As I think is well-known, Europeans, in general, have a much less Puritanical attitude towards the human body and nudity. One of the things that this means is that it is not at all unusual to see women walking around in a bra--not a sports bra, but a regular satin-and-lace kind of bra. I have seen women doing yardwork in bras, and also crossed paths with a woman on our hike at Hvezda who had gotten warm, apparently, and stripped down to her bra on the trail.
Speaking of Hvezda, my second day, or perhaps first real day, in Hronov, turned out to be very long, in the best way. If it was in any way a harbinger of the year I would have in the Czech Republic, I could only look forward anxiously the rest of the lessons I would learn.
Martin, accompanied by his family, picked me up in his 1987 red hatchback Skoda (pronounced Shkoda--it is the one and only automobile brand produced in the Czech Republic) for a trip to a place called Hvezda. He said something about a church named Star or something, but truthfully I really had no idea where we were going or what we were going to do. I was just thrilled to be in the company of other people, and Martin was quickly becoming someone I liked very much. Martin's lovely wife, Hanka (the Czech version of Hannah), generously climbed into the very small backseat, in between the two car seats no less, so that I could sit up front and talk with Martin about the day's "program", as he is always calling it. Our travels, again if you are following along on your handy map of the CR, was north just a few kilometers from Hronov, towards a low ridge of mountains where we would make a "short walk" (again, Martin's words--I have since come to understand what this means in his mind--let's just say we do not speak the same language, in more ways than one). As we began our walk, Martin also suggested I be on the lookout for mushrooms, as we were in a good spot to find them. (In my head, I was thinking, "WHAT?!?!" but I just nodded. I would later learn that mushroom hunting is, perhaps, the favorite activity of Czech people in the summer and early fall. Who knew?)
(Here are the other members of the Vancl family, as we started our hike, er, "short walk" at Hvezda. Hanka is flanked by her daughters: Annicka on the left, is 5, and Emma, on the right, is 2.)
We reached the chapel on the top of the hill really quickly, which was a huge relief to this rather fat, lazy, and out of shape American. It seemed like a very strange place for a small church, but Martin said it was still used for worship services occasionally. However, from the viewpoint next to the church, you could look down into a valley, still misty in the late morning, and see villages tucked between fields in seemingly blissful, pastoral fashion.
(A couple not-very-good photos of the view from the Hvezda viewpoint, but hopefully you get the idea.)
One of the villages Martin pointed out to me as a place called Broumov (now, in Czech), but that had once been Braunau (it's German equivalent). He commented that while it looks quite picturesque from a distance, it is actually quite damaged. When I asked for an explanation about this, the Czech Republic, and specifically the region I am currently living in, started to come into focus. The ridge we were standing on, in 1938, was assigned as the border of the Sudetenland, so the land and villages we looked out upon had been in the territory ceded to Germany in the Munich Pact. These borders were determined, as I understand it, largely because of the great numbers of German descendents who lived in this area, having settled it on the invitation of a Czech king in the 12th or 13th century. As the history buffs among us know, the central part of Hitler's grand plan was to create a great German empire, which required the German populations of other nations to be reunited with their "motherland", so the acquisition of these lands in Czechoslovakia moved him toward his goal. As far as day-to-day life for people in these regions of the Sudetenland, though, the Munich Pact really had no impact. But then the war ended. In 1945, as part of an attempt to weaken the German state, the victors decided that all German people needed to be repatriated to Germany--they feared that a pocket of Germanic people outside of Germany could incite German nationalism such that there could be another war, and this had to be prevented at all costs. Nevermind that these "Germans" hadn't lived in Germany in more than 700 years, and nevermind that a now-devastated Germany was in no position to support an influx of several hundred thousand people. The people who carve up maps in well-appointed palaces rarely bother with the details, it seems, thus thousands of homes throughout the Sudetenland were left abandoned, only to be seized later by Czechs eager for free property. In Martin's mind (and this is a theory or interpretation I have heard from a few others as well), the people who moved into the abandoned homes did not exhibit the same level of commitment and work ethic that the previous owners had because they had not had to sacrifice to obtain the property. As a result, the communities have deteriorated, both in physical condition and prominence. Broumov, for instance, has less than a third of the population now that it had in the years just before the war. Martin also noted that the Roma population in Broumov, and other areas of the former Sudetenland, is now much higher than in other parts of the Czech Republic.
While my head was still sort of spinning as I wondered what had happened to all of these people, Martin announced that it was time to continue our walk. (I knew the first part was too good to be true . . . ) Luckily, the trail wasn't too bad, but it did involve a lot more climbing and scrambling over boulders than I anticipated. It was worth it for the view though, which you can see here:
We also climbed to another viewpoint, where you could see into the valley again. Martin was able to point out some of the buildings--churches, a monastery--in Broumov, and suggested that we make a visit there the next day. I was definitely intrigued, and I think Martin appreciated that I was interested, so the outing was settled and we began our descent. After the hike down, it was definitely time for lunch. So, we stopped a hotel/restaurace on the road toward Hronov that Martin & Hanka like because it has a play area for kids, which wasn't its only special feature.
(Here is the hotel/restaurace.)
The restaurant was not only kid-friendly, it was dog-friendly, as you can see from this sign:
(Translation: "DOG BAR. Self-service." HAF is the sound that dogs make in Czech, like "woof" in English.)
After a busy and interesting morning, I returned to the apartment for a short rest before attending my first play at the theatre festival. Martin had agreed to accompany me, and then bring me to his house for dinner. I looked forward to an equally busy and interesting afternoon and evening.
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