Leaving My Old Home in Prague via Brussels; The End of the Old Year 1977 in the New Home in Canberra, Years 1978-9s

The year 1977

 JANUARY

  

I started this diary  on  the13th of February, the day and I left Prague to start „ a new life“  Belgium, so I am not sure how exactly we spent the first day of this year. As I was 6 months pregnant with David, and already quite big, I suppose we just stayed quietly at home. The rest of January, however, must have been quite busy preparing our move - the first of many to come - and taking leave of my family, friends, diplomatic colleagues  and my city in general. I remember being very upset at hearing the news we were to move in February already, as originally I was counting on staying till  the summer and consequently giving birth to my first baby „at home“. So Christmas was rather a tearful affair. Moreover, the gyneacologist  advised against such a long journey by car and so I had to leave by train - alone. Joris would follow a few days later.

 FEBRUARY

Sunday, 13.2.

 

The last morning in our Prague home (a villa in the street Na Hrebenkách 41, P5, high above the city),  where we spent the first 14 months of our married life, dawned grey and misty. By now it was stripped of all our possessions, and only memories were being left behind, over which I shed a few tears, when  getting into the car to leave it for ever.

The farewells having all taken place before, there was, beside Joris, only one old family friend (a rejected, but ever faithful suiter of my mother) on the platform of the Main Prague railway station near the Wencelas Square (Nowadays renamed Wilson´s Station) to wave me off. Luckily, the train was due to leave almost immediately, which spared us the agony of  protracted  Good-byes. The two waving figures quickly disappeare behind a bent and the train gathers speed. As it happens, the railway to Germany leads trough the part of Prague, where I  had lived until I got married, and so „my whole life till then flashes before my eyes“ -  first my old school (elementary and secondary, called Na Hradku, in Boticska street), and next to it, the St.Ursula convent hospital, where my father died in 1959. Then on to the Railway bridge, with a shattering noise under its intricate, soot blackened metal arches, and over the river Moldau (Vltava), with waters of which „I had been christened“. From the bridge, looking downstream, I can see our family house on the river embankment  (Rasinovo nabrezi 76) and the majestic outline of the Prague castle (Hradcany). Running to the opposite window I catch a glimpse of my Grandparents´ Pesina cubism style villa (long since lost), on the right bank of the river, above which  towers the mythological rock of Vysehrad, crowned with two black neo-gothic  spires of the church of St. Peter and Paul; the adjacent cemetery, famous for its many Art Nouveau tombs, contains the graves of most of my family from both Mother´s and Father´s side. On the other side of the river I can see the hill on which stands the house  I have just left. For a while, the railway follows the river upstream, along the road to Slapy, where Joris and I spent many a romantic secret weekend in our family log cabin, hiding from the „evil world“ ( where I spent all the August part of the school holidays with my grandparents - mother´s side. I had to sell my half to my uncle before emigrating). All this fills me with considerable sadness and nostalgia.

But enough of that. The train is taking me towards a new life, that I had chosen of my own will and now must hope that it will be happy.

The first class compartment was empty and I was grateful to be able to relax for the next 12 hours with a book - the last month left me pretty exhausted (lugging around, as I was, some 15 kg extra weight, due to the future David).

Around  noon a long wait on the border in the Sumava forest. One unlucky passenger´s papers were not in order and he was hauled off the train. Though I was by now fully and solely a Belgian citizen, I was gripped by the old familiar fear, that I so often experienced on crossing this point before, as a subject of the communist state, and held me all the way through the „no man´s land“,  between barbered wire fences and barren stretches of ploughed earth lined with guard towers, till the first stop in Germany - Furst im Wald - where I had spent a few happy hours doing Christmas shopping last December.

 Lunch in the  Czech dining car - only DM accepted, was expensive and bad. Dinner in the newly added German diner, was still expensive, but good.

At half past eight the train reached Koln (Cologne), where I was met by a German friend, Cassia, and her mother, at whose house I was also spending the night. (At the time of translation, I cannot remember how I knew them, but apparently  I stayed with them also 2 years before. Lucky thing I WAS writing a diary, otherwise what else I might not have  forgotten!)

 

Monday, 14.2.

The morning broke bright and beautiful, with spring in the air - a good omen, perhaps? Cassia´s father gave me breakfast and took me to the station next to the looming, brooding cathedral, an old friend.  From my several journeys to and from England).The direct train to Brussels was one of the first modern ones, without compartments, I felt more like in a plane. I had to pay extra for this luxury. After leaving Germany we entered the gently rolling landscape of my new homeland, green even in the middle of winter.

I arrived at Bruxelles Midi at half past one, and was met by  Father-in- law and brother-in-law, Mark. „Welcome home,“ they said in unisono. I was sorry not to see Daniel - he left the very same morning in the opposite direction for Germany, to begin a two months stage there at a bank, having successfully completed his studies of economy.  Mother-in law was at home, cooking lunch. Mark drove and the traffic scared me - already then I described their style as „where there is a space, squeeze through it“. In their spacious apartment in Kindermansstraat 1 in Elsene (whose surroundings did not impressed me very favourably, rather the contrary) Mother welcomed me as warmly as ever and there was no end to questions about how I was feeling and how I left „George“. After lunch we went to see the apartment, that Father found for us, round the corner from their flat (in Bosstraat). It was in one of four blocks of flats around a small park in the middle, on the 3^rd floor. It was very pleasant and light, but I was shocked, how small it was. (The villa in Prague, permanently rented by the Belgian government for the nr.2 of the embassy, was very big.) It had an L shaped dining/sitting room, albeit with a with fireplace and big windows, a tiny hall, one small and one very small bedroom, narrow kitchen with a small balcony. What worried me was, that my solid, „middle European“ furniture, inherited from my parents and never intended to be moved once installed, would never fit in. But I had to put a brave face on it, as Father was very proud of his „find“. It has been two long and emotional days and I was glad to creep between the sheets early.

 

Tuesday, 15.2.

Morning spent in our new fat, measuring and puzzling over how to place the furniture, when it arrives tomorrow afternoon. Mother´s cleaning lady, Consuelo, and  the concierge Julienne, who is in fact a woman, but one would not think so at a first glance, gave the place a thorough and highly necessary clean up. After lunch went with mother to buy some chairs and a table for the kitchen. Joris arrived at six and in style - by service car driven by the embassy driver Tunkel. They successfully smuggled out my little antique bureau, few old paintings and family portraits, and some Persian carpets. (We were not sure we would  get permission to export them, so we chose this more secure, though a bit dangerous way. But in those days, the diplomatic number plates worked wonders.) Joris´s Granny called from England.

 

Wednesday, 16.2.

Furniture arrived late, at four, so the moving in happened in a great hurry. By some miracle, everything not only got in, even my big, all in one piece double bed (though it had to undergo an „operation on its feet) but even fitted in quite nicely, although the general aspect at the moment is more of a very untidy warehouse than a home.

 

Wednesday, 23.2.

A week after the furniture, we moved finally in, too. Every day from morning to evening I was  unpacking and moving things around, until everything was to our satisfaction. I could not believe, how much STUFF we had - and I shall continue to be surprised by this fact throughout our long gypsy life; yet, whatever I threw or gave away, I would regret bitterly soon afterwards....Another experience will repeat itself unerringly - the (practically illiterate) movers will ALWAYS find an unguarded moment to unpack and mess up the books, packed with great care in alphabetical order.

Joris spends his days at the Ministry, the courses for his final exams have started, so it was left to Father to help me - we cautioned each other constantly, to be careful and not overdo it. Consuelo and Julienne cleaned some more, and Albert, Jullienne´s tiny husband, hung up the pictures.  Mother was busy shopping and cooking (which she detests and never stops to point it out), or „chauffers“ me around, when needed (Father doesn´t drive). On Sunday she drove us all out for a little walk in the woods on the outskirts of Brussels - the Bois de la Cambre, which is very pretty.

On Monday we were invited to lunch at the house of the d´Avernas - our ambassador in Prague.

One of our living room windows gives on the west - the sunsets are spectacular and I watch them with a huge  nostalgia for  the sunsets of Prague.

A bit of cheese for our first supper, not very exciting, but I simply could not manage anything more demanding.

 

Monday, 28.2.

Life has assumed its routine, Joris leaves early, walks to the ministry and comes back for lunch ( and a nap). I  sleep late,  potter around, cook lunch, wash up, sometimes go shopping (there is a handy little grocery shop, the „winkel“ across the street from the parents´house, but for big weekly shopping we go by car with Mother to a self service Delhaize) or for a walk, depends on the weather, which is changeable but quite sunny and warm and spring seems in the air already - the leaves are budding on trees in the streets and in the parks  and gardens the colourful crocuses are pushing through the earth and forsythias bushes are all golden. The month of the big move is over and I feel  quite happy but also very tired. Friday Mother and Father came with a pink azalea plant and a bottle of wine to drink to our new home. Saturday went for a nice long walk in the woods. On Sunday we had lunch with the parents and in the evening our first guests for supper, one of Joris´s colleagues Guido Curtois and his Slovak wife Danica, a journalist. They came back from the Ivory Coast for the exams. I made cheese fondue (from a packet) and a trifle. We had a nice evening,  talking mainly about Prague, though Danica is from Bratislava.

 

Sunday, 6.3.

Wednesday an important day - a visit to my new gynaecologist. He is an elderly man and so from the old school. His thoroughness and personal attention reminded me of my grandfather Prof. Mudr.Gawalowski, and I was relieved, feeling I am in good hands. Though no chicken at my nearly 33 years, or rather because of it, I am becoming quite terrified at thought of giving birth in a month or so. Such a small hole...All the films, dwelling with such relish on the agony of it, have not helped. However, I was able to listen to the beat of the child´s heart - what a noise - like horses galloping. Amazing. (In those days, nobody dreamed yet of getting to know the child´s sex beforehand, it was not even a mater of course, that fathers should be present at the birth.) But he did make the first, ultrasound, photo of David to be. Not much to see, if you don´t know, what  to look for. Still, a nice souvenir.

Saturday,  I made my first acquaintance with Joris´s uncle Walter, his father´s bachelor younger brother and professor of oriental linguistics in Antwerp. A tall, thin man, with a shock of nearly white hair, who never stopped talking. He seems to have an universal memory and remembers everything that he ever read or heard. Interesting, but a la long tiring. Has written lots and lots of books and is just finishing another, about the city of Antwerp. Unfortunately, he had been a member of the extreme radical Flemish party, De Vlaamse Blok, and has always been  for separation of the Flemish from the Walloons and joining the Dutch. His views and action had caused many problems to his brother, during his diplomatic career  (he was the first Fleming to make it into the service, dominated in those days by the French speaking nobility). Uncle Walter also has  a very sharp tongue, and his critical outpourings over the Belgian public figures did little to transform a „new born“ Belgian citizen like me into a  patriot.

Today another walk in the woods, they are really quite wonderful and stretch apparently for miles out of Brussels. Yesterday we went by car with mother and father to Waterloo, the site of the defeat of Napoleon . There is a museum and a artificial hill with the famous statue of the Lion on top. Despite my big tummy and swollen legs, I climbed the  nearly 200 steps up. ( I boasted about this heroic feat to all my visiting friends, that puffed their way up there with me in later years.) Instead of the cannon fire the place was filled with laughter and screaming of children.

 

Sunday, 13.3.

The Friday afternoon hailstorm was not able to triumph over the spring, the hyacinths, tulips and pansies are all out, though the sun is not.

Having walked through the streets of Brussels quite a lot, I don´t find it as ugly and gloomy as during my pervious brief visits - mostly just driving through to somewhere else. It depends of course on the part of Brussels one lives in, or even just the street one walks along. Around here, in Elsene, there are some lovely streets of 19^th century pseudo baroque bourgeois town houses, or better still, little gems of art nouveau, for which Brussels is rightly famous. It is a great shame though, that many of them were pulled down in the fifties and replaced by plain, even ugly concrete boxes of apartment houses - ours  and the parents´ are  examples of just plain, or low even uglier car show rooms, and there are also many empty lots behind wooden fences. But the more recent architecture is better, lots of tall buildings of all shapes covered in glass, which reflects the ever changing hues of the skies, and there are many parks and trees lining the mostly  spacious, and quite clean, streets (except for paper litter and, which is worse, dogs´ poo. The freedom here applies even to these four legged friends of man - in this case, a little too much.)

I started a French course at the Ministry, I am the only pupil, even though it is gratis. I also go to some gymnastics for pregnant women, with massage and breathing exercises.

Daniel came from Frankfurt to spend the weekend. We all went to the theatre Saturday evening, 3 short plays in the Brussels English Comedy Club- my initiative, and quite successful. Sunday family lunch at parents´  also  Mark was there, and then a walk around the lake in the Bois de la Cambre - little me with my  big tummy and  three tall handsome men. Pity that the rain cut it short. Both Mark and Daniel are bachelors. Mark is very handsome and thin and very much with the „high society“ of Belgium, including the members of the royalty.  About a year ago he had terminated a tempestuous relationship with a beauty, who was soon afterwards killed in a car accident.  Like Daniel, he graduated in economy and is now studying for the entrance exams for a diplomatic career. Daniel is a bit chubby and is dating Kira, a primabalerina in the ballet company of Maurice Béjart.

It is a month since I left Prague. I have not yet had time to become homesick, but I have been dreaming about it and people i know there almost every night, perhaps subconsciously escaping to the familiar surroundings from all the new impressions.

 

Monday, 21.3. - 1^st day of Spring

The temperatures oscillate between 20° and  10°, which makes me very tired, nevertheless I persevere with the exercise classes and the French lessons, I walk the half hour to the ministry and back, enjoying the advancing spring that manifests itself even in the streets - some trees covered themselves in white, some in pink (the lovely Japanese cherry trees, which line also our street), the magnificent magnolias are ready to bloom and so are the large chestnuts in „our“ park. The colourful tulips dot every little bit of lawn.

At the domestic front some plumbing problems and difficulties with Jullienne, who wants more money for cleaning...

The traffic continues to frighten me and I do not dare to drive. What amazes me is the „right of way from the right“ without exceptions, even in the tinniest of streets leading on a to thoroughfare of several lanes, like the Louizalaan. I also marvel at  the yellow, single wagon trams,  which seem minuscule compared to the Prague´s rattling red and yellow double ones; they seem almost antique, with a table between each pair of seats. There are also buses and a metro is being built. For the time being, its finished parts  lock onto the trams rail system, and use the trams, which is quite ingenious, I think. The system of road tunnels, built at the time of the World exhibition Expo 58 in Brussels, helps the  traffic to flow smoothly, especially at the weekend exodus.  (The Expo was held in the „Jubelpark“ in Laeken, where the then Belgian pavilion - the Atomium - still forms a distinct ive Brussel´s landmark. The Chinese Pagoda and the Japanese pavilion are also still standing. The Czech pavilion, made world famous by the innovative theatre cum film performances - the „Laterna Magica - The Magic lantern“, had been moved to Prague, where it still functions as a restaurant on one of the hills above the river.)

Saturday dinner at the Parents, together with another couple, the daughter and her English husband of their old time friends, (a Scottish noble lady Joey, married to a Dutch Count van Linden). We are supposed to strike a friendship, but I don´t know, if it happens - a friendship cannot be arranged, it must grow from some common experiences or shared activities. (This „piece of wisdom“ has been confirmed to me since, in all those years of  for ever having to form new ties in the new countries. It has grown more difficult with the age, and at the time of translating this and sitting in Damascus, I have almost given up...) Anyway, they were nice, though a bit superior (and older). Joris did not help - he was practically asleep with his eyes open.

During supper the first thunderstorm of the year - in compliance wit a Czech superstition I hurried to lift up something heavy (due to my condition, only a chair) and made Joris to lift ME up, which should assure him enough strength for more than just one year.

Yesterday a beautiful morning, so decided to drive out with the Parents after lunch. Though the weather looked set to last for a fortnight, the afternoon became cloudy, but we went anyway, to visit Beersel,  partly ruined little castle, not far from Brussels, a water fort from the 14^th century. As with the trams, I was struck by its diminutive size, but impressed by the loveliness of this round structure from read bricks, set in the green woods. We walked round through its half destroyed walls surrounding a roofless courtyard, before we were chased away by the rain. We found refuge in a nice old fashioned restaurant next door. Lesson: when the sun shines, go out immediately! In the evening watched the film From Here to Eternity about Pearl Harbour, with Frank Sinatra and Burt Lancaster ( on TV).

 

Monday, 28.3.

Home alone - Joris left for Paris till Friday, with all his colleagues, as part of the preparations for the exams. Yesterday rain with snow and cold - what happened to the Spring?

I have had a haircut - a big decision, but not as drastic as originally planned - I had meant to have it cut quite short, just as I used to wear it some years ago, but was persuaded by Mother to stop at shoulder length. The result is so so, shouldn´t have listened to her.

More important was another visit to the gynaecologist. He thinks I might be more advanced than we thought, the baby seems quite big and he dissuaded me from the visit of my Dutch „adoptive parents“, the Breitensteins, in Amsterdam, which I had planned during Joris´s absence. I am very disappointed, as I was planning to see all my friends from the year I had spent there in 1968/69. Instead, I was advised to rest and  sleep a lot, which actually suits me fine. On one of my walks I discovered  a beautiful gothic monastery and church - Ter Kameren / La Cambre, not far from us. It used be far out of Brussels in the old times and now sits in a deep hollow, landscaped in the style of a „French garden“. I decided that it is here that I want my child christened, even though it is a French community church. Father goes to Flemish masses at the end of rue de Baillei /???/, to a baroque church, badly in need of restoration - the absis is  shut off by a „temporary“ wall. It is gloomy inside and outside and do not like it.

 

Monday, 4.4.

 As I could not go the Breitensteins, they came to see us this past weekend. They stayed with parents. Joris said he was too busy, so Daniel, who happened to be Brussels again, very kindly offered to take us on a tour of Brussels on Saturday afternoon, which was interesting for me as well. We managed to see everything - from the Palace of justice to the Mannekke Pis - and had a well deserved tea on the Grand Place. Daniel made a scene, because the waiter did not speak Flemish (yes, he used to be like that!) Later we had  drinks at our place and looked through the wedding album. The Breits brought some presents, a.o. a little wooden box covered in lace (hand made by mevr. Breit, whose hobby it is), which it was customary in Holland to hang over metal door knockers, in  the times before electric bells, when there was a baby sleeping in the house. (It is now in my flat in Prague, in a glass cabinet.) The Dutch crown princess Beatrice (now the Queen) was given one from the Dutch Guild of lace makers on the birth of her son, prince William. So I am in good company.

Sunday morning was raining, so nothing to do but to visit the Palais de Beaux Arts. We concentrated on Rubens - in my present state, his corpulent naked beauties made me feel good....Lunch at Parents, poor Mother had to cook for 9, as Uncle Walter invited himself unexpectedly as well. The conversation certainly flowed, at least from his side...

 

Easter

There was some talk about  going to church on Friday, but the Flemish mass started too late, the English was too long and the French was vetoed by Father, so we stayed at home, the weather was horrible anyway, more like Christmas, with snow and all. I listened to the Mathew´s passions by Bach on the radio, with my feet up. We went to church on Sunday, Joris, father and I to the Flemish one, Mother the Anglican. I really miss the richness of the Prague churches. The ritual of the Holy communion has been modernised - the confession is done „en mass“ at the beginning of the service and at the end one stands in a queue and  helps him/herself to the host  from a plate. The wine is also offered, even at the Catholic mass, but I abstained  (my aunt Myska always insisted, that it was an unhygienic habit!)

 At lunch we feasted on lamb and exchanged eggs.

On my birthday Tuesday I thought about my Mother, who, 33 years ago experienced what I am going to experience so soon now. She did not have a too hard time with me, so I am hoping for the same. Joris gave me a big jewellery box, wooden with copper lining.

Several days were spent trying to buy a pram, for which the Breitensteins left us money. A seemingly simple and normally joyous occasion  turned into a nightmare, due to well meant but exaggerated efforts by Mother to save money on one hand, and assure the pram were of such quality so as to last for generations.  (I have no idea, whether her pram survived even her own four children.) In the end, we bought the one I originally chose, a light hearted affair covered in denim and on high wheels, with a removable „carry cot“ and  hood, and a basket underneath with ample room for shopping, overriding Mother´s objections to its inferior quality, judged to be so on the bases of its cheapness. (The shop in the Bascule, where I also got all the other stuff, is still there, next to Innovation, and as it turned out the pram survived intact all our travels and very heavy duty, especially in Canberra, where it eventually carried both Thomas,and David and lots of shopping, and  occassions even a suitcase on top. I was quite sorry to part with it when we left Australia, but was not prepared to have more babies in order to keep it...)

Also bought a baby bath ( all the baby cloths etc I have already) and were lent a beautiful old-fashioned crib, all covered in white lace by Mother´s friend Joey. What we still do not have is a name. The short list is Luiza, Claudia, Andrea or Clara for a girl, Andreas, Simon, Mateas, Nigel or Christopher for a boy, but Joris is not really keen on none for a boy, though he does not seem to care much which  girl name I choose.

On my insistence we went to see the opera La Traviatta, arranged by Béjart, and so half opera, half ballet and rather unusual, the various innovations not always an improvement on the traditional concept.

Sunday the 17^th  there were elections, compulsory in Belgium and made complicated, at least in the case of our family, by the fact, that women here keep their maiden name for all official purposes and in the ID. So Mother (Nevill) and I (Pesinova), had to go and vote at a different location from the male Couvreurs, as P and N are so far from C in the alphabet.  There were 17 parties to choose from, I just did what Joris had told me - so much for the coveted democracy!).

I have reached elephantine proportions, my legs and hands are swollen, life is difficult and time seems to have come to a standstill. The baby kicks with all its might, it is sometimes quite painful - or is that something else? Despite back pain, I still perservere  with exercises and French. But there is good news, the baby might arrive within 2 weeks.

 

1^st May

 

The rest of April  mostly uneventful, except for  another cultural expedition, this time to the Flemish Theatre to see a guest performance of an English company Prospect, which, I remembered, had been highly praised by en English theatre director I was once an interpreter for. Mother refused to go, being tired after a visit of the van Linden. We had lunch with them. I was sorry, as the invitation was meant partly to repay all her kindness to me. We saw Bernard  Shaw´s Joanne of Arc and it was excellent - the play as well as the performance.

Daniel returned from Germany, but is leaving tomorrow again, this time for England, for four months. The Parents organised a farewell cocktail for him. I really did not want to participate, I am feeling very awkward and stupid, but we had to. Mother sat me down on a sofa a kept bringing to me all the present ladies one by one. The conversation always started with the question“ When is it going to be?“- the baby - and continued with description of the births of their own babies. In the end I felt like had had mine already. Why didn´t she bring any MEN along?!

 

The 6th of May, 1977, at 11.45 A.M (summer time), in Brussels,

 

under combined efforts of Dr.Boll and mine, and to some extend of Joris, our son DAVID (Zdenek Daniel) was born to us. Measures: 51 cm and 3.36 kg

 

To listen to a concert on the radio and to watch my son David to make funny faces in his sleep, is my favourite preoccupation now. I am a brand new mother and I am profoundly enjoying this greatest miracles of all miracles, which though it has happened billions of time to billions of women, is quite unique to me.

But to begin at the beginning. On Thursday, the 5^th of May, dr. Boll decided, that it was high time for the baby to be born and to induce the birth the following day. The suspicion crossed my mind, that the doctor was loath to having his weekend spoiled, should the baby  come then, but I was not cross with him, as I myself could hardly wait. The very same evening Joris took me to the Elsene public hospital (which I chose above the famous private Edith Cavell, as I was promised a private room - nr.39, lucky number -   and that, and my doctor Boll being present, was all that mattered to me.) Just before leaving, we realised, that we still had not decided on a name. From the girls´ list  we chose Astrid, but  even at this 11^th hour Joris did not really like any of the 10 boys´names. Suddenly he said - what about David? And so David it became.

