We piled into the motor coach. As mentioned, those drivers navigate the narrow streets and parked cars impressively.
The building itself is a monument to Modern Architecture and was built in the 1920s. Until the 1950s trade fairs were held here, hence the name Trade Fair Palace. The building was then transformed into an administrative center until a 1974 fire destroyed the interior.
A testament to the amazing Czechs, reconstruction made it possible to open the National Gallery in 1995. The gallery concentrates on Czech modern and contemporary art.
Little architectural detail, the way they made stairs wheelchair accessible.
While there were a lot of beautiful, impressive pieces, I related to, and totally enjoyed this painting by Kupka, aptly named: “The Joy’s of Life”.
Sure sums it up for me.
This sculpture made me think of all the creative ways I could repurpose the reams of baling twine twisting around my barn.
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Memorial to the victims of Communism. (Stock photo)
Our incredible guide Dagmar gave a personalized lecture on living under Communism.
Structured education, fear of reprisal for speaking out. The favored rich got richer, the rest got poorer.
She participated in Protests in Wenceslaus Square. She told us how the secret service always wore brown shoes. They were ignorant that the protestors, who were aware of this, reacted accordingly to avoid arrest. It wasn’t until November of 1989 that the Velvet revolution changed the tide. It is a concern for Dagmar and others that the current president still wears brown shoes.
As she and I walked through the square, she turned to me; “Miki, you might become a communist country. We survived, look how well we are doing. The US will too.”
Dana, a fellow blogger, describes it best. Life under Communism certainly did not showcase this now beautiful city. Communism didn’t motivate people, so the city began to decay.
The Encyclopedia Brittanica states: “Those who did not comply with socialism were not only interrogated, intimidated, and put under surveillance. Judges were corrupt with defendants branded guilty, even before trial.” Over 1000 people were executed.
The end came with the Velvet Revolution, as the people peacefully rose up against Communist rule.
Uncharacteristic, I took no photos. Too emotional. My parents lived through WWII. My father, in the Navy. It was good to know the younger generation was at the museum, learning what it was like for Czechoslovakians back then.
Behind the hotel is the Kinsky Garden, providing this country girl with a break from roadways, trams and buildings.
National Museum-Orthographic Sadly, the building was closed as I explored the area.
The lawn in front is a haven for dog owners, complete with a pup pool.
The dogs of Prague are very lucky. Dagmar said the Czech people love their dogs. In fact, as we were chauffered around, she always pointed out any dog we passed. Most are off leash, even on the busy city streets, and are beautifully behaved, heeling beside their loving owners.Many looked to be rescues. Very few of the males looked to be neutered. Sorry, I looked. Oddly, I did not see one cat, not even in a window.
The Kinsky Summerhouse sits amidst what used to be a vineyard.
I hiked the cobblestone path upward.
It was so peaceful, and lovely that I returned one more time before leaving Prague.
If you find yourself in Prague, I hope you make time to explore the Garden. The views incredible.
Roses in September
There are relaxing water features with lovely sculptures.
Step drain. My friend Linda B would love these.Dogs love to splash in this pond.Seal by Jan Lauda placed in pond 1953
The hunger wall was built in the 1360s, yes, the 1360s! To defend the Prague Castle, which we visit soon.
There is graffiti everywhere, oddly, none on the trams. The most famous graffiti wall is the John Lennon. Skip it, but do hike up to see the artwork on top of the hill.
And, stay til dusk as the lights come on.
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This is an “Art and Architecture ” tour, day 3 was devoted to the Architecture theme.
But first. A word about breakfast. “The most important meal of the day”.
The Petr hotel provided breakfast, and an afternoon snack.
Upon arrival on the first day I had a chance to interact with a Chicago couple on their way home from their tour of Prague.
Small world, they knew my brother in law, Ted Cohen, at the University of Chicago.
They raved about Prague and their Road Scholar tour. They were not enamored with the provided breakfast, nor the Czech coffee.
The following morning brought me downstairs, not expecting a great spread. WOW!
Loads of healthy choices.
A spread of wonders complimented by an automatic coffee maker with multiple caffeine choices. Perhaps the Chicago couple was wanting waffles and donuts? Weak DD style coffee?
