Europe 2009 - Thursday 7 May, Part II

missionspot.blogspot.com - My last journal had me traipsing around under a Czech mountain in a closed-down Soviet uranium mine. I’m happy to report that I have presented with no signs of radiation poisoning since then. But my day wasn’t over yet. I was with my Czech friend Simon who is at once a genius and wild man, as well as an excellently fearless photographer.

Although I’ve already recounted the uranium mine adventure, I have to insert a picture here that I took of an animal skull we found on the walk to it. Simon insisted that it be called “The Future in the Post-Nuclear Age.”

On the drive back to Liberec from the mine we stopped at a wide spot in the road to have a coffee. It was the village pub. I don’t recall the name of the village, but it was typical of the rural places in this part of the globe. We arrived about two or three in the afternoon and the place was nearly deserted, except for the expected core group of drinkers hanging out in the bar area. Of course there was dead silence as we walked in with suspicious stares as we took our seats at a table across the room.

The barmaid came to take our order and we visited the restroom in turns. Fearless Mountain Dog Fani was asleep on the seat beside Simon. The drinkers had started back up their conversation, ignoring us but at the same time acutely aware of us. It’s a situation I’ve been in many times and it’s a little uncomfortable, especially for a female traveling alone. Nothing would ever happen to me, of course, but the outsider feeling is there.

However, this time I had Simon who knew just what to do. This is a common and expected action for the visitor and breaks the ice anywhere in Europe. After we got our coffees and rested a while, Simon got up and went over to the table where the drinkers were discussing the same thing, I’m sure, that every other drinking group at every other rural pub in Europe discusses: wives, economy, job, kids, work, what have you. He then asked to borrow a cigarette. Once they produced several for him to choose from, he offered them one of his. After they all lit up, the tension in the air dispersed and he came back to the table having fulfilled his part of the bargain. I think I’ll have to start carrying American cigarettes with me for these situations - I don’t smoke, but you can see how useful it would be.

While Simon was over at the regulars’ table, I shot some still lifes to pass the time:

We had one more stop to make before our outing was over. I mentioned in my last journal that Simon’s father was truly a dissident during Soviet occupation and Simon has inherited many of those traits himself. His father, Jan, is a published photographer as well. Simon’s brother, also named Jan, I believe, is a photographer, too. So it’s all in the family.

We pulled up to a huge, old, looming block house that had at least three stories. On the corner was a round tower. Wonderfully old world. We made our way into the house and climbed the stairs to the second level. Mr. Pikous, now 80 years old, was lounging in a worn overstuffed chair in the corner of a room that I would expect an 80-year-old former dissident to inhabit. The afternoon sun shone through the tall windows and the open door on the opposite side of the room led to a round patio on top of the tower. The carpet was a threadbare Persian number and the furniture was heavy and dark. One wall was lined with collected antique bottles, one wall was overgrown with houseplants, and very old paintings, photos, and other decorations covered the wall space between the windows.

Mr. Pikous rose to greet me, buckling his belt as he did so. I think we interrupted his afternoon nap. Nonetheless, there was a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he gave me a very strong handshake. Even though we could have communicated in German, he was very hard of hearing, so Simon took it upon himself to yell translations to him as I spoke. It was quite a scene!

When I requested my picture to be taken with him, here is the result that Simon shot with my camera - I guess some things are the same the world over. Namely, dirty old men!

He was truly charming, though, and we had a wonderful visit. The highlight of my experience with this old gentlemen was that he allowed me to see the proof sheets of his next book that was due to be published that very month! He brought out a box with paste-ups of his photos that he was dropping off at the printers the next day. He is old-school, using film photography and making collages from film and slide sandwiching. This book was to be his first color one. I was salivating over the images and hoped he’d give me one, signed of course, but it didn’t happen - yet! Here’s a place on line that you can buy the book, though the site is in Czech. Might give you an idea of what kind of photos Mr. P does, though: http://gorila.sk/product/207165.

After we said our goodbyes we were on our way from the house to the car when I looked up and saw Mr. P. at the top of the tower waving at us. It was one of those “best photos I never took” moments; I didn’t have my camera ready and missed the shot! I’ll always remember it, though.

I also met Simon’s mother coming up the walk as we left. She seemed distracted from her shopping trip but very pleasant, with a handshake even firmer than Mr. P’s!

Later that evening all my Czech photographer friends met up at the bar I wrote about earlier called The Pub (so inventive!) for a farewell party for me. Actually, it was the night of a huge hockey game between the Czech Republic and Sweden, so I suspect that the reason for my party was more for the hockey than anything. I’m sorry to report that the Czechs got creamed in that game.

In any case, my buddies showed up and I got lots of going-away presents, such as a White Tigers shirt (local hockey team), a Liberec souvenir for my tiny souvenir for the windowsill collection, and a lot of free drinks. I met a huge man with a shaved head, friend of Libor, who told me he’d seen me in a slideshow from their visit in Florida and that I looked much better in person. Then he told Libor he had to throw his camera away because it took bad pictures. Thanks - I think!

It’s always sad to leave my friends, but I had to say goodbye fairly early. I was exhausted and the smoke of the bar was getting to me. Everyone had work the next day and I had an early train, so we all departed soon after it was apparent that the Czech hockey team wasn’t going to perform any miracles.

The next morning I was picked up by Mila and her husband Michael bright and early and taken to the train station. Mila helped me buy a train ticket that was incredibly cheap and they put me on a train bound for Nuremburg, Germany.

So stay tuned for THAT story!

other source : http://youtube.com, http://viva.co.id, http://komnatachista.blogspot.com

Posted by Hodie J