 Joris stayed a while, very nervous, and when he left I tried to sleep, but in vain - the screaming of the new-borns and pain in the tummy kept me hopelessly awake. After the nurse gave me a sedative I slept blissfully till the start of the hospital day at 5.30. I was very hungry and thirsty, but was denied all food and drink. At 8 o´clock my water broke, which erased all doubts about  dr.Boll´s decision (among other things, he speared me the mess at home). I was taken down to a room outside the operating theatre and given the drip to induce the contractions, but they started almost simultaneously, so maybe naturally, but in quick succession and very strong from the beginning. The prenatal preparation in relaxation and breathing exercises  stood me in good stead, even the silly ditty we had to sing „Ten greens bottles are standing on the fall, if one of them falls, there are only nine...“etc etc. The trick is not to fight the pain, but „go with it“, i.e. not to stiffen and contract the muscles, but loosen up. It needs a strong will and concentration, as it does not really lessen the pain (which feels as if one´s inside are torn by red hot pincers), but it helps not to increase it. Joris arrived at ten, by which time I was not very sociable. At eleven, relaxation or no not, I had enough and asked the nurse to get a move on. She checked and said OK, it is time. Then the worst contractions came, when I could not relax while climbing from the bed onto a stretcher and then onto the operating table“ . As all the women befor me, I thought I would die ... but  did not. Once I was allowed to push, the pain abated. Joris, in a white surgical gown was told to stand behind me and keep my head up, but was not told to let go, when the nurse was pushing it down, when I had to take breath. She was quite rough with me and when I asked for water she nearly smothered me with some wet cotton wool - I felt like Christ on the cross, being offered the sponge soaked with vinegar. Dr. Bill had a brief look, then went to see to a more imminent case. After half an hour, I could hardly breath for thirst, let alone to keep up the rhythm, and there did not seem to be any progress. Finally, the doctor came back and to my utmost chargin announced he would have to use some instrument, not forceps, but some sort of medical „plumber’s help“ (normally a rubber bell on a wooden stick, that is used to extract things from blocked toilets by suction...sorry David!) I felt utterly useless and inferior - a woman incapable to give a natural birth!  - and wanted to give up. But the pain made me to co-operate further. Despite a last minute local anaesthesia, the baby´s head broke through with an excruciating pain ( it has not softened over the years, hey, David?)), followed by a warm fish of the body, the pain disappeared and it was all over. Seconds later, the doctor was showing me my baby, still tied to me by the umbilical cord, announcing proudly: a boy!

Etched only as a dark shape against the  window, he seemed enormous and I could hardly  believe, that he really came out of me. Only when I held him in my arms, still bloodied all over, it sank properly in, that we had a BOY, for whom we both ardently wished, though of course maintaining, as is proper, that  we don´t care, as long as the baby is born healthy and whole. Then Joris´s smiling, happy face came into focus and I was overwhelmed by such an intense feeling of happiness and of tremendous accomplishment, as I had never felt before. David´s first cry soon confirmed, that everything  was as it should be, and as they say,  all previous suffering was completely and utterly forgotten. Of course, I was lucky - my ordeal did not last very long - not even four hours, which is very short as the births go, especially at such „advanced“ age as mine.  For that I had to thank dr. Boll´s drastic, but quick method, (which apparently was his trademark), notwithstanding, that it caused me another sort of agony a week  later, when a nurse read me a long exposé of  David s state of health, ending with the announcement, that  the  suction pressure on his head left behind not only a sort of red tonsure on his skull, but also haemorrhage in the eyes, which will have to be checked, but should disappear within a few days. I had trouble following her rapid French and she left, before I could ask any questions, mainly „Did she say cinq, quince or possibly cent days?!“  (I still have problems with these numbers ...and my distaste for French may have its origin in this incident.) Because, if it was 5, it should have disappeared by now...and does it imply  that he will go blind?!  I started blaming myself for having let myself become so overweight ( though honest to God, I was NOT overeating), as the same nurse explained to me, that the use of the instrument was necessary, because I had developed such high blood pressure, that further effort could have led to a contraction ending up in a cramp, preventing the child get out in time and thus suffocate....The high blood pressure was due to my excessive weight., which was caused by malfunction of the kidneys - most of it was water: within two days I lost 8kg of the 16 gained. My „sin“ was not stopping salt completely, as advised, having underestimated its importance. Be it as it may I spent a couple of dark hours in tears. Luckily, Mark arrived earlier than usual (he comes to see me every day, as he is working in a nearby Military hospital in lieu of the military service) and with his help all was explained. The haemorrhage is normal under the circumstances, will disappear within 15 day, and will not have any adverse effects. But to come back to the 6^th of May .

When both baby and I were bathed and decent enough to face the world, we were taken to my room. David kept whimpering and Joris examined him minutely, raising all kinds of objections:

Head too long (that was also due to the use of the instrument), no hair ( not QUITE true, there was a soft down discernible), not enough chin  ( with no teeth, what can he want!), eyes possibly not big enough (they were tightly shut). He was not even happy with his size, until he found in a book (Dr. Spock´s which I am going to study minutely, not having the faintest idea, what to do with a baby that I now have), that David´s weight almost, and his length exactly correspond to average values given for a new born... I asked him, if he maybe entered David into a competition and put all his money on him - he is a betting man, so far only on horses. Satisfied, he finally left to announce the good news to his parents, but I was not left in peace even then and was subjected to all kinds of examinations, while David fell asleep. Joris came back later with a big bunch of red roses - they were the first flowers I have ever received from him. (Not many followed, either.) He says, he „does not believe in it“ - whatever that means. The proud Grandparents stopped by in the evening - David is the first Couvreur of the next generation. Rests to hope, he WILL make them proud...

I made it just in time to celebrate the Mother´s day on Sunday. A nurse brought flowers. David and I both slept all night and I was allowed to get up and have a proper wash - and so had David. He looks quite human now and is, of course, the most beautiful baby in the world, and will surely be very intelligent, I can tell from his nose...though it does not promise at the moment to become straight like mine. His mouths looks just like Joris´s - good. Eyes dark blue, but that may change, fat soft cheeks the colour of apricot. Legs like a frog, with big feet (already then) and long fingers with perfectly formed nails, at which everybody, who had babies, always marvels. But I never heard an admiration being expressed at the miraculous intricacy of the ears - they had seemed an elaborate works of art. Unfortunately, the plusquamperfectum is the correct tense to use - when he woke up this morning, his ears were rolled into little ice cream cones! They were still soft as the modelling clay, and I tried to put them right again, but my clumsy human hands were not quite up to the original God´s handiwork. I put a lace cap on his head (that my father used to wear as a baby - they were not stupid in those days, though the nurses think I am mad), to prevent further damage. (In the end, I did a quite good job with one, but not with the other. (That´s why, David, your ears are not both the same - or haven´t you noticed?)

Had two unsuccessful attempts at breast feeding. Though my breast would not look bad in the Playboy, David does not seem interested in them. Changed nappies - no problem there. I have him with me in my room all the time, as this hospital is quite old and has not the more modern common room for the babies. It suits me fine.

 

Monday, 9.5.

Our little idyllic world was shattered yesterday afternoon - David was diagnosed with a infantile jaundice, nothing serious, but it meant his removal from my room into an incubator. I can go and visit him, he is lying on his tummy his glass dome, among dozens of other babies, mainly premature ones, sleeping peacefully. All I can do is to stroke his naked back.  I am very sad.

Our friends, Jan and Mieke Grauls came yesterday still in time to see him. Mieke is expecting her second child in June, they have one girl, Siegrid. Jan is Joris´s colleague from his „promotion“, they had been in Bonn, where we visited them, and they us in Prague. (They came to visit us also in  Bern- the people with the „girls“, with whom we went walking in the mountains.)  Joris came four times that day, so worried was he about David. Mother said, she had been afraid of this jaundice coming - judging from the apricot colour of David´s cheeks, that I, in my inexperience, had admired so much. Also dr. Boll came,  „unofficially“ - still his holiday outfit, sunburnt and looking very handsome  - I hardly recognised him without his habitual white gown.

 

Friday,  the 13^th -

but a lucky day for me - I got David back! The past days were rather boring, though I was reading Barchester Towers by Trollope - extremely funny - catching up on my French and doing postnatal excerises. Due to still high blood pressure and albumin I was put on a completely saltless diet - the food tastes absolutely horrible, but I am loosing weight fast.

I had two noble visitors - the countess d´Avernass and Mother´s friend countess Joey, both brought fantastic bouquets. I rather wished that the various communist apparatchiks, from whom I had had to suffer various humiliations at times ( not to speak about  what my parents and grandparents had to endure, but that´s a different story), could see it.

During all that time, I could only see David twice a day and very briefly. All his needs were  taken care of by the staff, all I was allowed to do was to look at him and watch his antics through the glass. He seemed to be growing very fast, though from necessity fed from a bottle, or possibly overfed - Joris was horrified at the size of his tummy, when he once saw him after feeding, and said literally: „At his age  so fat already? You will have to put him on diet...“

So on David´s first week´s birthday we are reunited again. He is already very accomplished: he can yawn,  grasp at fingers with the astonishing strength of all newborns, and  when lying on his tummy, is capable of lifting his head and turn it to the other side, resting on his nose midway - according to Grandpa, this last is very advanced indeed!  I am finally trying to be a real mother, but my son still does not seem to consider breast feeding a very attractive solution of assuaging his hunger. Joris has put aside all his objections at last and finds him „cute“.

He has showed me the form from the Ministry, in which he had to fill our „wishes“ , five al together, for our posting,  that´s coming up around the end of the year. From the available countries he chose already four, but coudn´t think about a fifth. Without much reflection, I said Australia, the reason being, that this was the only country besides England, that I was interested in as a child, because my father had a cousin there, who left CSR in February 1948, straight after the communist takeover. It was a romantic story - he had lived in Trebon and crossed the border  to Austria on skis. There he stayed in a camp and was supposed to emigrate to Argentina, with a whole group of friends, but when Australia made a generous offer, he decided to go there. His other friends went to Argentina. He never managed to return to his homeland till 20 years later, during the brief period of freedom, that followed the „Prague Spring“ 1968, and he has not been able to come back again since. On that visit I missed him, as I was in London at the time, but asked his address from my cousins and we have been exchanging X-mas wishes ever since. He lives in Sydney with his Australian wife. (Sydney, my father told me, means Zdenek, which was his name - another bond with Australia for me.)

Joris said why not and wrote it down. (Of the other four I only remember Iran - we would have been caught in the  Khomeni revolution, had we got that!)

 

Monday, 16.5.

 

Today is the last day in the hospital and I am depressed. Or maybe scared of the „big, bad world“ outside and  of leaving the security of the hospital. Dr. Boll ordered another month of rest, if possible in bed! This seems quite attractive in itself - I do feel very tired even if doing nothing, probably because of lack of  proper sleep - but will mean abusing Mother´s and Father´s kindness even more. I am, of course, very lucky to be able to stay with them, but apart from feeling guilty about it,  Mother has a pessimistic disposition and a rather tragic way of going about things. Having had four children, she has been feeding me with horror stories of everything, that  did or could have gone wrong, and worse, might go wrong. She herself always had a nurse to help her, so I fear, she has no more personal experience with babies than myself. And father has not been feeling too well lately, seems like his old ulcer is waking up, due to too many parties lately.

Apart from that, I had decided to give up breast feeding. David never took to the breast properly, as during his week in the incubator he got accustomed to the bottle and grew too lazy to put in the effort, which breast feeding apparently requires from him. The sessions became a real torture for David, whom the nurse was forcing, quite roughly, to suck, while squeezing my breasts, equally roughly. Also I did not seem to have enough milk to satisfy his voracious appetite:  as long as the nourishment was coming out of the bottle, he was drinking willingly and they were overfeeding him in the incubator. He has been loosing weight, since coming out of it,  so bottles it will be and once again, I am feeling inadequate.

And thirdly, though on the whole I am glad, that David was born in my new home country and  in Brussels, as it has created a sentimental link with this otherwise alien city, I feel a great nostalgia for my own Prague and feel very sad at not being able to share the happy moments, and David, with my family and friends, and also for the fact, that my parents did not live to see their grandchild. So I cry and daydream a lot.

But everybody is saying, what a beautiful baby David is, so that cheers me up again. 10 days old today...

 

Wednesday, 18.5.

According to the calculations, it was only yesterday that David was to be born, but instead it was the day of „homecoming“,  at least to Granny´s and Grandpa´s place. Before leaving the hospital, I was assured, that David´s eyes are absolutely OK, so great relief. I felt a bit sad at the prospect of not seeing dr. Boll daily, he has become rather special to me, through this momentous event in my life, at which he was, in a way, a protagonist.  Joris fetched us in the car and all the (short) ride to Kindermansstraat I was terrified we would have an accident, and I realised, that as of this moment, I shall probably never stop worrying...(It has not been as bad as I imagined, but the thought „ I hope they are OK“  has always been at the back of mind, and often in front, whenever you boys were out of my sight - so understand, that I get upset even now, when I do not get answers to e-mails....)

 All was ready in the guest room (where Daddy sleeps now when in Brussels), including the steriliser, a row bottles and a stack of disposable nappies - one of the best inventions of mankind, as far as I am concerned. I  could washed my hair at last - bliss!

Today, the Breitensteins came to see us for a day all the way from Amsterdam and brought more presents: a white embroidered christening robe over a100 years old (you were both christened in it), and an antique silver rattle on a ivory ring (The ring got broken by one you, cannot remember which, but the silver ball should be somewhere among my things).

We had champagne with lunch. They assumed the role of the missing pair of grandparents.

David seems for ever hungry, but it is quite a struggle to get the teat into his mouth - I miss a third hand, or at least the long lost monkey tail - as my mother´s mother used to say, it was a great evolutionary mistake, at least in case of women -  and does not seem to relish his morning bath, so he screams quite a lot. Mother has christened him „ an orange in a black wig“! The weather is lovely, we are spending many hours in the garden.

 

Tuesday, 31.5.

Last week Uncle Walter came for lunch and also  Aunt Denise, his and Father´s cousin. The apparently do not get  on too well, but Mother said she was not having them separately, as was the custom before, with all she has on her hands these days (us). But it went well, Uncle Walter never stopped telling jokes and seemed to arrive a bit tipsy. He has given us  a super, big red  wooden a play pen - well done, for a bachelor!

David is putting on weight, and seems to be growing some hair. Though he does not  yet see in the proper sense, he seems to be looking at the world with great interest and having profound thoughts about it, while making very funny faces.

 

Monday, 6.5.

David is a month old, weighs over 5kg and at the present rate will soon reach 60cm! The paediatrician thinks he is exceptionally big for his age. Maybe we should have called him Goliath...We marked the occasion by our first social outing - a cocktail given by Joris´s Maitre de Stage ( the function Daddy had from 2000 to 2003, when we were in Brussels after Belgrade). I found a dress I fitted in!

On Friday we celebrated Joris´s birthday with a moderately festive lunch. He is too involved with the preparations for his exams to be much fun - has stopped drinking even beer!

 First out with David in the pram - a nice experience - passers-by peeping inside and asking  a girl or a boy? I felt very proud.

Sunday, 12.6.

Yesterday David and I finally moved to our flat, quite an upheaval, an incredeble ammount of our stuff somehow accumulated in the Parents ´apartment. In the evening Joris was baby sitting for the first  time - I went to the theatre de La Monnait with danica. She works for the festival of Flanders, and got free tickets for Béjart´s ballet „Our Faust“. It was great - bits of Goethe´s text and music mainly by Bach´s  Mass in B minor, with Argentina tango´s in between.

Sunday, 19.6.

Life is much harder now that I am on my own. It is Joris these days, who practically lives with his parents, in order to have some peace for his studying, as David spends the evenings mostly screaming. I am almost back to my normal weight and David is 6kg and measures 60cm. My back gave in today.

Saturday a week ago, Mieke Grauls gave birth to a second daughter, Ellen, and we went to Leuven to repay their visit, when David was born.

 

Tuesday, 27.6.

Today the results of the exams, written and oral, were announced, the whole group passed, so celebrations are in order. It is a great relief for Joris, but also for me. He was working terribly hard and was very nervous and worried after each exam. That was not very helpful - it is quite enough for me to cope with my darling new born. But luckily, all seems to be running along normal lines, apart from minor upsets. Bathing has become  fun and the new art of eating mashed fruit with a spoon mastered fairly quickly. David spends most of his waking hours in  Uncle Walter´s play pen, watching the animals and things hanging across it.  (This advice of Mother´s, to put you there from the day 1, turned out to be worth of gold - you spent your day in it - out of way of all possibble harm, even when you started walking, up till  the time you were big enough to climb out of it..)  I nearly forgot - the little yellow Bunny, that Daniel gave him at birth, has become his favourite cuddly animal and he wont be separated from it.

Last week we spent a day a little outside Brussels with the daughter, Jill, of  some Mother´s  friend, at her house with a big garden. She has three children and is very nice.

When the weather is good, I go out every day with David in the pram, which keeps him wonderfully quiet. Usually I walk all the way to the park in the Bois de la Cambre and sit on the lawn near the lake surrounding the „Robinson Island“. It is my favourite outing and I have spent  many  a happy hour there reading or writing letters, while David was sleeping in his pram. Another, nearer spot is a little pond with ducks, behind the Abbey de la Cambre.

David is beginning to sleep longer during the night - bliss! But he still cries a lot in the evening, before the last feed, I try to keep him quiet dancing with him on my arm. . (NOW I know, that I should have fed you, David, when you cried. But  Granny strongly recommended to keep to the time schedule - „otherwise he will turn the night into the day“ and vice versa. She was wrong, I think. When Thomas was born, I fed him whenever he cried - so as not to wake YOU up, and he slept through the night when he was a week old.) It is raining a lot now again and it is cold - does not seem like June - my favourite month - at all.

 

Wednesday.6.7.

Nice and hot weather at last on Sunday, so we undertook a little outing to a Beloeil castle - a small copy of Versailles, about 60km from Brussels. Walked around a lake in a beautiful„French“  park, the air smelled of hay and the birds were singing their hearts out. Lunch in a restaurant in the company of ducks, peacocks and parrots. Last week went out to supper with one Joris´s colleagues,  Baudewijn de la Coute.(?).. and his Italian wife - a countess. He strikingly handsome, she much less so. But of noble birth. (As Danica said, so she can afford to hav a fat arse...)

David  two months today - weighs more then 6 and half kg and measures 64cm - one can almost see him growing. He is very solid and is quite  incredibly strong - where does it all come from, without having done any muscle building?  When he pinches me, it is no laughing matter. Otherwise he is beginning to be a real joy to us - it is great watching him smile, kick and box...I „speak“ Czech to him, the rest of the family English.

Last check at dr. Boll´s, he was pleased to see me slimmed down.

Tonight we went with Mother to Grand Place, to watch Mark in a rehearsal for a giant costumed game of chess - an annual event here. Mark was not a chessman, but dressed as Henry the VII, he was reading out the moves. Nice summer atmosphere, lots of tourists. The real performance is tomorrow, televised.

 

Monday,11.7.

Busy weekend. On Saturday visited Uncle Walter in his impressive ancient „herenhuis“ with „trapgevels“ in Happartstraat, in the old part of Antwerp, where he lives with several cats and a plump housekeeper, called „juffrouw“. We had visited him several times before, every time we came to Brussels from Prague, and always I was impressed by the beauty of the house and its contents - the period furnishings, paintings, rugs, antiques and thousands of books. (Unfortunately, all this has been lost to the Couvreur family through his later marriage to his long time girlfriend and former student, Rezi, who on his death in 1996 inherited and sold/auction  everything. The antique sleigh in Uncle Daniel´s house comes from there, he bought it at the auction. I made a bid for a bronze statue of David - 200 000 bef - but was not successful, though not far bellow the price it was sold for. Aactually, it was lucky,  I don´t know, what we would have done with it, it was huge...) Every lunch with him was a long drawn out event - he was a gourmand and as he was a fast talker, he was an excruciatingly slow eater  On one memorable occasion we were treated to a lunch of oysters. Unfortunately we both loath this slimey delicattesse and had  politely refused to eat it. The first course was quite enough for us, but then we had to sit and watch him eat through not one, but three dozens of the beasts, as he was not wasting any... I was feeling sick  merely from the smell of them...When we told this to the rest of the Couvreurs, they were shocked at our barbarity and complained bitterly, that THEY had never been offered such a treat - and how would THEY have loved it... This time the lunch was delicious and David, to my great relief, took this rather frightening personality of his great uncle like man and did not burst out crying, which I had been afraid of.

On Sunday we briefly visited an impressive medieval castle on top of a rock, Ecaussines-Lalaing, and then another, a baroque one, a delicate  red structure, sitting very prettily on a green lawn in the middle of an „English“ park. We walked around and had lunch in a rose garden. The sun was hot and the smell of grass together with the peeling of the bells from a nearby church transported me right back into the summer days of  holidays long passed, spent cycling in the woods around Trebon with my parents. My father had always made a point of finding a nice sunny spot at lunch time and looking at his watch he would announce: „High noon, gentlemen!“ (There were never any gentlemen, just me and my mother.) Then he quietly relished the midday heat for a few minutes. Often in the afternoon a thunderstorms came and we pedalled for dear life to a nearest shelter. (One such thunderstorm, years after his death, led in a rather tortuous way to my learning Dutch and the consequences there of - but that´s also another story. )

No thunderstorm came this afternoon, but we still ended up in a cosy pub and the beer tasted really good - original Pilsen!

Tomorrow Mother and Father go to England for their annual visit of Joris´s Grandmother. So we shall be without transport and without baby sitting!

 

Wednesday, 27.7.

Last week we had another colleague of Joris and his wife for supper, a very boring couple (can´t remember, who it was now), and the following day was a National holiday - 21^st of July - so poor Joris was at home and had to help clearing up.

We found a new cleaning lady, who is willing to baby sit, so went to see the film „Slap Shot“ with Paul Newman and directed by George Roy Hill (also by him „Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid“, „The Sting“ and „Slaughterhouse 5“. When still in Prague, in 1970, I was working as an interpreter on the set of this last film, which was filmed partially in the CZ, so I knew him personally, and had seen all his  films.)

The weather mainly horrible - June has scored an infamous record: the fewest sunny days since 1883! Also there was no sun at all on 6 consecutive days and 25 days it rained. By the look of it, July will have some bad records as well. Brussels is rather empty of people, which is pleasant, and lots of shops are closed, which is less so.

David  keeps growing and making various little progresses, but evenings are still difficult. (I kept starving you, my little lamb!) He has left the crib and moved into a wooden cot we had bought in Prague. What a job to put it together!

Last Friday in Leuven dinner with the Grauls, David with us. Present also Danica and Guido, who will be leaving for Washington soon, and another couple, the Vermeulens. Nice evening this time. The two new babies cried in unisono in the bedroom.

We are getting ready for our holidays - in England and France. The amount of stuff we - and especially David - seem to need is incredible. First  England, leaving on Friday by plane.

 

Friday, 29.7.

Left Brussels early in the morning and in the rain, but England was sunny and looked very pretty from above -  first time I saw it from a plane. David did not cry once. At Heathrow Mother, Father and Daniel, had lunch there and then journeyed  by car down to West Byfleet, a little village in Surrey, where Joris´s Grandmother lives. She was waiting for us with five o´clock tea all ready. Afterwards Joris, Daniel and I played some tennis with the neighbours, the Cherries.

It is the 4th time that I have been here with Joris. The first time was in summer 1975, when we stopped there on our „funny moon“ trip, i.e. before our wedding later that year (12.12.) in Prague. It was here that I was introduced to his parents and also met Joris´s younger brother Mark for lunch in the Suisse center. After a few days we continued in Great Granny´s old Austin to Wales. Second time was after we were married, we spent Christmas there, and the third last September.

 „Great Granny“ Nevill  (86) is an extremely sweet and wise lady, very much up to date in everything. She took to David, her first great-grandchild, immediately. She had been widowed many years ago and has been living alone (Mother is her only child, and her only brother was killed in WW 1. Strange to consider, that a brother of my paternal grandmother  was also killed, but fighting on the opposite side - in the Austrian army. I hope they did not kill each other...) in her charming country house, built in a Tudor style, down to the smallest details, like metal catches on the doors, windows of small coloured glass panes set in lead, thatched roof, fireplaces etc. Luckily the bathrooms, heating and lighting are of more modern times, though not very efficient. The house is quite big - a hall, a large and a small sitting room, kitchen (where we eat, when it is too cold to eat on the back porch), a scullery ( a place for washing up, meant for a maid and so not very pleasant), coal shed, loo, garage. From the hall an open wooden staircase leads to the upper floor with 5 bedrooms and 1 bathroom. Each bedroom has a fireplace (now bricked in and provided  with an electric heater) and a washbasin ( which is typically English). On the landing stands a   „grandfather“ clock, which chimes loudly every hour. (The one which we now have. Also the „bureau-bookcase“, the „wine cooler“, the two heavy wooden chairs, the silver tea service, the set of pewter jugs and plates, and Daddy´s „Toby jugs“ come from there. Daniel got the „Chinese“ grandfather clock, a corner display cabinet, a carpet and some pictures, Mark the „tall boy“ cupboard, the big carpet in their sitting room, armchairs with sofa in the kitchen and the big sideboard in the dining room, to name just a few of the pieces of furniture there, so you can imagine it a little bit. Granny has got the dining table, the too wooden/upholstery arm chairs, the fire screen, the secretaire. Her Grandfather clock and bureau-bookcase also had come from Great granny place, originally, as well as all the china. I forgot now, what Liz got.) The house is surrounded by a large garden, roses in front and wonderfully green lawn, trees and shrubs in the back. It used to be much bigger - it had a grass tennis court, but part of it had been sold. But it is still big enough. Joris spent most of his school holidays here and he lived with his Granny for a year or two, when his parents were posted to Cuba;  so for him, this  place is home.