Coffee Americano for me. Every Czech cup of coffee proved strong and flavorful. The pastries, delicious.
Enough about food. Back to the tour, and Architecture.
The headline for Day 3, “Lesser Town, Charles Bridge, Old Town”.
Road Scholar promotes themselves as the “University of the World, a Not for profit creator of experimental travel..for age 50+.”
They promote sustainable travel, and have partnered with Tontoton http://tontoton, funding the reclamation of 10 metric tons of plastic waste.
I keep digressing from Architecture.
Our lecture of the morning was presented by Petra Biolasava. She discussed the varied architectural styles of Prague. Romanesque, rounded windows, Gothic, pointed windows, Baroque, over⁰ the top, Cubist, as it sounds, as well as stories regarding some of Prague’s incredible monuments.
Prague, one amazing building after another. Some date back to the second half of the 9th century! We Americans “got nuttin”. Californians especially noted the historical comparison.
The day took us to Lesser Town, the infamously crowded Charles Bridge, and Old Town.
Lesser Town has many Baroque palaces. It was founded in 1257.
Large crowds, we were warned about pickpockets. I did not see any, but did give my Starbucks gift card, and an uneaten sausage lunch to a couple of homeless.
A quick detour led me to a street market.
Lunch was at The Grand Cafe Orient. Yummy pastries. And this! Tried to bring one home for my Moderna daughter. Sadly broke, and I was forced to eat it.
The best way to showcase our tour of the magnificent Bascillica of St. James, a spectacular Baroque Church is with a photo dump.
EntranceJust a bit spectacular.This couple just got engaged!Pays to always look up. Christ view of Maga evangelicals?Thou shalt not steal. Mummified hand of someone who supposedly stole from the church.
On our way, I shot some photos of the omnipresent sculptures.
More about this sculpture in a later blog.
And some photos of the architecture near the Old Town Hall.
This was our chance for Dagmar to take us on a tour of The Charles Bridge . I ended up crossing it many times in the next few days.
The bridge entranceWaiting for light to turn.Bumper still floating after massive floods.View from bridge.Was told these colorful people were often Ukrainian refugees.A look along the bridgeCrowds weren’t too overwhelming during the week.Hard to see the man trying to dock his canoe.How did they get the plants there?
We had the evening off to explore on our own. I headed to the park behind the hotel. It’s a beautiful spot that warrants it’s own post.
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Dagmar gave us an introduction to the city, our itinerary, and helpful tips. Transportation; which tram numbers stop nearby. Currency; which ATMs to avoid. Pilsner is cheaper than water at restaurants. Communication; a simple hello can mean a lot. I used a cheat sheet stashed in my pocket.
Dobry Den, Dekuji, and Pivo were my most used.
A brief bus ride gave us an introduction to the lay of the city. It was obvious Dagmar loved her city.
How the bus drivers navigate the narrow car ladened streets is impressive.
We drove by the Dancing House, aka Fred and Ginger.
Not sure what the architects, Croatian/Czech, Vlado Milunic and Canadian/American, Frank Gehry were thinking. It took 4 years, built on a vacant lot, and finished in 1996.
Evening brought our first introduction to Czech food. Schnitzel and potatoes for me, and of course, the highly recommended Pilsner. Surprisingly, this non beer drinker found it quite pleasing.
Schnitzel originated in Austria and is a pounded, breaded meat. Often veal, a meat I do not eat on principle.
The Pilsner is light and easy to drink, and oddly, cheaper than ordering water. Often between 2 or 3 dollars a large glass.
Our waitress was patient and efficient. Proved by many Czechs when dealing with 24 travelling Americans.
Sitting in the back of transports gave a chance to admire the amazing architecture of Prague. Our trip from the airport took us by some lovely buildings in need of repair. Keeping Prague beautiful and restored is a full-time job.
Hauling boards along the waterfront. Constant cleaning.Constant patching.
Evening had me collapsing into 12 hours of blissful, much needed sleep. Thankfully awakening with anticipation and optimism for the days of adventure ahead.
11.05am, arrive Prague. Mini bus to hotel. Arrival 12pm ish.
