Getting To Know You  - November 12th

This past year has made such a difference in my adventure to this unknown (to me) country. It has been a good summer and with the help of Andrej, I am beginning to make the school house mine. I move easily now, knowing these unnamed roads with their twists and turns, up hills and down dales, with their many bicycled travellers and their vistas of farm houses and crops of wheat, sunflowers, and corn nestled in the Biele Karpaty mountains. I move easily now thru the small villages of Tura Luka, Krajne, Stara Tura, Senica, Kuty on my way to visit Zuzana in Stupava.  I have found my "shops" where I visit and find new and exciting tastes for my palate. Oh, the poor vegetarians without the envy of my taste buds that speak for the culture of this proud country. 

I wave my hand as I pass the locals in Jablonka that I have yet to meet, in my green Rover. But they know me now and wave back knowingly without curiosity as I move among them. Maybe next year I will sit with them in the newly built outdoor porch of the Jablonka Tavern and sip a beer as a warm summer's eve. The porch adds a charm now to my village, a bit of color against the stark modernism of Communism now past. And there have been some new houses here in Jablonka built also with charm. The Posta clerk in the City Hall across the street greets this lone American/Jablonian with ease now and the Postwoman will slip me my mail without asking when she spots me in the village. Growth is visible with the road to Piestany now sprouting up new business buildings, showing there is progress in this part of Slovakia. There will be work for the many unemployed and I hope that some day small restaurants will again prosper like the Jablonka Tavern has now.

I have learned much about this country and that it is customary to bestow a box of chocolates on the workers you have dealings with as a thank you for their efforts. I had wondered why the aisle for boxed candy outnumber any other aisle in the supermarkets and I now understand  why they are always so crowded. When I turned in my tax forms with the box of chocolates to the Myjava Office, off course, there was the usual protest with large smiles. But always the gift stays with them when I leave because it is the custom.

I have also learned that while Halloween is the second most commercial holiday in America, it is not celebrated in Slovakia. I worried as I took Andrej home on that Monday that I would see too may children in the late hour of the dimly lit villages. Instead, it was the dark clothed adults along the roads, lighting  votive candles where their loved ones had died. The cemeteries are filled shoulder to shoulder with yellow, white and rust colored chrysanthemums hugging the tall monuments on All Hallows night, lit with thousands of candles flickering in the darkness. November 1st is a big National holiday for remembering the dead. There are no trick or treaters.

And, I have learned that while America may be obsessed with speeding limitations, Slovakia has no concern for speeding but does provide frequent official document and seatbelt usage checking as well as other law patrols. Heaven forbid one should forget to have their car lights on from October 15th to March 15th or a $200 fine is in order. While I drive the speed limits through the villages, I am always passed by impatient drivers. 

Dear Andrej still wears his becoming smile altho it has not been a year without problems for him. No, car, no job, raising a family with his parents one bedroom flat with five other people. But now there is a good job with Whirlpool as a service repairman and a car looms in his near future as the company will pay for half of it. He dreams of adding a satellite mapping system to make it easier to locate his customers. Andrej is just like me in traveling these unknown roads. His life, like most villagers, has kept him within his own community and places like Bratislava are only foreign lands for him. Yet, he still awaits a flat to purchase and wonders if a monetary gift might speed up the process. There is much waiting to be done for everyone in this country.

September 8th - Mushrooms

Oh dear, the summer has slipped away and in just two months I will be boarding my plane out of Vienna for Las Vegas. I feel depressed just thinking about leaving my school house and my life here in Jablonka. I am so comfortable now even with still some plans for remodeling yet to come. But the kitchen, diningroom, bedroom, bathroom and den are almost completed to my liking. 

Roaming the country roads reveal them standing now, as tall but naked soldiers, their green uniforms now withered

away to the winds, just skeletons of their former selves. They turn their heads no more and for miles upon miles they are now just a blur in memories of the living. Somewhere their black seeds are being ground into oil and somewhere else  the seeds are getting ready for winter bird feeding. Goodbye my dear sunflowers. See you again next July.

