more on mushroom hunting

I posted several items on this Czech national obsession last year, but it is hard not to return to this topic because September is the month when mushroom-picking reaches fever pitch. The countryside roads are literally lined with parked cars as townies invade the woodlands, and the country people themselves are getting up earlier and earlier so as to get to the forest before the hordes descend. But the forest areas are vast in this country, so no matter how many people come, they all manage to find a quiet route through the woods and fill their basket. Then at the end of the day they compare their trophies, and retire happily home where they spend literally hours cleaning and sorting and cutting the mushrooms which are then eaten for dinner, pickled, dried or frozen.

I went picking with my brother in law and his family the other day, and he commented that mushrooms are the one thing that completely unites Czechs across all classes, backgrounds, political persuasions or religions: a policeman might meet a football hooligan in the forest and both their eyes, and indeed souls, will light up in unison at the sight of a perfect boletus: a moment when the world is at peace.

But this doesn't mean there is no competition: akin to fishermen, mushroomers love to tell tall tales about the sizes of their catch long after the season is over, and women compare the rows of jars with pickled mushrooms that line their pantry shelves. And in long Winter months when nothing grows, the pickled and dried mushrooms, added to nearly every dish, help the Czechs survive their withdrawal symptoms until the Spring mushrooms start growing again and the hunts can resume.

Recently I read an article in the Guardian that tried to teach the Brits how to pick. And of course I know that the more adventurous Brits in Britain have now been foraging for mushrooms for some years. But as ever the article both encouraged and scared the wits out of anyone reading it, as (it seems to me|) the British mushroom-hunters like the sense of danger associated with dark tales of poisonings. Here in Czecho a very few foolish people also die every year of fungi poisoning but you would never hear anyone tut tut when seeing a person with a basket: after all there are other literarly mortal dangers out there in the woods: ticks, vipers, or even boars if you don't know how to handle meeting them. But does anyone care? Not at all: the hunt is the thing. The beauty of a fresh mushroom sticking its perfect head out of the perfect clump of moss is beyond anything dangerous. And to a Czech, perhaps even beyond any other pleasure: I have not yet met any Czech who would mention the joys of sex or even beer with such an ecstatic, nay beatific expression as when mentioning a mushroom.

The pleasures of Krumlov riverside

Despite of the continuing river works, life at the riverside is back to Krumlov Summer normal. And for the first Summer season we are enjoying the privileged position of being right by where it all happens - so sitting in the garden is like being in a front row of a theatre, watching the life go by as it has done for years, when Krumlov becomes both a sophisticated tourist town and a simple beach.
Hundreds of canoes pass by, their crews shouting Ahoy - canoeing and rafting being such a popular sport in this land-locked country that I know no-one who hasn't 'done the river' at least once in their lives. The canoeists usually take a week or two going from up the river as far as they can get (theoretically you could go all the way to Prague if you'd negotiate the few dams along the way), sleeping in camps or rough anywhere along the banks.
And our little street that backs onto the river also becomes a sort of beach - I meet my neighbours, young and old, in the morning and in the evenings going for a swim, or just say hello to them sunbathing by their gardens. And I watch from the window the fun everyone is having. This is the most wonderful part of living in this little town - I can be sitting outside working at my computer but I still feel I am on holiday, surrounded as I am by the relaxed, happy people who actually are.
And then after my swim, like this evening, I can dress into a formal gear and attend a concert - Krumlov is always having some festivals, from classical to jazz etc. And these are not just any old concerts, the quality is high. Next week for example Jose Cura is giving a performance here.

Going home, as evening darkens, Krumlov comes alive with many drifting sounds competing gently as they ooze from little riverside bars and restaurants - a guitar here, a piano there, gypsy music on the opposite bank...
So the daytime beach becomes a sophisticated venue by the evening, only to relax back into a kind of homely place to eat and stay up late. As I go to bed I tend to hear distant laughter from below my windows, along with the lapping of the Vltava river. Life feels so pleasant - how could I ever have thought that the only place to live is London?

