also took a tour of Soweto during our brief stay in Johannesberg. Our guide, who was from Soweto, claimed that Soweto was a relatively harmonious community of nine different African tribes, marred mostly by the illegal immigrants and drug addicts in the squatter shacks. We saw a thriving community, with children running around and vendors at every corner. It was a strange juxtaposition of rich and poor.
One of the high points of our South Africa trip was a four-day tour of Kruger Park. There is very little comparison between Kruger and a zoo or wild animal park in the United States. We saw lions stalking giraffes and giraffes eyeing the lions cautiously. We saw and heard monkeys spreading a "lion" alarm. We saw baboons and vervet monkeys with their familiesÑeven newborn babies. We saw the most elegant elephants you'd ever imagine, some in family units and some enormous lone bulls. We saw buffalo and zebra and wildebeest and kudus and impala, some practically close enough to touch. We had the good fortune to see both black and white rhinoceroses (not together), two cheetahs, and a leopard, all rather rare and illusive creatures, even in the context of Kruger Park. We saw hippos bathing and at night, walking through the brush looking for food. We saw crocodiles poised by the riverbank, waiting for dinner to stroll by. We were scolded and sung to by countless birds.
We also saw some "tame" animals. I petted a cheetah in a cheetah park; Matthew rode an ostrich at an ostrich farm. We also saw crocodiles and alligators at a breeding facility and birds at "Bird World." Not-so-tame animals, like baboons, are frequent gawkers along the cape-coast roads. And jackass penguins (so-named for their braying voice, not their appearance) stroll along some of the rocky beaches (and shade themselves under parked cars).
It was strange to be south of the equator at midsummer in December. Stranger still to come back to Prague in mid-winter. The day after our return, Matthew was on a bus with his classmates heading up to the Krkonose Mountains for a week of skiing. It is common in Czech public schools for students to spend a week out of town with their classmates, especially in the winter when the city air reeks of coal smoke and car exhaust. Depending on the grade, children also spend a week hiking or bicycling or camping in warm weather. The International School follows this Czech tradition, even though the curriculum is American. This winter was unusually mild, so the ski-bus had to drive further than usual to find snow. But they were successful and the kids had a great time.
February
Another combination of professional and personal pulls took us to Israel in February. Because of Saddam Hussein's threat at this time, many well-wishers told us not to go, but the threat of war is a way of life in the middle east. There was noticeable tension on the part of the people in Tel Aviv who had experienced the 1991 scud attacks, but Jerusalem is far enough away that most people we talked to there didn't even remember where their gas masks were stored.
When we applied for our sabbatical leave, we anticipated that we might spend half the year in Israel so that Rick could work more closely with colleagues in Haifa and Jerusalem. A combination of stimulating mathematics and personal comfort in Prague, and a health crisis for Rick's closest colleague in Israel prompted a modification of our original plan. Instead of several months, our visit to Israel lasted less than two weeks.
Rick was able to spend an afternoon in delightful mathematical conversation with Michael Megrelishvili and his student, Tsvi Scarr, at Bar Ilan University. Here was yet another example of mathematics crossing boundaries, religious, ethnic, and generational, and thriving in the process by virtue of the hospitality and good will of our hosts.
We spent several days strolling around the streets of Old Jerusalem, an unusual pastime for someone like me who hates to shop. But it's hard for me to go anywhere without comparing the business culture. Granted, the Czech Republic had only recently emerged as a capitalistic country, so my comparisons would never stand up to academic rigor. However, those of you who have traveled around Europe and the Middle East will surely identify with our observations.
The Old City is a theme park; a step back in time. Everyone is your friend and offers to help. Self-appointed tour guides ranging from young boys to middle-aged men approach anyone who looks the slightest bit lost, offering any service desired, for a fee of course. The marketplace was a lively social arena. Between the Muslim calls to worship and the constant din of come-ons, the marketplace was always noisy. Peddlers and money-changers take any opportunity to hustle unwitting tourists. Shop keepers beckon you inside, reminding you that there is no charge for looking, but also hovering close by to offer a deal, even at the "fixed price" shops. All vendors are multi-lingual and will greet you and haggle in any language. Bargaining is a sport, but we were not particularly adept at learning the rules of the game.
