Champagne Bucket trips, Eastern Europe

The woman who ate our leftovers in downtown Brno… part nine of our 2023 Czech tour!

Saturday morning, October 7th, Bill and I decided to venture into Brno to see if it was true that it was not much more than a glorified suburb. One of Bill’s coworkers, who was married to a Czech woman, had actually described Brno in that way. He implied there was nothing to see there. Maybe his negative opinion was formed in part because his wife recently passed away from the illness popularly known as Lou Gehrig’s Disease. It’s officially known as Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS), and it’s a pretty horrible disease.

In any case, in spite of the articles I’d seen describing Brno as an up and coming Czech destination, the guy Bill worked with had led us to believe it was not going to be a very inspiring place to visit. Well… if you read last week’s post about what happened last Saturday, you’ll know that we found out that Brno was anything but boring for us. In fact, I think we’ll be talking about that day for years to come.

Our visit to Brno started out in an ordinary way. We had breakfast at the JesteBrno Hotel, then got in the Volvo and parked on the fifth floor of a garage. We walked out of the garage and I noticed an interesting sculpture near the garage, along with bars, businesses, and historic buildings. No, it’s not as beautiful or charming as Prague is– few cities are. But Brno was kind of handsome and workmanlike. I thought I might find it fascinating in its own right.

We walked down a hill and looked to the left as we entered a main drag. There was a street food fest going on. It all looked and smelled really good, and I was interested in what they were selling there. But it was too early for lunch, and there weren’t many places to sit. We decided to walk around for a bit and take in a site or two.

We found our way to a Saturday vegetable market, and saw Brno’s own Astronomical Clock, which was built in 2010 looks like a black pickle… or maybe something else. 😉 We bought tickets to explore Brno’s Labyrinth under the vegetable market, which is one of a few underground attractions in the city.

We had time to kill before our Labyrinth tour, so we climbed yet another tower and got some photos of the city views from above. On the way up, we ran into a woman who looked a bit like retired Czech supermodel Paulina Porizkova. I thought she might be the only interesting person we’d run into that day. I was definitely wrong about that. Below are some views from the tower.

The Labyrinth tour was interesting, but I thought the tour group was a little too large. There were times when I couldn’t see the guide. And since the tour was done in Czech, seeing the guy was kind of important. It was a little too dark in the underground structure to easily read the information they gave us in English. That was where my phone’s light came in handy. I don’t regret taking the tour and seeing the Labyrinth, but I would have gotten more out of it if the group had been about half the size it was… and, of course, if it had been conducted in English. But, as we were in Czechia, of course that wasn’t going to be happening! Below are some Labyrinth photos…

After we toured the Labyrinth, we decided it was time for lunch. At first, I thought we’d find a restaurant. But then I remembered the cool looking street food fest. Bill agreed that it would be a good place to have lunch, so we headed back to that area and after a short wait, managed to find a place under the shade of an umbrella at one of the long fest tables.

I stayed at the table and saved Bill’s place while he went to get some food and beer for us. I thought he knew what I wanted– a skewer of either chicken or pork that was being cooked over an open fire. Bill came back with a big potato pancake. It was good, but not really what I wanted. I did eat some of the pancake, but Bill could see it wasn’t what I wanted. He asked me if I wanted chicken or pork, and I said I didn’t care. He went back to the line and came back with sausage in a pepper and onion sauce.

Potato pancake…

I was a little annoyed, because again, it wasn’t what I wanted. I don’t like sausage that much. I have to be in the right mood for it. Bill got frustrated. So did I. I didn’t understand why he kept bringing back things I didn’t want. He later told me he’d brought both items because other people ordered them and said they were local. In retrospect, the sausage had been good… but I had my tastebuds set on the skewers. In spite of how I look, there’s only so much I can eat.

So Bill went back to the line and brought me chicken on a skewer. It came with two big pickles, two pieces of farmhouse bread, horseradish, and mustard. It was pretty good, but more than I could eat. We were sitting there picking at the food, talking about tossing it out. Neither of us likes to waste food, so that was a bummer.

All of a sudden, this very thin woman in dirty clothes appeared out of nowhere. She had short brown hair, and appeared to be missing big patches of it. She had kind, brown eyes, and leathery skin that didn’t reveal her age. I’m 51, and she could have been older than I was… or she could have been younger and looked older because of what appeared to be a long, tough life lived on the streets of Brno. She was clearly missing a lot of teeth.

The woman pointed at my plate. I had eaten a lot of the chicken, two bites from the pickles, and hadn’t touched the bread at all. There was also a lot of horseradish left over, and some mustard. I said, “You want this?”