Prague; my first European trip. A tour seemed a good way to initiate. Previously, travel was college, or family.
The journey started after losing my husband of 20+ years. (See previous posts). Research led me to the Independent Art and Architecture class of Road Scholar.
Prague gets rave reviews from all, and it did not disappoint.
A lover of museums, art, and Architecture, a love inherited from my parents, and influenced by my Atchitect/artist brother, it was tailor-made for this explorer.
As a neophyte, it seemed fortuitous to illicit the advice of an expert in travel. Daughter, Hamilton.
We went through my kit. She edited and organized. Two life savers. A pouch for my electronics, and one for in-flight to go in my carryon.
I got my TSA precheck. Highly recommend. The ticket checker did not notice the code on my ticket and sent me into the wrong, long, line. I saw the TSA line moving quickly on the other side of the barrier.Oh, the looks I got as I salmoned my wheelie against the impatient line of non TSA travellers.
Hours later, somewhat sleep deprived, another line brought me to the welcome of a Road Scholar sign held by our guide for the next few days; Dagmar Mikolaskova.
A wonderful, humorous, and incredibly knowledgeable woman. 8 languages, including Mandarin, a lover of books, dogs, and the creator of beautiful crocheted tops and skirts.
Piling into a mini van, a small contingent of our tour group headed to Hotel Petr, https://www.hotelpetr.cz/
Hotel Petr is a lovely little hotel, tucked into a quiet little street close to a nearby tram stop.
Parking in Prague is an art form.
As our first get together wasn’t until 5, there was time to unpack, settle in, and take a foray into the neighborhood.
I do not sleep well when buried in cozy blankets and fuzzy kittens, let alone on an airplane. Sleep deprived and knowing my internal clock needed to set to Czech time, it was time to motor through. And…an unexpected result. A frightening bout of homesickness. Will I be able to travel if being a homebody is a deterrent? What had I done?
There is no noise. The trees are laden with snow. Sometimes I can hear the refrigerator running. And, sometimes I can hear my thoughts.
My adorable husband has been gone almost 2 years. 2 years! Looking back, the first year was a blur, though unbeknownst to me. There were bills to pay, he wasn’t the best money manager, my name to change, preferring my father’s name. Wills to be rewritten, next of kin notifications thrust on my two adult children. Little daily chores to navigate through.
Fortunately, he wasn’t a great help around the farm so doing chores was pretty much unchanged. I have some very good friends, that odd married couple where you love them both, and sometimes it worries me what one of them would do without the other. They are a team when it comes to chores on their farm.
I missed the awesome Christmas present I did not receive that first Christmas. Second Christmas my own family was rediscovered as time was spent on my time frame.
Slowly, I realised there was no one to whom I was beholden except a pack of dogs, a cat, and a horse. While they don’t like it when I am gone, they love me just the same when I get home. Well, perhaps not the mare, she doesn’t care as long as she gets her meals.
One day, I was discussing working to make my farm even more environmentally useful, my farm. It was the first time in many years. Not our farm, with my children, or husbands. My farm. The kids can have it later.
I am glad I changed back to my maiden name. It makes it easier to be me. Now, I wander through the woods when I want, take on part-time work when I want, visit friends when I want, even just throw the cat in the car and take a road trip when I want. As long as we get back in time to feed the dogs.
I do miss dancing in the kitchen with him, but put Mamma Mia on my headphones and I can dance all I want without inhibition,
While rumbling through some papers, I found this journal entry I made 22 years ago,
“Yesterday, while hiking, I was overwhelmed with an incredible sadness. When I thought it through, I realized it was a sadness from very deep inside, finally rearing its ugly little head. Sadness that I didn’t know was there. Sadness that for so long I felt unproteceted with no warm hand to help me guide my way. You took my hand when I left your house last night and that was no longer so.
With the chemo and radiation, his outlook looked better. Then, in February, 2022, the pain in his back became unbearable. His “tougher than the rest” attitude started to fail him and we ended up getting him on Oxycodone. It helped, but he had an addictive personality and it wasn’t long before he was sneaking pills. I did my best to moderate his intake, but if someone has an addiction, they can find a way. My phone became my constant companion. Talking to Drs and PAs trying to adjust his meds. By May he was feeling better.
