Prague (part rain)
June 19th, 2008Brimming to capacity with the experiences of Vienna, we boarded our train to Prague. I thought this would be a great time to reflect upon what we had seen and mentally sort and file these experiences away for future reference. Early 20th century Vienna had such energy and progressive thinking about creativity. I needed to do some analyzing myself. I do love Klimt’s use of gold leaf and bold flat pattern and the hauntingly tormented portraits of Egon Schiele. How does all of this fit in my compendium of creative thought. Or does it? If I did embrace it and attempt to incorporate it, wouldn’t I simply be an historical dilettante? Wasn’t that just what these artists were railing against?
With a 3 hour journey ahead of us, it seemed contemplation on such heady matters was assured. I could immerse myself into the experience of travel abroad; of seeing locals tending their garden plots along the tracks; of factory workers at cigarette breaks, my own foreign film of sorts without the subtitles.
My romantic musings were shattered before the opening credits even had finished. I understood the words. They were in English, not charmingly accented English, but American English. And they got louder and louder. They seemed to be coming from both ends of the train car; stereo! Before I knew it, we were beset upon by a noisy crowd of tourists.
Three couples with unwieldy suitcases struggled down the aisle. This was the cause for much consternation and yelling among them. The suitcases were so large, it was only with great difficulty, grunting, and my help that they were heaved onto and then stuffed into the overhead luggage rack. Then there were 2 women who decided to play the world’s noisiest game of gin rummy. In an attempt to quietly see the world through a different point of view, we were foiled by hearing all about it by loud, overly-packed American tourists.
We promptly sought escape and headed to the dining car. We were greeted by Pavel and a kindly smile. What we found there was peace and quiet - a piece of cheese toast and coffee.
Czeching out the dining car
Our cheese toast respite
We had been racing the weather. But it was beginning to catch up. As the train pulled into Prague, the skies turned as grey as its Soviet-era train station.
Welcome to Prague
Map in hand, we began the journey to our hotel. Remember this was the first day and you know what usually happens — directional confusion! So off we go to the information kiosk. After much nodding and theatrical pointing, we found our way to the tram stop.
One tram, two trams, there’s our tram — fingers crossed! We scrambled on board just as a torrential cloudburst burst, nervously chuckling like condemned men who had just dodged a bullet.
Acting as GPS, I turned our damp map with each curve in the road. Dutifully I watched for street signs and landmarks. This got progressively more difficult as the windows steamed with moisture. Like an intermittent wiper, I would stroke the window clear and check our position. The final curve; we were crossing the river. Our hotel is across the river. At that point we knew we were on the right tram. The next stop was ours.
Splashing down onto the cobbled sidewalk, I couldn’t help but think of myself as a latter day Gene Kelly. We set off in the rain in search of Hotel Josef, our small luggage train in tow keeping a merry syncopated beat - climp, clomp, splot.
A right turn instead of left (remember this is still the first day!) we circled back around and spotted our hotel through the downpour. We arrived soaked, but with a smile; a broad smile. It was bright, crisply designed and sparkled defiantly against the weather.
Hotel Josef
Designed by Eva Jiricna, it combined two houses, one pink and one orange. This set forth the coded accent colors that followed. An immaculate glass tread circular staircase was the focal point of the lobby. A smart, minimal bar lined one wall. A slim young man was polishing cocktail glasses. He was effortlessly gaunt, an achievement seen only among young Europeans.
After checking in, we made our way to our room. This was perhaps the sexiest hotel room I had ever seen. Everything was chrome and glass, except the bed throw and chair. They were orange. Remember the aforementioned color code.
The desk, the closet, the bathroom counter, the bathroom sink-the whole bathroom was glass. For sheer modesty the shower and WC were frosted. What wasn’t glass was mirror, all polished and shiny. But what made it even more impressive, was that it was streak free. I was awed by the attention housekeeping staff had given these high maintenance surfaces.
No stone throwing in here!
The shower and wc — sparkling examples of cleanliness
Enough with the room, cocktails were required. It must be 5 o’clock somewhere! A quick toweling and we were set. We arrived back down in the lobby and took our place in a pair of trim white leather club chairs opposite the large plate glass windows. Hair damp, but artfully tousled, dry martinis were ordered.
As guests exited the hotel, their umbrellas would pop open like giant mechanical flowers bursting into bloom, ready to join the moving bouquet in the street. I sat mesmerized watching the unfolding scene. Pedestrians hopped and skipped over the cobbles. Some used their umbrellas for balance like an aerialist. Occasionally, they stole a glance in our direction. Others simply stared.
Who was watching whom? Had the predator now become the prey? — or perhaps, the conceptual art installation in the window? If so, I had the perfect title for us.