Musta licked my hand and danced around me as if she knew I was the one who put a roof over his head. My eyesore is now home for a Bernease Mountain dog, guarding  a thousand or more exotic birds residing next to my new American friends, Ed and Linnie's, home. My world now expands to their village of Brestovec just the other side of Myjava. I spent a delightful day at their charming home that ended with a bucket of homemade mushroom soup and spatzle made by Betka, Musta's owner, to take home with me.

Gathering wild mushrooms in this country is a normal pastime and one can usually see locals coming and going along the roads after a rain, and then disappearing into the woods with baskets to be filled. One can never go hungry here in Slovakia and when there was food shortages during the wars, the people could still live off the countryside.  Wild mushrooms, apples, pears, and nuts are all free for the taking along the roads. And of course there is plenty of fish, deer and boar living in the woods as well as game birds. My father was a small child when he left Germany for America with his parents, but he already had known the pleasures of finding edible mushrooms. So, when I was a small child, we would go into the woods in Chicago and gather what mushrooms we could find and he would make this wonderful soup. Of course the rest of the family waited for us to double over in pain, believing they were poisonous. But I had faith in my father and we lived on to savor every spoonful. 

August 15th - The Old Kitchen As It Was

Where did the summer go? Somehow I think I missed it as my thoughts return to starting a fire in the fireplace again. I try to hold off hoping it will get warmer tomorrow as it is still August. The Tizik wheat has been

harvested and the hay baled. Today the remnants produce a pungent odor with its gray smoke as they are burned black to replenish the soil. The Lipa trees have stopped singing and the spent blossoms have dropped to the ground, some finding refuge in Saturday's coat. The gypsy caravan of now honey filled hives that has been parked

the other side of my forest have been moved somewhere else, the bees having done their work with my Lipa trees. The sunflower congregation out in the fields have bowed their heads as if in prayer, heavy and laden with their black ripened seeds. Here, the grocery store shelves have an abundance of sunflower oil for cooking, where I am used to seeing mostly corn oil in America.

And as I wander the roads through the many small villages, my thoughts always go to thinking that there must be another American hidden in those silent houses I pass. Surely I am not the only one who has ventured into this former Communist country. Surely there is another alien who might have untangled the legal ropes and would share their experience with me, giving some peace for my mind. The laws here are so ambivalent when it comes to foreigners. No one seems to know just what to do with us. Of course, as of May 2004 and entry into the European Union, what had been before now is being changed. But who might know? I can't seem to get any straight answers on how to proceed. I must just continue to abide by faith this will all work one day in my favor and I can continue to enjoy my school house retreat.

The school house and the Rover seem to love having their hands in my pockets these days, grasping for coins to feed their needs. Andrej has done his magic and my kitchen sparkles with renewed interest as I enjoy the new white porcelain country sink and the new white oven. Their brightness makes the kitchen lighter now as I have just one small window at the far end of the narrow room. I am filled with joy as my schoolhouse becomes mine with these small touches. I ma baking now, first a pizza, then a carrot cake and today some oatmeal cookies and barbecued spareribs.As for my trusty Rover, gas prices are now about $5.70 a gallon and the thirsty soul gulps a lot as I meander down these nameless roads. And of course small things continue to break and annoy, impeding my travels in the process, this last time confining me for almost 3 weeks. But Andrej has a friend and the friend has a brother who is versed in electrical repairs and so it was he who fixed the electrical system so the Rover can start and again giving me back my freedom.

But, before there was a new sink and oven, and before there was the satellite dish, and the Stihl, and the Huskavarna mower, and the fireplace, and even before there was Andrej, there was Buchta. Buchta was my first handyman who slayed the high weeds that had engulfed my lawns when I first arrived May of 2004. It had been Buchta who spoke not a word of English but insisted talking at me, knowing I did not understand a word he was saying. It was Buchta who fought with my neighbors, the Tizik's, sending them crying to my doorstep because of his harsh words to them and what I was to learn later, their fear he would steal from me. I sense from all I meet here that there is this fear of thievery, something we as Americans know is possible yet do not make our daily worry. They had remembered Buchta when he had worked rebuilding my school house for the prior owner, years before. And it was Buchta who knew I wanted to send the eyesore in my front yard away, the eyesore of a rusted kennel run that contained a poorly built dog house.  In Slovakia, it seems every house has an outdoor kennel for a guard dog and mine was so equipped. Yet, for me these "dog jails" are not my style. I never built any kennels to house my dogs or let them spend their hours confined under the clouds or stars or snow or rain. For me, my dogs enjoy the yard with me and sleep in the house as members of my family. So, even back 18 months ago, Buchta knew I wanted the dog run dispersed with. Twice he brought someone to see it, confer in Slovak, and then to disappear with no further contact. Finally about a month ago, Andrej and Miro moved the cage on the back of a tractor to the Tizik front yard. Mr. Tizik will raise some small birds in the jail. now there was only the  unsightly house itself remaining to trouble the view from my front windows.