In all our travels, the marketplace was a community. It was easy to feel like an intruder, since vendors mingle and chat with each other and even help each other make a sale. But more than the ethnic wares make you aware of what city or country you're in. Tel Aviv has the same aggressive, beckoning behavior as Old Jerusalem, absent the blaring radios. Customers always got full attention, to the point where it was hard to walk away without feeling like you had insulted someone.
In South Africa we also perused marketplaces in city centers, small towns, and tourist areas. Hawking and hovering were not practiced aggressively there, but bargaining was still prevalent among the small crafts-dealers. Vendors mingled with each other, but on a much quieter scale. Even in downtown Cape Town, most vendors kept to their own kiosks, but all were gracious and attentive if you approached. Like Jerusalem, there was always someone holding out his hand, especially in exchange for directions or unsolicited help. Soweto had a slightly different, livelier flavor. The marketplace there was more a part of the community and tourists could be spotted quickly and "lookers" were often ignored.
The Czechs still had not learned the art of soliciting. Kiosk vendors kept mostly to themselves and attended to you only if you initiated the interaction. We saw people in the tourist areas try to bargain, only to be scorned. If you couldn't speak Czech, a vendor would write down the price, but the only place where you could expect to be understood in English was in restaurants. You could feel remnants of the days when people stood in line for goods and took what was offered. Store clerks were not happy with "lookers." Especially in the small boutiques, if you did not purchase something quickly, you were either ignored or stared at, and sometimes told to leave. If you did purchase something, you may or may not be given a sack to put it in (at grocery stores as well). In larger stores, there were always employees hovering about, but their job was to protect, not to serve.
In Prague, bargaining was not uncommon in the oriental marketplaces, but within very small price parameters. Few merchants spoke English and some didn't even speak much Czech. Vendors mixed with each other and helped each other more freely than in Czech establishments, but most sat by their goods and waited patiently.
Restaurant behavior in Prague was more westernized but it was not uncommon to see waiters (or waitresses) engaged in a conversation that took precedence over taking or delivering a food order. Unlike ten years earlier, a waiter would usually approach you for a drink order shortly after you were seated. But it was unusual to be served quickly once your order was taken. If the restaurant was busy, you might be asked to share your table, but you would probably not be asked to leave, regardless of how long you had been there. No one brought your bill until you asked. They would have cleaned the table as soon as you had finished, however, but we never saw them solicit either more food or drinks, or hint at wanting you to leave.
At all but the fanciest restaurants, everything was a la carte. No drinksÑnot even water or coffee--were refilled or gratis; everything was itemized, including butter for bread and cream for coffee. Even McDonald's charged for ketsup. We were never charged for salt or sugar, but there was usually an additional "service" fee which may or may not have been charged for locals.
Everywhere we went there were American restaurant chains. The Dunkin Donuts in Prague overlooks Wenceslas Square and was a common meeting place and study hall for expats and Czechs alike. At a large shopping mall in Tel Aviv, the Pizza Hut was kosher, serving only vegetarian pizzas. The crowd there was noticeably different than the crowd at the non-kosher McDonald's next door. But I don't think McDonald's served cheeseburgersÑthat might be too radical. Most restaurants in Israel served either dairy or meat dishes, but not both. Needless to say, despite the American fast-food influence, the cuisine of each country was distinctive. But even in Prague, you could get excellent Italian or French food and even fresh seafood.
Except for the street vendors in temporary enclosures, all stores and restaurants we found in Israel and South Africa took credit cards. Not so in the Czech Republic, except in the major tourist areas. The Czech Republic operated on cash, and it was usually easier to find a cash machine than a public restroom. There really wasn't anything like a bank check in Prague but payments were often made by direct deposit or transfers between one account and another at any branch of the same bank. Even payrolls were typically paid in cash. Phone and utility bills were paid at the post office, which was still the most common place to make long-distance phone calls. It became a ritual to go to the bank every month to deposit our rent payment. But I never got in and out of the bank in less than twenty minutes, even when only depositing money, and I always had my forms filled out ahead of time. Withdrawals took longer, of course. It took us 1 1/2 hours to open the account (with an interpreter).
Driving is another international experience. The Israelis rely on their horns to remind people when the traffic light has turned green. Roads were more clearly marked and highways were wider than in the Czech Republic. Signs in Israel were in Hebrew, Arabic, and English. Signs in South Africa were in English and Afrikaans. Signs in the Czech Republic were in Czech. In residential areas, people commonly parked on the sidewalks because the streets were too narrow to accommodate a parking lane.
