'Jesus' the carpenter

I promised to say more about my eclectic carpenter so here he is. He comes and goes as he pleases - or shall I say he appears - randomly, sometimes at 10.30 in the night suddenly one hears a sound of saw downstairs... then nothing for a month... but that's the way with him, one can't insist on any 'normality' because this is a man who lives somewhere between heaven and earth, and real life somehow doesn't fit in with his own existence. He doesn't speak, but when approached with an attempt at conversation, he stands still for an interminable time, then draws a deep, deep breath between his teeth. No words. And then at other times he offers out of the blue some totally unrelated stream of consciousness, such as his view on the immortality of souls. But if one accepts his strange ways, he delivers - not necessarily what one commissioned him to make, but certainly something original (such as the Neptune on this picture, a bathroom shelf with a difference). And you either like it or you don't. No-one would have made stairs like his - each with an individual character (see pic above). But one has to have the courage to let him get on with it in his own weird way. I happen to cherish his weird way because it adds to the house's soul. The house being so old and higgledy piggledy, for my mind (not necessarily always to my expectations) it grows into its fabric and I am not just agreed to what I have, but actually more pleased than I can say.
Now: why 'Jesus'? Well, what comes first, the chicken or the egg? Frantisek the carpenter played, for many years, the part of Jesus in the Passion plays at nearby Horice townlet. He really looked the part: tall, bearded, with a flowing mane, and really with his heart in it. Maybe it rubbed off on him, or maybe he was always the way he is, and that's why he was so convincing in the part? Out-of-this-worldly kind of guy. Whatever the reason, even now that he is retired from it, he stylises himself into the role, or else is still in the role, who knows.
All I know is that I love the quirky stuff he makes and I forgive him all his tresspasses :-)

Riverside house - work in progress

I realize that I haven't really been showing any progress on the house since Christmas time. Well, the 1st floor where we live has not changed much but now we are coming to the last phase on the downstairs - so here are some pics, as i took them this evening without bothering to put away any untidiness. It's work in progress after all.
I've spent an inordinate amount of time sourcing old materials, so the house can feel nice and lived in - even though of course I am not trying to live in a museum :-) so I'm perhaps a little eclectic in some respects. But I am particularly pleased with the floor in the main two rooms downstairs - the brick flooring came from an old attic and so no tile is the same; some bear soot marks, some are scratched, each an individual in its own right, but together they form such a lovely whole that I shall be sorry to put furniture down once it's finished. You can see that it is still not entirely laid down, Stephan the builder is still working on it. But we did put the same floor on the study and dining room floor upstairs and they look and feel great - and with underfloor heating they are heaven to live with. Not the easiest of surfaces to clean, but who cares, it's all part of the ageing process (we age together nicely...)
Another challenge is always the higgledy-piggledyness of the curved and nooky spaces that the house is offering: how do you fit a bathroom in that, for example? Well, it can be done. Upstairs I put an old (1880's) stained-glass window in the shower room (with some trepidation lest the conservation authorities make me take it out, but they loved it, thank god) - the window is one of a pair, the other is in the bedroom/hall wall. It makes the rather cramped space feel lighter and more generous, and most of all, fun.
And then I love finding old doors - the whole of the upstairs has 'new' old doors; sheer pleasure to touch every time. You kind of wonder how many hands touched them since they are over 200years old, and just look at those hinges and fittings :-)
The staircase has been completely renovated but in the style it would have been originally (we took the 'modern' 70's lavatory-style tiles it was covered in off, mended what needed be and the carpenter (more on him in a separate blog!, a wonderful person) made these treads out of an old sycamore I bought from someone who had it drying for 8 years in their garage but whose daughter was getting married so they needed the money and since I needed well seasoned wood.... I love these kind of mutually beneficial exchanges.
Anyway, more of the same to follow. I am in a great mood, seeing it all come together. The attic space will have to wait for a long time yet, but it is fantastic to think that when our family come to visit in a week's time, they'll be staying in a place that is finished and functioning.

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 :-)

We've been nominated

This blog as been nominated for The Top 100 International Exchange and Experience Blogs 2010
The final ranking will be decided by popular vote, so we ask you dear reader to vote for us - either by clicking on the link in the left column, or by going to http://www.lexiophiles.com/ix09/vote-for-ix10-here.

We're near the bottom of the list, by the way.

Thanks

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?