It was a delightful week in Cesky Krumlov, in a hostel situated above the Vltava, the fast running river that flows in crazy S-bends all the way to Prague. Our Hostel Skippy (named after the sensuous Cuban singer who owned the 200 year old building) was a temporary shelter to our family as well as numerous backpackers who arrived and left. We six had the two upstairs rooms, while the others flopped in the large multi-bed downstairs room. We made temporary friendships with young women and men from England, Taiwan, Hong Kong, and the States. The last pair was two girls from Holland. As most of them did, the blond with the long hair sat on the porch overlooking the turbulent river smoking her cigarettes.
Oliver sat down opposite her and started a conversation about his frustration over some small incident with his brother Alex that had upset him. She listened carefully and attentively. She must be a teacher, well used to four year olds, I thought.
Soon the conversation turned to her cigarette and more particularly her lighter. What a fascinating piece of smoking paraphernalia! Oliver was intrigued.
"Let me try, let me try". Oliver struggled in vain to make the lighter flame appear.
Later at our final dinner before leaving Czech Republic, we noticed Oliver making funny shapes in the air with his fingers. He's in his fantasy world, I figured, and turned my attention elsewhere. Suddenly Oliver got up from his chair and bounded to the other side of the table to grab his much older brother by his bottom jaw.
"Now you stop doing that" he growled, with a menacing scowl. Oliver can curl his upper lip unexpectedly. He is otherwise a beautiful child with big blue eyes that win him much flattery from women of all ages. In fact, he is very generous with kisses on unsuspecting women's cheeks, to their great surprise and delight. However our celebratory dinner in Prague was turning into a pub brawl, and nobody was more surprised than Alex who had been quietly minding his own business and anticipating his roast duck with cherry sauce, to be followed by palacinska with raspberries, ice-cream and whipped cream.
"You blew it! You blew it, Alex!" growled Oliver.
"Huh?"
"You stop blowing out my flame right now!" He was gripping Alex like you see adversaries do in the comics.
Oliver's mother rose to intervene in the developing ugly scene, first to cool down Alex who was both mystified and indignant, and then to interrogate young Oliver.
"What's going on here?"
"He keeps blowing out my flame", wailed Oliver.
"What flame?"
"My cigarette lighter, I'm smoking a cigarette" and he carefully tapped the imaginary cigarette ash into the real ashtray.
We all learn different things when on the road. Oliver's grandparents learned about the long-lasting grief of Czech people from the German invasion and occupation in the 1940's followed by the unbearable yoke of communism. They also absorbed the beauty of ornately decorated buildings, picturesque streets, and narrow cobbled alleys. Oliver's parents reveled in the entrancing architecture of both Prague and Cesky Krumlov, and loved rafting down the Vltva river, including shooting the numerous weirs. Alex liked shopping for gifts for the family from the arts and crafts vendors on the Charles Bridge in Prague. The adults all enjoyed the fine beers of Pilzn and Budvar, and even tried the slivovitz.
Everyone loved the fairy-tale wedding of our nephew in St Vitus church in Cesky Krumlov with the reuniting of families, long separated between Australia and the United States. Oliver liked the trains and playgrounds but was also enthralled by the beautiful young Dutch girl with the long blond hair who taught him about smoking.
Mariana Hewson
August 8, 2011
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