His passion was his dogs and upland bird hunting. Our honeymoon was spent crossing the country with our hunting dogs.
Now, we went to our local hunting club as often as possible. Sometimes I would hold on to his jacket as he staggered through the brush. It is terrifying to see someone you love trying so hard to maintain normality.
He often had to sit and rest. His dogs tried to understand. It was scarey having him out there with a loaded gun, often the recoil would knock him off his feet. He took it with a sense of humor. It terrified his wife. One had to admire his determination not to let cancer ruin his way of life.
By mid-June it was the end of hunting. The drugs were making him impossible to deal with and we were making trips to the Emergency room. His personality was changing. This lovable, mild mannered man often lost his temper. At one point he threw a walker at a nurse, at another, it was a chair. The hospital staff did not know him so they were not cognizant of the personality change. His children and I kept telling him this was not who he was. He was angry, short tempered, yelled at the beleaguered staff. He kept getting out of bed and trying to escape. They put a bed monitor on him. Then the hallucinations started. He was convinced he was in jail and that they were doing everything they could to contain him. Finally, we all convinced the staff of his personality issues and after much adjusting of meds, it pays to stay on top of all this, he began to come around.
Hospital staff is often unaware of the personality lying in the bed. How would they know? They receive a patient and access the ailments. Without family explaining personalities and needs, how would they know? It was up to us to make sure they understood. When we finally checked him out, after two miserable weeks, they confessed, they finally saw the man we all cared so much about.
Phone by my side, it was now up to me to make sure he stayed off the Oxy. A challenge. While in the hospital, he evidently ate one of his hearing aid batteries. We all thought it was because he thought it was a stray Oxycodone on his tray. Same size. He said he thought it was candy. So, to add insult to injury, he now had to go for weekly ex-rays to make sure his toxic battery didn’t get stuck inside.
Toward the end of June my days of going to work were over. He required constant care. We thought he would get better when he was home and could be with his dogs. He couldn’t remember his daughter’s name, or when people came to visit. I told friends not to come as it was so depressing to see him disintegrating before our eyes.
So began my journey into being a nurse. I have never been a nurse, just ask my kids. Handing out meds has never been my strong suit. Now I was home alone with a 290 pound dying man who didn’t want my help. We do what we need to do for those we love, and so my journey into the unknown began.
Take a look at this wonderful blog post by one of my favorite fellow bloggers.
Last July 2022, I lost my best traveling companion.
People ask “How are you doing?” My stock answer is; “It’s an adjustment.”
Some days are better than most. My husband was not a great provider, raconteur, or helper around the house, but he was a kind man who loved me totally and unconditionally. He ran up debts like some people eat potato chips, he had a joy of life and the finer things, and no lack of money was going to deter him.
We travelled well together and explored most of these beautiful United States from Northern Maine to Washington and Oregon. North Dakota to Texas.
Dying is a learning process, unfortunately, finite for the departing, but somewhat overwhelming for those left behind. There is a lot of emotional support available but it is the daily living and dealing with what comes up that is the hardest. It is not necessarily emotional support that is needed. There are so many nuts and bolts with which one is left to deal. In an attempt to help those left behind, and perhaps avoid some of the pitfalls, I shall present in this series, a journal of his last days and the floundering times after he, in dog lingo, passed over the rainbow bridge.
September of 2021 we took a trip out west. I had wanted to go to Yellowstone, he had wanted to visit the Cody Firearms museum. He was sicker then than any of us realized at the time. As he liked to say he was, in the words of Springsteen, Tougher than the rest. The chronicle of our final trip together can be found in other postings here.
He was on a downward slide but it was not what I wanted to see. So, I didn’t.
By the time we got to the Cody Firearms museum his back caused him so much pain, we were forced to borrow a wheelchair, which thankfully the museum provides. The photos taken during what was a happy time show that we both knew it was our last trip together. He put up with my traipsing the Oregon Trail, and we fulfilled his dream of going to the Cody Firearms Museum and staying at the Irma Hotel.
