Author Archives: richandalice

Hip, Hip, Hula

On the third Sunday of every month — which was yesterday — part of the waterfront main drag of downtown Kailua-Kona is closed off to auto traffic in favor of the “Kona Sunday Street Stroll”, which is pretty much exactly what you are picturing. About 100 local vendors set up tents, and it’s worth an easy hour or so to stroll among them. Some of these are for food, including that Hawaiian perennial, shave ice, and — our personal favorite — a local lady who makes popsicles out of fresh-pressed local fruits. Trust me, you want a lilikoi (passion fruit)-banana popsicle. I also tried a rather bizarre mixture: a pineapple-papaya-chili pepper popsicle. The chili peppers were in little chunks, scattered dangerously throughout. I came to think of it as a Menopause Popsicle: you’re happily working your way through the sweet refreshing fruity ice, when POW! Hot flash!

The non-food vendors: jewelry, tee shirts, photographers (you have no idea how many metal-printed photos of lava and sea turtles are out there), and herbal panaceas. The latter are usually advertised as having been extracted from some species of flora that no one has ever heard of, but which can nonetheless provide relief from pretty much everything.

Certainly the highlight of our walk — besides the popsicles and shave ice — was the hula demo on the grounds of the Hulihe’e Palace, the former Kona waterfront vacation home of Hawaiian royalty, built in the early 1800’s. Here was the scene yesterday at about 4:30 PM:

Hulihee Hula 02172019-060-Edit

Hula — especially Hawaiian hula – is a complicated and subtle art form. Many mainland hula demonstrations include an admixture of Tahitian hula, which is the one with the very rapid tempo drumming. the tall headdresses, and the women with the inhumanly fast hips. Traditional Hawaiian hula is different: the pre-Western kind, called hula kahiko, is a story-telling medium centered on the arms, hands, and face. It’s performed to a song and accompanied only by a percussive double gourd. Here’s what I mean by it being gestural:

I like to think that the pose on the left means, “Please silence your cell phones.” Other examples from yesterday:

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Hulihee Hula 02172019-006

At this point, someone out there who is reading this post is thinking, “Wait a minute. What’s with the 19th century prom dresses? Where are the grass skirts?” Here’s where it gets complicated.

First of all, the original Hawaiian female hula dancers never wore grass skirts. They wore very elaborate, multi-square-yard skirts made of kapa cloth, which is a fiber made from a certain pressed tree bark. And they did not wear coconut-shell bras. (No sane woman anywhere ever has; they’re some late 19th century guy’s fantasy, which I’ll get to in a moment.) They did not wear any tops at all.

The whole topless women thing did not sit well with late 18th century missionaries, or at least with their wives. It became necessary to cover the immodest heathen, and so they did. To keep the missionaries placated the hula halaus (schools) adopted the grandmotherly garb that you see above, and much of both modern day (‘auana) and traditional (kahiko) hula are performed that way. Men’s hula, on the other hand — much more stylistically aggressive and less subtle than the women’s dance — was and still is performed in loincloths and maile leaf adornments.

So where did the whole grass-skirt-and-coconut-bra shtick come from? The answer, believe it or not, is vaudeville. Vaudeville got its start in the 1880’s about a century after Cook’s arrival and eventual death in the islands. Knowledge of Hawaii’s existence had seeped into popular knowledge by then, and theater producers were always on the lookout for exotic material for their productions. “Girls from a tropical island” was bound to occur to somebody sooner or later. But the topless thing clearly wasn’t gonna fly, and the authentic kapa skirts weren’t going to work either: they were expensive, labor-intensive to maintain, and, well, insufficiently sexy for their intended purpose. Enter the grass skirt: cheap, easy to fix or replace, and just a bit suggestive. Ditto the coconut bras. The skirts also had a certain historical precedent in that they did somewhat resemble Tahitian hula skirts, which are indeed made from grasses and leaves but are ankle-length and thick.