She nodded and before I could say a word, she grabbed my plate and took a seat at the table next to ours. As a couple of people watched in shock and horror, the apparently unhoused woman chowed down on my leftovers. It was obvious we were total strangers. I gave Bill a bemused look as the woman happily wolfed down my food with much relish. She completely cleaned the place, not wasting a single crumb. She gave me a big “summer teeth” smile– some are here, some are there. 😉

As she was polishing off the last of the chicken, she noticed that Bill had mostly finished the sausage. I said, “You want this too?” She nodded eagerly and took the sausage dish, which by then was mostly peppers and onions in tomato sauce. She cleaned that plate, and ate the half of the potato pancake we hadn’t eaten.

Bill went to get more beer. While he was gone, the woman said “Water…” She repeated it a couple of times, obviously realizing we are English speakers and soft touches.

“You want water?” I asked.

She nodded aggressively. When Bill came back with the beer, I said, “The lady would like some water.”

Without a word, Bill walked away to get the water. I was left alone with our new Brno acquaintance. I tried not to stare at her, even as I noticed a few bystanders. That was probably why I didn’t see the man come up. He was cleaner than she was. He wore a jacket and had a clean shaven face and short hair. But, like her, he had swarthy skin and dark eyes. I suspected the lady who ate our leftovers and the man knew each other.

The guy started speaking to me. I didn’t understand what he was saying, but by the tone of his voice, I understood that he wanted money. I didn’t have any money to give him, nor was I interested in engaging with him. He made me nervous. I got worried at that point, because Bill was taking a long time. I wondered if maybe there were other people in their community who had detained him somehow.

The woman who ate our leftovers was a keen observer of my body language, as I turned away from the guy who had invaded my space. She immediately started yelling at the man who was bothering me. He said something back to her. The whole time, I’m getting more worried about Bill. I hadn’t expected it to take so long for him to buy a bottle of water, and I didn’t see him in any of the lines near us.

The guy finally stalked off, looking angry. He traded a few more harsh words toward the lady who had eaten our leftovers. I didn’t know what to think, but I continued to nervously scan the crowd, looking for Bill. I even sent him a text, which went unanswered. I started formulating a plan in my head as to what I should do if something had happened. I noticed a police station nearby, obviously set up for the live music that was planned for later. But at that point, it was unmanned.

Then, much to my relief, I saw Bill. He had a six pack of water for the woman. He walked up to her in that determined soldier’s stride and presented her with the water. She accepted it gratefully bowed, smiling, as she touched her heart. Then she took the trash, threw it away for us, and disappeared.

We were left sitting there in shock. There we’d been with a bunch of extra food we didn’t need and were only going to throw away. This woman, who had obviously noticed us, appeared to solve that problem. And then this man came up to ask for more. I hated to be judgmental, and yet I was alone in a strange city, not understanding the man’s language, and not wanting to get into trouble or be a crime victim. I’d only just wanted to eat lunch. I was clearly nervous, with good reason.

Then, the whole thing was over… and we were left there with our beer. Soon, the live music started, and we enjoyed it for awhile before we decided to leave. As we were about to go, Bill went to get more Czech money. As I was listening to yet more buskers, I turned and noticed a familiar face. It belonged to the awesome banjo player we’d seen in Cesky Krumlov earlier in the week! We went up to him and asked if he’d been in Cesky Krumlov. He said he had, so Bill gave him ten euros (which he can use or exchange). I wish he’d had a CD. He was really good!

It was quite an interesting day… and now I’d like to go back to Brno and see more. It seems like a mysterious place that begs for more discovery.

Buskers we found in Brno…

As for the incident with the people who spoke to us, I suspect they may have been members of the Roma community. I looked up Roma in Brno and discovered that they do have a large presence there. Our previous interactions with Roma haven’t been particularly pleasant. The last time we met them, it was in Beaune, France. A couple of them popped our tire on our then new Volvo as we were trying to get home to Germany. That incident delayed us a day and cost us over $1500. But at least no one was hurt. I don’t want to think ill of anyone or any group, and generally speaking, I don’t. This time, our interaction was relatively positive. And, for all I know, the people we ran into weren’t Roma, either. But I think they probably were.

Thanks to that interaction, I learned that Brno has a museum dedicated to members of the Roma community. If we go back there, we’ll have to visit it. I’d like to learn more about them and how so many of them ended up as they are. I was also reminded of how much food we waste, and how there’s always someone out there who might appreciate what we throw away without so much as a second thought. If the interaction hadn’t been so sudden, maybe we might have just bought the woman some food of her own. But she probably still would have wanted our leftovers.