So, just as I was leaving to visit Zuzana a few days ago, who should be at my gate, but Buchta with another prospect for my dog house. While I did not remain hopeful, however, this time when I returned, I was joyous to see the eyesore was now finally gone, the man having returned in my absence to pluck the dog house for his own, and somewhere in Slovakia, some poor dog is now sniffing out his new house for his role as a guard dog.

But my dear friends, this is not the end of my tale for what small gift we give brings back to us a greater reward for our kindness. For today, the recipient of the eyesore arrived at my gates with another gentleman to thank me for the dog house. Much to my surprise, the new gentleman introduces himself as Ed Konecnik, another American with a home nearby in Myjava. Of course I invited Ed and his wife Linnie to come for lunch so we could compare our Slovak war stories. It turns out that the Konecniks live in New York and summer in Myjava. They enjoy the summers here visiting the various spas here and in the neighboring countries, something I have yet to explore. Ed inherited his property in 1980 when his grandmother died. He had a battle with the Communist government back then, just being American. But, he did manage to raze the old homestead and rebuild a new structure. Lots of legal gymnastics of course still remain and we both tossed about what little we know about the laws for foreigners, laws still in transition and unknown even by the resident lawyers. But what has been settled by the European Union is that in 2011, foreigners will be able to own property in Slovakia. In the meantime, Zuzana and I will be sorting out what is to be done for now.

And so I now travel these roads feeling less isolated, less alone knowing the Koncniks have been through this maze of legal gymnastics. Misery does love company. Even though they will be returning to America in three weeks time, I feel more relaxed about the situation now, and that I will not be tossed out on my ear one day. If they can continue to have a home here, then so can I.

July 30th - Zuzana

The past month has brought miles and miles of yellow fields of sunflowers lining the roads of my travels. It is a curious thing to see green on one side of the road and their yellow faces on the other as they follow the sun's path. Of course, later in the day when I return, the opposite view is true. They must have very strong necks to handle this phenomenon of following the sun every day of their lives. 

Living in a foreign country where one does not know the laws or the language has its difficulties, and I am not without mine. But I am finding a comforting support in the may Angels that have come to help me. The people of Slovakia are very giving of their caring about this foreigner and the closure of the book on my contact here of last year was instrumental in bringing me Zuzana. This pretty and slim interesting mother of three very delightful children, a boy (Lucas) nine and twin girls (Linda and Simone) seven, plus a few Briard's and a couple Cockers, saved

me from a nervous breakdown. Never having met me except for a brief

introduction, she tended to my Rover while I was in Las Vegas last year and met me and Saturday at the airport in Vienna upon my return in  April. Our relationship has grown and we have been enjoying each other's company ever since. I am so privileged to have her in my life and if it took a heap of stress from my prior mentor, it was well worth the strain to now have Zuzana as part of my adventure.

One thing I have learned here in Slovakia, car registrations are very unlike

the USA. You are responsible for initiating the renewal process, nothing is mailed to you for remittance. The every other year renewal process consists of a thorough inspection of one's vehicle like nothing I have ever known before. For the occasion, Zuzana drove the 100 km to hold my hand through the process. We had to go to Nova Mesta for the official government validation. The Rover had the usual smog test and then was put on a rack for a scrutinized inspection of every part of the car including the water for the windshield wipers front and rear. Tires were tested by a device that simulated the potholes in the road and each brake shoe tested for an even pressure to both. Without a perfect pass the registration could not be renewed. Well, the Rover failed. Seems the rear wiper fluid was not being delivered to the window (spilled on the floor) and the brakes pulled on one side unevenly. Also, the one headlight lens was scratched and did not deliver enough lumens

and the tires were the wrong size for the car. This meant disaster for Gyn

as these repairs could take many weeks to get the parts from Rover in England. We had just been through 2 months of waiting for parts before.