This dress scheme was wildly successful, and soon every vaudeville act with a Hawaiian number was dressing their dancers in grass skirts, to the point that it eventually became everyone’s default mental image for Hawaiian hula. It was, in its way, one of the first viral memes. And of course, it filtered all the way back to its point of origin: if you plunk for the $49.95 Colorful Hawaiian Luau at whatever hotel you’re staying at, odds are good that you’ll see a hula dancer in a not-particularly-Hawaiian grass skirt.

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Coral at Kealakekua Bay

Here’s the promised one-minute drone video from yesterday’s visit to the Captain Cook memorial.

If you think that that Fair Wind tour looks like a lot of fun, you’re right. (No, they are not paying me for the plug. In fact, the crew were not altogether happy to see the drone hovering nearby.) A couple of things are worth noting, notably the proliferation of coral and the stunning clarity of the water. The imagery is not enhanced: it really looks like that. But I have already noticed in increase in the amount of coral bleaching over the years; it is due to both rising water ocean temperatures and some of the ingredients in many sunscreen lotions. Those would be oxybenzone and octinoxate, which interfere with coral reproduction and cause bleaching, and butylparaben, a preservative that may also  cause bleaching. Hawaii has banned the first two, starting in 2021. Interestingly, a lot of dermatologists were opposed to the ban, fearing that it would discourage people from using any sunscreen at all. But in fact the transition has already begun, and the stores are full of reef-safe sunscreens. Their active ingredients are those old standbys, zinc and titanium oxides.

I would also like to bring to your attention one other Captain Cook-related fact that I forgot to mention in yesterday’s post, namely that in addition to his human crew Cook had on board what may be the most well-traveled goat in history.  In 1766, two years before Cook’s first voyage (he reached Hawaii on his second), the HMS Dolphin circumnavigated the globe under the command of Capt. Samuel Wallis. On board was the biologist Joseph Banks, who had brought along his goat to provide milk for the crew. If this were to happen today, Banks would have to pay a $25 Goat Surcharge and store the beast underneath the seat in front of him. But in this case no surcharge was applied and the goat became the first caprine to sail around the world. (It is also the reason that you are now looking up the word “caprine” in the dictionary.)

Two years later, Cook invited Banks on his voyage as well. Banks accepted… and brought along the same goat, which consequently circumnavigated the globe again, this time on the HMS Endeavour. Cook brought the animal home to his farm in England after this voyage, where she lived out her days in unheralded peace. According to Cook’s diary she died on March 28, 1772. Nobody knows the goat’s name. Today she would have an Instagram account.

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So Long, Jim

I’m writing this blog post on February 16, two days later than I ought to, because Valentine’s Day was the 240th anniversary of the death of Captain James Cook, whose third exploration voyage on the HMS Resolution brought him to Hawaii in January of 1778 and made him the first European to see these islands.

Cook initially spent about a month around Kauai and then headed north to explore what is now northern California, Oregon, Vancouver, and southern Alaska. Astutely noticing that those places were cold, he eventually made his way back to Hawaii, cruising around the archipelago before making landfall on the west coast of the Big Island near the village of Kealakekua. (If you’ve ever heard the song “Little Grass Shack” you know how to pronounce it.) He stuck around for about a month, then set sail again, at which point things began to go to hell in the proverbial handbasket.

Shortly after getting underway, the Resolution’s mast broke, and the ship was forced to return to  Kealakekua Bay. A quarrel broke out between the crew and the locals, however, and in the melee a number of men from the village stole one of the Resolution’s cutters, which were small auxiliary boats. Vowing not to negotiate with terrorists, Capt. Cook decided to overreact by attempting to kidnap the king, an effort that ended about as well as you’d expect. Cook was clubbed down, then stabbed to death along with four other crewman. It would be left to future generations to revisit the island and develop the first timeshare condos.

Now Kealakekua Bay is a beautiful marine reserve with crystal waters and abundant fish and coral, marked with a monument to Cook on the shoreline. Here was the scene today, captured by my trusty drone.