Gas stations in South Africa were still service stations. But this luxury came at a price: everyone expected to be tipped. Service station attendants would wash your whole car for you if you let them; then they'd extend their hand. In Israel, we couldn't even find a squeegee for the windshield.
We returned from Israel in time to celebrate the Czech's Olympic gold medal in hockey. The celebration had begun on Sunday, when the team was still in Nagano receiving its award. President Vaclav Havel had declared a national holiday, and ordered his jet to fly to Japan so the Czech hockey team could arrive in Prague together before the Czech NHL players return to their homes in the US. Big video screens had been set up in the Old Town Square with live TV coverage of the celebration. Throngs of fans waving and wearing flags, drinking and spraying champagne were cheering the players, singing songs and chants, dancing in the streets, blowing horns and whistles. People were shouting and chanting from every window and balcony. There were even fans perched on the Town Hall spires and on top of the Old Town Clock. There were chants of "Hasek to the castle!" in honor of Czech goalie Dominik Hasek. Vaclav Havel and his wife greeted the team upon their arrival and there was much fanfare as they paraded through town from Wenceslas Square to the Old Town Square. The festivities downtown were still going strong when we left the scene around 11pm, in company with revelers throughout the subway stations and on the city streets. We heard about the Bronco's reception in Denver after their Super Bowl victory earlier that fall, but I can't imagine that it was this festive or passionate. The Czechs viewed this victory over the Russians as more than a sports triumph. They still have haunting memories of Russian tanks in Wenceslas Square and in the Old Town Square in 1968.
March
Feeling the year slowly slipping away, we had attempted to settle into a research routine. I had begun two projects with a colleague at the University of Economics; Rick had a regular routine of attending math seminars at Charles University and had started conversations with Ales Pultr, one of the world's leading authorities on frames.
A visit from our daughter, on two-week spring break from college, provided an excuse to explore more of the city and the surrounding countryside. The changes in Prague were visible, even in the short time we had been there. This city has the most eclectic mix of architecture and sculpture we had ever seen, from detailed wall frescoes and gaudy gargoyles to gilded balconies to ornate gables to irregular rooftops to gold-plated spires. But at eye level, Prague was a bustling business center and shopping mall. Scaffolding was ubiquitous as exterior renovation and interior remodeling had become constants year-round. Grey concrete was being covered by an interesting spectrum of pastels. Advertising was pervasive, from hand-distributed flyers to wall posters to entire tram and bus exteriors.
There were retail shops and restaurants along every street, interrupted only by banks, hotels, and travel agencies. Most storefronts were glass, with bright signs and inviting entrances. Long gone were the days of take-what's-offered, soviet-style exchange where separate stores had separate lines for separate categories of goods dispensed by separate clerks. In even one year's time, Prague had become more commercial and more consumer-oriented. Cashiers had progressed from "What do you want?" to "May I help you?" and even an occasional "What is your wish, please?" You could now self-select items from shelves without having to ask for everything by name. You didn't always need to pay for each item separately in its own department. Stores didn't close in the middle of the day or when deliveries arrived. Some stores were even open on weekends and evenings. For the first time this year, some stores were open on Easter Sunday.
The further away one goes from Prague, the more one can understand the magnitude of change over the last few years and can see how Prague stands out from the rest of the country. The most obvious difference as we traveled south was the scale of things. It was sort of like comparing New York City with Madison, Wisconsin or Vail, Colorado with McCall, Idaho. There are lots of small towns in southern Moravia which, like Prague, have castles on the hilltop, ornate cathedrals in the town square, and historic districts in various stages of renovation. Outlying areas have large factories and high-rise apartment buildings. Many of these towns were charming and distinctive and attracted swarms of foreign tourists, mostly from Germany and Austria. Some of the town centers looked like movie sets. But as one continued south, there was less commercialism and more conservatism. More people went to church for services than for concerts. More people wore skirts and babushkas instead of jeans and t-shirts and sneakers.
It was interesting talking to peopleÑCzechs and Slovaks alikeÑabout the changes in their lives over the last decade. Under communism, life was comfortable for most people and cities were safe. People didn't talk openly, of course, but "the rules" were well understood and few people violated them. Suspicious behavior resulted in job transfers. Party loyalty resulted in job perks and promotions. Every activity was documented. Every need was taken care of, at a basic level.