Below are a few “artsy” photos of Brno, taken with my big camera.

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An extra day in Seville… and a run in with Romas…

Since we were originally planning to get to Rota Naval Base by Wednesday, the 22nd of January, we only booked two nights at the cute hotel we stayed in.  But then we realized there weren’t going to be any suitable flights out of Rota on Wednesday or Thursday.  I didn’t want to get there early and be stuck behind the gates of the base, because I knew we would be staying in Navy lodging.  I was also hungover as hell.  So I told Bill we should stay another day in Seville and check out the cathedral.  Bill was fretting a bit, but managed to get his office on the horn and get his leave extended.

A word about this whole “leave extension” thing.  It seems that if one is on active duty, in order to be eligible for Space A flights, one must be on leave.  If you let your leave expire before you get out of wherever it is you are, you can’t use Space A to get home.  So it was very important for Bill to get the leave extended through the weekend to give us more time to get a flight that would get us in the vicinity of where we needed to go.  There was a Wednesday flight from Rota to Germany, which we could have taken to get to Spangdahlem Air Base or Ramstein Air Base, both of which offer Air Force flights.  But we decided to take a risk and plan to stay in Rota.  More on that, later…

So, with the help of a former Army co-worker and Facebook friend, Bill got word to his office that he needed the weekend.  His request was approved and he could finally relax a bit.  We asked for one more night in the hotel and naturally got charged a higher rate since I had booked a cheap room and we were put in a superior room (and charged the cheaper rate).  I was surprised the room was considered “superior”, but then I realized that we had a window that actually sort of had a view of the street as opposed the inside of the hotel.

The nice thing about being in Seville on Tuesday is that the cathedral stays open a bit later.  So once I had recovered more from my hangover, Bill and I headed over to Seville’s gorgeous, humongous, impressive cathedral.  I had been in the cathedral before when I visited Seville with my sister in 1997, but somehow I forgot you have to pay to go in there if you’re just going for cultural reasons.  It’s worth paying, I guess.  There is a small museum you walk through before you go into the massive structure itself.

A daytime view of the cathedral…

 

An evening view of the cathedral from another angle.

As we were looking for the appropriate door by which to enter the cathedral, we were approached by several older ladies who were holding out rosemary sprigs.  I wasn’t sure who or what they were, though I have run into gypsies before, most recently in Athens, Greece, when one of them said I look like Angelina Jolie (I really don’t.  She was either trying to flatter me or had serious cataracts).  But I hadn’t run into the scam these women were running.  They could have passed for Spanish women involved with the church.

There was a little voice in my head telling me to ignore these women, but they were very pushy and before I knew it, I was reaching for the sprig. So was Bill.  Then one of the women started to talk about Romanian blessings and got too close to Bill, who still has a wee touch of PTSD from his time in Iraq.  She pushed him toward the wall, alarming him.  He yelled “No!” and held up his hand just as I also stepped away from one of the other women.  Bill’s reaction apparently startled the women and they quickly walked away from us.

The side door is where you go when you want to visit the cathedral…  This is close to where we were accosted. 

I was merely annoyed by the encounter, but Bill was really shaken up.  We went to the front of the cathedral and there were a couple of flamenco dancers performing beautifully on the street.  I was enjoying watching them, oblivious to Bill’s lingering discomfort over his run in with the Roma women.

Front door of the cathedral, near where the dancers were.  Wish I’d gotten a photo.

We finally got into the cathedral and I was wandering around, snapping photos and looking at all the stained glass.  Suddenly, I turned to Bill, who had tears running down his cheeks.  This is a normal thing for Bill in cathedrals.  He is usually overwhelmed by their vastness and ornate decor.  I’ve seen him cry many times in many cathedrals in Europe.  But this time, he really seemed upset rather than moved.  I put my arm around him and asked him if he was okay.  He told me that he was overcome by a combination of powerful feelings… the beauty of the cathedral and his usual reactions to such beauty was colliding violently with his perception that we had been violated by the Roma women.

God’s eye…

He said, “I haven’t felt like this since I was downrange!”

I wiped his tears and listened to him tell me how angry he was about running into these women, trolling the touristed area around the cathedral, which is supposed to be a holy place.  Shame on them for screwing with people that way.

I asked Bill if they had managed to steal anything.  He said they hadn’t, other than the positive experience he was hoping to have in the cathedral.  Although he was very shaken up, he couldn’t deny that Seville’s cathedral is amazing.  But I’m afraid those Roma women gave it an unpleasant color he won’t forget anytime soon.