Driving in Winter, the Czech way

We were comparing notes with fellow Brits the other day about Winter driving - the way everything seems to come to a stop in Britain the moment any amount of snow falls, while here, as on most of the Continent, people just carry on, quite happily: so I thought I'd take a few pics when on the way to the Lake house a couple of days ago (click to enlarge as usual, if you like).
The major roads are of course kept snowless - either by chemical or by mechanical means (mostly both). Snowploughs start out every morning at some ungodly hour (heroically) so that public, and any other major transport is able to carry on as normal. The larger minor roads are usually left chemical-less, they get just ploughed through now and then, and gritted - a bit. The smallest roads, however, are there for the users to just get along the best they can. Of course everyone here drives on Winter tyres; the Czechs do a twice-yearly tyre-changing ritual. But it is all quite safe, and fun - unless you are a maniac driver. They tend to be the ones that pay with their life, alas.
The majority, though, enjoy the adventure. So do I. Almost as fun to do as skiing :-)

Well, this, too, is part of owning a remote cottage...

When you need to literally carve your way to the door, that's what I call a snowfall. And having a house in a remote location means not only an adrenalin-pumping drive along practically non-existent, white-on-white, deep and icy roads, but also having to fight your way towards the house itself :-) But it needs to be done: one needs to check whether pipes have not frozen inside, and whether there isn't too much snow on the roof - else you might come back when the days are warmer only to find plumbing disaster and collapsed eves. So, yes, we did find over a meter of snow in places on the barn roof (the shovel in the picture is 60cm wide) and it meant having to climb up and shovel it off. It turned out to be a lovely exercise, and we enjoyed the feeling of a job done as much as the cup of tea by the open fire inside afterwards. And - thanks to our having left our heating to temper the interior, no plumbing disaster.

Sorry about the quality of photos (phone) but I thought you might enjoy them nevertheless :-)

Winter walks on skis

When you feel like a walk in the middle of Winter, you'd have a hard time going unless you put on a pair of walking skis. There are two ways to enjoy this pastime: one, when you take yourself on the many kilometres of prepared cross-country, or 'langlauf' walkways, kept by the municipality and well signed.
You can buy maps that clearly mark these paths, and as moving on skis is faster than walking on foot, you can cover further distances in the Winter than you would in the Summer, and see much of the countryside, stop off in villages for a mulled wine or beer, go alone or in groups, and take it easy, or exercise your athletic prowess :-)

Two - and this is what I prefer - is to go into uncharted territory and make your own marks. There is nothing like the feel of the snow squashing under the narrow ski. Of course you don't cover as much ground as you would on a made-up langlauf highway, but, especially when going quite alone and being quiet you meet animals: hares, rabbits, deer.... I even saw a fox as I was coming back the other afternoon close to dusk.

I love this country with all it has to offer. And being here in Krumlov means you needn't go far to get these pleasures: five minutes outside the town, and you are in a forest. So you have the best of both worlds.

skating at Lipno lake

When Lake Lipno freezes over, as it does every Winter (and it freezes so deep that people even drive cars, even lorries, over - as ferries obviously don't operate at Winter time) it is time for families to go skating, a must for most people here. When much snow has fallen, the Lipno resort obliges by keeping a clear path over the ice - 11km long - so you can skate to your heart's content and it never gets crowded like normal municipal outdoor ice-rinks tend to at this time. They also keep a path for people on walking-skis - 'langlauf' being another activity beloved by Czechs of all ages and shapes. But that maybe is a subject for some other blog.
In the evening, tired and full of endorphins from the sun and the exhillaration of skating, you get an added bonus of the famously spectacular sunsets over the lake. What more can one ask of a piece of Nature?