Monday, 1.8.

Saturday a shopping expedition (clothes for me) to a nice little town nearby, Sunningdale. Once again I was taken in by the prettiness and charm of the English countryside ( I had lived in England twice before, in 1967 and 1968, both times for 6 months and working as an au-pair, when studying English in Prague.) Yesterday visited some peculiar friends of Great granny - the Dyson-Lorries, whose 2 sons used be childhood friends of Joris and his sister. Their older, unmarried son, most peculiar of them all. Weather hot and beautiful, after a couple of rainy days.

Saturday.6.8.

David 3 months today, measures 65cm, weighs 8kg, is in fact a little too chubby. He is trying to find his mouth with his thumb. Otherwise no special developments, though some progress is made everyday, mostly in his motoric ability.  Smiles and laughs most of waking hours.

Tuesday Joris and I went to London by train, to buy clothes for him, got all he needed, but it was tiring. Inner London is chockerblock with tourists, a lot of them Arabs, who seem to be made of money and are buying everything in sight, if possible by dozens. (Must have been the time of the oil boom.) But London being London, it copes with the crowds quite admirably, thanks mainly to the incredible English politeness and ability to be nice under all circumstances. The cars stop for pedestrians everywhere, not just on zebras, people manage not to collide with the gaping tourists and everybody is all smiles. Even when I practically knocked over an elderly lady, it was she who apologised profusely, for getting in my way, I presume.

Friday another shopping expedition together with Parents and Daniel, to the Surrey capital, Guildford, another very charming place, but much bigger, older and more interesting architecturally and historically (than Sunningdale, not London).  We stayed on in the evening and went to the local, quite famous theatre on the river. We saw a comedy by Noel Coward. Great Granny´s daily, a Mrs. Morris, was helping to babysit  David. A nice day.

 

Tuesday,9.8.

Last day in England. Yesterday in London again, more shopping, but I did not get anything much, all these Arab women pawing and buying everything put me off.

Sunday morning a nice walk with Daniel in the moors. I like this youngest brother-in-law a lot and he seems to like me. Although he is 10 years younger than I, we can talk about a lot of things. In the afternoon another walk, this time with Jorsis and David, along a little river meandering between tree lined banks, very pretty.

Friday,12.8

We left Byfleet, with regret, by car and with Daniel, who will drive the car (parents´big Volvo) back again from Belgium. We drove to Dover and took the ferry to Oostende. The sky was blue and so was the sea, it was a lovely crossing and a long time since the poignant salty smell of  the sea filled my nostrils. We took turns with David in the cabin, lulled to a deep sleep by the gentle (luckily) swell of the Channel, and so two of us could enjoy the sun an air on the deck and watch the proverbial white cliffs of Dover slowly disappear. It was my 7^th crossing and I never cease to enjoy it . (The only drawback are the many vomiting people. Thankfully, I have never been seasick.) In Brussels, it  was raining again.

Two days spent unpacking, washing, ironing, shopping and packing again. Tomorrow we leave for Vittel (where the famous bottled water comes from) in the Vogéze in France (Alsas-Lorraine), where we booked two weeks in ClubMed that provides day care for babies.

 

Sunday, 21.8. - the 9^th anniversary of the Soviet and co. Invasion of Czechoslovakia

 

The holidays turned out rather disastrous. The journey there was nice - we crossed Luxemburg, following the same route as we did with Honza and his 1^st wife Olina in 1969, on our way from Amsterdam to Saarbrucken (that is yet another story). Luxembourg is pretty, hilly and very green, and still maintaining the „chessboard“ of multicoloured fields, which elsewhere in Europe practically disappeared. The meadows were dotted with horses an black and white cows. We had no time to stop in the capital, a pity. It is a dramatically beautiful place, with a deep rocky river valley in the middle, spanned by many tall viaducts and a gothic cathedral perching above it in the middle of a pretty medieval neighbourhood  - the best kept touristic secret. The country towns´ architecture more solid and serious than the lighter Belgium style. We crossed to France in Thionville, which was almost like crossing from the tidiness of West Germany to the neglect of communist Czechoslovakia - ruined barns, shabby houses and a lot of mess. On the other hand, French villages are still real villages, not an extension of cities, like in (Flemish) Belgium or Holland. The weather improved and we kept crossing the river Mosele. Lunch in Nancy, on a beautiful old square, called Stanislaus´s, after a Polish king (I don´t know why), lined with ornate houses with wrought iron gates, and a baroque fountain at each end. (Another completely forgotten bit..If you asked me today, I would say I have never been to Nancy...)

No sooner we  arrived to Vittel, we  learnt of a sudden death of Elvis Presley, which caused a great commotion. It was very tragic, but it was not what spoiled our stay there.

The ClubMed hotel stood in the middle of an extensive and very beautiful English park and the building itself was an old 19^th century „baroque“ style country mansion, or a imitation of it. In any case, it was incredibly grand, with sumptuous halls, supported by Corinthian marble columns, hung with enormous crystal chandeliers and furnished with  period furniture. Quite breathtaking. We were allotted our room, but had to wait till after lunch to take possession of it. And the lunch was quite something. As we entered we were bowled over by the sight of the buffet table, laden with innumerable dishes of delicatessen such as juicy slices of roast beef, salamis, paté chicken, ham and fish, giant shrims and all kinds salads + eggs, olives and whatnots. Without stopping to think, we piled all we could on our plates, I, having been brought up on the communist scarcity of everything, driven by fear, that later all would be gone, and Joris possibly by my rather skimpy cooking in the past few months. Because of our greed we neglected to learn the seating system - one was supposed to be civilised and first find an empty seat and turn the glasses upside down, to show the place was taken. As a result, we were chased several times from the seats we took and which were somebody else´s. Moreover, we stuffed ourselves with what turned out to be mere hors d´oevres and could not sample anything of the warm main course, tucked away in corners, or taste the delectable French cheeses and many delicious desserts, that miraculously appeared afterwards. Only managed to take with us some fruit  „for later“. In order to develop some appetite for supper, we went to have a swim. I have not yet swum once this year, so after donning my new bikini  (having slimmed down enough to wear them) I eagerly ran to the pool, only to slip on the wet tiles and suffer an ignominious, and very hard, fall. The shock and the sharp pain in the small of my back reduced me to tears. Moreover I cut open my elbow, and spurted blood all over the white tennis shorts of Joris, who gallantly came to the rescue. Because of the gaping cut we rushed to the hospital. Nothing broken, but I had to had stitches and a tetanus shot. Which meant no swimming and no fish, eggs ham and especially no alcohol for three days - and wine, any amount, was free at table! I would have said to hell with it, but Joris was scrupulously seeing to it, that I obey orders and stick to the famous mineral water... (On the 15^th of August - the Assumption - the hotel organised a grandiose  feast - and me still on the wagon!  A real torture!)

The next day we put David in the nursery, where he was supposed stay every day, so we could enjoy sports etc. But I was disabled for the time being and Joris was prevented from playing tennis by persistent showers. He only managed a few games during the whole stay and some table tennis. When I felt better and undertook several bicycle trips, but it took a while to find some nice routes, like one of 15km up and down a hilly, wooded countryside, dotted by meadows and fields. On top the highest hill I came to a village with a church in the middle. It looked quite poor, but had flowers in every window. Nice view.

As we could not do  much sport in the Club ( I only managed some yoga and every late afternoon we went with David for a walk in the park), and as the weather continued bad, on Saturday we took the car and David and drove to visit my Aunt Alena and cousin Hana in Basel, whom I had not seen for 9 years - they both emigrated in 1968, (but are no relation to each other: Alena is a cousin of my Father and sister of zhe uncle in Australia, and Hana is a daughter of my mother´s sister Helena, who herself emigrated to Canada with her younger child, Michal.) The visit was nice but too short, it was further, than we had bargained for. On the way back  the sun was shining and we enjoyed driving through the lovely Alsas. The meadows were full of flowers (no cows eating them!) and the villages pretty and prosperous, each with a bigger or smaller ruin of some kind. Especially pretty was a medieval place called Luxeuill, built from red sandstone, with arcaded streets and lots of churches. Blue mountains on the horizon. In Vittel, rain again!

The stitches came out the Thursday before - a 2 hours wait for a 5min“operation“, just when the sun came out of the clouds, and on Sunday I could finally start swimming. Around the pool, there were many topless ladies (a  shocking sight to me in THOSE days!), and among the bushes further away even some nude sunbathers (would be still shocking even these days in place like this, I suppose).

For this second week I was planning a lot of sport activities for every day - swimming, jazz gymnastic, archery, some more bicycle and yoga. However I only managed one day of this ambitious programme. David caught diarrhoea (I told you so, said Mother) and a cold, and I developed  a nasty flu, so we spent a couple of day together in the room. What a holiday - and at  what price! 

The last Saturday we went by car to the Vogéze, a nice place, but nor David or I were feeling too good.  (We never set foot in the Clubmed again, though, strictly speaking, it was not their fault.)

 

Sunday, 4.9.

David was stayed sick for almost  a week. His doctor away on holidays ( I do not like him anyway), so I took him the hospital, to see the lady doctor, who look after him there. She immediately noticed, what I have been worrying about for some time, and what the paediatrician refused to take seriously - namely, that David´s left foot keeps turning inward. She immediately made an appointment with an orthopaedist for next week. Otherwise all is OK, only David is much bigger than he should be, but that´s not really a problem, seeing the size of his father and uncles.

Today I felt well enough to drive out and continue to explore the castles of Vallonie (with Father. Mother is still in England). We drove through Namen and then through a lovely wooded valley along the river Meuze towards Dinant, before which we turned off to visit a little chateau d´Annevoie, or more precisely its park with its ingenious system of fountains and waterfalls, fed from four natural springs. Two of these, on top of the hill, feed a canal   365 m  long and 7 m wide and lined with 52 trees and 4  statues  - guess, what it is meant to represent.. We were surprised, that here, in the heart of the French speaking Belgium, all signs were in both languages, the guide and everybody else spoke perfect Dutch (Nothing new under the sun, he, David? And do you know of this park? It was in private hands then, and the entrance restricted.)

We continued to Dinnant, passing through a narrow gap between two tall rocks and twisted our necks, trying to get a glimpse of the citadel on top of the cliff. We did not stop, the place was very crowded. The valley grew wider and suddenly a mighty silvery grey castle appeared before us on a green lawn. It was round, and had 5 rounded  towers with slate roofs along its perimeter. In the courtyard an enormous old linden tree. I sat there and fed David, while the men went inside. (I do not mention the name of this castle - what could it be???)

 

Tuesday,6.9

David  4 months today and his thumb found its way to his mouth - it keeps him  wonderfully quiet. He holds onto the bottle, when I feed him, and catches the rings hanging across the play pen. Bad news is, that his foot is in plaster - up to the knee, poor darling. It makes bathing a problem, but otherwise he doesn´t seem to mind. (Maybe this is at root of the problem of your shorter leg?)

In the afternoon we met for coffee in a hotel on the Chausée d´  Alsemberg with an English couple, Dorothy and George Chandlers. He was a librarian at Oxford. They came to Prague once and I was his interpreter. They were very friendly and we kept in touch. Later he became the head of the National Library in Canberra, where they now live. They are in Brussels on an international congress. They gave David a Koala bear, a stuffed one, of course.

 

Monday,12.9.

Nice weather and we and father went to fetch Mother at Oostende. On the way visited another castle, in Flanders this time: Ooidonk. The style quite different, so called Spanish renaisance“:  built from tiny red bricks and adorned with dozens of little gables, towers and spires. At the back of the courtyard two mighty half-round towers with trapgevels. The whole surrounded by a water ditch with still functioning draw bridge. Nice park. Had lunch on the seashore, hiding from the wind among the dunes, then went for a walk on the beach. It was ebb and the wet sand was hard enough to take the weight of the pram (and David). The barking of dogs mixed with the rather sad screeching of the sea gulls. The sea was stripey - brown, green, blue, with white crests of the waves in between.  A group of sailing boats was slowly disappearing in the curvature of the sea surface - the earth must be round! People on the were flying colourful kites. Picked up Mother from the ferry and drove home.

 

Friday,16.9.

A few days of Indian summer. Went to a wedding reception of a son of the  count and countess des Enfants d´Avernas - our ambassador in Prague, who gave for us our wedding lunch.(They were both EXTREMELY nice to me, when in Prague.) The reception was at the Royal Golf Club, a very posh  affair. The bride is not of noble birth, but has money, so still a perfect match, says Mother. The guests mainly from the upper ten thousands ( among which we DO NOT belong), but dressed mostly in jeans. I was, therefore, ovedressed - a usual plebeian mistake...

 

Sunday, 18.9.

A big day - the christening of David. According to my wish, it took place in the Abbey  de la Cambre, in a side chapel. I also chose Daniel for the God father, who arrived specially from England. Also present Uncle Walter and my „foster parents“, the Breitensteins from Amsterdam. David wore the splendid christening outfit they gave us. Afterwards coffee, cake and champagne at our place.

 

Friday, 30.9.

After some rainy days  sunny, on Tuesday, so I walked with David once again to the park of the ter Kamerenbos, where I sat at my favourite spot under the trees on the lake bank, near the ferry to the Robinson Island.

On Friday last week we had two couples of Joris´s colleagues for supper.

Yesterday, I organised another cultural outing, we went to see a guest performance of a theatre company from Chichester - Shaw´s „Apple Cart“, in the Royal Flemish Theatre. A witty - what else - political comedy.

 

Monday,29.9.

Autumn arrived with strong winds and rains, but the remaining leaves on the trees are beautifully coloured. All we need is a bit of sun.

 Joris´s sister Elisabeth - Liz - with her son Guillaume (2 years) and husband came to spend the weekend with the parents. She is five years younger than me and I met her for the first time on our way back from England with Joris in 1975, when we stopped by at the d´Abovilles family estate, Kérantré, in Brittany. In September 1976 we spent a week together in Lee Place, where I had a chance to get to know her better. She married  Gérard d´Aboville, a French count, in Stockholm, while the parents were Ambassadors there (sometime before 1975). They live Kérantré,  which is on the  sea shore near Auray. Or to be precise, they live on a nearly  hundred years old sailing yacht, called „Lady Maud“, anchored in a bay on their property. As Gérard has nine brothers and sisters, the mansion cannot accommodate them all. This yacht also provides them with living - recently they hired her out to a film company. Gérard does not believe in having a regular job. They had met in Paris, where Liz was sent to live with some relatives of Gérard to learn French. From her side, it was love at a firs sight (as she told me later) and before the marriage, she went hitch-hiking and camping „round the world“ with him - India, Mexico...

I like Liz, she certainly does not fit the popular image of a countess (always in jeans or other pants) and is good fun. She tells little anecdotes  about herself. My favourite is how, shortly after the wedding, she was taken by Gérard and his parents to be presented to some high born neighbours. There was a crowd, and when they were coming up to greet their host, Gérard wanted to warn Liz, that the lady next to him was not his wife but his mistress. He nudged her in the ribs and whispered: „C´est sa poule.“ Liz, very nervous and not yet well acquainted with the French jargon, made a courtsey and said: „Bon soire, madame La Poule!“ Mother never forgets to mention, that she saw rats, when staying at Kérantré. When we visited, we never made it further then the huge and almost medieval kitchen downstairs. Her parents-in-law we met only later here in Brussels, shortly after David was born. They seemed very nice and quite ordinary. They have about 17 grandchildren already, but Guillaume is the first male grandchild from a son, i.e. first d´Aboville of the next generation, but is by no means being fussed about by his parents. To me, he seemed a sad little chap. Moreover he narrowly escaped death by drowning, when he was just 2 months old.  Gérard was taking somebody´s yacht from Brittany to Spain - one of his sailing-related jobs - when the yacht capsized in a freak wave. There were no lifeboats and they had to swim for dear life in the ice cold water. Luckily, they were spotted in time by some fishermen and fished out. Apparently, Guillaume did not even catch a cold.

On Sunday Uncle Walter and Mark came to lunch at Mother´s. Daniel is back  in England.

Today I  finally met  Viva, the English daughter-in-law of Mother´s countess friend Joey van Linden. She fetched me and David and drove us to their beautiful house in the middle of woods, a little beyond Waterloo. She has a five year old daughter and a two year old son. It was raining, but we had a nice chat over a glass of wine and some tea later. I like her and hope to see some more of her.

 

Thursday, 6.10.

David is five months old, weighs almost 10kg and measures 72 cm. He propels himself around  in the playpen by kicking and thrashing his arms and catches everything within reach. Everything makes him laugh - when he is not hungry. Sleeps from seven to seven, with a little snack at about midnight. Made a first acquaintance with a mirror, tried to shake hands with himself, but got a little shock on touching only the cool surface. The cast was removed yesterday, he now has to sleep in little boots connected with a metal rod - it looks like an instrument of torture but he doesn´t seem to mind.

It has been confirmed, that our posting  will be -  Australia. So I got my wish, but I am now not so sure, that it really WAS my wish. It so far! And we shall not be in Sydney, but in the  inland capital Canberra - I never heard of it! At least they speak English  there „down under“, well sort of. Mother is horrified, she hates the Australian accent. So we are busy planning everything, we are to leave by the end of the year.

 

Thursday, 13.10.

David´s foot seems OK, another check in two weeks. Last Saturday in the theatre again, just Mother and me this time. We saw a comedy by a contemporary English playwright, Alain Ayckbourne, very funny.

The weather has been nice and warm lately. I just came back from Ter Kamerenbos, we spent the whole day there. It is twilight now, David is playing in the playpen and I am waiting for Joris to come home. The cold, misty autumn air still fills my nostrils and I am feeling nostalgic again. Autumn always has this effect on me, wherever I may be. At this season of the shortening days, one begins to appreciate the warmth of a home again, from which one kept fleeing during summer, to enjoy the sun and warmth (hopefully) of summer.  I remember how I used to  walk home through the darkening streets of  Prague - there was a chill in the air and dampness rising from the nearby river. The yellow lights were coming on one by one in the windows of the solid, four or five story houses and I was looking forward to reaching my flat, on the fourth floor, overlooking the river and the panorama of the Castle. I would light the gas stove, (which hissed loudly and was a bit annoying, before I got used to it again, but which warmed the room quickly and efficiently), put on some music and sit for a while in one of the huge, comfortable armchair (the one you have now in your fklat, David) and watch the ever changing and ever beautiful display of colours on the western sky above the Petrin hill. Before I turned the lights on, I would phone my aunt Myška, it was somehow even nicer to chat about the events of the day (mine, she was completely room-bound at that time, but never lost interest in the world)  in the dark. Or I could be returning from a long walk in the autumn woods  into our log cabin in Slapy, where instead of gas, I would light a fire in an open fireplace and stare into equally changing play of flames, with a cigarette and a a glass of wine. The autumn evenings in the „little room“ in Stráz had the added charm of the company of my Uncle and Aunt Šula - we always had lots to talk about. (No TV to stare at, or newspapers to be buried behind, only the cat Pudlenka was purring gently.)

 I love autumn most of all the seasons, it appeals most strongly to my senses. Summer is, of course, wonderful, and I can never get enough of the sun and swimming, but the autumn, with its tranquillity and wonderful colours and with its softly shimmering light in the air gets under my skin and moves me strangely. Winter I really like only in the mountains, where the snow is unsullied,  the frost covered branches make intricate patterns against the blue skies (ideally) and at night the stars twinkle twice as brightly. In the mountains,  even the bad eather, mist and driving winds, are enjoyable, giving one a pleasurable taste of danger. Spring does the least for me, the proverbial awakening of nature leaves me cold, though I appreciate the first warm rays of the sun and the pretty flowers and blossoms. One has to be in love to fully enjoy it, and that cannot always be the case...

 

Tuesday, 18.10.

This October is all that one could wish for  in a perfect autumn. I spend everyday with David in the ter Kamerenbos under the blue skies. Last Friday, Honza and Sonja arrived from Saarbrucken, we talked till 1 in the morning. Saturday afternoon I took them to Brugge (Joris and David stayed at home), which is my favourite town in Belgium. I have been there often, for the first time in May 1971, during my first visit to Belgium. I travelled there in the role of an interpreter for a children choir, which was taking part at a Youth Music festival in Neerpelt. A year before, I was an interpreter at a Amateur Theatre Festival in Hronov (CZ) for a amateur theatre company form Gent. One of the plays performed during the festival was the play „Before the Cock Crows“ by a Slovak  Ivan Bukovcan, which I was translating simultaneously for the Belgian company leader. He was so impressed, that he asked me to translate it into Dutch. Now, by a lucky  coincidence, a few days after the end of the music festival in Neerpelt, the premiere of this play took place in Gent and I was invited to attend it and offered a week stay in Gent as my reward. As I was already in Belgium, it was not too difficult to have my visa extended (I pretended I was sick) and stay behind. The premiere in the Royal Flemish Theatre, though performed by amateurs, was a big cultural event, and Miss translator was afterwards hauled up the stage and given a bouquet. When I had seen all the sight of Gent, an impressive medieval city of grey stone, its main attraction being the mystical gothic triptych „Lammeke God“ by Jan Eyck in the Sint Baavo Cathedral, I remembered my grandmother always enthusing about Brugge, and decided to hitch-hike there. The last car dropped me at a little white  fortress guarding the entrance to  city. From there I walked - as it is only befitting in a medieval place, when no horse or carriage is available - along a twisting street, whose every bent revealed new vistas of pretty gabled houses, till it finally and quite suddenly opened onto a square right out of a fairy tale. It took my breath away. Against the pale blue western sky were etched the many miniature spires of all shapes, with some mighty church towers in the background. From one of them the peeling of the carillon bells suddenly shook the air. I followed the sound and came to another, bigger square. The bells were ringing from the Belfort of the town house. I sat down on a bench in the middle of the square at the foot of some monument and for a whole hour listened to the midday concert of the carillon bells and soaked in the atmosphere of this place, where time stood still. Afterwards, I climbed the many steps up to the top of the Belfort. My heart was nearly bursting, but one doesn´t get to know a city without climbing all its towers and visiting all its churches. I was rewarded by a wonderful view, with the sea in the distance. Down again, I returned to the first square, from where I followed the curves of the main canal, spanned by dozens of bridges - hence the name- which flows slowly, forming picturesque little lakes, disappearing under  tunnels and re-emerging in  pensive courtyards. It finishes its journey in a large lake, the „Minnewater“ - the Lake of Lovers (the whole city, it seems to me, is made for lovers...), on which swans float majestically.

The boats full of tourists, who could afford the treat, were jamming the canals, and as I dallied at one of the pick-up points enviously watching them, one of the guides started chatting with me, and when he learnt, where I came from, offered to take me for a free ride. In exchange I told him the legend of the Czech saint, John of  Nepomuck (Nepomucenius), whose statue stands on one of the bridges, being  the only one of its kind in these northern regions (just like the Michellangelo´s little marble statue of Madonna with the child in one of Brugge´s churches is the only one of his works out of Italy.) The legend has it, that he was a priest and a confessor to the wife of one the Czech kings, who wanted him to divulge, what his wife had confessed. John refused even under torture, and the king had his tongue cut out and his body thrown  into the Moldau from the Charles bridge - where his statue, holding a crucifix, stands to this day, marking the  spot. His body was retrieved and buried in a magnificent silver coffin in the St,Vitus cathedral, within the Prague castle. He later became the saint patron of river faring people and his statue can be found on practically all medieval bridges in Bohemia, Austria and southern Germany.

In the middleages, Brugge was a rich merchant city, as it used to be connected by canals to the sea. However, the port was gradually choked  by shifting sands and the sea trade moved to Antwerp. The fame and prosperity moved away with it and the city froze in time, preserving its ancient character unspoiled for the future admiration of later generation. In modern times „it lives off tourists“. During my next two visits I was able to explore its famous Groeningemuseum of the Flemish Primitives and the museum of the medieval painter Memlinck in an old hospital. The fourth time I discovered the quiet charm of the Bigijnhof - a home to Bigijnen, who were unwed ladies - a sort of nuns without the wows. They lived in tiny „doll houses“ around a green lawn, which in spring are dotted woth daffodils. If they had no means of their own, they earned their living by making lace, for which Brugge is also famous. Some very old ones are still living there.

Now, with Sonja and Honza, we visited the Chapel of Holy blood, a romanesque basilica from the 12^th century under a later, neo-gothic church, built as a shrine to a vial of Christ´s blood, brought here by a Crusader from the Holy land. It is supposed to turn liquid again every Easter. It was also the first time I experienced Brugge in all its dreamy and colourful autumn beauty.

In the evening Joris took us out to one of the hundreds of restaurants in the narrow alleys around the Grand Place, which was all lit up. As it was still warm, people were sitting outside and it was very lively. Sunday more sightseeing - Brussels by daylight and the Atomium.