Kealakekua Bay 0950-Edit

You can see the monument at left. The boat at right is the Fair Wind II, a local tour operation that brings snorkelers to the otherwise nearly inaccessible bay.  (It’s quite a fun outing: I recommend it if you’re here.) Here are some closer shots of each.

Kealakekua Bay 0949

Kealakekua Bay 0943

The inscription at the base of the obelisk reads, “In memory of the great circumnavigator Captain James Cook, R.N. who discovered these islands on the 18th of January, 1778, and fell near this spot on the 14th of February, 1779.” The Hawaiians, needless to say, take issue with the word “discovered” since, having lived here for several hundred years, they knew where it was all along.

(And as for the Fair Wind II, those two long skinny things at the front of the boat are exactly what they look like: water slides. I’ll post some video later showing them in action.)

One of the interesting sidelights to Kealakekua Bay is one that most tourists miss, since it is at the opposite side of the mile-wide bay (and, as it happens, exactly where I launched the drone from). Capt. Cook was brought here to a temple, known in Hawaiian as a heiau. The Hikiau heiau is a solid rectangular stone structure, originally nearly the size of a football field but smaller today. Here’s a view of it from the air:

Kealakekua Bay 0965

The smaller structure at the lower right end is believed to be the lele, the altar. This particular temple is called a luakini, which is a type used for human sacrifices. Sacrifice victims were usually war captives, though sometimes slaves were used. If this practice were followed today I suppose they could grab tourists, but it’s probably a gamble since I imagine that the gods have very mixed feelings about them.

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Back on Top

I’ve rarely felt more like an astronomer than I did during my postdoc in Hawaii in the early 1980’s, freezing my butt off and oxygen-starving my brain atop Mauna Kea at 13,800 ft (4200 m) above the Big Island’s tropical beaches. Its resident telescopes — six at the time, something like 14 now, depending on how you count — have always evoked a strong emotional resonance in me. I’ve written about it before (click here) but MK is always worth a revisit.

Our motivation this time was a visit from Laura and Brian, our old friends from Honolulu, who despite their decades in the islands had somehow never made it to the summit. Fortunately our Lincoln Behemoth Navigator has four wheel drive, so up we went, not without a little wariness: conditions at the summit were reported as below freezing temperatures and nearly 50 mph (80 kph) winds. We did have the good sense to bring along long pants and assorted sweaters and jackets.

Our first stop was the visitor center at Hale Pohaku at 9200 ft (2800 m) altitude. That site was chosen carefully: it is just below the elevation at which altitude sickness sets in for those who are susceptible to it. We stayed long enough to put on warm clothes, use the facilities, and — in my case — purchase my new favorite teeshirt and cap:

Maunakea 2019-025

I worked at the United Kingdom Infrared Telescope (UKIRT), whose name you can see on the cap and whose relative telescope mirror size you can at the upper right on the shirt. (Imparting this fact to the cashier got me a 10% discount on my purchase, which pleased me no end.) At the time I worked here, UKIRT’s 3.8 m mirror was the largest on the mountain; now it is not even close. Here is what it looks like from the outside.

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I spent some 200 nights inside that dome.

The view at the summit is spectacular and rather Martian-looking, an expanse of lifeless rusty volcanic rubble and cinder cones.

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Maunakea 2019-008-Edit

But we couldn’t linger; the weather wouldn’t allow it. Here is a worker chipping ice off one of the domes:

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…and here are some icy stalactites hanging off another:

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And if you want to get up close and personal with the weather, here is what the guardrail of the summit road looked like as we parked in the lee of one of the domes:

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As I said, we could not linger.

There is a lot of controversy at the moment surrounding Mauna Kea’s astronomy enterprise. There are very advanced plans to build the largest telescope of them all, the Thirty Meter Telescope, known as the TMT. For my non-metric readers, that is a mirror nearly 100 feet across, a truly giant and enormously capable instrument that would break new astronomical ground but take up a very visible spot on the mountain. But the island hosts a vocal minority of activists who view all of the telescopes — and certainly this planned one — as a desecration of a sacred place: Mauna Kea reaches to the sky, close to the gods. Their view is certainly not universal: there are many Hawaiian traditionalists who feel that since their ancestors were voyagers, the telescopes on the mountain are another form of voyage, honoring the ancient tradition by sending our eyes and minds to the stars. Needless to say, I subscribe pretty strongly to this view. But as a result of the uproar there is a real question as to whether the TMT will be built here; the planners are seriously consider siting the telescope in the Canary Islands (where there are already several other observatories) to avoid the controversy.

