First came Easter:
One of the most surprising things about the Czechs is how they celebrate Easter. For centuries it has been tradition for boys and men to braid a pomlázka (whip made from pussywillow twigs) for Easter. On Easter Monday, they visit female relatives, friends and neighbors, sing an Easter rhyme, and use their pomlázka (from pomladit meaning "to make younger") to hit the women and girls who then tie a ribbon onto the whip and give the males Easter eggs and candy. The grown-ups may also get alcohol so things can get pretty rowdy by evening. ("All Moravia must be drunk by now," commented our friend Pavel around noon on Easter Monday.) This charming tradition is explained by the belief that young, live pussywillow twigs bring health and youth to anyone who is whipped with them. Luckily for us, we were "only" chased twice: the first time near our home, by a man who had just been scolded by an older woman after he lightly tapped her, and the second time by Helena´s daughter's little boyfriend. Catherine knew many Czech women who hated this tradition (in fact we'd just talked about it with a young Czech woman we met on the train from Vienna) but Helena's daughters surprised her by enjoying being chased.
The locals deny that this practice harkens back to any sort of fertility ritual!
Pomlázkas for sale
Being chased at Helena´s
Easter treats at the bakery
Easter treats at a fair
Then, for a Passover celebration:
When the 8-day Pesach holiday began, we were in the midst of our extended travel and mind-shift from SE Asia to Europe. So even though it was quite belated and unorthodox, we decided to host a seder meal in our new apartment for a group of old and new friends on the last night of the holiday. As we started to plan the evening and explore the local food shops, we discovered it was going to be quite an adventure to find the basic necessary ingredient, Matzoh - the bread of affliction! Unfortunately, Hitler's plans to have Prague host a "museum to the extinguished race" in many ways came true as there is only a very small closed Jewish community (estimated to be about 3,000). The only place we found any Jewish presence was in what remains of the old Jewish quarter where the historic museums and sites are located. Here there are a few active Orthodox synagogues. We scored Matzoh almost immediately but were still searching for matzoh meal. After getting blank stares and muttering shakes of the head, Jen waded through the crowds of tourists until she stumbled upon a young English-speaking man wearing a yamulkah. He was actually a Brit studying at yeshiva in Israel but he was able to direct us to the local Chabad House where we were scolded at length by a young NY Jew. He said we could NOT be holding a Pesach seder at this late date but allowed that we could call it a Passover party. They were out of matzoh meal though he offered us some kosher wine, which we declined. Following local custom, we instead went to the wine bar on the corner of our block where we had an empty plastic water bottle filled with tasty Moravian wine straight from the barrel - bulk purchasing at its best! We hurried home with the prized box of matzoh to begin the cooking. The menu for the evening was a little unconventional without the matzoh meal (thus, boo hoo, no matzoh ball soup) and we always like to mix in a little Easter with our seder. To take the edge off our guests' hunger, we served chlebičky (small open-faced sandwiches) to start and beranek (traditional Czech Easter cake in the shape of a lamb) to finish. Using a brief haggadah (guide for the seder meal) printed from the internet, we had a lovely seder with 10 friends. Jen was the only Jew but everyone participated wholeheartedly in the readings, the blessings, the singing, the eating, and of course the searching for the afikomen.
John enjoying a chlebiček
During one of the evening´s songs