National museum of Military VehiclesThe Wonderful Cody Firearms staffThe bar at the Irma Hotel
Soon after our return, he was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma and our travels changed to a world of trips to Nashua, NH for Radiation and Brigham and Women’s/Dana Farber, in Boston for Chemo. The Radiation helped and we felt optimistic that this might be treatable. After all, we had other friends who were living with cancer.
The Boston trips were 3 weeks on and 1 week off. I drove the hour and 20 minutes back and forth. Our Fridays were consumed with Brigham and Womens/Dana Farber. Hospitals are no one’s favorite. We were in the cancer center. While many might see it as a place of hope, and as an optimist I did so try, it is a sad and moving place. There were couples, one in treatment, one just trying to hold up and be supportive. Hands clutched as if it would help to never have to let go. Grown children wishing they could go back to healthier days when their parent ruled their world. Saddest of all were those alone, or with a caregiver, facing the journey on their own.
The parking lot is below the hospital and it always seemed strange to drive down into the parking. We amused ourselves by checking the number of slots open on P1 and P2, these days we looked for humor in the little things. P3 was where we always parked. I had to take a picture of our parking slot as invariably after 4 hours, we would dispute where the car sat.
We were still in the throes of Covid so Sarge’s wonderful cousin made us a variety of masks so we could be fashionable. Not that we looked so as the hospital required their own yukky hospital issued blue ones. I sometimes put my fashionable mask over but they did not appreciate it.
I got pretty efficient at checking us in, either at the Kiosk, or on my cell beforehand. We then proceeded to a human who gave us our tags and asked what treatment we were there to receive. Depending on the schedule, we proceeded to get his blood test and then on up to wait, a very long time, for him to go into Chemo. Once drawn, the results of the test had to be analyzed and then they would make his Chemo Cocktail. This could leave us sitting together for over an hour before he walked through the Chemo door and left me behind. I do not sit well and came prepared with books and my laptop to work on my other blog. Eventually, rather than sitting for 4 hours or so it took him to be treated, , I started to wander Boston. I joined the MFA for those nasty weather days and as an avid hiker, explored Boston. I highly recommend this over sitting in the waiting room.
Once a month we would meet with the PA for an update on how he was doing. The radiation and the chemo seemed to be working and his “numbers” were coming down. There is no cure for Multiple Myeloma, but it can be managed, somewhat. In hindsight, when we would ask how many more chemo treatments he would need they usually answered, about 8 months. They were right. About 8 months later he would be off chemo and in hospice care.
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As mentioned in the cover page; Fridays are spent in Boston.
My options: Blog in the Dana Farber cafeteria, quite nice by the way, and warm in winter. Explore the MFA, I am a member, good on not so great weather days. Wander around Boston, perfect for better weather.
With better weather and wanting exercise, I head away from Dana Farber. My excursion takes me behind Fenway.
Sometimes bw is better.
It is very colorful. Not being a baseball fan; sorry; it was fun to explore the backside. I used to love to play ball in NYC behind MOMA but that was 45 years ago.
Never having seen the “green monster” in real life this was really perfect.
My real goal was Commonwealth Avenue. Commave to Bostonians. Years ago many of the town houses were privately owned and the doorway gardens were beautiful. My mother, who lived on Comm, and I used to delight in the gardens. I might give them another try but today was better for other sights.
The center of Commave is a wonderful stroll filled with families and dog owners, and sculptures.
The gardens were “easy care” mostly just greenery which was not high maintenance. Except for…
Wisteria takes about 10 years before it blooms. Hoping mine becomes this luscious.
My wanderings took me back over the bridge and by the locks on the fence. One wonders how many of these lovers are still together. http://bcheights.com
Boston is incredible. The people are joyous. Took a video of some street musicians, but sorry, would not upload on my plan.
It is an easy town for walking. Easier than driving. I have my landmarks. The Pru (the Prudential building),
And the Mass Art building.
These old balconies juxtaposed with the Mass Art building. So Boston.
And as previously shown, the Citco sign and Fenway.
Put on your walking shoes and get out and explore. Many more Friday wanders to come so please like and subscribe to enjoy Boston with me.
Self Employed Again 