Today there are few things unavailable in Prague; outlying cities are slowly catching up. Within weeks of the communist pull-out in 1989, store shelves were brimming with goods, much of which had previously been on the black market. The first new businesses to emerge were independent bakeries, which had been set up under communism but with limited output until the controls were lifted. The first foreign investors were banks. Now new businesses spring up and existing ones die, almost daily. Small kiosks that once sold hand-made items now sell imported goods. Marketplaces that once sold only garden-grown fruits and vegetables now have a wide variety of produce from many parts of the world. Small shops have largely given way to designer boutiques and department stores.
Now people are free to talk and they are more aware of what's really going on in the world. In the Czech Republic, there were two television stations that resembled Night-Line, where politicians were hung out to dry. Satellite dishes adorned many residential rooftops and cable TV was available in most areas of Prague. Books and magazines were now available in almost every language, although Russian was increasingly hard to find. Prague had nearly a dozen daily newspapers, none of which was government controlled.
Along with the tourists and immigrants had come the nastier elements of modern life. One could see evidence of unemployment, drugs, and graffiti in the subway stations and on public buildings. Basic healthcare was still available, but now people knew that better care existed if you had money. Money had taken on a whole new meaning since it could now buy travel, cars, and luxury items. Despite their increased standard of living, some locals and many pensioners confessed that they felt less secure now, both in terms of their financial futures and in terms of how safe they felt on the street.
There was competition in the business environment for the first time in more than a generation, and complacency was slowly giving ground to a more heads-up attitude. Even so, most Czech businesses were notoriously inefficient. Record-keeping was still paralyzing, and information was not easily accessed or referenced. People were still used to taking orders, not initiating changes. People were used to routine and suspicious of innovation. People were used to spending money but not to saving or investing it. People were used to living for today, not planning for tomorrow. But many feared what tomorrow might bring. And they saw not only what they had once been denied, but also what they had lost.
April
We took advantage of a long Easter weekend and Matt's spring break to explore southern Moravia and Slovakia, partly by car, partly by train. Crossing the border into Slovakia was like stepping back in time. People were much more religious and reserved and soviet-style politics was much more pervasive. There were few restaurants and large stores, most of which were uninviting and unremarkable. Concerts and plays took place mostly in concert halls and theaters. Performances in churches were usually free and aimed at parishioners, not designed to lure tourist dollars. Church attendance was high, and not just on Sundays and holidays. There were still two state-controlled television stations and little public debate. According to a Slovak friend, people in the Czech Republic are philosophers and political analysts because they drink beer, which loosens the tongue. People in Slovakia drink vodka and hard liquor which makes discussionÑintellectual or otherwiseÑimpossible.
To meet Professor Jan Jakubik in Kosice was a highlight of our trip for Rick. He began reading Jakubik's papers thirty years ago in graduate school, and was handed a half-dozen of his latest preprints upon meeting him in person. It was a thrill to see that several of the latter were based on a result of Rick's. He ended the visit by addressing a meeting of the Slovak Mathematical Society on the subject of calculus reform in the United States. Certainly the most memorable feature of this meeting was the post-banquet rendition of Slovak folk songs, a spontaneous and soul-stirring expression of Slovak national pride.
Some traditions still linger, despite political incorrectness. Easter is largely a family time and there's a mass exodus of families from Prague to their "weekend houses" for Easter weekend. Easter Monday is also a state holiday. One Moravian tradition that persists even in Prague is that boys take braided willow branches and go from house to house "beating" the girls, who give them decorated eggs or throw cold water on them. The older boys get Slivovice (plum brandy), so some can be pretty tipsy after several house visits. We saw several teams of young boys and girls walking through towns with switches and baskets, but none in traditional dress. Some of the town celebrations were fading out.
There were some new institutions taking hold here. The International Film Festival (or Febio Fest) is held every March throughout the Czech and Slovak Republics. The Prague Writers' Festival, dedicated to Czech writer Bohumil Hrabal, was in its eighth year. Every April poets and writers from east and west come to read their works, with simultaneous translations in Czech and English, and to engage each other in dialogue.