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Strumming

There are a number of places on Earth that you can identify solely from a traditional musical instrument: bagpipes, didgeridoo, shamisen, banjo . Hawaii is on the list, and the instrument is of course the ukulele.

Ukulele Sam 2019-006

The name translates literally as “jumping flea”, though no one is completely sure why. One theory is that it simply refers to the way a player’s fingers jump around on the frets. Another is that refers to an individual, Englishman Edward William Purvis, an officer under Hawaiian King David Kalakaua in the 1880’s, who was an expert in the instrument but was said to be rather flea-like himself, i.e. small in stature and rather twitchy. Take your pick. In either case, it’s known to be a fairly recent instrument, developed in the 1880’s by hybridizing a few Portuguese stringed instruments brought to the islands by immigrants, brought from Madeira and the Azores to work in the sugar cane fields.

If you’re in the market for a uke in the Kona area, or are just looking for lessons or a dollop of local lore, your go-to place is the Holualoa Ukulele Gallery, which is something of a local institution, occupying a former post office dating from the early 20th century. Holualoa itself is a pleasantly seedy hillside village reminiscent of what an Old West town might look like if the sheriff’s office and saloons were replaced by art galleries.  There are quite a few of the latter, some of very high quality. There is a lot of beautiful art to be found there, much of it created with local woods, e.g. koa and Cook pine. You can count some of the ukuleles among these.

The owner of the gallery is Sam Rosen, himself something of a local institution.

Sam is a ukulele maker, the term for which is a luthier. (Though a lute is a very old instrument, the word luthier itself dates from about 1850 and technically refers to any maker of stringed instruments.) Sam is full of history, a genial raconteur of such gentle persuasion that Alice has felt forced to warn me that she will not tolerate my taking ukulele lessons. Well, boo.

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Uninvited Guests

If you were to travel back in time to the 5th century AD and accompany the first Polynesians to settle Hawaii, upon arrival you would be (a) really, really seasick, and (b) very surprised at how different the islands appear from what you see today. Practically the only land animal life were birds and one species of bat. There were no coconut palms, no banana or candlenut (kukui) trees, no taro plants, no breadfruit… all things that are inextricably identified with Hawaii today.

This was driven home to me yesterday while we were touring Kohala, the peninsula at the northern end of the Big Island that is essentially a million year old extinct volcano. We were taking a break in the town of Kapa’au, a sleepy hamlet best known as the birthplace of Kamehameha I, unifer of the islands, and a statue commemorating same. I was lounging outside a small restaurant across the street from the statue while Alice was inside buying a drink, and my reverie was interrupted by a young couple querying me in an English accent:

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Uh, yes?”

“Are you OK with lizards?”

I was unsure where this line of inquiry was going, and decided to play it safe.

“Um, yes. Is there some reason I shouldn’t be?”

“Well, there’s one a few inches from your head.”

This was quite true, more than one in fact. I turned my head to the bamboo fence over my left shoulder and came eye to eye with this guy, about twice the length of my pinky finger and accompanied by several of his friends:

I was surprised to see him. Geckos are very common in Hawaii; there are at least nine species of them, all of them introduced. But despite having lived on the Big Island for three years in the early 1980’s, I did not recall ever seeing one that looked like an acid trip with scales.

It turns out that there is a very good reason for this. A little Googling reveals that this is a “gold dust day gecko” — that would be Phelsuma laticauda for you taxonomy lovers — and that it is native to northern Madagascar. That is nearly as far from Hawaii as it is possible to be and still be on this planet, so what is it doing here?