Dry: Americans and their Martinis.
Vienna Calling
June 15th, 2008Next stop on the Maria-Theresa Tour is Vienna. Napoleon was right when he declared that an army traveled on its stomach. We heartily take that same view. We eat our way through countries! If you are really serious about it, you begin with dessert. And what better place to put that to practice than in Vienna.
Jay in his element — the coffee house
I have heard for years about the superior pastry skills of the Viennese. I had always thought, “Just how good can a cake be?” Well, the distance from a doubter to an evangelist is merely a single forkful away. The cakes were indescribably delicious; delicate, light, gently sweet, moist. Never is the tongue more confounded than when words prove inadequate to describe what it has tasted.
Heaven behind glass
The city is filled with coffee houses and the rituals that reside within. Coffee is a very specific and personal choice. Whether it is espresso, cappuccino, turkischer, schlagober, or pharisaer, it is delivered on a small silver tray with a glass of water. This is a ritual to be savored. This is not the world of the to-go cup. It is an unhurried time for conversation or newspaper reading, usually encircled in an ever-present halo of cigarette smoke.
My pharisaer. Strong black coffee with a generous dollop of whipped cream and a shot of rum!
As Empress of the Holy Roman Empire, Maria Theresa needed a place to escape the city and the rigors of her exalted office, so she remodeled Schonbrunn. Once the royal hunting grounds, the divine EMT recast the medieval lodge as an imperial palace; a residence more befitting her rank.
It’s good to be the queen - or even better an Empress!
This sprawling summer palace on the outskirts of Vienna afforded enough room for her 16 children to freely romp about. The most famous of the royal brood was undoubtedly #9, Maria-Antonia, later frenchified upon marrying Louis XVI to Marie-Antoinette.
Perhaps it was simply a homesick Marie-Antoinette yearning for her hometown’s famous baked-goods when she uttered those immortal words, “Let them eat cake!”
The view from my cake eating spot in the Gloriette at Schonbrunn.
At the turn of the 20th century, Vienna was a seething hot bed of new thought. Freud was busy analyzing dreams and artists and architects were challenging the historical ideals of conformity. They were called Secessionists. Gustav Klimt, Joseph Hoffmann, Adolf Loos, at the time considered insurgents of radical thought, they are now revered for their trailblazing creativity.
Old Vienna
New Vienna (circa 1899!)
Known as the Majolikahaus, majolica house, after the glazed pottery tiles that clad its surface. This colorful building helped to usher in the new thoughts about architecture at the beginning of the 20th century.
Secession Building
The Secession Building was a gallery created for the Vienna Secessionist artists. It was constructed in 1898 as a visual metaphor for their motto, “Der Zeit ihre Kunst, der Kunst ihre Freiheit” which translates To every Age its Art, to Art its Freedom.
With so much to see, our days in Vienna were a whirlwind of touring and of course, eating. They quickly passed and before we knew it, we were on the train to Prague.
Posted in travel | No Comments »Lag of the Jet
June 13th, 2008For those of you who have been early adopters (thank you!) of Life@the Schoolhouse, you may have been wondering what has happened. Why no new posts? I have been on holiday or as I like to refer to it as the Maria-Theresa Tour — an arc through the Austro-Hungarian Empire, beginning and ending in Germany.
As some of you may know, we will be celebrating “Christmas in Germany” this year at the 9 Mile Schoolhouse Christmas Market. So this trip was a working holiday. Even though we were welcomed with warm temperatures and late spring in full force, holiday ideas were secured. And in many cases, confirmed, as product design had already commenced after careful research several months before.
I had contemplated blogging from abroad, but thought better of it. Travel is a precious thing to me. I want to absorb every sight, smell, and sound while I can. Reflection comes later.
Only after the jet lag subsides and knotted time zones unwind can one truly discover the impact of what has been seen. So like a time delayed broadcast, my adventures in Mittel Europa are about to begin.
Touchdown Bavaria
I understand why travelers bemoan long-haul flights, but for me they have never lost their sense of wonderment. Our adventure began with an 11 hour flight to Munich. 39,000 feet below the earth spins. We skirt Baffin Bay, Greenland, Iceland the Arctic Circle; far-away places shrouded in glimmering ice. The prelude of a magical journey.
A bronze depiction of city of Munich
The fairytale began in Munich. This is a city, or as we heard many times referred to as “a village” - one certainly of ornate proportions. There were wide ceremonial boulevards on which triumphant leaders and their retinues could parade flanked by imposing, stern public buildings. But what I found more charming, was the village face of Munich. So with a map in hand, I set off to discover this Bavarian village.