Today we went to Germany, not to Saarbrucken but to Bonn (the birthplace of Beethoven), to buy our new car, a Mercedes, which has to have some special specifications, according to the Australian strict safety laws. The border crossing lacked the usual nonchalance: because of the recent terrorist attacks in Germany, the check ups were very thorough, especially coming back, as it is Germany´s turn this year at the „Europalia“ in Belgium and there are fears of more attacks. Armed soldiers all over the place!

 

Monday, 24.10.

Thursday at a dinner at Viva´s and her husband´s, and at the weekend, Joris I and David went to  Amsterdam, to say good-bye to the Breitensteins. My old room was exactly as I left it more than 8 years ago and I was overcome by memories of my stay there. On Sunday we were to a concert in a church and to „Smorgesbrot“ lunch in a hotel next to it. Afterwards a little tour along the canals - I had almost forgotten, how pretty Amsterdam was.

 

Tuesday, 1.11.

Last night in our flat.  All of the 100kg, which we are allowed with us in the plane, is packed, the rest goes by ship. Tomorrow we are moving to the  Kindermansstraat again. We shall be leaving for Australia on the 10^th of December. Last Sunday in Antwerps, to say good bye to Uncle Walter. The weather has turned bad again, but never mind, it will be summer in Australia.

 

Sunday, 6.11.

David  is half a year old! He marked the occasion  by turning from his back on his tummy! Had been trying to do it for quite some time. We bought him a funny sort of jumping device - a canvas, sort  of pants like contraption on a long steel spring, which hooks on top of the door. One puts the child in it, so he hangs suspended, just reaching the floor with his tiptoes. As he kicks out, it sends him bouncing up and down. David loves it and can do it for hours. He has not gain much weight this last month - just as well - but  has grown a couple of cm, reaching  3/4 m. Tomorrow off with him to Prague, for 10 days, to show him off to his Czech family and friends. (There is nothing in my diary about this visit and I do not remember anything particular about it, only that a mother of my oldest school friend, with whom we were staying, was babysitting you, while I was running about and having a good time; she never forgot the experience!)

Thursday, 9.12.

Last couple of days in Brussels have gone in a flash and tomorrow D-day. We had few more good-byes - a dinner with the Grauls, a lunch with the d´Avernas, a lunch at the Australian Ambassador´s here, and a dinner with the 1^st secretary. One of the Australian couples present is returning to Canberra soon, Mary and Philip Constable. They promised to look us up, when we arrive.

The parents´ apartment is bursting in the seams - both Mark and Daniel are living there now. Aunt Denise and uncle Walter came for supper, each separately this time, bad luck for Mother!

Now it is goodbye to Brussels, Belgium, Europe ... well,  Au revoir, I hope. I wonder what Australia will be like.

 

Year 1977 - Part II AUSTRALIA (CANBERRA) (The journey there and the first days) „Our identity is partly made of places, where we have lived and left parts of ourselves.“ „I hate cutting off one´s past life. It is like removing a limb. It is a complete negation of that period of life, which is a very depressing thought. Time changes situations, situations can change, people can´t change so much.“ „He who experienced nothing, knows nothing. He who travelled a lot, is full of wisdom“ (Sicharovec ) „It does not matter, what you achieve. Without the joy of sharing it with someone you love, everything is empty.“ DECEMBER Everything seemed ready on Thursday at lunch time and we were looking forward to a quiet last chat with the parents, but Joris came back from the office with the news, that in the US (we had been allowed to take the longer western route on account of our „tiny“ baby and were stopping in New York and Washington), it was not the weight but the size of luggage that mattered, so we spent the evening crawling on all four, frantically measuring our suitcases, which at the last moment multiplied from 3 to 5, (plus five pieces of hand luggage). They were more or less OK, but the box with the undercarriage of David´s pram exceeded the norm by 10 cm. We had nearly given the up the idea of flying via the States, but then decided to risk it. Well, decided - we had no choice, really. (In the end, nobody ever bothered to measure anything....) So, on Friday, the 10th of December at 10 AM, we left the Kindermansstraat, with the parents and Daniel in the Volvo, which was nearly hitting the ground even without Mark, who just did not fit in. Daniel gave me a carnation to pin on my jacket, which David ate during the drive. The Parents were not allowed beyond the passport control, despite their still diplomatic passports (Father retired the year we were married, their last posting had been Stockholm), and so goodbyes had to happen in haste. The airport was extremely busy, there was even a wedding party and a bride in white dress with a long trail. The plane was a huge Boeing 472, the middle rows, where we were sitting, had 9 seats. David had one for himself, his carry cot - the top part of the pram - just squeezed in. On take off at noon, it started pouring and Brussels quickly disappeared in the mist. The first crossing of the Atlantic should be an unforgettable experience, but thanks to modern means of transport it actually is not. Except for the size of the plane and the length of travel (8 hours), it is not all that much different from a flight from Prague to Bratislava. One is of course flying a bit higher and bit quicker and consumes more food and drinks, but has to continually remind oneself - „I am flying to the USA...“, and in the end can hardly wait for the plane to land, especially with a fretful baby. After the endless expanse of water with seemingly immobile white crests of waves, we saw a piece of Canada and then the State of Maine - green fields flecked with snow. On landing we were disappointed to see nothing of New York, not even the welcoming Statue of Liberty, just endless stretches of empty beaches and little houses in the woods. It was not easy to extricate ourselves from the plane; simple arithmetic explains why: 5 pieces of luggage + carrycot with David = 6 pieces (not to mention 2 umbrellas - very stupid things to travel with (nowadays we would not be allowed them on board and would be spared the embarrassment...), and only 4 hands between us to carry them. We certainly did not need all those heavy books - we did not read a word: I either watched the movies, looked after David, or was eating, Joris slept most of the time. In the end we managed somehow and were met by a Sabena airhostess, who helped to carry some (lighter) things. A more serious problem arose at the passport control: the blacksmith´s mare walks unshod, as the Czech saying goes - Joris omitted to get visa for his son! But even that was solved somehow (which again would not be possible these days) and we proceeded to the United Airlines terminal, to await our flight to Washington. It was early afternoon here, but for us it was already 9 in the evening. Not surprisingly, only David was not tired. To perk up, we drank coca cola, as is only fitting in America. In the plane I had to throw a bit of hysterics (the woman´s weapon par excellence) to be able to wedge David´s carrycot on the seat, our outsize baby just did not fit in the fixed carrycots provided. The blood red sun was setting and this time we could glimpse the skyline of Manhattan disappearing in the dusk. We landed in Washington, DC, at 11PM local time - 5AM our time, so not in a great shape. Luckily, here we did not need to tackle the long tentacles of exit tubes, stairs and corridors. There is a bus system, but not the ordinary one, when one has to climb out of the plane, face winds and sometimes rain on the tarmac, heave oneself onto a crowded bus, fall over several times at sharp bends or sudden stops (never enough seats or bars to hold on), and THEN proceed up the stairs and along the corridors. Here, an enormous whale of a bus backs up to the aeroplane, lifts up a platform up to the door and swallows the passengers one by one, like a multitude of Jonases. The buses are so wide, that the driver has to watch its back on TV monitor inside the bus. It disgorges its evidently indigestible passengers at the door of the terminal, in our case directly in the arms of our Belgian friends, Guido and Danica. For some reason (they were too numerous to get on one plane?), it disgorged only half of our luggage and we had to wait an extra half an hour for another plane to bring them. On the whole, the United did not score very highly with us. Somehow we managed to squeeze everything into the car, quite a job, though Guido owned a typically huge American „ship“. (It was not the last time we embarrassed our hosts with the amount and weight of our luggage...). Once installed in their attractive villa with a garden in a wooded suburb of Washington, we were not allowed to think about our European time and succumb to sleep but instead made to wait for supper and retire at the more or less normal local bedtime. (Explain that to a baby!) It was wise, as we also got up at a more less normal time the next day, though it was nearly afternoon for us, and started forgetting about the jet-lag. We were invited for brunch by an American diplomatic couple, whom we used to know in Prague. They live in a renovated „dolls´ house“ in an old black neighbourhood on the steep bank of the Potomac river (some years later an aeroplane crashed into this river near there...), now fashionable among the bohemian minded whites. Once inside, I was suddenly transported back home - their house was almost entirely furnished by „stuff“ brought over from Prague. We feasted on a Jewish-style breakfast and then went to explore Washington, with David in a sling on my tummy. The Potomac wound lazily through the city, the white building of the Capitol towered imposingly against the blue winter sky, surrounded by memorials of various heroes of the American history: Washington´s in the shape of an Egyptian obelisk, Jefferson´s roundly Greek and Lincoln´s squarely Greek. The White House is indeed white but, compared to its reputation, surprisingly small - a tiny villa on a green lawn with a fountain in front of it. The broad, endlessly straight avenues are lined by huge modern blocks of government offices. One avenue contains exclusively embassy buildings, in a profusion of clashing styles. Everything looks very new and shiningly clean, as if someone had thoroughly scrubbed it only yesterday, apart form the areas where the black population (80% of the total!) lives in red bricks dwellings, reminiscent of London hospitals from the 19th century. On a hill sits a „gothic“ cathedral, the only one in the world, which is still being built (I suppose it has been finished by now...). We passed a large department store and were told, that if we have any money to spare, we can order a camel from Africa or a wind-mill from Holland, or whatever else we might fancy. On the spur of a moment, we could not think of anything. Washington is not very big but as the USA capital it has several airports, one of them right in the middle of the town; those fond of noise, can have a picnic in a park next to it and listen to the roar of aeroplanes taking off and landing over their heads. The residential areas are all in the surrounding wooded hills along the river. The centre is full of parks and trees, now bare, but it must be very beautiful in the spring and in the autumn. The area around the Capitol is planted by Japanese cherry trees and, as known from the postcards, when they are in flower, it looks like a pile of whipped cream on top of a strawberry mousse. Back for a very welcomed tea. I was quite bowled over by Daniela´s American kitchen - the enormous freezer and the fridge, which spat ice cubes at a push of a button, sparing one the hardship of knocking them out of a container, automatically regulated oven with timer for pre-setting the time of cooking (When I finally got one like that in Brussels in 2001, I never bothered to learn how to use this device...), and most of all, the dishwasher. Next morning spent re-packing our hand luggage and downsizing it to more manageable number (4, including David). At 2PM we started on the 2nd leg of our journey - across the width of the US to San Francisco. Unfortunately it was cloudy most of the nearly six hour flight, but it cleared just before we approached the millions of lights of San Francisco; the Hippies song „If you are going to San Francisco...“ buzzed in my ears, but where to find flowers on the plane, to put in my hair? (S.F. was then more famous as the centre of „flower power“ than of „gay power“.) We seemed to be heading straight into the sea, as the airport is right on the shore and the final manoeuvre takes place above water. A bit frightening. We boarded a big yellow taxi with soft springs and film tracks music blaring; the driver lit a cigarette ( those were the days...) and took off with a frightening speed (far exceeding the limit) in a bumper to bumper traffic along the palm and eucalyptus lined beaches towards the city. This was America, as I had always imagined it - speed and lights, flashing neon advertisements and pulsating life. We drove over many overpasses, efficient, but ugly, and past a football stadium, with a fiery tail of tail lights of cars, waiting to get into the parking, attached to it. Our hotel, Canterbury, lived up to its name by emanating an atmosphere of a European spa, with a large restaurant in a winter garden, from which singing of birds could be heard, whether real or recorded I could not discover, as we skipped supper, having eaten on the plane. We gained 2 more hours. In the morning we took a taxi to the Golden Gate Bridge, on a toboggan drive through the centre of the San Francisco, which is built on a series of steep hills and whose steps like streets have supplied spectacular background to car chases scenes of many a gangster films. We had to pay a toll of 1 dollar to cross the bridge, but it was money thrown away - the bridge and the bay were almost totally hidden in a thick fog, which, it is true, did shimmer slightly goldenly in the rays of the invisible sun. Nevertheless, Joris took some photos of me and David in front the massive yet slightly spectral chains disappearing in the mist. (The pictures came out quite well, considering). „When it is clear, the view is quite spectacular“, the taxi driver assured us. This we saw only on postcards bought at the airport, when we were leaving for Hawaii in the afternoon. The flight was delayed, and David screamed the whole time, as I had to let him wait for his bottle until we were taking off, so that swallowing would relieve the pain in his ears, caused by pressure. For the rest, the flight was pleasant, the passengers in a holiday mood and the brown skinned Hawaiian crew friendly and informal in the typical flowered shirts. They did not skim on drinks, first the local speciality, mai-tai, based on rum, then wine, so I got slightly tipsy. We flew the 2 and half thousands miles above the Pacific entirely through a big, sunny blue - bright and transparent around us, dark and compact deep under us. We approached the islands at sunset and had a stunning view of its green, jagged mountains darkening against the purple skies, reflected in the quiet waters of the bay. When I stepped out of the plane, my knees nearly gave way; the effects of alcohol have long worn off, but the humid heat hit me like a crashing wall, it was like stepping into a greenhouse, overheated at that, including the palm trees with their fringed crowns etched against the pale sky. I did not fall, but the darkness did, before we had time to look around properly. After supper (the beer tasted vile), we went for a stroll, admiring the huge stars of the subtropical skies. In my imagination, the air conditioning had always equalled the maximum luxury and comfort. The reality proved different. Imagine a sweltering summer day, you are covered in sweat, you don´t have a sweater - why should you? - but a towering thirst. You enter a welcoming restaurant and you feel like entering a fridge. The cold air blows at you from all corners and there is so much noise that you cannot hear yourself speak.. A cold beer is no longer tempting, a hot tea with rum seems more attractive, but it is still 35°C in the shade outside. On leaving the restaurant, you feel the heat hit you with a redoubled intensity. David almost froze to death, while we were having supper in the hotel. And at night we faced a dilemma - to be unable to sleep because of the heat, or because of the noise of the aircon. Hawaii is an archipelago of 8 islands, the name being that of the largest one. The capital of this exotic American state is Honolulu, on one the lesser islands, Oahu, and we spend our one day and half of the night there. (Now, nearly 30 years later, I must say, with great deal of regret in some cases, that on most our trips or holidays, we have never spent quite enough time in one place. Daddy seems to be allergic to prolonged stays anywhere, and when planning a holiday, he always counts the nights, not the days. The promise, „ we´ll come back here again, never came true. The Galapagos Islands are just one of many examples. ) We rented a car and went exploring. The modern, high rise building from yellow stone fit badly in the backdrop of the tropical nature, but business is business, the thousands of tourists have to stay somewhere and the locals have a living to make. After the town centre came suburbs of villas in flowering gardens and then, at last, an open country. The view behind one sharp bend took our breath away: The bare cliffs of reddish rock fell sharply into the gently splashing waters of the Pacific, unbelievably blue - the brochures do not exaggerate here. It is not a transparent, turquoise blue like in Greece or Italy, nor the grey-blue of the Atlantic, and not at all the brownish green of the North Sea; it is simply blue, the most beautiful cobalt blue. I was sorely tempted to jump in, but with Joris at my side and our brand new offspring to think of, I resisted. Maybe I should not have...The road wounds its way carved in the cliff´s face, which occasionally recedes to accommodate beaches and golf courses. The beauty of the ocean is enhanced by numerous little islands, of pinkish colour and curious shapes. We visited an aquarium and watched dolphins, killer whales and penguins play, and admired the diversity of the underwater life. We stopped at the next bit of beach, which was very pretty and seemed completely deserted, and I was dying to make finally my first acquaintance with this largest of all waters. Before we had time to get out of the car, however, a police car arrived and the driver politely asked us, whether we intended to bathe there. We answered we did and he, still extremely polite, suggested we should not. I expected him to say something about sharks, but he merely warned us, that the place was known for frequent robberies. He saluted and left and we hurriedly clipped our safety belts in place and drove off. Only then we noticed several decrepit cars full of brown youths, evidently waiting for us to leave the car unguarded. On the way back we also realised, that the little houses, hidden in the luxurious greenery, which we took to be romantic native cottages, were, in fact, shacks inhabited by poor people or, possibly, criminals, so we did not take any chances and only dared to swim at the outskirts of Honolulu, where the scenery was utterly spoiled by the row upon row of hotels. But I turned my back on them and fully enjoyed the warm and surprisingly gentle water of the great ocean. The surface was smooth as a mirror and I had to swim far out of the shallows to reach the white crests of waves and enjoy their gently rocking motion. The sun was just getting ready to take its evening dip, when it was time to return, unwillingly, to the hotel, partake of enormous supper, pack up and to snatch a few hours sleep before our night flight - the last long leg of our journey to Sydney. At midnight we struggled out of bed and to the airport, only to find that the plane from San Francisco was delayed for several hours - fog again! If the airports are not very accommodating for passengers with too many hand luggage, they are even less so for passengers, who have to spend a long time waiting, especially the sleepy ones. A few rows of hard plastic seats here and there, one not a very cosy restaurant and apart from some TV screens, which went blank soon after we arrived, nothing to help to pass the time. It paid at last to have the carry cot with us: David , at least, could sleep in all comfort. Even when we got on the plane eventually, we did not get much rest. The seats in the economy class are not best designed for sleeping and rather cramped, especially for tall people like Joris. (The 1st class travel for Belgian diplomats under the rank of ambassador had been abolished shortly before, really unfair.) To add insult to injury, the posh food destined for the 1st class was passing right under our noses - a crab on a silver tray, deliciously looking and smelling main course on real china, rich cakes and coffee in silver pots...while ours, though quite tasty, came in plastic containers and cups. We flew Quantas and all the crew were rather glorious young males, performing their duties with undying smiles. For hours we were flying again over the blue masses of the Pacific ocean. Before we landed for refuelling on the Fiji Islands, green dots in all that blue, we crossed the international date line, an imaginary place, which is however real enough to cause us to loose a day of our lives, at least until we fly back in the opposite direction, when we should get it back again. What happens to it I have no idea, but one thing is sure: the Thursday, 15.12.1977 can be struck off our calendars. Champagne was served at breakfast, even to the common mortals in the economy, perhaps to console us for this loss. Also, the plane had made up for some of the lost time and we landed in Sydney „only“ 2 hours late, at 11 local time (I completely lost track of „our time“ by then). Even so, it was very annoying, as I had arranged to have lunch at the airport with my „long lost Australian“ relatives, Uncle Karel, a cousin once removed of my Father, and his English/Australian wife, Jean. He left Czechoslovakia in 1948, so I did not really knew him. As we waited (another hour!) for our luggage, I was getting glimpses of a couple waiting behind the sliding door - he tall and with a pronounced, „eagle“ nose, typical of Pesinas. I waved, they waved back. He knew a Slav face when he saw one, he told me afterwards. With all the delays, there was hardly time to exchange a few words, before we had to catch the very last plane of the journey, to Canberra, the capital of Australia, and so our final destination, and the lunch had to be postponed to some future date. Still, it was really nice to be met by family on setting foot in our new „home country“. The flight to Canberra took only half an hour, but was the worst bit of all: the plane was small and the ride very bumpy. The Australian continent passing underneath did not look exactly welcoming - vast patches of parched grass, which I initially mistook for sand, criss-crossed by red dirt roads and only interrupted by greyish green wooded mountains, from where here and there rose spirals of smoke from the bush fires - here, „down under“ it is middle of summer. Canberra from the air was just a lake surrounded by little houses hidden in greenery. On the tarmac we were hit by hot, dry wind, assaulted by flies, the „curse“ of Australia, and finally met by the lady consul, who drove us to our hotel, appropriately named „The Embassy“. I felt suddenly so tired that I was hardly capable of polite conversation. With the utmost effort I managed to change and feed David, then dropped on the bed and fell into exhausted sleep. Only the next day I was able to take in our hotel properly - and was very disappointed. Despite its grand name it was just a two storey motel, and the advertised pool a mere a puddle in the middle of an asphalt courtyard. What was worse, the room was tiny - with all our suitcases and David´s cot, there was hardly room to move. The thought of spending several weeks there was depressing, so off we went to see if there was anything better to be had, and were given a downstairs suit, with a balcony giving on to a lawn and some trees, from where I could look at the Southern Cross for the first time in my life that night - little had I imagined I would ever see it with my own eyes. Saturday, 17.12. In the morning a dip the pool and an hour of careful sunbathing, which gave me a tan like 2 days on the beach in Belgium. In the afternoon the lady consul took us for an exploratory drive. Canberra lies in a hilly (of about 800m on average) basin, surrounded by distant mountain chains of the Snowy mountains (south west) and the Blue Mountains (north west), which provide nice views all around. The town looks more like a park dotted with houses and it is, even despite this summer´s extreme draught - the worst since 1968 - very green, at least the old centre, with a great variety of trees, many of them imported from Europe and of a wide spectrum of deep hues of green, in sharp contrast with the muted olive green of the native eucalyptus (or gum) trees, which predominate in the outlying, newer neighbourhoods. Canberra has even now enough water and the lawns get sprinkled every day. In the heart of the town lies the lake Burley-Griffin, man-made by damming the river Molonglo. It is spanned by two bridges, and the water jet in the middle, the famous landmark of Canberra, spouts water dozens of meters high. It is a monument to the discoverer of the east coast of Australia, Captain Cook (who, in 1770 stuck the British flag in the soil of an island, off the present day Cape York, which he called „Ownership“ Island, and claimed the mainland territory for the British Crown. To the south of the lake rises the low Capitol Hill, from which the Union Jack is flying now, surrounded by government buildings, like the Parliament and the Prime Minister Office (Fraser at the time). The streets bear „imperial“ names - Queen Victoria´s, King George´s , Kings´ in general, Crown´s, Commonwealth´s etc. The northern shore is the commercial and cultural hub of the capital - businesses, banks, hotels, the biggest shopping centre (Civic); the Opera, cinemas and restaurants cluster around another low elevation, the City Hill, sporting a flag as well. The buildings are white and modern, some quite tall, but no skyscrapers. The architecturally quite avant-garde University is also situated here. The dominant elevation of Canberra is the Red Hill, which is not red, but dark green, and is a natural reserve, with radio and TV antennas and a panoramic restaurant on top. Most of the embassies are in the vicinity of our hotel, in one the old quarters, Yarralumla, named after another river, a tributary of the Molonglo. We ended our sight -seeing at our (the Belgian) Embassy Residence, which is a rather grand pink villa in the Mediterranean style, on top of a hill, overgrown with magnificent old eucalyptus trees. Its grounds are huge and comprise a swimming pool and a tennis court. The Chancery itself sits at the bottom and according to the Ambassador, looks like a garage, but the residence is included in the lists of compulsory tourist sights, which gives you an idea of the worthiness of Canberra in this respect, i.e. not all that much to see. It has apparently just 7 monuments to its name - 5 of them are war memorials, one the above mentioned Cook´s and one is dedicated to the Scottish poet Robert Burn´s (why exactly to him, I don´t know). There are also botanical gardens at the foot of yet another hill, the Black Hill, and a few (modern) churches. Each suburb has its own shopping centre, with a post office and other services. The one in Deakin, where we live for the time being, is quite small, but has everything we might need. Compared to the busy and crowded European cities, Canberra is very quiet, its residential quarters´ streets empty, even of cars, though nobody seems to be walking either, despite the TV advertising clip „Walk - it is easy; walk - it is healthy!“ The only signs of life are multitudes of black-and-white magpies, who fly hither and thither in the trees with a loud chatter. Sunday, 18.12. Today we had lunch with the Chandlers (the English professor mentioned before, when we saw them in Brussels). They live in one of the new suburbs on the steep slope of Mt. Taylor, and their house is among the highest up it. They have a spectacular view on the mountain ranges, but the surroundings are very bare, hardly a tree in sight. In the afternoon they took us for a swim in the river Kambah, to a place called the Pine Island, as some pine trees are growing on the river banks, providing welcome shade. The river is narrow and winding through a steep valley, whose sides are thick with eucalyptus trees filling the hot air with their pungent but pleasant (even if it evokes a cold) perfume. The rocky outcrops form small rapids and deep pools in the otherwise shallow stream. The water was cool and refreshing, but the sand scorching - impossible to walk on it barefoot. Some boys were diving from a high cliff on the opposite bank. There were very few people, despite the hot weather and many facilities - changing rooms, toilettes, showers, roof covered picnic tables, stone fireplaces with cut logs ready to use. Had a great swim, but burnt my back... Saturday, 24.12. Joris has started working on Monday, when he finally met his ambassador, Bartholomy, who has a reputation of being very difficult. Apparently, the first impressions are not too bad, but it is early days yet. I met his wife, Laura, at the residence for coffee this morning. She seems nice and „motherly“. Then I was introduced to the rest of the embassy staff. In the afternoon we went shopping into Civic. The goods are more or less the same as in Belgium, though there is less choice, except for the meat, which is incredibly cheap and plentiful, but the supermarket has run out of milk and sugar, something unheard of in Belgium. It was probably due to Christmas, which is also the start of the main holiday season here. I, however, keep forgetting it IS Christmas in this hot summer weather. Australians still celebrate it as in „the old country“, starting only tomorrow, on Christmas Day, and with turkey and all. Wednesday, 28.12. Christmas for us passed almost unnoticed, we just exchanged little gifts on Sunday and went to St. Christopher church, a new building in a „pure Norman basilica“ style. The mass was in English and Italian (!?) and the church full of people and little children, who participated noisily, but nobody minded. The car we had bought and paid for had still not been delivered, though promised, so we rented one and drove to the Nature reserve of the Black Mountain. The Botanical gardens were closed, and all the reserve had to offer were eucalyptuses and flies. Nice view from top. We continued to the lake and I had dip - was quite alone. Maybe because it was overcast - for the first time since we arrived; it even rained a bit later. The hotel offered a special X-mas dinner of six courses, which we could not face - the portions are enormous here, the steaks almost bigger than the plates. I usually have quite enough with an appetiser, or hors d´oevres (mainly various kinds of shellfish), unless there is fish. The hotel restaurant is always full with outside guests, mostly young, chewing their way through these mountains of food. No wonder that obese people, especially women, are a common sight here. (Already then!!!) New Year´ s Eve Nothing special was happening in the hotel, so we just waited around for midnight to toast out future in Australia, mentally send our best wishes to all the distant dear ones and went to bed. I hope I shall not regret that I added Australia on the wish-list: at the moment I am a bit depressed and wondering, what on earth I am - and will be - doing here among all the flies, magpies and the, so far somewhat invisible, „antipodes“.