Beautiful stained glass and ornate sculptures…

I would have loved to have heard this organ…

 

The courtyard… full of orange trees!

 

On the way out…

On a positive note, I think we had our very best meal of the trip on Tuesday.  We happened to find a small restaurant/bar in a quiet section of the Jewish Quarter.  I was attracted to it by the way it smelled.  Leave it to me to follow my nose to find the best food.  I was a little tired of tapas, so you can imagine how delighted I was when we sat down at a table and I noticed one of the specialties of the house was dorada.  

 
Bill was still a little upset…

I discovered dorada when Bill and I lived in Germany and frequented Greek restaurants.  It’s a delicious, mild, white, flaky fish that is usually pretty pricey.  We spent a lot of money on dorada at a touristy restaurant in Athens, though I’d had it several times in Germany for less money.  It’s still usually  a rather expensive dish by my experience.  But at this particular place, I could have it for about 12 euros.  Cheap!

I love dorada!

Bill ended up with a skewer of beef and vegetables that hung from a hook over his plate and came with delicious fries.  I love the way fried potatoes are done in Europe.

That hook looks like an IV pole.

Check out the huge wine glass on the bar!

We drank fizzy water, since I was still nursing a hangover.  The waiter in this place, which was overwhelmingly populated with locals, was just awesome.  He was quick, cheerful, and friendly and he brought out the best meals of our trip.  We finished with a round of espresso and a couple of complimentary glasses of orange wine.  Needless to say, I recommend Casa Antonio- Bar Los Caracoles to anyone visiting Seville.  Here is a link to another appreciative blogger’s post about this establishment.

Outside of the restaurant…

As the day wore on, we were starting to wind down.  As much as I like Seville, I was kind of ready to get to Rota.  I wanted to see a different place and there always comes a point in a vacation when you start thinking about getting home and getting back to normal life.  The longest vacation I ever took was a month.  As much as I enjoyed seeing all I saw on that trip, I also recognized that after a couple of weeks, I start longing for a sense of normalcy and the ability to do laundry at will… and I missed my computer too, since I was wanting to write and can’t really so well on my iPad.  I think I need to invest in a laptop for our trips.  That will take care of at least one issue related to staying on vacation for “too long”.  Of course, since Bill has to retire, these long and frequent vacations may soon be a thing of the past anyway.

Flamenco dresses…

To make matters worse, I started my period.  That seems to be my custom on these trips.  We went out to buy some Spanish feminine hygiene supplies and ended up getting sidetracked by my sudden desire to buy a silk flamenco shawl.  I had been wanting once since 1997 and almost got one in 2009 when we went to Barcelona.  But I was always put off by how expensive they are because they are made of silk and there’s a lot of handiwork on them.  You can get cheap ones, but I wanted one that was better quality.  I found one I loved in the window, but the price was 390 euros…  So I opted for a less expensive one that was on sale for 150 euros (a little over $200).  It’s turquoise and very beautiful.  Maybe next time, I’ll spring for the really expensive one.  Too bad I don’t have anyone to pass it down to when I die.

I thought about taking Bill to a flamenco show.  I went to one the last time I was in Seville.  But Bill wasn’t into watching dancing, so we skipped it.  I kind of regret it now, though.  Seeing those two dancers near the cathedral reminded of me of how graceful and beautiful flamenco is.

I had to take a photo of this horse.  I used to have an Appaloosa, which is a familiar spotted horse here in the United States.  I am not sure, but I think the above horse might be a Knabstrupper, which is a Danish horse breed that shares some of the same genetics as Appaloosas do.  I believe the Knabstrups were a bit endangered at one point, so I think some Appaloosas were imported to help save the breed.  Anyway, regardless of whether this horse is an Appaloosa or a Knabstrup, it was very cool to see a spotted horse among all the bays, grays, and chestnuts.

One last shot…

 

We ended up at yet another tapas bar for dinner.  It was probably my least favorite of all the places we went to.  The bartender wasn’t all that friendly and the menu and the wine wasn’t all that exciting.  In retrospect, we should have gone back to Casa Antonio- Bar Caracoles again.  Won’t make that mistake again if we go to Seville.

Our last dinner in Seville…

After we ate dinner, we had a nightcap at the first tapas restaurant we came to when we first arrived in Seville.  Props to the waiter for remembering us.  Even though there weren’t too many American tourists around Seville during our visit, I don’t think we’re that distinctive.  I got a kick out of using their restroom because the toilets had a little target in them.  I’ve heard of them in men’s rooms, but even the women’s room had one.  It was a picture of a glass of beer.  I’m guessing it was directed toward women who insist on hovering over the seat instead of sitting down.

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