The answer, of course, is “people”. A student at the University of Hawaii main campus on Oahu smuggled eight of these geckos from Madagascar and deliberately released them in 1974. (Why?) They were first sighted on Maui — about halfway between Oahu and the Big Island — 20 years later. By extrapolation we can estimate with some confidence that they made it to the Big Island some time within the past ten years. So I would not have seen them 35+ years ago.

So the moral of the story is that change is continuous even in a place that we think of as being isolated. When I eat local fruits or witness an old Hawaiian craft demonstration I like everyone else like to luxuriate in the satisfying illusion that I am beholding the island in some Edenic antediluvian state. But in fact the islands lost that particular innocence as soon as the very first settlers stepped out of their canoes, and the process never stopped.

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Poke Your Eyes Out

That’s “po-keh”, which sort of rhymes with “okay”, as opposed to “poke” that rhymes with “croak”. But I am getting ahead of myself.

We are back on the Big Island, comfortably ensconced in our beautiful annual rental house for the next month or so, and enjoying our view of the blue, blue Pacific while all our East Coast friends and family gnash their teeth in envy. Feel free to gnash along: it’s gorgeous here. Photos in later posts.

Our first order of business upon arrival was picking up our rental car, which was, um, shall we say, more “expansive” than anticipated. Expecting a midsize SUV or large Jeep, we were presented with a Lincoln Navigator, a Brobdingnagian exercise in libertarian consumerism of such exuberant eco-criminality that Greenpeace now has a price on my head. A technology-laden behemoth, it is the size of a full-grown bull elephant and has a fuel economy measured in “crushed dinosaurs per mile”. At speeds above 60 mph, or whenever in four-wheel-drive mode, it requires its own convoy of refueling tankers. But it is roomy, quiet, and comfortable, so we’ll live with it. At least until I have to parallel park somewhere.

But mostly I wanted to talk about food, that being one of the sybaritic mainstays of our annual sojourns here. As you may know, the de facto state food of Hawaii is…. Ha! You were going to guess poi, weren’t you? But no. Poi is indeed a traditional staple here, but for historic reasons dating from World War II rationing, the go-to food in these parts is pig parts in a can, i.e. this stuff:

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Hawaiians eat more Spam than any cohort in the known universe, or at least the U.S., an average of 5 cans per year for every man, woman, and child in the state. And as you can see from the photo, it comes in a wide variety of disguises flavors to suit every taste. That is, every taste except ours, since we never touch the stuff.

What we do eat a lot of here, is poke, which is a genuinely traditional Hawaiian food that has gone mainstream. Poke (remember, it is pronounced po-keh) can take many forms but is most commonly served as marinated ahi, i.e. raw yellowfin tuna. The word itself is Hawaiian for “sliced”.

Japanese cuisine has a strong influence on poke’s preparation, Japanese being the second largest ethnic group in the state, slightly behind Filipino. For one thing, poke is prepared with an enormous variety of marinades that include both Japanese and Hawaiian influences, such as soy sauce. And for another, at even the most hole-in-the-wall poke restaurants, it is presented with a certain symmetric Japanese aesthetic, as you can see from this photo of my lunch a few hours ago:

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We had this little masterpiece at “Da Poke Shack”, just down the road from our house; it is possibly the mostly-aptly named restaurant in existence. That’s seaweed salad in sesame oil at the upper right, white rice with dried seaweed and sesame seeds at lower left, and two flavors of ahi poke in the other two diagonal corners. It is a little bit of culinary heaven that has now made its way to the mainland US with varying and usually dubious degrees of authenticity. I can assert from personal experience that if you are eating it anywhere outside of Hawaii with fish more than 10 hours old, you are not experiencing the good stuff.

Having thus officially alerted our digestive systems to our arrival in Kona, we moved on to the largest local farmer’s market, a frequent stop of ours. We bask for a while among the tropical fruits, a spectral riot lilikoi (a.k.a. passion fruit), rambutans, soursops, mangoes, tiny “apple bananas”, carambolas (= star fruit), and of course pineapples. The faces there are comfortingly familiar: we see the same multi-ethnic smiles at the stalls every year.

