Where has the time gone?!? So much has happened, there are so many stories to tell and yet no time to get them typed up! Let's see, since my last post, I have literally eaten my weight in cake. It is like nothing I have ever seen before, cake everywhere and they are literal works of art begging you to try just one bite, like the wicked Queen tempting Snow White. I have discovered new wines, grapes and winemakers with incredible gifts for the craft that have us drinking from the time we wake till we fall into bed, perhaps a part of the ever growing waistline and that dreamy feeling I'm sporting. We have explored some of the best kept secrets of Central Europe and it only seems to become more elusive, more curious and more wonderful.
One thing that has happened is that I went to yet another International Wine Competition, this one tucked away in the suede brown and mossy green hills of Moravia, Czech Republic. Initially I got the feeling this would be a more reserved group, the way they eyed me strangely, wondering how an American had infiltrated their private clan. Then after a long day judging (where people in business suits spit into buckets for hours on end) the group blossomed under the dazzle of wine and beer into a frolicking group of merry folk shedding the formal attire and attitudes for loud, impassioned Czech folk songs and American Classic Country. Without a word in common, my husband and I bonded with these people, singing Johnny Cash hits, the lyrics in different languages, clashing together in triumphant drunken enthusiasm; it was glorious. The next day, back in formal wear, we started the judging with a perfect glass of sparkling wine and the emotional singing of a Czech favorite, it felt like I'd become a part of a tribe and the warmth made me love the Czech people deeply. It was as if I had found a secret passage to a world closed off to the typical traveler. Not that they don't welcome you normally, but I knew something special had taken place and my husband's epic hangover texts from bed proved he had felt it too.
Three days later I awoke cuddled in a comfy bed, I stretched and pulled the sleep mask from my eyes. No Competition judging or winery tour today meant I could sleep in, officially a day off. The room was filled with a bright light and birds chirped merrily outside. I could hear blue before my eyes could adjust to see it. Where was I? This trip has been so fast and furious as we were swept from place to place, winery to winery, wine competition to wine competition, that I felt like the entire thing was a foggy dream coming back to me only in pieces. Now I was waking up in the cheery Hamlet of Hrusice, Czech Republic, where my Fairy Godfather lives; the man responsible for all my "wine fortune".
This tiny tiny town outside of Prague, where the next stretch of lucid dreaming would take place, prides itself on the work of a children's book author who based his stories on the naughty escapades of a black cat called Mikesh. The author, Josef Lada (LOL here EVERYONE knows Josef!) included details of the townspeople and found popularity on a nationwide stage so much so that the town became a museum dedicated to him and now, decades later, people can journey there to find the streets their grandparents roamed, the pubs they gathered in or the bridge they met at...all described in these delightful tales. Monuments stand at each point of interest, a eternal black cat statue or image there to solidify that this is a authentic point of origin for the story...which makes this story perfect town almost too much to soak in. We found ourselves at one of these little pubs with my Fairy Godfather, his laugh like the rich incandescence of a Sauternes wine, who was outlining the next phase of our magical trip. Like magic, the beautiful young barmaid, almost a Disney Princess with her big bright eyes, long flowing blonde hair and porcelain skin, appeared with fists full of rich lager at the exact time I'd have sucked down the final sip in my giant mug. Somehow my Godfather orchestrated this, but how, I'm not sure. The beer, was of course, called Mikesh.
The day became evening and the air smelled of fragrant flowers. We lazily meandered the streets home and prepared ourselves for the journey to Prague the next day. And so days slipped by like this, falling into new towns and memories of past ones mingling together. Prague would intensify this feeling even more as its impeccably preserved ornate facades, tiny cobblestone streets and utter perfection would encircled us, pulling us into a world far far away... that is until a group of drunken bachelor or bachelorette parties would rudely pop the magic bubble we were in.
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