May
May is the month of love in the Czech Republic, so on the first of May lovers go to the top of Petrin Hill and exchange kisses in front of the memorial to Romantic poet Karel Hynek Macha. Another May 1st ritual, dating back to the Middle Ages, is "majales," which was banned in 1969 after students used the event to criticize the 1968 invasion, but revived in 1990. Beginning from Jan Palach Square, a procession of allegorical floats and pantomime horses, camels and elephants parade to Strelecky Island. After electing their "King of May" students perform dramatic skits and music and display handicrafts. It's supposed to be a celebration of hope and love and happiness.
There used to be celebrations on May 1, Labor Day, and May 8, WWII Liberation Day. These dates are still state holidays, but only older, hardcore left-wing supporters take them seriously any more. This year on May 1st the new Communist Party of Bohemia and Moravia (KSCM), the direct descendant of the Cold War-era communist party, launched its campaign for the upcoming parliamentary elections in June. Some 2,000 people, mainly pensioners sporting hammer-and-sickle flags and the drab gray suits and slicked-back hair styles of their 1950s heyday, gathered at Letna Park to celebrate the workers' holiday and hear 38 Prague candidates for the June parliamentary elections present their vision of the new millennium.
Prague's most prestigious spring celebration is the three-week-long Prague Spring music festival, which starts on May 12, the anniversary of Czech composer Bedrich Smetana's death. The festival also marks the return of the droves of tourists. But who could blame them. After all, the spring sunshine and blossoms had dressed Prague in her finest garments.
June
At the same time we were mourning our departure, there were some aspects of living in Prague that we would be happy to do without. Obviously, we would not miss the post office and bank and grocery store lines, nor would we miss the begging and thieving gypsies and gangs of pickpockets.
. After a stolen-wallet episode in October, we had learned to be on our guard and carry as little as possible in our pockets. We had occasion subsequently to witness a few classic pick-pocket rings in action which, fortunately, only resulted in increasing our street wisdom. On one such occasion we were waiting for the last of the evening trams on our way home from a lovely evening downtown. As we started to board the tram, our way was curiously blocked by several shabbily-dressed young women crowding the door and blocking our path. At first our only concern was getting on the tram, since it would be a 40-minute wait for the next one. But our attention quickly turned to the commotion caused by these people. As Rick felt two slim fingers enter his front pocket, he grabbed the offender's hand and both fell to the ground. The woman turned away, as if to ignore any wrongdoing or even involvement in the ruckus. Fortunately, the tram driver yelled at the gypsies to leave and waited for us to board safely.
Another attempt at pocket picking occurred in the subway. This time the culprits were well-dressed Czech "businessmen" carrying attachŽ cases. Rick found himself strangely sandwiched among four or five men pushing their way into a nearly empty subway car, only to feel a hand steal into his front pocket. It was an uncomfortable ride to the next stop, Rick being careful to stay at the far end of the car away from threat of further physical contact, but at a loss as to how to alert others to these thugs. At the next stop, the men got off and entered another subway car.
We will not miss the Czech bureaucracy and rigid adherence to rules and narrowly-defined job descriptions. One American ex-pat businessman disclosed the reason that he wanted to become fluent in the Czech language. It was not to help his business---his language proficiency was good enough to communicate with his Czech employees, most of whom were competent in English--- but to yell at store clerks whose typical response to something outside of their domain was "I don't know." "People do their own job," he explained, "with no attempt beyond that." A business consultant explained the bureaucratic mentality: "Czechs are used to doing what they're told. They don't want to infringe on someone else's job. Business strategy and customer service are not part of the Czech lexicon."
Our frustration with Czech businesspeople was nothing compared to the frustrations we experienced in our dealings with the Czech immigration authorities, of course, but even that paled when set against the difficulties we had getting visas to China. Tangible evidence of the success of our year in Prague was research which was bearing fruit. One of my joint projects had gotten accepted for presentation at the International Western Academy of Management conference in Istanbul, Turkey, at the end of June. Rick had been offered a slot on the program at the Ordered Algebra conference in Nanjing, China in early July. Obtaining a visa for Turkey consisted of showing up at the Istanbul airport with an American passport and American dollars in hand. Obtaining a visa for China, however, required a stamp on one's passport before arrival.