The year 1977

 

JANUARY

 

 

I started this diary  on  the13th of February, the day and I left Prague to start „ a new life“  Belgium, so I am not sure how exactly we spent the first day of this year. As I was 6 months pregnant with David, and already quite big, I suppose we just stayed quietly at home. The rest of January, however, must have been quite busy preparing our move - the first of many to come - and taking leave of my family, friends, diplomatic colleagues  and my city in general. I remember being very upset at hearing the news we were to move in February already, as originally I was counting on staying till  the summer and consequently giving birth to my first baby „at home“. So Christmas was rather a tearful affair. Moreover, the gyneacologist  advised against such a long journey by car and so I had to leave by train - alone. Joris would follow a few days later.

 

Sunday, 13.2.

 

The last morning in our Prague home (a villa in the street Na Hrebenkách 41, P5, high above the city),  where we spent the first 14 months of our married life, dawned grey and misty. By now it was stripped of all our possessions, and only memories were being left behind, over which I shed a few tears, when  getting into the car to leave it for ever.

The farewells having all taken place before, there was, beside Joris, only one old family friend (a rejected, but ever faithful suiter of my mother) on the platform of the Main Prague railway station near the Wencelas Square (Nowadays renamed Wilson´s Station) to wave me off. Luckily, the train was due to leave almost immediately, which spared us the agony of  protracted  Good-byes. The two waving figures quickly disappeare behind a bent and the train gathers speed. As it happens, the railway to Germany leads trough the part of Prague, where I  had lived until I got married, and so „my whole life till then flashes before my eyes“ -  first my old school (elementary and secondary, called Na Hradku, in Boticska street), and next to it, the St.Ursula convent hospital, where my father died in 1959. Then on to the Railway bridge, with a shattering noise under its intricate, soot blackened metal arches, and over the river Moldau (Vltava), with waters of which „I had been christened“. From the bridge, looking downstream, I can see our family house on the river embankment  (Rasinovo nabrezi 76) and the majestic outline of the Prague castle (Hradcany). Running to the opposite window I catch a glimpse of my Grandparents´ Pesina cubism style villa (long since lost), on the right bank of the river, above which  towers the mythological rock of Vysehrad, crowned with two black neo-gothic  spires of the church of St. Peter and Paul; the adjacent cemetery, famous for its many Art Nouveau tombs, contains the graves of most of my family from both Mother´s and Father´s side. On the other side of the river I can see the hill on which stands the house  I have just left. For a while, the railway follows the river upstream, along the road to Slapy, where Joris and I spent many a romantic secret weekend in our family log cabin, hiding from the „evil world“ ( where I spent all the August part of the school holidays with my grandparents - mother´s side. I had to sell my half to my uncle before emigrating). All this fills me with considerable sadness and nostalgia.

But enough of that. The train is taking me towards a new life, that I had chosen of my own will and now must hope that it will be happy.

The first class compartment was empty and I was grateful to be able to relax for the next 12 hours with a book - the last month left me pretty exhausted (lugging around, as I was, some 15 kg extra weight, due to the future David).

Around  noon a long wait on the border in the Sumava forest. One unlucky passenger´s papers were not in order and he was hauled off the train. Though I was by now fully and solely a Belgian citizen, I was gripped by the old familiar fear, that I so often experienced on crossing this point before, as a subject of the communist state, and held me all the way through the „no man´s land“,  between barbered wire fences and barren stretches of ploughed earth lined with guard towers, till the first stop in Germany - Furst im Wald - where I had spent a few happy hours doing Christmas shopping last December.

 Lunch in the  Czech dining car - only DM accepted, was expensive and bad. Dinner in the newly added German diner, was still expensive, but good.

At half past eight the train reached Koln (Cologne), where I was met by a German friend, Cassia, and her mother, at whose house I was also spending the night. (At the time of translation, I cannot remember how I knew them, but apparently  I stayed with them also 2 years before. Lucky thing I WAS writing a diary, otherwise what else I might not have  forgotten!)

 

Monday, 14.2.

The morning broke bright and beautiful, with spring in the air - a good omen, perhaps? Cassia´s father gave me breakfast and took me to the station next to the looming, brooding cathedral, an old friend.  From my several journeys to and from England).The direct train to Brussels was one of the first modern ones, without compartments, I felt more like in a plane. I had to pay extra for this luxury. After leaving Germany we entered the gently rolling landscape of my new homeland, green even in the middle of winter.

I arrived at Bruxelles Midi at half past one, and was met by  Father-in- law and brother-in-law, Mark. „Welcome home,“ they said in unisono. I was sorry not to see Daniel - he left the very same morning in the opposite direction for Germany, to begin a two months stage there at a bank, having successfully completed his studies of economy.  Mother-in law was at home, cooking lunch. Mark drove and the traffic scared me - already then I described their style as „where there is a space, squeeze through it“. In their spacious apartment in Kindermansstraat 1 in Elsene (whose surroundings did not impressed me very favourably, rather the contrary) Mother welcomed me as warmly as ever and there was no end to questions about how I was feeling and how I left „George“. After lunch we went to see the apartment, that Father found for us, round the corner from their flat (in Bosstraat). It was in one of four blocks of flats around a small park in the middle, on the 3^rd floor. It was very pleasant and light, but I was shocked, how small it was. (The villa in Prague, permanently rented by the Belgian government for the nr.2 of the embassy, was very big.) It had an L shaped dining/sitting room, albeit with a with fireplace and big windows, a tiny hall, one small and one very small bedroom, narrow kitchen with a small balcony. What worried me was, that my solid, „middle European“ furniture, inherited from my parents and never intended to be moved once installed, would never fit in. But I had to put a brave face on it, as Father was very proud of his „find“. It has been two long and emotional days and I was glad to creep between the sheets early.

 

Tuesday, 15.2.

Morning spent in our new fat, measuring and puzzling over how to place the furniture, when it arrives tomorrow afternoon. Mother´s cleaning lady, Consuelo, and  the concierge Julienne, who is in fact a woman, but one would not think so at a first glance, gave the place a thorough and highly necessary clean up. After lunch went with mother to buy some chairs and a table for the kitchen. Joris arrived at six and in style - by service car driven by the embassy driver Tunkel. They successfully smuggled out my little antique bureau, few old paintings and family portraits, and some Persian carpets. (We were not sure we would  get permission to export them, so we chose this more secure, though a bit dangerous way. But in those days, the diplomatic number plates worked wonders.) Joris´s Granny called from England.

 

Wednesday, 16.2.

Furniture arrived late, at four, so the moving in happened in a great hurry. By some miracle, everything not only got in, even my big, all in one piece double bed (though it had to undergo an „operation on its feet) but even fitted in quite nicely, although the general aspect at the moment is more of a very untidy warehouse than a home.

 

Wednesday, 23.2.

A week after the furniture, we moved finally in, too. Every day from morning to evening I was  unpacking and moving things around, until everything was to our satisfaction. I could not believe, how much STUFF we had - and I shall continue to be surprised by this fact throughout our long gypsy life; yet, whatever I threw or gave away, I would regret bitterly soon afterwards....Another experience will repeat itself unerringly - the (practically illiterate) movers will ALWAYS find an unguarded moment to unpack and mess up the books, packed with great care in alphabetical order.

Joris spends his days at the Ministry, the courses for his final exams have started, so it was left to Father to help me - we cautioned each other constantly, to be careful and not overdo it. Consuelo and Julienne cleaned some more, and Albert, Jullienne´s tiny husband, hung up the pictures.  Mother was busy shopping and cooking (which she detests and never stops to point it out), or „chauffers“ me around, when needed (Father doesn´t drive). On Sunday she drove us all out for a little walk in the woods on the outskirts of Brussels - the Bois de la Cambre, which is very pretty.

On Monday we were invited to lunch at the house of the d´Avernas - our ambassador in Prague.

One of our living room windows gives on the west - the sunsets are spectacular and I watch them with a huge  nostalgia for  the sunsets of Prague.

A bit of cheese for our first supper, not very exciting, but I simply could not manage anything more demanding.

 

Monday, 28.2.

Life has assumed its routine, Joris leaves early, walks to the ministry and comes back for lunch ( and a nap). I  sleep late,  potter around, cook lunch, wash up, sometimes go shopping (there is a handy little grocery shop, the „winkel“ across the street from the parents´house, but for big weekly shopping we go by car with Mother to a self service Delhaize) or for a walk, depends on the weather, which is changeable but quite sunny and warm and spring seems in the air already - the leaves are budding on trees in the streets and in the parks  and gardens the colourful crocuses are pushing through the earth and forsythias bushes are all golden. The month of the big move is over and I feel  quite happy but also very tired. Friday Mother and Father came with a pink azalea plant and a bottle of wine to drink to our new home. Saturday went for a nice long walk in the woods. On Sunday we had lunch with the parents and in the evening our first guests for supper, one of Joris´s colleagues Guido Curtois and his Slovak wife Danica, a journalist. They came back from the Ivory Coast for the exams. I made cheese fondue (from a packet) and a trifle. We had a nice evening,  talking mainly about Prague, though Danica is from Bratislava.

 

Sunday, 6.3.

Wednesday an important day - a visit to my new gynaecologist. He is an elderly man and so from the old school. His thoroughness and personal attention reminded me of my grandfather Prof. Mudr.Gawalowski, and I was relieved, feeling I am in good hands. Though no chicken at my nearly 33 years, or rather because of it, I am becoming quite terrified at thought of giving birth in a month or so. Such a small hole...All the films, dwelling with such relish on the agony of it, have not helped. However, I was able to listen to the beat of the child´s heart - what a noise - like horses galloping. Amazing. (In those days, nobody dreamed yet of getting to know the child´s sex beforehand, it was not even a mater of course, that fathers should be present at the birth.) But he did make the first, ultrasound, photo of David to be. Not much to see, if you don´t know, what  to look for. Still, a nice souvenir.

Saturday,  I made my first acquaintance with Joris´s uncle Walter, his father´s bachelor younger brother and professor of oriental linguistics in Antwerp. A tall, thin man, with a shock of nearly white hair, who never stopped talking. He seems to have an universal memory and remembers everything that he ever read or heard. Interesting, but a la long tiring. Has written lots and lots of books and is just finishing another, about the city of Antwerp. Unfortunately, he had been a member of the extreme radical Flemish party, De Vlaamse Blok, and has always been  for separation of the Flemish from the Walloons and joining the Dutch. His views and action had caused many problems to his brother, during his diplomatic career  (he was the first Fleming to make it into the service, dominated in those days by the French speaking nobility). Uncle Walter also has  a very sharp tongue, and his critical outpourings over the Belgian public figures did little to transform a „new born“ Belgian citizen like me into a  patriot.

Today another walk in the woods, they are really quite wonderful and stretch apparently for miles out of Brussels. Yesterday we went by car with mother and father to Waterloo, the site of the defeat of Napoleon . There is a museum and a artificial hill with the famous statue of the Lion on top. Despite my big tummy and swollen legs, I climbed the  nearly 200 steps up. ( I boasted about this heroic feat to all my visiting friends, that puffed their way up there with me in later years.) Instead of the cannon fire the place was filled with laughter and screaming of children.

 

Sunday, 13.3.

The Friday afternoon hailstorm was not able to triumph over the spring, the hyacinths, tulips and pansies are all out, though the sun is not.

Having walked through the streets of Brussels quite a lot, I don´t find it as ugly and gloomy as during my pervious brief visits - mostly just driving through to somewhere else. It depends of course on the part of Brussels one lives in, or even just the street one walks along. Around here, in Elsene, there are some lovely streets of 19^th century pseudo baroque bourgeois town houses, or better still, little gems of art nouveau, for which Brussels is rightly famous. It is a great shame though, that many of them were pulled down in the fifties and replaced by plain, even ugly concrete boxes of apartment houses - ours  and the parents´ are  examples of just plain, or low even uglier car show rooms, and there are also many empty lots behind wooden fences. But the more recent architecture is better, lots of tall buildings of all shapes covered in glass, which reflects the ever changing hues of the skies, and there are many parks and trees lining the mostly  spacious, and quite clean, streets (except for paper litter and, which is worse, dogs´ poo. The freedom here applies even to these four legged friends of man - in this case, a little too much.)

I started a French course at the Ministry, I am the only pupil, even though it is gratis. I also go to some gymnastics for pregnant women, with massage and breathing exercises.

Daniel came from Frankfurt to spend the weekend. We all went to the theatre Saturday evening, 3 short plays in the Brussels English Comedy Club- my initiative, and quite successful. Sunday family lunch at parents´  also  Mark was there, and then a walk around the lake in the Bois de la Cambre - little me with my  big tummy and  three tall handsome men. Pity that the rain cut it short. Both Mark and Daniel are bachelors. Mark is very handsome and thin and very much with the „high society“ of Belgium, including the members of the royalty.  About a year ago he had terminated a tempestuous relationship with a beauty, who was soon afterwards killed in a car accident.  Like Daniel, he graduated in economy and is now studying for the entrance exams for a diplomatic career. Daniel is a bit chubby and is dating Kira, a primabalerina in the ballet company of Maurice Béjart.

It is a month since I left Prague. I have not yet had time to become homesick, but I have been dreaming about it and people i know there almost every night, perhaps subconsciously escaping to the familiar surroundings from all the new impressions.

 

Monday, 21.3. - 1^st day of Spring

The temperatures oscillate between 20° and  10°, which makes me very tired, nevertheless I persevere with the exercise classes and the French lessons, I walk the half hour to the ministry and back, enjoying the advancing spring that manifests itself even in the streets - some trees covered themselves in white, some in pink (the lovely Japanese cherry trees, which line also our street), the magnificent magnolias are ready to bloom and so are the large chestnuts in „our“ park. The colourful tulips dot every little bit of lawn.

At the domestic front some plumbing problems and difficulties with Jullienne, who wants more money for cleaning...

The traffic continues to frighten me and I do not dare to drive. What amazes me is the „right of way from the right“ without exceptions, even in the tinniest of streets leading on a to thoroughfare of several lanes, like the Louizalaan. I also marvel at  the yellow, single wagon trams,  which seem minuscule compared to the Prague´s rattling red and yellow double ones; they seem almost antique, with a table between each pair of seats. There are also buses and a metro is being built. For the time being, its finished parts  lock onto the trams rail system, and use the trams, which is quite ingenious, I think. The system of road tunnels, built at the time of the World exhibition Expo 58 in Brussels, helps the  traffic to flow smoothly, especially at the weekend exodus.  (The Expo was held in the „Jubelpark“ in Laeken, where the then Belgian pavilion - the Atomium - still forms a distinct ive Brussel´s landmark. The Chinese Pagoda and the Japanese pavilion are also still standing. The Czech pavilion, made world famous by the innovative theatre cum film performances - the „Laterna Magica - The Magic lantern“, had been moved to Prague, where it still functions as a restaurant on one of the hills above the river.)

Saturday dinner at the Parents, together with another couple, the daughter and her English husband of their old time friends, (a Scottish noble lady Joey, married to a Dutch Count van Linden). We are supposed to strike a friendship, but I don´t know, if it happens - a friendship cannot be arranged, it must grow from some common experiences or shared activities. (This „piece of wisdom“ has been confirmed to me since, in all those years of  for ever having to form new ties in the new countries. It has grown more difficult with the age, and at the time of translating this and sitting in Damascus, I have almost given up...) Anyway, they were nice, though a bit superior (and older). Joris did not help - he was practically asleep with his eyes open.

During supper the first thunderstorm of the year - in compliance wit a Czech superstition I hurried to lift up something heavy (due to my condition, only a chair) and made Joris to lift ME up, which should assure him enough strength for more than just one year.

Yesterday a beautiful morning, so decided to drive out with the Parents after lunch. Though the weather looked set to last for a fortnight, the afternoon became cloudy, but we went anyway, to visit Beersel,  partly ruined little castle, not far from Brussels, a water fort from the 14^th century. As with the trams, I was struck by its diminutive size, but impressed by the loveliness of this round structure from read bricks, set in the green woods. We walked round through its half destroyed walls surrounding a roofless courtyard, before we were chased away by the rain. We found refuge in a nice old fashioned restaurant next door. Lesson: when the sun shines, go out immediately! In the evening watched the film From Here to Eternity about Pearl Harbour, with Frank Sinatra and Burt Lancaster ( on TV).

 

Monday, 28.3.

Home alone - Joris left for Paris till Friday, with all his colleagues, as part of the preparations for the exams. Yesterday rain with snow and cold - what happened to the Spring?

I have had a haircut - a big decision, but not as drastic as originally planned - I had meant to have it cut quite short, just as I used to wear it some years ago, but was persuaded by Mother to stop at shoulder length. The result is so so, shouldn´t have listened to her.

More important was another visit to the gynaecologist. He thinks I might be more advanced than we thought, the baby seems quite big and he dissuaded me from the visit of my Dutch „adoptive parents“, the Breitensteins, in Amsterdam, which I had planned during Joris´s absence. I am very disappointed, as I was planning to see all my friends from the year I had spent there in 1968/69. Instead, I was advised to rest and  sleep a lot, which actually suits me fine. On one of my walks I discovered  a beautiful gothic monastery and church - Ter Kameren / La Cambre, not far from us. It used be far out of Brussels in the old times and now sits in a deep hollow, landscaped in the style of a „French garden“. I decided that it is here that I want my child christened, even though it is a French community church. Father goes to Flemish masses at the end of rue de Baillei /???/, to a baroque church, badly in need of restoration - the absis is  shut off by a „temporary“ wall. It is gloomy inside and outside and do not like it.

 

Monday, 4.4.

 As I could not go the Breitensteins, they came to see us this past weekend. They stayed with parents. Joris said he was too busy, so Daniel, who happened to be Brussels again, very kindly offered to take us on a tour of Brussels on Saturday afternoon, which was interesting for me as well. We managed to see everything - from the Palace of justice to the Mannekke Pis - and had a well deserved tea on the Grand Place. Daniel made a scene, because the waiter did not speak Flemish (yes, he used to be like that!) Later we had  drinks at our place and looked through the wedding album. The Breits brought some presents, a.o. a little wooden box covered in lace (hand made by mevr. Breit, whose hobby it is), which it was customary in Holland to hang over metal door knockers, in  the times before electric bells, when there was a baby sleeping in the house. (It is now in my flat in Prague, in a glass cabinet.) The Dutch crown princess Beatrice (now the Queen) was given one from the Dutch Guild of lace makers on the birth of her son, prince William. So I am in good company.

Sunday morning was raining, so nothing to do but to visit the Palais de Beaux Arts. We concentrated on Rubens - in my present state, his corpulent naked beauties made me feel good....Lunch at Parents, poor Mother had to cook for 9, as Uncle Walter invited himself unexpectedly as well. The conversation certainly flowed, at least from his side...

 

Easter

There was some talk about  going to church on Friday, but the Flemish mass started too late, the English was too long and the French was vetoed by Father, so we stayed at home, the weather was horrible anyway, more like Christmas, with snow and all. I listened to the Mathew´s passions by Bach on the radio, with my feet up. We went to church on Sunday, Joris, father and I to the Flemish one, Mother the Anglican. I really miss the richness of the Prague churches. The ritual of the Holy communion has been modernised - the confession is done „en mass“ at the beginning of the service and at the end one stands in a queue and  helps him/herself to the host  from a plate. The wine is also offered, even at the Catholic mass, but I abstained  (my aunt Myska always insisted, that it was an unhygienic habit!)

 At lunch we feasted on lamb and exchanged eggs.

On my birthday Tuesday I thought about my Mother, who, 33 years ago experienced what I am going to experience so soon now. She did not have a too hard time with me, so I am hoping for the same. Joris gave me a big jewellery box, wooden with copper lining.

Several days were spent trying to buy a pram, for which the Breitensteins left us money. A seemingly simple and normally joyous occasion  turned into a nightmare, due to well meant but exaggerated efforts by Mother to save money on one hand, and assure the pram were of such quality so as to last for generations.  (I have no idea, whether her pram survived even her own four children.) In the end, we bought the one I originally chose, a light hearted affair covered in denim and on high wheels, with a removable „carry cot“ and  hood, and a basket underneath with ample room for shopping, overriding Mother´s objections to its inferior quality, judged to be so on the bases of its cheapness. (The shop in the Bascule, where I also got all the other stuff, is still there, next to Innovation, and as it turned out the pram survived intact all our travels and very heavy duty, especially in Canberra, where it eventually carried both Thomas,and David and lots of shopping, and  occassions even a suitcase on top. I was quite sorry to part with it when we left Australia, but was not prepared to have more babies in order to keep it...)

Also bought a baby bath ( all the baby cloths etc I have already) and were lent a beautiful old-fashioned crib, all covered in white lace by Mother´s friend Joey. What we still do not have is a name. The short list is Luiza, Claudia, Andrea or Clara for a girl, Andreas, Simon, Mateas, Nigel or Christopher for a boy, but Joris is not really keen on none for a boy, though he does not seem to care much which  girl name I choose.

On my insistence we went to see the opera La Traviatta, arranged by Béjart, and so half opera, half ballet and rather unusual, the various innovations not always an improvement on the traditional concept.

Sunday the 17^th  there were elections, compulsory in Belgium and made complicated, at least in the case of our family, by the fact, that women here keep their maiden name for all official purposes and in the ID. So Mother (Nevill) and I (Pesinova), had to go and vote at a different location from the male Couvreurs, as P and N are so far from C in the alphabet.  There were 17 parties to choose from, I just did what Joris had told me - so much for the coveted democracy!).

I have reached elephantine proportions, my legs and hands are swollen, life is difficult and time seems to have come to a standstill. The baby kicks with all its might, it is sometimes quite painful - or is that something else? Despite back pain, I still perservere  with exercises and French. But there is good news, the baby might arrive within 2 weeks.

 

1^st May

 

The rest of April  mostly uneventful, except for  another cultural expedition, this time to the Flemish Theatre to see a guest performance of an English company Prospect, which, I remembered, had been highly praised by en English theatre director I was once an interpreter for. Mother refused to go, being tired after a visit of the van Linden. We had lunch with them. I was sorry, as the invitation was meant partly to repay all her kindness to me. We saw Bernard  Shaw´s Joanne of Arc and it was excellent - the play as well as the performance.

Daniel returned from Germany, but is leaving tomorrow again, this time for England, for four months. The Parents organised a farewell cocktail for him. I really did not want to participate, I am feeling very awkward and stupid, but we had to. Mother sat me down on a sofa a kept bringing to me all the present ladies one by one. The conversation always started with the question“ When is it going to be?“- the baby - and continued with description of the births of their own babies. In the end I felt like had had mine already. Why didn´t she bring any MEN along?!

 

The 6th of May, 1977, at 11.45 A.M (summer time), in Brussels,

 

under combined efforts of Dr.Boll and mine, and to some extend of Joris, our son DAVID (Zdenek Daniel) was born to us. Measures: 51 cm and 3.36 kg

 

To listen to a concert on the radio and to watch my son David to make funny faces in his sleep, is my favourite preoccupation now. I am a brand new mother and I am profoundly enjoying this greatest miracles of all miracles, which though it has happened billions of time to billions of women, is quite unique to me.