Wide formal boulevards and well manicured trees
Narrow lanes veered off at random angles. Each a new avenue to explore. At every intersection, I had to check my location. This first day of exploration was spent completely losing my direction. When I thought I was traveling east, it had actually become south east, but actually more south than east. It must have happened after I focused my attention on some interesting architectural feature that needed to be photographed.
After this day of utter directional confusion a restorative libation was in order. Retracing my journey on that wrinkled map gave way to a cartographic logic I hadn’t seen before. Call it a light bulb moment, but whatever it was, by day two, Munich lay at my feet.
A bit of the Munich skyline
The weather cooperated and gave us blue skies and 80°. The chestnut trees were in full flower. Their spiky blooms of white and fuchsia added even more color to the scenes playing out in the dappled shade of branches below. I learned that chestnut trees and Biergartens (beer gardens) are inextricably linked.
In pre-refrigeration times, beer needed to be cooled. So casks/kegs were buried in the ground and trees planted for shade. Because of the horizontal growth of the chestnut trees’ root system, the trees didn’t “tap” the kegs below. Villagers would come with their steins to collect the beer to take home. On occasion, as I understand. They would drink a stein or two while there under the shade of the trees. An enterprising Biermeister saw this and added a few tables. Food was introduced and the tradition of the Biergarten was begun.
Enjoying a small Biergarten snack
A gathering storm at Nymphenburg Palace
Green and gold - lanterns at Nymphenburg Palace
Parks and gardens, whether beer or otherwise are a very important feature of Munich. And none as impressive as Englischer Garten, the English Garden. This leafy expanse of acreage is nestled at the eastern edge of the city. Its meadows are crisscrossed with well worn foot paths. On warm days, it teems with tourists gawking at the sun worshiping locals. Nude sunbathing is allowed. But what amazed me was the surfing. Yes! surfing in Munich. A swift flowing canal has become the “Bavarian Pipeline”. Surfers from all over the city come to test their agility against the wave.
Surfing a Bavarian wave
Studio Work
May 1st, 2008
My work here at the schoolhouse has been more indoors, than outdoors as the weather is still very unpredictable. From my computer, I see all that is unfinished and is in need of urgent attention. The need to begin the completions of our loft studio have become very apparent.
Though fully functional, many of the final details had been left for want as Christmas ornament production kicked into gear.
So today, an iffy weather day, I embarked upon completion of one of the details - the bulletin boards.
The end wall of the design studio is an odd assortment of angles and stairs and openings to the living room below and the Rapunzel Suite* above. To tie it all together, and add our layer of personality, I’ve covered the bulletin boards with our Cortona Stripe fabric.
To begin, I attached homosote ceiling tiles to the walls with drywall screws. I chose homosote for its ease of cutting and availability at the local home improvement center.
Loads of stapling and fabric stretching, taking care to keep the stripes vertical, the fabric is finally up. A bit more trim work and it will be complete. Now I just need to decide what color I should paint the trim.
*Rapunzel Suite is the household garret guest room tucked high up above the living room
Posted in design | No Comments »99 Bottles…
April 26th, 2008Rediscovering my own backyard has been one of the unexpected joys of returning to Montana to run the Schoolhouse. There has always been a pioneer spirit out here. It can manifest itself in many ways, usually of the rugged variety.
At least, that was the image of the pioneers from my youth. Sure we had cowboys, but vintners? Missoula certainly didn’t have a winery - but now there are several.
That’s my kind of pioneer!
casks of wine awaiting bottling
Needless to say, as an enthusiastic consumer of wine, I was delighted when my dear friend Kate invited me to experience the bottling process at Lake Missoula Cellars.
You see, Kate is an expert of the vine. She knows about this stuff. She writes about it for the local newspaper and on her blog. When in the company of this bonne viviante, doors readily open and wine corks fly from the bottles!
remnants of the savoured fruits of the vine
The bottling process was fascinating, but I must confess, the tasting that followed was what I really enjoyed!
Posted in general | No Comments »The Burning Season
April 25th, 2008Wisps of smoke curl from nearly every valley, field and open space. This is a small window of time when damp ground, the possiblility of precipitation and yard clippings coalesce to create a time honored ritual. It is the burning season.
Spring arrives shortly thereafter. Like a phoenix rising from its own ashes, the greening of the 9 Mile Valley is about to begin.
Pine needles shed in an August windstorm last year are safely burned in the damp of spring.
Signs of Spring?
April 24th, 2008Could it be? After finding a grapple* covered picnic table this morning, I also found this. Perhaps the first buds of spring. Winter has been hesitant to release Western Montana from its chilly grip. As the evening light continues to stretch on well past 8pm, the warmth usually associated with lengthening days has been hesitant to follow.
The darling buds of spring
*grapple: a term I recently learned from from a meteorologist friend. A pellet like snow, similar to hail, but not!
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