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(This picture dates from three years ago, and we bought lilikoi from the same woman today. I showed her this photo on my phone; she gave Alice a big hug and asked me to email it to her.) We loaded up with a few bags of fruit, our eyes ever larger than our stomachs, before moving on somewhat reluctantly to the more conventional and cringingly expensive grocery shopping at the Kona Safeway. We will be entertaining a lot of visitors during this year’s stay; there will be many such trips to the farmer’s market, the Safeway, and to the KTA, a local family-owned grocery chain.

So in summary, we’re here, happily nestled into our house in the delightfully-named area of Kahalu’u-Keauhou. More posts later as this year’s adventures unfold.

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Things Are Looking Down

This being a travel blog and all, almost all of my posts are location-specific. This one is a little different. Those of you who have been following the blog for a while know that in the past year I have been enlivening my posts, especially those from Hawaii and Iceland, with my now one-year-old toy, a Mavic Pro drone with a very nice 12 megapixel stabilized onboard camera. This wonderful piece of technology has not only afforded me some beautiful photos but also led to me teaching a course in drone photography at the Maryland Hall for the Creative Arts (MHCA) here in our hometown of Annapolis. And now I am excited to report that it has led to my having my very first solo gallery exhibition, late this year at MHCA. The show will be exclusively featuring my drone photos, probably about 20 large prints.

So the purpose of this post is to sublimate my excitement by telling all of my followers about this (499 of you as of this writing…. one more and I get raptured to Blogger Heaven), and to give you a preview of the images that I will be exhibiting. I haven’t decided on the final set yet; the show is scheduled for September, though it may slip into early 2020 for complicated reasons that I won’t bore you with. But it will almost certainly include this set (below), many of which have appeared previously in my blog posts. For convenience I have embedded them as a slide show so you don’t have to do any scrolling or clicking.

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Our next actual travel destination will be our annual return to the Big Island of Hawaii for the whole month of February. So stay tuned!

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Pssst, Mister! Wanna See Pictures of Iceland, Paris, and Prague?

I have — with commendable efficiency, if I do say so myself — gotten my act together and culled and edited the complete set of photos and videos from our recent sojourn. So if you’re interested in a multimedia summary of the trip, here you go:

Click here for all 244 Iceland photos. 

Click here for 44 Paris photos.

Click here for 101 Prague photos. 

If it’s any consolation, I actually took about 2000 shots, so these three albums are the “best of”.

Among the many pleasures of this trip were the several opportunities in Iceland to get some aerial videos with my drone. (Drone flying is a no-no in Paris and Prague.) There were several popular tourist sites (e.g., Gullfoss and Dettifoss waterfalls) where drones were prohibited, and there were plenty of other places where they were allowed by the authorities but not by the weather; Iceland is notoriously windy. (Fun fact: your rental car insurance agreement in Iceland explicitly excludes coverage if the wind blows your car doors off. Yes, really.) So here is a little six-minute compendium of the flights that I was able to make, complete with Icelandic background folk music:

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Déšť, Déšť, Go Away

That would be “rain”, which is what is falling from the sky in Prague today. It didn’t really slow us down because in the wake of yesterday’s ambitious touring, we decided to take it easy today. Our first stop was the National Museum of Decorative Arts for the purpose of seeing the photography exhibition of Josef Koudelka, an outstanding and near-legendary Czech photographer whose name you may never have heard but whose work you have seen. He’s the guy who took all those famous street photos of the Soviet invasion of Prague in 1968.

It was an enormous exhibit displaying hundreds of works — all in black and white — from over Koudelka’s 60+ year career. He’s currently 80 and still working… and collecting awards by the bushel.

 

Prague 2018-364

(I don’t know who the visitor is in this picture; Alice was in another room at the moment.) If you have any interest in photography at all you owe it to yourself to learn more about Koudelka and look up his work. He’s amazing.

Our second and final stop was a return to the Franz Kafka Head, which frustrated us a couple of days ago by stubbornly sitting there inert instead of doing its metamorphic act. But today we got lucky, and I filmed this:

Alice correctly observed that it was a lot cooler in motion than standing still.