But to begin at the beginning. On Thursday, the 5^th of May, dr. Boll decided, that it was high time for the baby to be born and to induce the birth the following day. The suspicion crossed my mind, that the doctor was loath to having his weekend spoiled, should the baby  come then, but I was not cross with him, as I myself could hardly wait. The very same evening Joris took me to the Elsene public hospital (which I chose above the famous private Edith Cavell, as I was promised a private room - nr.39, lucky number -   and that, and my doctor Boll being present, was all that mattered to me.) Just before leaving, we realised, that we still had not decided on a name. From the girls´ list  we chose Astrid, but  even at this 11^th hour Joris did not really like any of the 10 boys´names. Suddenly he said - what about David? And so David it became.

 Joris stayed a while, very nervous, and when he left I tried to sleep, but in vain - the screaming of the new-borns and pain in the tummy kept me hopelessly awake. After the nurse gave me a sedative I slept blissfully till the start of the hospital day at 5.30. I was very hungry and thirsty, but was denied all food and drink. At 8 o´clock my water broke, which erased all doubts about  dr.Boll´s decision (among other things, he speared me the mess at home). I was taken down to a room outside the operating theatre and given the drip to induce the contractions, but they started almost simultaneously, so maybe naturally, but in quick succession and very strong from the beginning. The prenatal preparation in relaxation and breathing exercises  stood me in good stead, even the silly ditty we had to sing „Ten greens bottles are standing on the fall, if one of them falls, there are only nine...“etc etc. The trick is not to fight the pain, but „go with it“, i.e. not to stiffen and contract the muscles, but loosen up. It needs a strong will and concentration, as it does not really lessen the pain (which feels as if one´s inside are torn by red hot pincers), but it helps not to increase it. Joris arrived at ten, by which time I was not very sociable. At eleven, relaxation or no not, I had enough and asked the nurse to get a move on. She checked and said OK, it is time. Then the worst contractions came, when I could not relax while climbing from the bed onto a stretcher and then onto the operating table“ . As all the women befor me, I thought I would die ... but  did not. Once I was allowed to push, the pain abated. Joris, in a white surgical gown was told to stand behind me and keep my head up, but was not told to let go, when the nurse was pushing it down, when I had to take breath. She was quite rough with me and when I asked for water she nearly smothered me with some wet cotton wool - I felt like Christ on the cross, being offered the sponge soaked with vinegar. Dr. Bill had a brief look, then went to see to a more imminent case. After half an hour, I could hardly breath for thirst, let alone to keep up the rhythm, and there did not seem to be any progress. Finally, the doctor came back and to my utmost chargin announced he would have to use some instrument, not forceps, but some sort of medical „plumber’s help“ (normally a rubber bell on a wooden stick, that is used to extract things from blocked toilets by suction...sorry David!) I felt utterly useless and inferior - a woman incapable to give a natural birth!  - and wanted to give up. But the pain made me to co-operate further. Despite a last minute local anaesthesia, the baby´s head broke through with an excruciating pain ( it has not softened over the years, hey, David?)), followed by a warm fish of the body, the pain disappeared and it was all over. Seconds later, the doctor was showing me my baby, still tied to me by the umbilical cord, announcing proudly: a boy!

Etched only as a dark shape against the  window, he seemed enormous and I could hardly  believe, that he really came out of me. Only when I held him in my arms, still bloodied all over, it sank properly in, that we had a BOY, for whom we both ardently wished, though of course maintaining, as is proper, that  we don´t care, as long as the baby is born healthy and whole. Then Joris´s smiling, happy face came into focus and I was overwhelmed by such an intense feeling of happiness and of tremendous accomplishment, as I had never felt before. David´s first cry soon confirmed, that everything  was as it should be, and as they say,  all previous suffering was completely and utterly forgotten. Of course, I was lucky - my ordeal did not last very long - not even four hours, which is very short as the births go, especially at such „advanced“ age as mine.  For that I had to thank dr. Boll´s drastic, but quick method, (which apparently was his trademark), notwithstanding, that it caused me another sort of agony a week  later, when a nurse read me a long exposé of  David s state of health, ending with the announcement, that  the  suction pressure on his head left behind not only a sort of red tonsure on his skull, but also haemorrhage in the eyes, which will have to be checked, but should disappear within a few days. I had trouble following her rapid French and she left, before I could ask any questions, mainly „Did she say cinq, quince or possibly cent days?!“  (I still have problems with these numbers ...and my distaste for French may have its origin in this incident.) Because, if it was 5, it should have disappeared by now...and does it imply  that he will go blind?!  I started blaming myself for having let myself become so overweight ( though honest to God, I was NOT overeating), as the same nurse explained to me, that the use of the instrument was necessary, because I had developed such high blood pressure, that further effort could have led to a contraction ending up in a cramp, preventing the child get out in time and thus suffocate....The high blood pressure was due to my excessive weight., which was caused by malfunction of the kidneys - most of it was water: within two days I lost 8kg of the 16 gained. My „sin“ was not stopping salt completely, as advised, having underestimated its importance. Be it as it may I spent a couple of dark hours in tears. Luckily, Mark arrived earlier than usual (he comes to see me every day, as he is working in a nearby Military hospital in lieu of the military service) and with his help all was explained. The haemorrhage is normal under the circumstances, will disappear within 15 day, and will not have any adverse effects. But to come back to the 6^th of May .

When both baby and I were bathed and decent enough to face the world, we were taken to my room. David kept whimpering and Joris examined him minutely, raising all kinds of objections:

Head too long (that was also due to the use of the instrument), no hair ( not QUITE true, there was a soft down discernible), not enough chin  ( with no teeth, what can he want!), eyes possibly not big enough (they were tightly shut). He was not even happy with his size, until he found in a book (Dr. Spock´s which I am going to study minutely, not having the faintest idea, what to do with a baby that I now have), that David´s weight almost, and his length exactly correspond to average values given for a new born... I asked him, if he maybe entered David into a competition and put all his money on him - he is a betting man, so far only on horses. Satisfied, he finally left to announce the good news to his parents, but I was not left in peace even then and was subjected to all kinds of examinations, while David fell asleep. Joris came back later with a big bunch of red roses - they were the first flowers I have ever received from him. (Not many followed, either.) He says, he „does not believe in it“ - whatever that means. The proud Grandparents stopped by in the evening - David is the first Couvreur of the next generation. Rests to hope, he WILL make them proud...

I made it just in time to celebrate the Mother´s day on Sunday. A nurse brought flowers. David and I both slept all night and I was allowed to get up and have a proper wash - and so had David. He looks quite human now and is, of course, the most beautiful baby in the world, and will surely be very intelligent, I can tell from his nose...though it does not promise at the moment to become straight like mine. His mouths looks just like Joris´s - good. Eyes dark blue, but that may change, fat soft cheeks the colour of apricot. Legs like a frog, with big feet (already then) and long fingers with perfectly formed nails, at which everybody, who had babies, always marvels. But I never heard an admiration being expressed at the miraculous intricacy of the ears - they had seemed an elaborate works of art. Unfortunately, the plusquamperfectum is the correct tense to use - when he woke up this morning, his ears were rolled into little ice cream cones! They were still soft as the modelling clay, and I tried to put them right again, but my clumsy human hands were not quite up to the original God´s handiwork. I put a lace cap on his head (that my father used to wear as a baby - they were not stupid in those days, though the nurses think I am mad), to prevent further damage. (In the end, I did a quite good job with one, but not with the other. (That´s why, David, your ears are not both the same - or haven´t you noticed?)

Had two unsuccessful attempts at breast feeding. Though my breast would not look bad in the Playboy, David does not seem interested in them. Changed nappies - no problem there. I have him with me in my room all the time, as this hospital is quite old and has not the more modern common room for the babies. It suits me fine.

 

Monday, 9.5.

Our little idyllic world was shattered yesterday afternoon - David was diagnosed with a infantile jaundice, nothing serious, but it meant his removal from my room into an incubator. I can go and visit him, he is lying on his tummy his glass dome, among dozens of other babies, mainly premature ones, sleeping peacefully. All I can do is to stroke his naked back.  I am very sad.

Our friends, Jan and Mieke Grauls came yesterday still in time to see him. Mieke is expecting her second child in June, they have one girl, Siegrid. Jan is Joris´s colleague from his „promotion“, they had been in Bonn, where we visited them, and they us in Prague. (They came to visit us also in  Bern- the people with the „girls“, with whom we went walking in the mountains.)  Joris came four times that day, so worried was he about David. Mother said, she had been afraid of this jaundice coming - judging from the apricot colour of David´s cheeks, that I, in my inexperience, had admired so much. Also dr. Boll came,  „unofficially“ - still his holiday outfit, sunburnt and looking very handsome  - I hardly recognised him without his habitual white gown.

 

Friday,  the 13^th -

but a lucky day for me - I got David back! The past days were rather boring, though I was reading Barchester Towers by Trollope - extremely funny - catching up on my French and doing postnatal excerises. Due to still high blood pressure and albumin I was put on a completely saltless diet - the food tastes absolutely horrible, but I am loosing weight fast.

I had two noble visitors - the countess d´Avernass and Mother´s friend countess Joey, both brought fantastic bouquets. I rather wished that the various communist apparatchiks, from whom I had had to suffer various humiliations at times ( not to speak about  what my parents and grandparents had to endure, but that´s a different story), could see it.

During all that time, I could only see David twice a day and very briefly. All his needs were  taken care of by the staff, all I was allowed to do was to look at him and watch his antics through the glass. He seemed to be growing very fast, though from necessity fed from a bottle, or possibly overfed - Joris was horrified at the size of his tummy, when he once saw him after feeding, and said literally: „At his age  so fat already? You will have to put him on diet...“

So on David´s first week´s birthday we are reunited again. He is already very accomplished: he can yawn,  grasp at fingers with the astonishing strength of all newborns, and  when lying on his tummy, is capable of lifting his head and turn it to the other side, resting on his nose midway - according to Grandpa, this last is very advanced indeed!  I am finally trying to be a real mother, but my son still does not seem to consider breast feeding a very attractive solution of assuaging his hunger. Joris has put aside all his objections at last and finds him „cute“.

He has showed me the form from the Ministry, in which he had to fill our „wishes“ , five al together, for our posting,  that´s coming up around the end of the year. From the available countries he chose already four, but coudn´t think about a fifth. Without much reflection, I said Australia, the reason being, that this was the only country besides England, that I was interested in as a child, because my father had a cousin there, who left CSR in February 1948, straight after the communist takeover. It was a romantic story - he had lived in Trebon and crossed the border  to Austria on skis. There he stayed in a camp and was supposed to emigrate to Argentina, with a whole group of friends, but when Australia made a generous offer, he decided to go there. His other friends went to Argentina. He never managed to return to his homeland till 20 years later, during the brief period of freedom, that followed the „Prague Spring“ 1968, and he has not been able to come back again since. On that visit I missed him, as I was in London at the time, but asked his address from my cousins and we have been exchanging X-mas wishes ever since. He lives in Sydney with his Australian wife. (Sydney, my father told me, means Zdenek, which was his name - another bond with Australia for me.)

Joris said why not and wrote it down. (Of the other four I only remember Iran - we would have been caught in the  Khomeni revolution, had we got that!)

 

Monday, 16.5.

 

Today is the last day in the hospital and I am depressed. Or maybe scared of the „big, bad world“ outside and  of leaving the security of the hospital. Dr. Boll ordered another month of rest, if possible in bed! This seems quite attractive in itself - I do feel very tired even if doing nothing, probably because of lack of  proper sleep - but will mean abusing Mother´s and Father´s kindness even more. I am, of course, very lucky to be able to stay with them, but apart from feeling guilty about it,  Mother has a pessimistic disposition and a rather tragic way of going about things. Having had four children, she has been feeding me with horror stories of everything, that  did or could have gone wrong, and worse, might go wrong. She herself always had a nurse to help her, so I fear, she has no more personal experience with babies than myself. And father has not been feeling too well lately, seems like his old ulcer is waking up, due to too many parties lately.

Apart from that, I had decided to give up breast feeding. David never took to the breast properly, as during his week in the incubator he got accustomed to the bottle and grew too lazy to put in the effort, which breast feeding apparently requires from him. The sessions became a real torture for David, whom the nurse was forcing, quite roughly, to suck, while squeezing my breasts, equally roughly. Also I did not seem to have enough milk to satisfy his voracious appetite:  as long as the nourishment was coming out of the bottle, he was drinking willingly and they were overfeeding him in the incubator. He has been loosing weight, since coming out of it,  so bottles it will be and once again, I am feeling inadequate.

And thirdly, though on the whole I am glad, that David was born in my new home country and  in Brussels, as it has created a sentimental link with this otherwise alien city, I feel a great nostalgia for my own Prague and feel very sad at not being able to share the happy moments, and David, with my family and friends, and also for the fact, that my parents did not live to see their grandchild. So I cry and daydream a lot.

But everybody is saying, what a beautiful baby David is, so that cheers me up again. 10 days old today...

 

Wednesday, 18.5.

According to the calculations, it was only yesterday that David was to be born, but instead it was the day of „homecoming“,  at least to Granny´s and Grandpa´s place. Before leaving the hospital, I was assured, that David´s eyes are absolutely OK, so great relief. I felt a bit sad at the prospect of not seeing dr. Boll daily, he has become rather special to me, through this momentous event in my life, at which he was, in a way, a protagonist.  Joris fetched us in the car and all the (short) ride to Kindermansstraat I was terrified we would have an accident, and I realised, that as of this moment, I shall probably never stop worrying...(It has not been as bad as I imagined, but the thought „ I hope they are OK“  has always been at the back of mind, and often in front, whenever you boys were out of my sight - so understand, that I get upset even now, when I do not get answers to e-mails....)

 All was ready in the guest room (where Daddy sleeps now when in Brussels), including the steriliser, a row bottles and a stack of disposable nappies - one of the best inventions of mankind, as far as I am concerned. I  could washed my hair at last - bliss!

Today, the Breitensteins came to see us for a day all the way from Amsterdam and brought more presents: a white embroidered christening robe over a100 years old (you were both christened in it), and an antique silver rattle on a ivory ring (The ring got broken by one you, cannot remember which, but the silver ball should be somewhere among my things).

We had champagne with lunch. They assumed the role of the missing pair of grandparents.

David seems for ever hungry, but it is quite a struggle to get the teat into his mouth - I miss a third hand, or at least the long lost monkey tail - as my mother´s mother used to say, it was a great evolutionary mistake, at least in case of women -  and does not seem to relish his morning bath, so he screams quite a lot. Mother has christened him „ an orange in a black wig“! The weather is lovely, we are spending many hours in the garden.

 

Tuesday, 31.5.

Last week Uncle Walter came for lunch and also  Aunt Denise, his and Father´s cousin. The apparently do not get  on too well, but Mother said she was not having them separately, as was the custom before, with all she has on her hands these days (us). But it went well, Uncle Walter never stopped telling jokes and seemed to arrive a bit tipsy. He has given us  a super, big red  wooden a play pen - well done, for a bachelor!

David is putting on weight, and seems to be growing some hair. Though he does not  yet see in the proper sense, he seems to be looking at the world with great interest and having profound thoughts about it, while making very funny faces.

 

Monday, 6.5.

David is a month old, weighs over 5kg and at the present rate will soon reach 60cm! The paediatrician thinks he is exceptionally big for his age. Maybe we should have called him Goliath...We marked the occasion by our first social outing - a cocktail given by Joris´s Maitre de Stage ( the function Daddy had from 2000 to 2003, when we were in Brussels after Belgrade). I found a dress I fitted in!

On Friday we celebrated Joris´s birthday with a moderately festive lunch. He is too involved with the preparations for his exams to be much fun - has stopped drinking even beer!

 First out with David in the pram - a nice experience - passers-by peeping inside and asking  a girl or a boy? I felt very proud.

Sunday, 12.6.

Yesterday David and I finally moved to our flat, quite an upheaval, an incredeble ammount of our stuff somehow accumulated in the Parents ´apartment. In the evening Joris was baby sitting for the first  time - I went to the theatre de La Monnait with danica. She works for the festival of Flanders, and got free tickets for Béjart´s ballet „Our Faust“. It was great - bits of Goethe´s text and music mainly by Bach´s  Mass in B minor, with Argentina tango´s in between.

Sunday, 19.6.

Life is much harder now that I am on my own. It is Joris these days, who practically lives with his parents, in order to have some peace for his studying, as David spends the evenings mostly screaming. I am almost back to my normal weight and David is 6kg and measures 60cm. My back gave in today.

Saturday a week ago, Mieke Grauls gave birth to a second daughter, Ellen, and we went to Leuven to repay their visit, when David was born.

 

Tuesday, 27.6.

Today the results of the exams, written and oral, were announced, the whole group passed, so celebrations are in order. It is a great relief for Joris, but also for me. He was working terribly hard and was very nervous and worried after each exam. That was not very helpful - it is quite enough for me to cope with my darling new born. But luckily, all seems to be running along normal lines, apart from minor upsets. Bathing has become  fun and the new art of eating mashed fruit with a spoon mastered fairly quickly. David spends most of his waking hours in  Uncle Walter´s play pen, watching the animals and things hanging across it.  (This advice of Mother´s, to put you there from the day 1, turned out to be worth of gold - you spent your day in it - out of way of all possibble harm, even when you started walking, up till  the time you were big enough to climb out of it..)  I nearly forgot - the little yellow Bunny, that Daniel gave him at birth, has become his favourite cuddly animal and he wont be separated from it.

Last week we spent a day a little outside Brussels with the daughter, Jill, of  some Mother´s  friend, at her house with a big garden. She has three children and is very nice.

When the weather is good, I go out every day with David in the pram, which keeps him wonderfully quiet. Usually I walk all the way to the park in the Bois de la Cambre and sit on the lawn near the lake surrounding the „Robinson Island“. It is my favourite outing and I have spent  many  a happy hour there reading or writing letters, while David was sleeping in his pram. Another, nearer spot is a little pond with ducks, behind the Abbey de la Cambre.

David is beginning to sleep longer during the night - bliss! But he still cries a lot in the evening, before the last feed, I try to keep him quiet dancing with him on my arm. . (NOW I know, that I should have fed you, David, when you cried. But  Granny strongly recommended to keep to the time schedule - „otherwise he will turn the night into the day“ and vice versa. She was wrong, I think. When Thomas was born, I fed him whenever he cried - so as not to wake YOU up, and he slept through the night when he was a week old.) It is raining a lot now again and it is cold - does not seem like June - my favourite month - at all.

 

Wednesday.6.7.

Nice and hot weather at last on Sunday, so we undertook a little outing to a Beloeil castle - a small copy of Versailles, about 60km from Brussels. Walked around a lake in a beautiful„French“  park, the air smelled of hay and the birds were singing their hearts out. Lunch in a restaurant in the company of ducks, peacocks and parrots. Last week went out to supper with one Joris´s colleagues,  Baudewijn de la Coute.(?).. and his Italian wife - a countess. He strikingly handsome, she much less so. But of noble birth. (As Danica said, so she can afford to hav a fat arse...)

David  two months today - weighs more then 6 and half kg and measures 64cm - one can almost see him growing. He is very solid and is quite  incredibly strong - where does it all come from, without having done any muscle building?  When he pinches me, it is no laughing matter. Otherwise he is beginning to be a real joy to us - it is great watching him smile, kick and box...I „speak“ Czech to him, the rest of the family English.

Last check at dr. Boll´s, he was pleased to see me slimmed down.

Tonight we went with Mother to Grand Place, to watch Mark in a rehearsal for a giant costumed game of chess - an annual event here. Mark was not a chessman, but dressed as Henry the VII, he was reading out the moves. Nice summer atmosphere, lots of tourists. The real performance is tomorrow, televised.

 

Monday,11.7.

Busy weekend. On Saturday visited Uncle Walter in his impressive ancient „herenhuis“ with „trapgevels“ in Happartstraat, in the old part of Antwerp, where he lives with several cats and a plump housekeeper, called „juffrouw“. We had visited him several times before, every time we came to Brussels from Prague, and always I was impressed by the beauty of the house and its contents - the period furnishings, paintings, rugs, antiques and thousands of books. (Unfortunately, all this has been lost to the Couvreur family through his later marriage to his long time girlfriend and former student, Rezi, who on his death in 1996 inherited and sold/auction  everything. The antique sleigh in Uncle Daniel´s house comes from there, he bought it at the auction. I made a bid for a bronze statue of David - 200 000 bef - but was not successful, though not far bellow the price it was sold for. Aactually, it was lucky,  I don´t know, what we would have done with it, it was huge...) Every lunch with him was a long drawn out event - he was a gourmand and as he was a fast talker, he was an excruciatingly slow eater  On one memorable occasion we were treated to a lunch of oysters. Unfortunately we both loath this slimey delicattesse and had  politely refused to eat it. The first course was quite enough for us, but then we had to sit and watch him eat through not one, but three dozens of the beasts, as he was not wasting any... I was feeling sick  merely from the smell of them...When we told this to the rest of the Couvreurs, they were shocked at our barbarity and complained bitterly, that THEY had never been offered such a treat - and how would THEY have loved it... This time the lunch was delicious and David, to my great relief, took this rather frightening personality of his great uncle like man and did not burst out crying, which I had been afraid of.

On Sunday we briefly visited an impressive medieval castle on top of a rock, Ecaussines-Lalaing, and then another, a baroque one, a delicate  red structure, sitting very prettily on a green lawn in the middle of an „English“ park. We walked around and had lunch in a rose garden. The sun was hot and the smell of grass together with the peeling of the bells from a nearby church transported me right back into the summer days of  holidays long passed, spent cycling in the woods around Trebon with my parents. My father had always made a point of finding a nice sunny spot at lunch time and looking at his watch he would announce: „High noon, gentlemen!“ (There were never any gentlemen, just me and my mother.) Then he quietly relished the midday heat for a few minutes. Often in the afternoon a thunderstorms came and we pedalled for dear life to a nearest shelter. (One such thunderstorm, years after his death, led in a rather tortuous way to my learning Dutch and the consequences there of - but that´s also another story. )

No thunderstorm came this afternoon, but we still ended up in a cosy pub and the beer tasted really good - original Pilsen!

Tomorrow Mother and Father go to England for their annual visit of Joris´s Grandmother. So we shall be without transport and without baby sitting!

 

Wednesday, 27.7.

Last week we had another colleague of Joris and his wife for supper, a very boring couple (can´t remember, who it was now), and the following day was a National holiday - 21^st of July - so poor Joris was at home and had to help clearing up.

We found a new cleaning lady, who is willing to baby sit, so went to see the film „Slap Shot“ with Paul Newman and directed by George Roy Hill (also by him „Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid“, „The Sting“ and „Slaughterhouse 5“. When still in Prague, in 1970, I was working as an interpreter on the set of this last film, which was filmed partially in the CZ, so I knew him personally, and had seen all his  films.)

The weather mainly horrible - June has scored an infamous record: the fewest sunny days since 1883! Also there was no sun at all on 6 consecutive days and 25 days it rained. By the look of it, July will have some bad records as well. Brussels is rather empty of people, which is pleasant, and lots of shops are closed, which is less so.

David  keeps growing and making various little progresses, but evenings are still difficult. (I kept starving you, my little lamb!) He has left the crib and moved into a wooden cot we had bought in Prague. What a job to put it together!

Last Friday in Leuven dinner with the Grauls, David with us. Present also Danica and Guido, who will be leaving for Washington soon, and another couple, the Vermeulens. Nice evening this time. The two new babies cried in unisono in the bedroom.

We are getting ready for our holidays - in England and France. The amount of stuff we - and especially David - seem to need is incredible. First  England, leaving on Friday by plane.

 

Friday, 29.7.

Left Brussels early in the morning and in the rain, but England was sunny and looked very pretty from above -  first time I saw it from a plane. David did not cry once. At Heathrow Mother, Father and Daniel, had lunch there and then journeyed  by car down to West Byfleet, a little village in Surrey, where Joris´s Grandmother lives. She was waiting for us with five o´clock tea all ready. Afterwards Joris, Daniel and I played some tennis with the neighbours, the Cherries.

It is the 4th time that I have been here with Joris. The first time was in summer 1975, when we stopped there on our „funny moon“ trip, i.e. before our wedding later that year (12.12.) in Prague. It was here that I was introduced to his parents and also met Joris´s younger brother Mark for lunch in the Suisse center. After a few days we continued in Great Granny´s old Austin to Wales. Second time was after we were married, we spent Christmas there, and the third last September.

