Beer Garden Blues

It’s been a month since my last confession, and meohmy what a month! Forget all I’ve said about lying in bed reading blogs, watching Gilmore Girls and spending hours alone in the library with my laptop… I thought master thesis writing was intense, but compared to what has happened since I finished, it was positively leisurely. Back in January, I had only one thing to focus on and everything else was pushed to the side, or more accurately, ahead. Now it’s April, and I’m still trying to get through it all.

In search of fame and fortune, I have left Prague. I brought the child but left the man behind, for now. A year ago I was nauseated by the thought of leaving, but as the months passed I got used to the idea and started to anticipate the return, for reasons it’s becoming increasingly hard to remember.

Because no matter how happy I am to be reunited with my friends and family, regardless of how great it feels to be able to chat, enquire, explain and complain to bus drivers, shop keepers, customer service guys and a selection of official people (which is what I spend most my days doing), despite the fact the the food tastes like home and the water tastes fresh, and although I am giddy with anticipation for starting my career, I’m beginning to wonder if I didn’t time it badly, horribly badly, even.

One of these days, in Prague, a miracle will take place. A yearly miracle, but a miracle none the less. If it hasn’t happened already, Praguesters will wake up one morning and discover that it is Spring. It literally happens over night, and where yesterday you donned your hat and mitts, today you may discard your wooly coat for a t-shirt and sunglasses and head to the park.

This is not the miracle of which I speak, however. It is a much more fascinating phenomenon. For with Spring comes the opening of the Beer Garden. A massive beer and sausage serving place in the middle of the park Riegrovy Sady in Vinohrady. And it’s like the people who run it know exactly when Spring Day will occur. Bear in mind that SD changes every year, usually occurring somewhere between the end of March and end of April. You might be fighting your way through the park in sleet and slush one day and suddenly see them working away in there behind the fence to prepare tables and benches, umbrellas and beer kegs for the big day. A warm feeling spreads through you, Spring Day is close.

And Beer Garden is not just a place for buying cheap Gambrinus and greasy klobasa, it is in all respects a wondrous place, a paradise, if you will. Here native Praguensians and expats of all nations mingle happily. Children and animals (mainly dogs) roam together between the tables and you pray that the brown things they stuff in their mouths are last year’s conkers, but you’re enjoying yourself too much to get up and check. It’s like what it must have been in the oldern days. You don’t have to make any appointments to meet people, everybody just gravitates to this place as soon as they finish work or school. If you sit there for a whole day, it is quite possible that you will meeteveryone you know.

It is the most laid-back, good-craic, everybody-minding-their-own-business-together atmosphere that I’ve ever come across, and it’s not only because I’m missing it this year that this is all so hard to bear right now. It’s in no small degree because I have returned to Norway specifically, and in order to work, earn and spend money here. Where the sun don’t shine and the beer doth not flow, and if it does and your kids are around, child services are on the spot immediately.

This is what the paralysing fear from exactly a year ago (coincidence? hardly) was all about. Not not being able to drink beer with Matilda around obviously, but the fear that moving back would somehow force me to grow up, fit in, behave and act according to certain rules I don’t agree with on a scale I’m not comfortable with.

As the days fly by, the snow continues to fall and I remain fame-and-fortuneless, I can’t help but wondering if I should have just stayed put and let fame and fortune come find me in Riegrovy Sady.

Christmas Markets and Adjusting Your Expectations

Every Christmas, market places around Prague are transformed into medieval villages by the appearance of little huts where home made crafts, decorations, traditional food and drink, and of course plastic toys and souvenirs are sold. Huge trees light up the place, and not only that, December is usually cold and crispy with a chance of snow. Perfect setting for getting that warm and sparkly Christmas spirit! For a country that has more or less left religion behind, they are all the more concerned with tradition. This combination suits me very well.

All day yesterday I was waiting like a child for the sun to set so that our little family could stroll down to my favourite market at Náměstí Miru. My head was spinning with anticipation over how my two-year-old would react to the beautiful tree and the special atmosphere created by adults chatting, children running around and the smells of hot wine and trdelnik (cake-thingy similar to a cinnamon bun). The fact is, being able to feel like a child again at Christmas is one of the main reasons I wanted to have kids in the first place.

It started well. She had her boots on before I could finish the sentence, “Do you want to go outside and look at a big Christmas tree?”, and like I expected, at the sight of the tree she explaimed, “Wooooooooow!!” with an enthusiasm only available to two-year-olds. We should have turned and gone home then, all three happy and full of that Christmas glow.

“Wooooooow!”

But I wanted trdelník and Steve wanted medovina (honey wine, as delicious as it sounds) and Matilda wanted a closer look at the Christmas tree. Since her birthday in October, she has fully grasped the concept of presents. She has also gathered that there is a connection between presents and Christmas trees, don’t ask me how. We queued for our treats, the child growing steadily more impatient, and when we finally made it over to the tree, imagine our surprise when she burst out crying, “Where are all the presents!?”.

“Where are all the presents!?”

We tried distracting her with the pretty lights, but to no avail. After half an hour we were all ready to go home. “I’m disappointed”, I said to Steve. “Don’t be”, he comforted. “She is tired and overwhelmed, and this is what kids do. You can’t take it personally and you can’t get upset every time this happens.” I was planning on ending this post with something like “And this is what growing up is like. Being a parent means you will never feel the same way about Christmas again”. However, I am listening to carols and therefore choose to end on a more cheerful note. I realise that Christmas spirit doesn’t come from the tree or the market or the smells or the presents in themselves. They come from tradition, and right now, my daughter doesn’t have any. By taking her to the Prague markets and carrying on the traditions Steve and I grew up with, I will eventually get to experience Christmas through her eyes. I do believe in Santa, I do, I do!

Look at the pretty lights!