The Chinese consulate in Prague was set up to help Chinese citizens living in the Czech Republic and to assist Czech residents in obtaining visas for China. It was not part of the function of this consulate to assist non-Czech or non-Chinese tourists. Having failed in obtaining a Czech residency visa, we were viewed as American tourists on holiday. We were instructed to send our applications with our passports to the Chinese Embassy in the US. Obviously, we could not part with our passports, even for a few weeks. In addition, the Czech mail had proven itself fairly unreliable, and we did not want to risk being prevented from leaving the Czech Republic because our passports had gotten lost or delayed in the mail.
After several attempts, we were told in no uncertain terms that the Chinese consulate would not be able to accept our visa applications. Appeals to Czech and American diplomats resulted in wasted time and strained relationships. We finally hatched what we thought was a workable plan. We found out that the American Embassy could issue duplicate passports to American citizens, provided we had valid passports in hand, which we did. We would then be able to send these new passports to the Chinese Embassy in Chicago, along with our visa applications. Luck was with us, for a friend of ours was planning a business trip to Chicago on the 3rd of June and could hand-deliver our passports, applications, and American currency to the Chinese Embassy there. While she would not be returning to Prague until July, some Denver friends were planning a visit to Prague on June 10th. For an additional fee we could instruct the Chinese Embassy in Chicago to send our visa-stamped passports to Denver via Federal Express. With the help of a Chinese graduate student, the wonderful math department secretary at the University of Denver had called the Chinese Embassy in Chicago, so we had precise location and fee instructions for this transaction.
I decided to make one last stop at the Chinese Consulate in Prague on Monday, the 1st of June. My main mission was to pick up new visa forms, since I feared that the whited-out and re-entered passport numbers might cause problems in the United States. My secondary goal was to make sure that the forms were accurate and complete and that the pictures we had were acceptable. Sunday evening, during dinner at a restaurant with the family of my closest Czech colleague, I asked my friend to write down my request in Czech. The employees at the Chinese consulate only spoke Czech and Chinese and I feared that my broken Czech would not be sufficient to make myself understood. For want of paper, she wrote my request on a teabag wrapper.
Having visited the Chinese Consulate several times over the past few months, one would have expected that Mrs. Po would recognize me and perhaps greet me by name. Instead, she dutifully explained that she would be unable to issue a Chinese visa to me because I did not have a Czech residency card. I gave her the teabag wrapper and tried to explain that I merely wanted her to tell me if my application was complete and acceptable. She looked at the documents and pictures and pointed out that Rick's picture was too big. She again read the teabag-wrapper note. Then, apparently puzzled, she directed me, yet again, to the back room with a telephone to speak through the interpreter. Once again, I was told that I should apply for a Czech residency visa. Once again, I explained that my husband and I were visiting university colleagues in the Czech Republic as well as other countries and that we were not employees or permanent residents of the Czech Republic. Again, the voice on the other end of the phone suggested that we arrange a stopover in Hong Kong, where we could get visas en route to China. Again, I explained that my husband's conference began on a Monday and that the Hong Kong office had no weekend hours. The voice on the phone suggested that we get an official invitation from Nanjing University. I explained that we had such an invitation in hand. The voice on the phone then suggested that our contact at Nanjing University phone Beijing to get permission for us to get a visa in Prague. This was a bit of a new wrinkle, so I asked if the Prague office could make such a call. He explained that, since it was already late afternoon in Beijing, that would only be possible if I were to come back at another time. I explained that I intended to send my visa forms to the US immediately, and that I could not wait another week without assurance of a visa being granted. The phone went back and forth between me and Mrs. Po. She pointed to the now-long line at her window and explained that she could not make the call before the Beijing office closed in another hour. The consulate would be closed the following day and she would be out of town until the following Monday. As I hung up the phone, she told me to wait as she went back to her window.
In an unprecedented breach of her duties, Mrs. Po came back ten minutes later, saying "Beijing has given permission. Please get in line." I immediately called Rick and told him to get two new pictures taken and to call me from the subway station near the consulate office. I explained to the man in the back room that I was expecting a call from my husband and that I would be in the visa line at the front window. Once again at the window, Mrs. Po assumed her official stance. She scrutinized the documents. She matched each name to the names on the invitation letters and passports. She painstakingly cropped the pictures to fit her forms! And then she handed me a form with payment instructions and told me to return at 2:00pm.
Rick called just as Mrs. Po was handing me the payment forms. He explained that he had been unsuccessful getting new pictures since the machine at the subway station was broken. He intended to try another location downtown. Instead, I met him at the nearby station and we proceeded downtown to the bank.