 „Great Granny“ Nevill  (86) is an extremely sweet and wise lady, very much up to date in everything. She took to David, her first great-grandchild, immediately. She had been widowed many years ago and has been living alone (Mother is her only child, and her only brother was killed in WW 1. Strange to consider, that a brother of my paternal grandmother  was also killed, but fighting on the opposite side - in the Austrian army. I hope they did not kill each other...) in her charming country house, built in a Tudor style, down to the smallest details, like metal catches on the doors, windows of small coloured glass panes set in lead, thatched roof, fireplaces etc. Luckily the bathrooms, heating and lighting are of more modern times, though not very efficient. The house is quite big - a hall, a large and a small sitting room, kitchen (where we eat, when it is too cold to eat on the back porch), a scullery ( a place for washing up, meant for a maid and so not very pleasant), coal shed, loo, garage. From the hall an open wooden staircase leads to the upper floor with 5 bedrooms and 1 bathroom. Each bedroom has a fireplace (now bricked in and provided  with an electric heater) and a washbasin ( which is typically English). On the landing stands a   „grandfather“ clock, which chimes loudly every hour. (The one which we now have. Also the „bureau-bookcase“, the „wine cooler“, the two heavy wooden chairs, the silver tea service, the set of pewter jugs and plates, and Daddy´s „Toby jugs“ come from there. Daniel got the „Chinese“ grandfather clock, a corner display cabinet, a carpet and some pictures, Mark the „tall boy“ cupboard, the big carpet in their sitting room, armchairs with sofa in the kitchen and the big sideboard in the dining room, to name just a few of the pieces of furniture there, so you can imagine it a little bit. Granny has got the dining table, the too wooden/upholstery arm chairs, the fire screen, the secretaire. Her Grandfather clock and bureau-bookcase also had come from Great granny place, originally, as well as all the china. I forgot now, what Liz got.) The house is surrounded by a large garden, roses in front and wonderfully green lawn, trees and shrubs in the back. It used to be much bigger - it had a grass tennis court, but part of it had been sold. But it is still big enough. Joris spent most of his school holidays here and he lived with his Granny for a year or two, when his parents were posted to Cuba;  so for him, this  place is home.

Monday, 1.8.

Saturday a shopping expedition (clothes for me) to a nice little town nearby, Sunningdale. Once again I was taken in by the prettiness and charm of the English countryside ( I had lived in England twice before, in 1967 and 1968, both times for 6 months and working as an au-pair, when studying English in Prague.) Yesterday visited some peculiar friends of Great granny - the Dyson-Lorries, whose 2 sons used be childhood friends of Joris and his sister. Their older, unmarried son, most peculiar of them all. Weather hot and beautiful, after a couple of rainy days.

Saturday.6.8.

David 3 months today, measures 65cm, weighs 8kg, is in fact a little too chubby. He is trying to find his mouth with his thumb. Otherwise no special developments, though some progress is made everyday, mostly in his motoric ability.  Smiles and laughs most of waking hours.

Tuesday Joris and I went to London by train, to buy clothes for him, got all he needed, but it was tiring. Inner London is chockerblock with tourists, a lot of them Arabs, who seem to be made of money and are buying everything in sight, if possible by dozens. (Must have been the time of the oil boom.) But London being London, it copes with the crowds quite admirably, thanks mainly to the incredible English politeness and ability to be nice under all circumstances. The cars stop for pedestrians everywhere, not just on zebras, people manage not to collide with the gaping tourists and everybody is all smiles. Even when I practically knocked over an elderly lady, it was she who apologised profusely, for getting in my way, I presume.

Friday another shopping expedition together with Parents and Daniel, to the Surrey capital, Guildford, another very charming place, but much bigger, older and more interesting architecturally and historically (than Sunningdale, not London).  We stayed on in the evening and went to the local, quite famous theatre on the river. We saw a comedy by Noel Coward. Great Granny´s daily, a Mrs. Morris, was helping to babysit  David. A nice day.

 

Tuesday,9.8.

Last day in England. Yesterday in London again, more shopping, but I did not get anything much, all these Arab women pawing and buying everything put me off.

Sunday morning a nice walk with Daniel in the moors. I like this youngest brother-in-law a lot and he seems to like me. Although he is 10 years younger than I, we can talk about a lot of things. In the afternoon another walk, this time with Jorsis and David, along a little river meandering between tree lined banks, very pretty.

Friday,12.8

We left Byfleet, with regret, by car and with Daniel, who will drive the car (parents´big Volvo) back again from Belgium. We drove to Dover and took the ferry to Oostende. The sky was blue and so was the sea, it was a lovely crossing and a long time since the poignant salty smell of  the sea filled my nostrils. We took turns with David in the cabin, lulled to a deep sleep by the gentle (luckily) swell of the Channel, and so two of us could enjoy the sun an air on the deck and watch the proverbial white cliffs of Dover slowly disappear. It was my 7^th crossing and I never cease to enjoy it . (The only drawback are the many vomiting people. Thankfully, I have never been seasick.) In Brussels, it  was raining again.

Two days spent unpacking, washing, ironing, shopping and packing again. Tomorrow we leave for Vittel (where the famous bottled water comes from) in the Vogéze in France (Alsas-Lorraine), where we booked two weeks in ClubMed that provides day care for babies.

 

Sunday, 21.8. - the 9^th anniversary of the Soviet and co. Invasion of Czechoslovakia

 

The holidays turned out rather disastrous. The journey there was nice - we crossed Luxemburg, following the same route as we did with Honza and his 1^st wife Olina in 1969, on our way from Amsterdam to Saarbrucken (that is yet another story). Luxembourg is pretty, hilly and very green, and still maintaining the „chessboard“ of multicoloured fields, which elsewhere in Europe practically disappeared. The meadows were dotted with horses an black and white cows. We had no time to stop in the capital, a pity. It is a dramatically beautiful place, with a deep rocky river valley in the middle, spanned by many tall viaducts and a gothic cathedral perching above it in the middle of a pretty medieval neighbourhood  - the best kept touristic secret. The country towns´ architecture more solid and serious than the lighter Belgium style. We crossed to France in Thionville, which was almost like crossing from the tidiness of West Germany to the neglect of communist Czechoslovakia - ruined barns, shabby houses and a lot of mess. On the other hand, French villages are still real villages, not an extension of cities, like in (Flemish) Belgium or Holland. The weather improved and we kept crossing the river Mosele. Lunch in Nancy, on a beautiful old square, called Stanislaus´s, after a Polish king (I don´t know why), lined with ornate houses with wrought iron gates, and a baroque fountain at each end. (Another completely forgotten bit..If you asked me today, I would say I have never been to Nancy...)

No sooner we  arrived to Vittel, we  learnt of a sudden death of Elvis Presley, which caused a great commotion. It was very tragic, but it was not what spoiled our stay there.

The ClubMed hotel stood in the middle of an extensive and very beautiful English park and the building itself was an old 19^th century „baroque“ style country mansion, or a imitation of it. In any case, it was incredibly grand, with sumptuous halls, supported by Corinthian marble columns, hung with enormous crystal chandeliers and furnished with  period furniture. Quite breathtaking. We were allotted our room, but had to wait till after lunch to take possession of it. And the lunch was quite something. As we entered we were bowled over by the sight of the buffet table, laden with innumerable dishes of delicatessen such as juicy slices of roast beef, salamis, paté chicken, ham and fish, giant shrims and all kinds salads + eggs, olives and whatnots. Without stopping to think, we piled all we could on our plates, I, having been brought up on the communist scarcity of everything, driven by fear, that later all would be gone, and Joris possibly by my rather skimpy cooking in the past few months. Because of our greed we neglected to learn the seating system - one was supposed to be civilised and first find an empty seat and turn the glasses upside down, to show the place was taken. As a result, we were chased several times from the seats we took and which were somebody else´s. Moreover, we stuffed ourselves with what turned out to be mere hors d´oevres and could not sample anything of the warm main course, tucked away in corners, or taste the delectable French cheeses and many delicious desserts, that miraculously appeared afterwards. Only managed to take with us some fruit  „for later“. In order to develop some appetite for supper, we went to have a swim. I have not yet swum once this year, so after donning my new bikini  (having slimmed down enough to wear them) I eagerly ran to the pool, only to slip on the wet tiles and suffer an ignominious, and very hard, fall. The shock and the sharp pain in the small of my back reduced me to tears. Moreover I cut open my elbow, and spurted blood all over the white tennis shorts of Joris, who gallantly came to the rescue. Because of the gaping cut we rushed to the hospital. Nothing broken, but I had to had stitches and a tetanus shot. Which meant no swimming and no fish, eggs ham and especially no alcohol for three days - and wine, any amount, was free at table! I would have said to hell with it, but Joris was scrupulously seeing to it, that I obey orders and stick to the famous mineral water... (On the 15^th of August - the Assumption - the hotel organised a grandiose  feast - and me still on the wagon!  A real torture!)

The next day we put David in the nursery, where he was supposed stay every day, so we could enjoy sports etc. But I was disabled for the time being and Joris was prevented from playing tennis by persistent showers. He only managed a few games during the whole stay and some table tennis. When I felt better and undertook several bicycle trips, but it took a while to find some nice routes, like one of 15km up and down a hilly, wooded countryside, dotted by meadows and fields. On top the highest hill I came to a village with a church in the middle. It looked quite poor, but had flowers in every window. Nice view.

As we could not do  much sport in the Club ( I only managed some yoga and every late afternoon we went with David for a walk in the park), and as the weather continued bad, on Saturday we took the car and David and drove to visit my Aunt Alena and cousin Hana in Basel, whom I had not seen for 9 years - they both emigrated in 1968, (but are no relation to each other: Alena is a cousin of my Father and sister of zhe uncle in Australia, and Hana is a daughter of my mother´s sister Helena, who herself emigrated to Canada with her younger child, Michal.) The visit was nice but too short, it was further, than we had bargained for. On the way back  the sun was shining and we enjoyed driving through the lovely Alsas. The meadows were full of flowers (no cows eating them!) and the villages pretty and prosperous, each with a bigger or smaller ruin of some kind. Especially pretty was a medieval place called Luxeuill, built from red sandstone, with arcaded streets and lots of churches. Blue mountains on the horizon. In Vittel, rain again!

The stitches came out the Thursday before - a 2 hours wait for a 5min“operation“, just when the sun came out of the clouds, and on Sunday I could finally start swimming. Around the pool, there were many topless ladies (a  shocking sight to me in THOSE days!), and among the bushes further away even some nude sunbathers (would be still shocking even these days in place like this, I suppose).

For this second week I was planning a lot of sport activities for every day - swimming, jazz gymnastic, archery, some more bicycle and yoga. However I only managed one day of this ambitious programme. David caught diarrhoea (I told you so, said Mother) and a cold, and I developed  a nasty flu, so we spent a couple of day together in the room. What a holiday - and at  what price! 

The last Saturday we went by car to the Vogéze, a nice place, but nor David or I were feeling too good.  (We never set foot in the Clubmed again, though, strictly speaking, it was not their fault.)

 

Sunday, 4.9.

David was stayed sick for almost  a week. His doctor away on holidays ( I do not like him anyway), so I took him the hospital, to see the lady doctor, who look after him there. She immediately noticed, what I have been worrying about for some time, and what the paediatrician refused to take seriously - namely, that David´s left foot keeps turning inward. She immediately made an appointment with an orthopaedist for next week. Otherwise all is OK, only David is much bigger than he should be, but that´s not really a problem, seeing the size of his father and uncles.

Today I felt well enough to drive out and continue to explore the castles of Vallonie (with Father. Mother is still in England). We drove through Namen and then through a lovely wooded valley along the river Meuze towards Dinant, before which we turned off to visit a little chateau d´Annevoie, or more precisely its park with its ingenious system of fountains and waterfalls, fed from four natural springs. Two of these, on top of the hill, feed a canal   365 m  long and 7 m wide and lined with 52 trees and 4  statues  - guess, what it is meant to represent.. We were surprised, that here, in the heart of the French speaking Belgium, all signs were in both languages, the guide and everybody else spoke perfect Dutch (Nothing new under the sun, he, David? And do you know of this park? It was in private hands then, and the entrance restricted.)

We continued to Dinnant, passing through a narrow gap between two tall rocks and twisted our necks, trying to get a glimpse of the citadel on top of the cliff. We did not stop, the place was very crowded. The valley grew wider and suddenly a mighty silvery grey castle appeared before us on a green lawn. It was round, and had 5 rounded  towers with slate roofs along its perimeter. In the courtyard an enormous old linden tree. I sat there and fed David, while the men went inside. (I do not mention the name of this castle - what could it be???)

 

Tuesday,6.9

David  4 months today and his thumb found its way to his mouth - it keeps him  wonderfully quiet. He holds onto the bottle, when I feed him, and catches the rings hanging across the play pen. Bad news is, that his foot is in plaster - up to the knee, poor darling. It makes bathing a problem, but otherwise he doesn´t seem to mind. (Maybe this is at root of the problem of your shorter leg?)

In the afternoon we met for coffee in a hotel on the Chausée d´  Alsemberg with an English couple, Dorothy and George Chandlers. He was a librarian at Oxford. They came to Prague once and I was his interpreter. They were very friendly and we kept in touch. Later he became the head of the National Library in Canberra, where they now live. They are in Brussels on an international congress. They gave David a Koala bear, a stuffed one, of course.

 

Monday,12.9.

Nice weather and we and father went to fetch Mother at Oostende. On the way visited another castle, in Flanders this time: Ooidonk. The style quite different, so called Spanish renaisance“:  built from tiny red bricks and adorned with dozens of little gables, towers and spires. At the back of the courtyard two mighty half-round towers with trapgevels. The whole surrounded by a water ditch with still functioning draw bridge. Nice park. Had lunch on the seashore, hiding from the wind among the dunes, then went for a walk on the beach. It was ebb and the wet sand was hard enough to take the weight of the pram (and David). The barking of dogs mixed with the rather sad screeching of the sea gulls. The sea was stripey - brown, green, blue, with white crests of the waves in between.  A group of sailing boats was slowly disappearing in the curvature of the sea surface - the earth must be round! People on the were flying colourful kites. Picked up Mother from the ferry and drove home.

 

Friday,16.9.

A few days of Indian summer. Went to a wedding reception of a son of the  count and countess des Enfants d´Avernas - our ambassador in Prague, who gave for us our wedding lunch.(They were both EXTREMELY nice to me, when in Prague.) The reception was at the Royal Golf Club, a very posh  affair. The bride is not of noble birth, but has money, so still a perfect match, says Mother. The guests mainly from the upper ten thousands ( among which we DO NOT belong), but dressed mostly in jeans. I was, therefore, ovedressed - a usual plebeian mistake...

 

Sunday, 18.9.

A big day - the christening of David. According to my wish, it took place in the Abbey  de la Cambre, in a side chapel. I also chose Daniel for the God father, who arrived specially from England. Also present Uncle Walter and my „foster parents“, the Breitensteins from Amsterdam. David wore the splendid christening outfit they gave us. Afterwards coffee, cake and champagne at our place.

 

Friday, 30.9.

After some rainy days  sunny, on Tuesday, so I walked with David once again to the park of the ter Kamerenbos, where I sat at my favourite spot under the trees on the lake bank, near the ferry to the Robinson Island.

On Friday last week we had two couples of Joris´s colleagues for supper.

Yesterday, I organised another cultural outing, we went to see a guest performance of a theatre company from Chichester - Shaw´s „Apple Cart“, in the Royal Flemish Theatre. A witty - what else - political comedy.

 

Monday,29.9.

Autumn arrived with strong winds and rains, but the remaining leaves on the trees are beautifully coloured. All we need is a bit of sun.

 Joris´s sister Elisabeth - Liz - with her son Guillaume (2 years) and husband came to spend the weekend with the parents. She is five years younger than me and I met her for the first time on our way back from England with Joris in 1975, when we stopped by at the d´Abovilles family estate, Kérantré, in Brittany. In September 1976 we spent a week together in Lee Place, where I had a chance to get to know her better. She married  Gérard d´Aboville, a French count, in Stockholm, while the parents were Ambassadors there (sometime before 1975). They live Kérantré,  which is on the  sea shore near Auray. Or to be precise, they live on a nearly  hundred years old sailing yacht, called „Lady Maud“, anchored in a bay on their property. As Gérard has nine brothers and sisters, the mansion cannot accommodate them all. This yacht also provides them with living - recently they hired her out to a film company. Gérard does not believe in having a regular job. They had met in Paris, where Liz was sent to live with some relatives of Gérard to learn French. From her side, it was love at a firs sight (as she told me later) and before the marriage, she went hitch-hiking and camping „round the world“ with him - India, Mexico...

I like Liz, she certainly does not fit the popular image of a countess (always in jeans or other pants) and is good fun. She tells little anecdotes  about herself. My favourite is how, shortly after the wedding, she was taken by Gérard and his parents to be presented to some high born neighbours. There was a crowd, and when they were coming up to greet their host, Gérard wanted to warn Liz, that the lady next to him was not his wife but his mistress. He nudged her in the ribs and whispered: „C´est sa poule.“ Liz, very nervous and not yet well acquainted with the French jargon, made a courtsey and said: „Bon soire, madame La Poule!“ Mother never forgets to mention, that she saw rats, when staying at Kérantré. When we visited, we never made it further then the huge and almost medieval kitchen downstairs. Her parents-in-law we met only later here in Brussels, shortly after David was born. They seemed very nice and quite ordinary. They have about 17 grandchildren already, but Guillaume is the first male grandchild from a son, i.e. first d´Aboville of the next generation, but is by no means being fussed about by his parents. To me, he seemed a sad little chap. Moreover he narrowly escaped death by drowning, when he was just 2 months old.  Gérard was taking somebody´s yacht from Brittany to Spain - one of his sailing-related jobs - when the yacht capsized in a freak wave. There were no lifeboats and they had to swim for dear life in the ice cold water. Luckily, they were spotted in time by some fishermen and fished out. Apparently, Guillaume did not even catch a cold.

On Sunday Uncle Walter and Mark came to lunch at Mother´s. Daniel is back  in England.

Today I  finally met  Viva, the English daughter-in-law of Mother´s countess friend Joey van Linden. She fetched me and David and drove us to their beautiful house in the middle of woods, a little beyond Waterloo. She has a five year old daughter and a two year old son. It was raining, but we had a nice chat over a glass of wine and some tea later. I like her and hope to see some more of her.

 

Thursday, 6.10.

David is five months old, weighs almost 10kg and measures 72 cm. He propels himself around  in the playpen by kicking and thrashing his arms and catches everything within reach. Everything makes him laugh - when he is not hungry. Sleeps from seven to seven, with a little snack at about midnight. Made a first acquaintance with a mirror, tried to shake hands with himself, but got a little shock on touching only the cool surface. The cast was removed yesterday, he now has to sleep in little boots connected with a metal rod - it looks like an instrument of torture but he doesn´t seem to mind.

It has been confirmed, that our posting  will be -  Australia. So I got my wish, but I am now not so sure, that it really WAS my wish. It so far! And we shall not be in Sydney, but in the  inland capital Canberra - I never heard of it! At least they speak English  there „down under“, well sort of. Mother is horrified, she hates the Australian accent. So we are busy planning everything, we are to leave by the end of the year.

 

Thursday, 13.10.

David´s foot seems OK, another check in two weeks. Last Saturday in the theatre again, just Mother and me this time. We saw a comedy by a contemporary English playwright, Alain Ayckbourne, very funny.

The weather has been nice and warm lately. I just came back from Ter Kamerenbos, we spent the whole day there. It is twilight now, David is playing in the playpen and I am waiting for Joris to come home. The cold, misty autumn air still fills my nostrils and I am feeling nostalgic again. Autumn always has this effect on me, wherever I may be. At this season of the shortening days, one begins to appreciate the warmth of a home again, from which one kept fleeing during summer, to enjoy the sun and warmth (hopefully) of summer.  I remember how I used to  walk home through the darkening streets of  Prague - there was a chill in the air and dampness rising from the nearby river. The yellow lights were coming on one by one in the windows of the solid, four or five story houses and I was looking forward to reaching my flat, on the fourth floor, overlooking the river and the panorama of the Castle. I would light the gas stove, (which hissed loudly and was a bit annoying, before I got used to it again, but which warmed the room quickly and efficiently), put on some music and sit for a while in one of the huge, comfortable armchair (the one you have now in your fklat, David) and watch the ever changing and ever beautiful display of colours on the western sky above the Petrin hill. Before I turned the lights on, I would phone my aunt Myška, it was somehow even nicer to chat about the events of the day (mine, she was completely room-bound at that time, but never lost interest in the world)  in the dark. Or I could be returning from a long walk in the autumn woods  into our log cabin in Slapy, where instead of gas, I would light a fire in an open fireplace and stare into equally changing play of flames, with a cigarette and a a glass of wine. The autumn evenings in the „little room“ in Stráz had the added charm of the company of my Uncle and Aunt Šula - we always had lots to talk about. (No TV to stare at, or newspapers to be buried behind, only the cat Pudlenka was purring gently.)

 I love autumn most of all the seasons, it appeals most strongly to my senses. Summer is, of course, wonderful, and I can never get enough of the sun and swimming, but the autumn, with its tranquillity and wonderful colours and with its softly shimmering light in the air gets under my skin and moves me strangely. Winter I really like only in the mountains, where the snow is unsullied,  the frost covered branches make intricate patterns against the blue skies (ideally) and at night the stars twinkle twice as brightly. In the mountains,  even the bad eather, mist and driving winds, are enjoyable, giving one a pleasurable taste of danger. Spring does the least for me, the proverbial awakening of nature leaves me cold, though I appreciate the first warm rays of the sun and the pretty flowers and blossoms. One has to be in love to fully enjoy it, and that cannot always be the case...

 

Tuesday, 18.10.

This October is all that one could wish for  in a perfect autumn. I spend everyday with David in the ter Kamerenbos under the blue skies. Last Friday, Honza and Sonja arrived from Saarbrucken, we talked till 1 in the morning. Saturday afternoon I took them to Brugge (Joris and David stayed at home), which is my favourite town in Belgium. I have been there often, for the first time in May 1971, during my first visit to Belgium. I travelled there in the role of an interpreter for a children choir, which was taking part at a Youth Music festival in Neerpelt. A year before, I was an interpreter at a Amateur Theatre Festival in Hronov (CZ) for a amateur theatre company form Gent. One of the plays performed during the festival was the play „Before the Cock Crows“ by a Slovak  Ivan Bukovcan, which I was translating simultaneously for the Belgian company leader. He was so impressed, that he asked me to translate it into Dutch. Now, by a lucky  coincidence, a few days after the end of the music festival in Neerpelt, the premiere of this play took place in Gent and I was invited to attend it and offered a week stay in Gent as my reward. As I was already in Belgium, it was not too difficult to have my visa extended (I pretended I was sick) and stay behind. The premiere in the Royal Flemish Theatre, though performed by amateurs, was a big cultural event, and Miss translator was afterwards hauled up the stage and given a bouquet. When I had seen all the sight of Gent, an impressive medieval city of grey stone, its main attraction being the mystical gothic triptych „Lammeke God“ by Jan Eyck in the Sint Baavo Cathedral, I remembered my grandmother always enthusing about Brugge, and decided to hitch-hike there. The last car dropped me at a little white  fortress guarding the entrance to  city. From there I walked - as it is only befitting in a medieval place, when no horse or carriage is available - along a twisting street, whose every bent revealed new vistas of pretty gabled houses, till it finally and quite suddenly opened onto a square right out of a fairy tale. It took my breath away. Against the pale blue western sky were etched the many miniature spires of all shapes, with some mighty church towers in the background. From one of them the peeling of the carillon bells suddenly shook the air. I followed the sound and came to another, bigger square. The bells were ringing from the Belfort of the town house. I sat down on a bench in the middle of the square at the foot of some monument and for a whole hour listened to the midday concert of the carillon bells and soaked in the atmosphere of this place, where time stood still. Afterwards, I climbed the many steps up to the top of the Belfort. My heart was nearly bursting, but one doesn´t get to know a city without climbing all its towers and visiting all its churches. I was rewarded by a wonderful view, with the sea in the distance. Down again, I returned to the first square, from where I followed the curves of the main canal, spanned by dozens of bridges - hence the name- which flows slowly, forming picturesque little lakes, disappearing under  tunnels and re-emerging in  pensive courtyards. It finishes its journey in a large lake, the „Minnewater“ - the Lake of Lovers (the whole city, it seems to me, is made for lovers...), on which swans float majestically.

The boats full of tourists, who could afford the treat, were jamming the canals, and as I dallied at one of the pick-up points enviously watching them, one of the guides started chatting with me, and when he learnt, where I came from, offered to take me for a free ride. In exchange I told him the legend of the Czech saint, John of  Nepomuck (Nepomucenius), whose statue stands on one of the bridges, being  the only one of its kind in these northern regions (just like the Michellangelo´s little marble statue of Madonna with the child in one of Brugge´s churches is the only one of his works out of Italy.) The legend has it, that he was a priest and a confessor to the wife of one the Czech kings, who wanted him to divulge, what his wife had confessed. John refused even under torture, and the king had his tongue cut out and his body thrown  into the Moldau from the Charles bridge - where his statue, holding a crucifix, stands to this day, marking the  spot. His body was retrieved and buried in a magnificent silver coffin in the St,Vitus cathedral, within the Prague castle. He later became the saint patron of river faring people and his statue can be found on practically all medieval bridges in Bohemia, Austria and southern Germany.