And that’s about it for today, which was our last full day here. We return for a stopover overnight in Reykjavik late tomorrow evening, then return home Tuesday afternoon. For our penultimate dinner in Prague tonight, we went to…. a Thai restaurant. Czech food is fine but is heavy on things like lamb and venison and wild boar and such, accompanied by five different kinds of bread and potato dishes. We were getting a little dumpling’ed out so went to a Mexican restaurant last night, one run by actual Mexicans, which was excellent. If you’re wondering how and why Mexicans came to Prague to open a restaurant as opposed to, say, San Diego or Omaha, the answer is complicated. Some of the owners and staff came as students and stayed; others skipped over the US (I can’t imagine why) and emigrated to Canada, then came to Prague from there. Restaurant prices, by the way, are about 20% cheaper here than they are at home in the DC area. So Prague generally seems like a bargain.

Some final random notes about the city that I was too tired to include in yesterday’s entry:

  • St. Vitus Chapel at Prague Castle contains the sepulchers of both Saint/Sorta King Wenceslas and Saint John of Nepomuk. You’ve never heard of Nepomuk but he’s got a good story: in the late 14th century he was said to be the confessor for the queen of Bohemia. (This is unlikely to be true for reasons that I will not bore you with.) The king was the jealous sort and demanded that John reveal the queen’s secrets. But unlike Paul Manafort and Michael Cohen, John of Nepomuk refused to dish to the authorities. So the king had him drowned. Three centuries later, his body was exhumed and his apparently intact tongue — the one that he held, so to speak — was found in his skull. Wow! Miracle! Canonize this guy right now! So they did. Three centuries after that, the Catholic Church — who should have known better — allowed a forensic analysis of the tissue and it was discovered not to be a tongue at all, but rather a mummified glob of brain tissue. But hey, once you’re a saint, you’re a saint. No take-backs.
  • Speaking of Catholics, there aren’t enough of them here to fill the churches. Nearly 80% of the Czech population either identifies as “no religion” or refuses to answer the official survey questions about it. 30% declare themselves full-on atheists. The Catholic population, nearly 40% of the population as recently as 25 years ago, is now down to 10%. So this translates into a lot of empty churches: one that we visited had been donated by the local diocese to their Greek Orthodox counterparts, who were apparently able to make better use of it.
  • I mentioned earlier that Prague is a popular movie filming location: Amadeus, a couple of  Mission Impossibles, Yentl, The Bourne Identity, the Vin Diesel action movie “xXx”, and a number of others. Our wanderings happened to bring us to a number of the sites, including the courtyard of Prague Castle, which played the role of the Kremlin courtyard in Mission Impossible IV. Or III. Or some other number. Here’s a street corner that shows up in Amadeus:

Prague 2018-252

  • Prague loves to claim Mozart as a sort of adopted favorite son, even though he never really lived here. He did visit several times for extended stays of a month or two. But interestingly, Prague contains one of the very few harpsichords that is known for certain to have been played by Mozart. It’s a “George Washington Slept Here” sort of thing.

Weather permitting, probably the last thing we will do tomorrow is visit the highest point in Prague: the Petřín Tower. At 63.5 meters (208 ft) tall this would not seem to be a strong candidate for the designation, but the trick is that it sits on top of a 318 meter (1043 ft) hill overlooking the city, so its observation deck is actually 382 meters (1252 ft) above the river. That’s taller than the Eiffel Tower… which is not a coincidence, because the Petřín Tower is a nearly exact model of the uppermost 64 meters of the Eiffel Tower! This bit of architectural weirdness gives the Czechs an opportunity to thumb their collective nose at the French.

Since we are flying out tomorrow evening, I expect that this will be my last blog post from this trip, which began nearly three weeks ago. It’s been another great trip. Next up is a visit to our friends in Arizona in about 6 weeks, followed by our return to Hawaii in February. Life is good!

 

 

Categories: Czech, Europe | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

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