July
We have no friends or family in Turkey or China, so we really felt like tourists on holiday. We spent a week touring Turkey, a lovely celebration of our 25th anniversary, followed by a week in Istanbul. Not only is Istanbul a stimulating place to visit, but the International Western Academy of Management conference was the best conference I had ever been to. Each day's academic presentations were relieved by luncheon speakers from Turkish universities, government offices, and businesses. Accompanying persons were invited to the luncheon presentations as well as to the formal dinners and social events. The Program Chair, a Turkish-American from Pepperdine University in California, had brought her children, as had several other participants. Seeing thirteen youngsters with no place to go except the hotel swimming pool and nearby shops, she arranged for a graduate student to take them to museums, tours, and even a movie. Rick spent his mornings doing mathematics, I spent the mornings in conference sessions, and we both went to the luncheon talks. My son probably had the best time of all that week, and is still in contact with two new friends from this conference in Turkey.
From Turkey we headed for China. We arrived in Beijing, visas in hand, and sailed through immigration. We then flew to Nanjing, where we were greeted and escorted to our conference accommodations. While Rick focused on mathematics, my son and I and four other "accompanying persons" toured Nanjing by foot and taxi. While most of our experiences fit nicely into previously-held stereotypes, I was taken aback by the level of capitalism in this still-communist country. Like Turkey and the middle east, every price could be negotiated. Unlike the Czechs, the Chinese work long hours and are eager to provide assistance. Like most of the western world, there were large department stores with goods from all over the world. Unlike other places we had visited, we drew stares--and photo requests--by our obviously non-Chinese appearance.
Since the conference was in Rick's primary area of expertise, it was a reunion of old friends from around the world. But there were new friends to be made as well, especially among the Chinese mathematicians who attended the conference. It was amazing and encouraging to see genuine mathematics being done under the very difficult circumstances for research in pure mathematics that prevail in the People's Republic of China. Few mathematicians, indeed, can produce under the burdens of isolation and a crushing teaching load.
The conference organizers had arranged a week-long tour of China following the conference in Nanjing. Our first destination was Huangshan Mountain, where we hiked up and down the mountainside in intense heat. Every distinctive tree and rock had a name. We greeted the sunrise on the mountain with throngs of tourists, as if on cue.
We went by train to Xian to see Emperor Xin's terra cotta warriors. The train was like a hostel on wheels. We had reserved berths, but many people spent the night on stools, on the floor, or on the foot of others' berths. Berths were six to a compartment, three high, with no doors. A sign in each car instructed no spitting, no smoking, and no throwing things out the windows. Only the first was heeded. A second train ride took us from Xian to Beijing. This train was air-conditioned, which made for a much quieter night, but the sleeping cars were no less crowded.
In Beijing we were taken to the typical tourist spots: the Great Wall, the Forbidden City, the Imperial Gardens, the Ming Tombs, Tian'amen Square, and the Summer Palace.
August
Back in the USA, we were greeted by wide highways, air conditioning, chilled drinking fountains, free (and clean) public toilets, and electrical outlets on every wall. Vendors smile and people on the street engage you in conversation. One's own culture becomes more obvious after a year. Everything looked pretty much the way we had left it, as if we had only been away for a short vacation. The biggest difference was that our house was empty.
Moving furniture and unpacking boxes is the part I like least. You'd think that the last-in-first-out principle would work well for stored boxes, but little things have a habit of getting shifted in the process, making things like picture and clothes hangers, scissors or soap illusive and file cabinets and dressers buried. Matthew did the only sensible thing: he spent his day at a friend's house playing computer games.
One of the highlights of our first day back was dinner at a barbecue restaurant with country & western music in the background. The salad bar was mediocre, the ice-water and air-conditioning too cold, and the meal overpriced. There was no doubt that we were back in the USA.
We spent our first month back tackling the mountain of boxes in storage, deferred house projects such as painting and carpeting, and new projects such as a leaky hot water heater and rusting gutters. We also had new cars to purchase, having sold our cars before we left. The joys of homeownership and yard work interfered with relaxing reunions with family and friends. Preparation for the start of fall classes got in the way of our attempts to continue the research projects we had started over the past year. A new year had begun, in a familiar setting, with familiar duties. But we are changed, renewed, energized. And we are looking forward to our next sabbatical.