  A Communist hangover, I suppose, is the sporatic checks by the Police. Unannounced uniformed roadside men will raise what appears to be a red ping pong paddle, indicating you are to pull over for an inspection of your papers. I must furnish the passport, driver's license, European driving permit, insurance card and the required pink registration card indicating you have had the car inspected. So far I have been stopped three times and the last time it was indicated my pink card reflected the old license number and not number of my new EU plates and was due to expire anyway in one month. Now I had had the car inspected when I bought  it last year in Bratislava, and again when I obtained the new plates for Jablonka. That didn't matter as the pink card never was changed to reflect any inspections. What did matter was the date on this pink card requiring another inspection and another $30. 

Well, Zuzana just happens to have a friend who owns the Mercedes and Rover dealership in Bratislava. It was Ivan who had helped fix

the Rover the last time the temperature gauge broke. So, Zuzana was quite aware of what to do. She called her friend and relayed the work that need to be done as we stood there, then set out to make things right for the present. She explained to the tester how it would make this American stranded for months in Jablonka without the parts, giving the gentleman her best smile with twinkling eyes. He smiled and twinkled back, I smiled not knowing what was going on but it seemed a good thing to do. We all laughed and after paying my $30, the gentleman shook our hands as he gave me the required updated new pink card, telling us we now had another two years to make it right with the Rover.

Zuzana lives in the village of Stupava just outside of Bratislava and an

hours drive to Vienna. The village has all the charm I wished from Jablonka. There are several small restaurants and one can get a delicious lunch including wine for about $2. During the summer, a family from Slovenia makes and operates an ice cream parlor which is better than any I have ever tasted in the whole world. Ice cream is my weakness and now I am excited to have found this one as there is no Ben and Jerry to be had. The homes are a bit more upscale than Jablonka and the shops have some very fashionable clothes. Like most of the larger villages, there are two

Zuzana is now a stay at home mom, but once sang opera for the Bratislava Philharmonic. It was there she met her husband, Martin,  who still sings. But this summer, he is taking his holiday by singing for the Saint Margarethen Folk Festival in Austria and has invited me to enjoy the performance with Zuzana as his guest. I have never been exposed to much Opera and was excited about the evening.

We wended our way through the vineyards of northern Austria to St.

Margarethen, located just 45 minutes from Bratislava. It is a small village but home to a huge canyon of sheer

thirty story cliffs holding back the earth. Four thousand, five hundred of

us streamed with anticipation down the path that led to our seats.

You could hear the gasps of delight when we reached the canyon floor and  stood in awe in the dusk before a

massive stage for the Bezet opera, "Carmen". Life size cathedrals, buildings bridges, and castles hugged and climbed the cliffs. Windmills with the likes of Don Quixote stood tall atop it all alit in breathtaking splendor. It made me think of the Las Vegas Casinos that have replicated populous destination points for the traveller. Every detail was without flaw. Actors and dancers come from all over Europe to participate in the Festival. There are actually three Carmen's who rotate performances. The actors are all sponsored and a man of means has leased the canyon for 10 years. This is the third year for the Festival.

In a prior life, I spend twenty years making sets and acting in little

theatre. It was my world before dogs and nothing I ever saw during my tenure could compare to the staging of this performance. Besides the outstanding music with a cast of three hundred performers, there were over a dozen horses, some doing performances of their own as well as assisting the staging with soldiers and principles riding atop, or pulling vintage carriages. Adding to the drama, some actors descended the cliffs by ropes. Our seats were located in the next to last 59th row and claimed a price tag of 142 Euros (about $170) and was well worth the price had we paid for it. Between acts, the stage torches went out with

the lights and gorgeous roses were superimposed upon the entire blackened stage. Intermission brought about 15 minutes of extraordinary fireworks before we retreated to the refreshment area. Here there were small houses named for the major characters and along with gourmet food was wine from the area, all labeled expressly as "Carmen". I must add that my red wine was smooth as satin and upon inquire found it came from the vineyard "Wind". I still remember it's

mellow flow and wish I could have taken a bottle or two home with me.