Krumlov under snow

In the previous blog I waxed lyrical about snow in the countryside, but Krumlov is also transformed when covered in its white duvet. So, just so it doesn't get left out :-) here are a few pictures, the one here on the right is looking out from the Riverside house's garden.

spectacular snow

I know my co-expat Potok has also been blogging about this phenomenon, and so did I a year ago, but one can't help it: when the frost covers the trees and frost-on-frost snows come, it is what we've come to call 'a diamond time'. In very cold temperatures an extra layer of frost forms each night and as this country knows very little wind, the masses of crystals stay undisturbed, just grow in thickness and beauty - even on the snow that lies on the ground. So when the sun hits the landscape, it sparkles like millions of diamonds. Unfortunately it is impossible to photograph in its full glory, but here's at least a pale representation of it. So while downhill skiers enjoy the exhilaration of powder snow everywhere, a great alternative is to put on walking skis and slide quietly into the stillness of the forest, and then stop, and wait: Not a sound is heard, and nothing moves save for the occasional drop of snow from an over-heavy branch, sending showers of sparkly flakes through the blindingly bright rays of the sun, and one is in the presence of something eternal, timeless - just sheer, gloriously pristine beauty, a gift beyond imagining.
If only the politicians and all those busy businessmen who shape our future would find time to take themselves, alone and humbly, just for one day into such paradise - maybe we'd have a better world to look forward to?

Happy Easter

Easter is in full flow here, today the streets and the countryside are full of people going from house to house in search of a good hiding :-) and beautifully painted eggs. The Czechs take their Easter with as much passionate regard to traditions and customs as they do their Christmas.
As I don't want to repeat myself, for those of you who are interested in Czech Easter, please visit here for decorated eggs and traditional food, and here for the actual customs.
We've been having fabulous weather - the nights are still cool (yesterday morning there was still thick frost as I arrived at the Lake house) but the days are in mid-20C, hot and sunny. I even saw some first brave souls trying to bathe in the river here at Krumlov :-). But the best thing is the way Nature is opening up, as it should be for a proper Easter feeling: the trees are beginning to green nicely, the catkins are out, I even had proud hen with her cute new brood of fluffy yellow chicks cross the small country road on my way back yesterday evening. How Easterish can you get?
Here is a picture sent by a friend who followed Potdog's Easter Lambkin recipe with much success.
Happy Easter!

Out with Winter, welcome Spring

Yesterday we went to the Mill on what by now is our 5th yearly Spring ritual of saying Goodbye to Winter. 31st for the host family! The weather was foul, so there were fewer people than last year but it was still fun, and, as always, we appreciated the genuinness of the occasion. Young and old gathered together with music and dancing, keeping alive the folk tradition and the songs that go with it, and passing it down the generations Last year's post describes the ritual in detail - in brief, what happens is that an effigy of Winter is dressed, taken to a river with much merriment, and then set on fire and thrown into the water, to be taken away and to make room for Spring to arrive. Here just a few photos.

Spring is coming?

While in Krumlov it's now Springtime, with snow practically melted and snowdrops in evidence everywhere, here at Forest House I had to literally dig a space to put a table on, to entertain my fellow Krumlov Brits for lunch. But the sun was bright and warm enough to sit out comfortably, and we all felt as if we were in some Alpine resort. Forest House never disappoints :-)

half term pleasures

The family are here again - so I am again indulging in giving the children the opportunities that our little Southern Bohemian paradise offers. So little Anna and I (and a couple more Krumlov Brits), led by Sarka from Stable Pohoda, went for a fabulous late-afternoon horse ride in the snowy landscape, a great excitement for Anna as we didn't get home till the dark, the horses picking their way through the deep snow underfoot. Moments to stick in the child's memory - the sharp frosty air, the glistening snow in the pinkish sunset, the showers of powdery snow from branches overhead when riding among trees. And the total silence save for the soft crunch of the horses' hooves.
And then the daily tuition at the Lipno ski school, delivering fantastic value: the instructors here are brilliant, speak fluent English and really know how to get the best out of the children - Anna is now confidently skiing any hill on offer, and her 6yr old brother surprised us yesterday by showing perfectly relaxed turns and bombing down the red run with such joy that I couldn't believe my eyes!
Oh - and one more thing - we grown ups took a day discovering another 'local' resort, Karlstift, just over the Austrian border. Small, but just great for a single day out - 2 reds, one black, and one blue. Challenging enough yet almost empty of people. Highly recommended for those visitors to Krumlov who find the Lipno resort a little too easy or busy.