man of the hour.

as far as I was concerned the parade was in honor of him.

"there are problems in these times, but woo, none of them are mine" - velvet underground

This afternoon, we along with our anti-comrade comrades marched in honor of the Velvet Revolution. We met up with some friends at Palackeho Namesti and waited for the streets to fill. I finished my coffee and everyone threw down their money just in time to see it pass. So we ran out and joined in. We didn't have any tiny flags but we still shook our keys with the best of them and walked along the Vltava through all the closed down streets.

I must admit I felt a bit special walking along the tram lines while one of the few ghostly running trams waited and waited for us. I almost made the bell noise and didn't yield to pedestrians.

Usually a parade strikes fear in my heart of all the crowds, blocked streets, and enthusiastic and sappy signs. But today I couldn't deny the moment; the faces were happy, children were on shoulders, and everywhere people were kissing and cheering and drinking. On the pavement announcers announced. From what I could tell, two women were promising to set-off miniature hot air balloons at succinct intervals from what may or may not have been Vaclav Havel's apartment. In any case, it was eye-catching. The march ended on Narodni Trida near the National Theater and there were promises of a huge concert. No one was moving and in sardine style we got to know our immediate neighbors more intimately. A huge red puppet of the devil ran through the crowd; I paused, got the symbolism, said "dekuji Prague! Enjoy your evening!" and turned quickly down a narrow side path and escaped the masses. We skipped on "Monkey Business" and the other Slavic troubadours and ran through the wet paths home.

i always imagined i would love basements

i have failed to mention that our apartment building is next door to coffee shop and wine cellar. this cellar is connected to the basement below our building. tonight, right when night fell we returned to our building to see the doors wide open with a black sign and a mod dressed german woman telling us the exhibit was down the stairs to the left. while i was tempted to justify my existence and residence, "oh no, i live here," i denied this one human tendency and did what the woman said. down below, was a charming man in a black sweater with a knowing smile you would like to invite to your dinner table and hope would come. he handed us little cups of wine and huge tin flashlights. the smell of the damp basement made me pause for a moment looking at the space before even taking notice of the art. cobwebs and pipes, an ancient jar of preserves. the decay of the bricks were the perfect nooks for Jan Bobek to house his art. when i started to take a look around i realized i was constantly confusing subtler pieces with the environment. i walked past a branch only to return and see neon foxes and alligators mischievously taking part in daily tasks. the majority of the installations were tiny shadow boxes with clay figures, chiefly animals and toys. the little boxes reached their most incendiary point with the ecstatic animals falling over, spilling doll house size glasses of wine, and jumping from the ceiling, while three chalky stately human faces were displayed on the wall in lieu of boars heads. and despite almost ghastly themes, the cartoonishness of the pieces allowed a transcendence of the sinister and instead a playfulness of modern times rather than a mere ironic shock-fest. i felt a little fonder of contemporary art this evening, especially when Mr. Bobek came gently over to us and showed us one had a button to play techno music.

a makeshift halloween; or a phantom czech holiday in Kutna Hora

We spent the waning portion of the 31st at Sedlec Ossuary at the Church of all Saints (Hřbitovní Kostel Všech Svatých). It was below freezing and after lots of slow train transfers we arrived in the small town and walked the empty streets. The ossuary holds the bones of about 40,000 people from the days of The Plagues and Hussite Wars. And although I know little of actual crypt trips, I would say the arrangement of the bones would make any passe anatomy pleased. We were handed an ill-translated pamphlet that talked about the passing away of the flesh emphasizing that these bones now mean nothing in comparison to the owners' immortal souls. Needless to say, I understood their point in spite of their charming constructional errors and shared a smile about all these people who were perhaps neighbors in Bohemia, loving each other and likely annoying each other and yet they are united to this day offering a collar bone to dusky, magnificent chandelier. I lit a 4 koruna candle for my family i never met and hoped somehow I'm a descendent of the pretty chalice in the entryway.