In the dark of midnight, Zuzana and I stretched the return by getting lost

and even coming upon the customs border crossing we had used earlier, now being closed. Now, with being members of the European Union, many of these check points may soon be permanently closed. Next year the currency for these countries will decidedly be the Euro. That will be a welcome relief as living in such close proximity to each other and having not only the various languages to deal with, there is the matter of the different currencies as well. We did finally find an open crossing and managed to climb into bed at 3 am, enriched by the wonder of the night. I am so fortunate to have Zuzana in my life...ciao, gyn

July 15th - The Gymnasium

It is the peak of summer here in Jablonka with morning temperatures in the low 50's and the highs in the low 80's, all very pleasant. The Lipa tree is singing with millions of bees making their honey, some getting so drunk they fall to the ground, buzz a bit and die. Of course this presents a problem for Saturday, as she has taken to catching anything with an annoying buzz and these are easy prey. But I am afraid for her, so our morning trip down the cobblestone drive to the gate now must go in the opposite direction up to the soccer field for her safety for the next couple weeks. Flies in the house are one thing, but buzzing bee's could be a dangerous thing. As for me, I sneak out when Saturday is in her pen to gather the Lipa blossoms for drying. They make a very wonderful medicinal tea and if you ever see the Slovakian flag, you will see the Lipa tree on it as it is th eNational Tree of Slovakia.

Yesterday I saw a monstrous bundle of hay walking past my gates on very thin legs. It was Mr. Tizik. After his week in the hospital and the slow recovery period, he is finally up and about tending to his farm and as is the custom here, carrying his load for the cows on his back. Andrej said they are not sure just what caused his attack and so next week they are going to do a CT scan. There has been mutterings among the family about selling the Tizik farm but while Mrs. Tizik has had it with the work, Mr. Tizik will not hear of it. He plans on dying while tending to his property. Unfortunately, Mrs. Tizik must comply and so continues with the outdoor activities of raking and hauling the hay herself as well. Both these charming people are in their 70's and stand less than 5 ft tall.

Old structures do present unexpected problems and my school house is no exception. While the new fireplace has cut down on the mushroom growth, the door leading to the guest room and gymnasium part of the house was still well decorated with their presence. So, the solution began with the collapsing stairs from the den to the door. Andrej finally called the "stair man" to come for an estimate. He has had this same experience himself and the conclusion was to tear away all the wood from the door and stairs and build new with a foundation of concrete. Andrej set about the task of ripping away the wood frame and rotted wooden stairs and now it is my turn to remove any remaining traces of the mushrooms and treat the bare bricks with bleach. I reminded Andrej of the plans to one day cut a doorway through on that same wall from the den to the gymnasium. So we decided to hold off until his other friend can drill through and make a doorway and join the new stairs between the gymnasium and the guest room with one span, encompassing both rooms. Jackhammering a 20 inch brick wall will be a mess I am not looking forward to, but it will make such a difference in the flow of the house. The pictures are of the gymnasium and show the west wall on the top and the east wall to the bottom. It is the east wall  with the green table that is the space where the hole will be cut and hopefully soon the double doors to the den will go. Looking through the opening we will see the fireplace and the new bedroom door of the den. But, knowing the way promises are spun in Slovakia, I have a gut feeling the opening won't come about until next year as it is common for everyone to take the month of August off for their holiday, leaving little time to complete the job before colder weather sets in. I don't want to be left with a big gap to the gymnasium for my small fireplace to heat. I might end up like a railroad fireman on a train feeding the small box with wood at a fevered pace......dovidenia, gyn

There is a protocol here in Slovakia, to always refer to people by their formal names until they initiate a more friendlier reporte by allowing the use of their first name. If I have been given the honor, I am not sure. They can call me gyn, but I am reluctant tot call them Christina and Milan for now. Mr. and Mrs. Tizik or Grandfather and Grandmother must remain our relationship.