In the middleages, Brugge was a rich merchant city, as it used to be connected by canals to the sea. However, the port was gradually choked  by shifting sands and the sea trade moved to Antwerp. The fame and prosperity moved away with it and the city froze in time, preserving its ancient character unspoiled for the future admiration of later generation. In modern times „it lives off tourists“. During my next two visits I was able to explore its famous Groeningemuseum of the Flemish Primitives and the museum of the medieval painter Memlinck in an old hospital. The fourth time I discovered the quiet charm of the Bigijnhof - a home to Bigijnen, who were unwed ladies - a sort of nuns without the wows. They lived in tiny „doll houses“ around a green lawn, which in spring are dotted woth daffodils. If they had no means of their own, they earned their living by making lace, for which Brugge is also famous. Some very old ones are still living there.

Now, with Sonja and Honza, we visited the Chapel of Holy blood, a romanesque basilica from the 12^th century under a later, neo-gothic church, built as a shrine to a vial of Christ´s blood, brought here by a Crusader from the Holy land. It is supposed to turn liquid again every Easter. It was also the first time I experienced Brugge in all its dreamy and colourful autumn beauty.

In the evening Joris took us out to one of the hundreds of restaurants in the narrow alleys around the Grand Place, which was all lit up. As it was still warm, people were sitting outside and it was very lively. Sunday more sightseeing - Brussels by daylight and the Atomium.

Today we went to Germany, not to Saarbrucken but to Bonn (the birthplace of Beethoven), to buy our new car, a Mercedes, which has to have some special specifications, according to the Australian strict safety laws. The border crossing lacked the usual nonchalance: because of the recent terrorist attacks in Germany, the check ups were very thorough, especially coming back, as it is Germany´s turn this year at the „Europalia“ in Belgium and there are fears of more attacks. Armed soldiers all over the place!

 

Monday, 24.10.

Thursday at a dinner at Viva´s and her husband´s, and at the weekend, Joris I and David went to  Amsterdam, to say good-bye to the Breitensteins. My old room was exactly as I left it more than 8 years ago and I was overcome by memories of my stay there. On Sunday we were to a concert in a church and to „Smorgesbrot“ lunch in a hotel next to it. Afterwards a little tour along the canals - I had almost forgotten, how pretty Amsterdam was.

 

Tuesday, 1.11.

Last night in our flat.  All of the 100kg, which we are allowed with us in the plane, is packed, the rest goes by ship. Tomorrow we are moving to the  Kindermansstraat again. We shall be leaving for Australia on the 10^th of December. Last Sunday in Antwerps, to say good bye to Uncle Walter. The weather has turned bad again, but never mind, it will be summer in Australia.

 

Sunday, 6.11.

David  is half a year old! He marked the occasion  by turning from his back on his tummy! Had been trying to do it for quite some time. We bought him a funny sort of jumping device - a canvas, sort  of pants like contraption on a long steel spring, which hooks on top of the door. One puts the child in it, so he hangs suspended, just reaching the floor with his tiptoes. As he kicks out, it sends him bouncing up and down. David loves it and can do it for hours. He has not gain much weight this last month - just as well - but  has grown a couple of cm, reaching  3/4 m. Tomorrow off with him to Prague, for 10 days, to show him off to his Czech family and friends. (There is nothing in my diary about this visit and I do not remember anything particular about it, only that a mother of my oldest school friend, with whom we were staying, was babysitting you, while I was running about and having a good time; she never forgot the experience!)

Thursday, 9.12.

Last couple of days in Brussels have gone in a flash and tomorrow D-day. We had few more good-byes - a dinner with the Grauls, a lunch with the d´Avernas, a lunch at the Australian Ambassador´s here, and a dinner with the 1^st secretary. One of the Australian couples present is returning to Canberra soon, Mary and Philip Constable. They promised to look us up, when we arrive.

The parents´ apartment is bursting in the seams - both Mark and Daniel are living there now. Aunt Denise and uncle Walter came for supper, each separately this time, bad luck for Mother!

Now it is good bye to Brussels, Belgium, Europe ... well,  Au revoir, I hope. I wonder what Australia will be like.

 

 

Australian Diary 2, Year 1978

 

January

 

                                                                                                              Sunday, 1.1.78

New Year in a new continent but still not in a new home…

Friday, 6.1.78

David is 8 months old today and he seems to prosper in the land of the antipodes. The heat does not bother him and I let him tan carefully. He is finally growing some blond hair and has mastered more movements  - he rolls over at will and with great speed, you could say he tosses about like a fish out of water. Impossible to leave him alone on my bed even for a split second. Changing his nappy has become quite a struggle. He has become very strong. His big toe found his way into his mouth and his feet became his favourite toys. Sitting up straight is no longer a hazard, and just this week he managed to swing himself from all four into a sitting position. He has not started crawling yet but he moves around efficiently by rolling over and sliding backwards on his tummy; he worked out the principle of a rattle and tests everything for the rattling sound. When in the bath, he splashes so vigorously that I end up wet from head to toe. He chatters al the time – in his own language – and laughs and giggles a lot, and when he is angry, repeats “tatatata” at a great speed and volume. He loves doing “berany berany duc and “paci paci pacičky”  (bumping heads and clapping hands) and grabs everything he sees, especially magazines and books, not to read, but to tear them into bits and eat, if allowed.  The permitted food he eats by spoon and drinks out of a mug. Lately he has been trying to catch flies – a never-ending source of entertainment here in Australia…

Tuesday, 17.1.78

Since the beginning of this year I have been spending most my time looking for a house, driving around with real estate agents. I have been looking in all of the neighbourhoods, so I am getting to know Canberra quite well, but have not found anything suitable yet: all too big, too small, too expensive or too far. Once we almost agreed on one, but another dipl. couple offered more money at the last moment. Another time I was very tempted, as the house was in the Couvreur Street! But it was too modern for our taste and not big enough. I did some research and found out, that the street was indeed named after a relative of Joris: Catharine Couvreur, a wife of  Joris´s distant great uncle, who had lived in London and then settled in Australia. She was a writer and wrote under the pseudonym of Tasma. (She is mentioned in an Almanac “The Women Writers of Australia”, which I have kept somewhere.)

We did buy a car – a small white Datsun. It is officially mine, when I dare drive it – there is not much traffic but one drives on the left here. On Saturday we drove around Canberra and up one of the hills, the Ainsli, and in the evening up another, the Red Hill, in order to have supper in a different restaurant for once. This one was a round, Spanish style building with big windows and spectacular views over Canberra and the surrounding mountains, and it is rightly very popular. David was on his best behaviour – the restaurant provided a high chair form him.

On Sunday we drove some 30km to a Nature reserve Tidbinbilla to see kangaroos, but it was also closed like the ZOO. At least we were told why – because of an absolute ban on making fires, due to an extreme drought of the last days.  Since we arrived, there have been already two serious bush fires, one before X-mas near Sydney and one just now, in the state of Victoria. But even just the drive was worth the effort: undulating ground with golden coloured grasses and dotted here and there by a lone eucalyptus tree surrounded by horses or cattle, grazing in its scarce shadow. Some places were strewn by gigantic boulders, while other were cut deep by rocky streams, nearly dry now, but still providing nourishment to rows of vividly green willow trees in stark contrast to the grey or khaki green of the eucalyptuses, with ever pealing bark hanging down in untidy strips and knobbly branches reaching to heaven as if praying for rain. They are not exactly pretty but their rough stubbornness makes them appealing and attractive in a special way. We drove up the first low mountain belt around Canberra, which at first sight seemed to be covered by spruces, but they turned out to be pines in the outer shape of a spruce: narrow branches growing all the way to the ground. Once on top, we found that the ground didn´t slope down again as is usual, but continued on the same level until next mountain range, at whose foot the Reserve was. On the way back we stopped at the bank of stony river called Paddy´s, in the middle of the pine wood and spent a lazy afternoon there in the company of a big green and red parrot – they are native here. When I saw one in Canberra for the first time, I though it had fled from somebody´s cage…It was very hot, but the water was too low to swim in. Further down this river flows into a bigger one, called Cotter, whose three dams supply Canberra with water, and which in turn is a tributary of the Murumbidgee. We drove back with a thunderstorm on our heels – it burst out, hails and all, just after we got safely home. The thunderstorms are spectacular here, which brings me to the weather in general. Though most of the time it is beautiful, with uniformly blue skies, temperatures between 25°and 30° and the scorching sun alleviated by an almost constant breeze, it is also very changeable: sometimes out of nothing a cold wind brings dark clouds, or a hopelessly overcast and cold morning turns into a hot sunny afternoon. Until now we have only had two full days of rain and Canberra has turned much greener than it was on our arrival.  Despite of Canberra being one big park, there are not many animals around, domestic or wild, except for some birds, the European sparrows, crows, magpies, the local parrots and some blackbird like birds, and of course the very typical Cookaburra – a funny looking and funny sounding “laughing bird”.

We hit a few tennis balls wit Joris, but it is too hot to play. Most of the diplomats are away – this is the main school holiday season here. So I have nothing much to do except for taking care of David, go for walks and read (The Thorn Birds – an Australian saga). And of course looking for a house. Joris says he is very busy and also went to Sydney for a meeting.

Sunday, 21.1.78

Friday we went to our first cocktail here and had to leave David in the care of a girl from a students baby-sitting agency. He did not go to sleep till our return, but was otherwise OK. Who was not so OK was I. Joris announced that the cocktail was practically next door and insisted we walk there. But it was further than he thought, the wind made havoc with my hair and my toe, stung by a bee that afternoon hurt like hell in my narrow pump. This of course did nothing to boost up my already low esteem and nervousness from meeting a bunch of complete strangers who will have nothing better to do than to critically asses the newcomers – just as we used to do in Prague… To be the new one at such a gathering is for me a sort of  exquisite (because of free drinks and delicious titbits) form of torture. According to the diplomatic protocol, or even common rules of social behaviour, the couples can be seen together only arriving or leaving otherwise they have to keep as far away from each other as possible. One has to forget one´s good upbringing and try to simply barge into the conversation of any group that´s at hand, in order to introduce oneself, by name and embassy, but in my case also by “I am the wife of that tall one over there, as Joris had already met at least the males through work. The group in turn mumble their names and embassies or other workplaces (which I forger straight away) and usually continue their talk as if I were not there. So one mumbles, “excuse me” and bumps into another couple or group. When I do manage to start a conversation with some kind soul (invariably on the theme “who are you, where are you from, how long have you been here, how do you like it here etc), before long a friend arrives and one is dropped like a hot cake with an unfinished sentence choking in one’s throat. It is not that people are being impolite, these are just the rules of the game, and once one knows most of the guests, it is fun. We did manage to get friendly with a Scandinavian couple, who invited us to join a Saturday tennis group, playing in turns at various residences. So we went today, I did not distinguish myself much, they all played better than me so I mostly just walked from one corner of the court to the other, losing my services. Still, it was a pleasant afternoon. David had learnt to wave, so he had plenty of people to practice on.

Sunday, 29.1.78

Last Sunday, the 23^rd, David pull himself up in his cot!

Rainy and stormy weekend – the temperature dropped by 17°, to 13°C! In the afternoon the sun came out again and we did a bit of sightseeing. Joris wanted to see the Academy of Science, where he has to go to a conference next week. It looked sort of like a submarine – a hemisphere with round portholes, supported by pillars disappearing in the water of the canal. Further we drove to the Parliament Building – a long low white structure on a green lawn sloping to the lakes, in whose surface it reflects itself prettily. (Nowadays there is new parliament, built after we left and landscaped by our neighbour Jenny´s husband). Across the lake, we saw the grey, pink and green strips of the Anztac Avenue, converging on to the War Museum, as ugly as the war itself. We returned past various architecturally noteworthy embassy residencies, which in this city without a history play the role of palaces elsewhere and are included in the tourists bus tours, the Belgian among them. Canberra has a great variety of trees, plants and flowers– a great many of them imported from Europe.

David has got his first teeth, the two lower incisors! I discovered them on Thursday, when I was feeding him and heard the spoon tinkle against them.

Tuesday, 31.1.78

It is my mother’s birthday – what would she think about her grandson? “He celebrated” yesterday’s Australian National Day by starting to crawl, all of a sudden and very fast. Now I can’t wait for his playpen, as I can’t leave him even for a minute. The “fence from the sofa cushions had become more of a threat than a protection, standing up by it, he could easily tumble over it head first…

The weather cleared and we drove southwest of Canberra, some 40km, to the so-called Lanyon farm. It was built in1833 by convicts. The present buildings dates from1859 and it is a fine example of a typical dwelling of the rich land and cattle owners and of their life style. It is a white, square building, with a green tin roof and surrounded by an open veranda. The house sits in the middle of an extensive, well-kept garden, which borders on green pastures sloping down to the Murrunbidgee River. It is a museum now and exhibits works by the Australian painter Molan –a “naïve artist”. (More about the estate in English is in my Czech written diary, between p.101-2.)

We had a pick-nick lunch in the garden under a tall dry Eucalyptus; the dead trees, though sad, are really quite spectacular: they shed the leaves, the small branches and the untidy dark strips of bark to reveal heir silvery trunk and upwards pointing gnarly branches that sparkle in the in the sun. A flock of white and noisy cockatoos kept us company (apart from the omnipresent flies – the Australian plague).

The way there and back was very pretty, after the rains everything turned freshly green – the hills around Canberra and the more distant mountains, washed of the dust, had taken on a new sheen, and on the pastures white sheep and motley cattle were excitedly running hither and thither, munching the crisp new grass and drinking water from the muddy pools. Occasionally, we saw tree stumps with roots shaped like fantastic animals. The nearby low and rounded hills were silvery green and the more distant mountain ridges, curly with the thick cover of tall eucalyptus, acquired darker and darker hue with the distance. The darkest spots marked the pines – a veritable symphony in green under the clear blue of the sky, along which sailed dirty white clouds…

Then we continued further south and crossed an old bridge that surprisingly had not collapsed under us. Even after the rains, the Murrunbidgee flew lazily among its sandy banks. In the village Tarwa we stopped for ice cream and decided to make a circle, returning by the Tidbinbilla Reserve. It was open this time and we were welcome by a couple of emus at the gate, but we could not spend much time there, it was getting late. The landscape along the way back changed quite dramatically after the rains. A nice day. Tomorrow the school starts.

February

Wednesday, 1.2.78

Today I spent the day in the house of Mr. And Mrs. Chandler; I think I had mentioned that they were an English acquaintance from my interpreting days, who retired here. Now she offered that we could stay at their house in Kambah, one of the outer /newer Canberra suburbs while they were in New Zealand. We have finally found a house and should be moving in in a week. So my lazy holidays have come to an end. I had a good time in this hotel; no housework and no cooking, even if we did get a bit tired of the menu. On the other hand, the evenings in the restaurant provided us with an opportunity to study all kinds of Homo Australian species and their behaviour. The restaurant is quite a popular place, frequented by people of all ages, in couples or more often in groups, including a great number of kids – four children per family is no exception here. Physically, the Australians are fine specimens, though not exactly handsome, they are mostly tall, tanned and slim (this was more than 30 years ago!), despite the huge portions of food  and great quantities of beer they consume (Australia is currently 3^rd in the world in beer consumption; the local product is tasty and cheap).  They are also fond of wine, home produced and good as well. The ladies usually wear long dresses with naked shoulders, while the men are in shorts sleeve shirts and more often than not, in shorts – a peculiar combination…

David is slowly mastering the art of “paci paci” and in his way is trying to repeat the nursery rhyme that goes with it…

Thursday, 9.2.78

Since Saturday we are at the Chandler´s house and the change did us good. The house sits high up on the flank of the Mount Tylor, where the neighbourhood ends, so that the back porch is so private that I can sunbathe naked, feeling like I am all alone in the world. The only movement is the shimmering of the hot air or an occasional flutter of a parrot´s wings.  Apart from their screeching, the silence is so absolute, that it causes me humming in my ears. On the front terrace we can enjoy bloody steaks watching bloody sunsets over the mountain ridge behind a shallow valley. Unfortunately, this paradisiacal existence is coming to an end – tomorrow we are moving to our new home. We had our first lunch with our new ambassador and wife; they are very pleasant and I feel more at ease with them than with the d´Avernas in Prague, perhaps because they do not have any “blue blood” in their veins…

Saturday, 18.2.78

To complicate matters, we had a dinner at an American-Italian couple the Friday before the move, plenty of delicious Italian food but a lack of sleep. And worse, already on Tuesday our first guest to stay with us was arriving: Kenny, a son of Great Granny´s friends in England (the MacDonalds – the lady with the dogs) was arriving from New Zealand. So I was working harder than I would have liked, to have the house more or less in order. Overall it was easy, the house is big, there is room for everything, and the wrappings came off in the garden, so no mess inside. The only drawback was caused by the remaining one of the twin bedroom wardrobes inherited from my parents (the other one is in Krávovna), just as it did when we were moving it to our diplomatic villa in Prague (Na Hřebenkách 41, Praha 5) – the staircase up to the first floor was to low to let it pass. Here, it could not be subjected the same acrobatics as in Prague, where it had been lifted onto the first floor terrace on ropes and then pushed in trough a large window. This house is in the typical English style and has sash windows, through which can enter nothing much bigger than a dog. So it had to go into the guest room in a later built annexe with a French window. We had finally found this house in Griffith, one of the old central neighbourhoods, practically on the border with the most fashionable one, Red Hill, on La Perouse Street 22 (La Perouse was a French navigator and discoverer; just my luck - now I shall have to spell not only my name but also the address…). But it is on a quiet, tree lined street. The house is about 40 years old, which is “antique” in Canberra, and has two storeys, which happens to be common in our street but not so much elsewhere. It is white-washed and has red roof, doors and window frames. In the middle of the grassy front garden towers a huge eucalyptus tree. The back yard in front of the kitchen is divided by a wall from a paved patio with some decorative trees in front of the guestroom. It can be lit at night and we plan to have cocktails there in the summer, to spare our old Persian rugs from spills and cigarette burns…In the back of the garden there are some rose bushes, and we could see the Red Hill, if it were not for an ugly square house obstructing the view. But we do have a nice view from upstairs, over the lush greenery of the old neighbourhoods as far as the Cook´s fountain on the Lake Griffith, and the mountains in the distance.

The house has a kitchen, a dining room, a drawing room and a family room on the ground floor, and three bedrooms on the first. It is heated by gas in bricked-over fireplaces. (Years later a friend sent us a couple of articles about the house, when it was being sold. It has been remodelled since our time and a swimming pool put in the back. The articles are in my diary, attached to p.103. The detailed description of the house as we had it is on p. 104, but I Czech.) I have arranged one of the bedrooms as my study and that´s where I am sitting now, at my father´s desk, enjoying the view and listening to the screeching of the cockatoos in the little park across the street and the twittering of some little birds in the hew tree near the main door. The embassy is about 10 min by car and the Lake about 15 min. Not even a 10min walk along tennis courts and a day care centre takes you to the Manuka shopping centre, not very big but nice and fashionable. Apart from many shops and a supermarket, it has a church, a cinema, restaurants, a beauty salon and a small clinic.

On Tuesday, everything was more or less in place, bar the hundreds of books, and we spent our first night in our new home in our (my parents´, actually) old bed. Another friend of Kenny´s parents, Ruth Conley, drove me and David to meet Kenny at the airport and took care of him during the day. In the evening we all had supper on the red Hill. Kenny left for N.Z. on Thursday.

Tuesday, 21.2.78

On Sunday we spent a lovely day at a barbecue lunch organized by a nice British couple, David and Mary, who have a 2 years old daughter Clara. There were several other couples with children. David was in his collapsible playpen – we had to buy one when staying at the Chandlers´.

Thursday, 23.2.78

This morning, the ambassador´s wife payed me a visit. It went well, except that she refused the coffee and asked for gin and tonic, luckily I had both. She was very sweet with David. Last night we went to see an amateur performance of Puccini´s  La Bohéme. It sounded and looked more like a musical than an opera.

 

Tuesday, 28.2.78

Last Sunday it was us who “starred” in a little “Comedy of Errors”:  we departed, David, his pram and playpen and several bags with David´s stuff and our swimming things, to what Joris had understood was to be a poolside lunch at the house of the chairwoman of the “Welcome to Canberra” committee, a great local lady. We struck our little camp, though there was only another couple and their two sons present. While I was feeding David, the Lady and husband departed, not to prepare lunch, but to have it elsewhere, leaving “the youth” to tend for themselves. Only the two boys took a dip. Finally, we gathered, that the invitations had been for pre-lunch drinks, with no lunch to follow. So we packed up and left, feeling very foolish. Luckily, we refrained from criticising “La Bohéme” – the Lady´s son starred in it…

At least today we did get lunch – Ruth prepared a delicious Indonesian meal for us at her rooms at the Boys´Grammar School, where she is the headmistress.

Yesterday another cocktail, at the Lake hotel, I felt a bit better as I knew a few people.

March

Saturday, 4.3.78

On Thursday I had lunch with four men (Joris included) in the university dining hall, but it did not turn our as exciting as one might have expected. The fact is, that women in Australia are still a sort of second-class citizens, apparently a hang-over from the times of colonisation, when the women who had come here, or rather, were deported, were convicts or prostitutes or both. That the first male colonisers were mostly convicts as well seems to have been conveniently forgotten. (Though it has now become a matter of pride, to trace one´s ancestors to the English prisons, or so I was told). Still, men do not shake hands with women when introduced to them and I quickly learnt to keep my right hand behind my back…Anyway, though treated politely, I was mostly ignored throughout the meal. On the other hand, I was not all that impressed by the company: one seemed to be a homo, another was boring and the third one too full of himself. David was at the Occasional Day Care in Manuka. This is a very useful Canberra speciality, run by the state. It takes care of pre-school children from the age of nearly zero (as long as they are bottle fed, which was David´ case). It was set up right after Canberra was built and became the federal Capital of Australia. The governmental and other employees were relocated here from elsewhere, and therefore had no parents, parents-in-law, siblings or even friends that could take care of their little ones when the need arose. In the early years, it was strictly limited to emergencies – doctor´s visits and such. By this time, the rules have been relaxed and one does not really need a reason. It suffices to call a day or two ahead and “book” one´s child for one of the three 3 hour sessions, for the price of 1 dollar. The toddlers´section, from the age of one year, has an inside and outside section with a sand pit and water games. The teachers are busy playing with the kids or reading to them all the time. And there is a snack of fruits, as well. A wonderful invention! David likes it there; he cries when I leave him, but stops as soon as I am out of sight – I was spying on him from behind the hedge…

On Friday, just when I was in the middle of the first “spring cleaning”, Joris called and said:

 “ You have been honoured by an invitation to a dinner at the Ambassadors´. Actually, it was not as much an invitation as a command – I had to fill in for a lady who had been taken suddenly sick. Joris came back early to supply me with advice, but I was still cleaning – my pride did not let me change my programme for the day; so in the end I was a bit a rushed getting ready. Joris was green with envy that I should have the opportunity to meet a lot of ambassadors, while he had to baby-sit David. I was stressed out, especially because I feared it will be a French evening – the diner was in honour of a Walloon noble couple, who were passing through. Joris advised me to announced immediately to everybody that I was Czech, speak Dutch, but sorry, French not so well. It is also my way of fighting for the Flemish rights – why shouldn´t the French speakers make an effort and speak Dutch for a change? (I followed this advice throughout my diplomatic life, and it worked like a charm; every time I had to introduced myself as Mrs.Couvreur, Belgian Embassy, everybody who had a smattering of French, tried to use it at me. Proclaiming myself a native Czech however, had most of them eulogizing about Prague…). Still, my heart dropped to my shoes, when I saw I was seated next to the count, but luckily, he was fluent in English and we settled happily to a conversation in this “neutral” language. The whole evening went well as most of the guests were Europeans and I was in no way ignored…

 

Tuesday, 7.3.78

On Sunday afternoon I left the “boys” to their siesta and went to see “Gone With the Wind”, for the second time. Why ever did I think it was all about love and happiness, when in fact, it is pure, undiluted tragedy?

David is 10 months old. He measures 84cm and weighs 13kg! I asked the paediatrician, if he isn´t  somewhat overweight, but she said, no, he is just solidly built…He can sit up and sit down on his own volition, walk while holding onto the side of the play pen and stand up a while without holding onto anything. He is getting quite good at playing with the “educational” toys – taking things out and putting them back in and the like. We play a new game – peek-a-bu, when he hides his face behind a scarf and laughs his head off…We put a little gate in the door of his room, so he can crawl freely around. I can see him from my room while writing or ironing. He is outside a lot, in his portable playpen, while I cook or do the laundry. Downstairs he “lives” in his big playpen even though he seems to obey the commands “Don´t touch!” or “Come here!” (“Pocem!) quite reliably. I go shopping to Manuka with him almost everyday and our big pram causes sensation – here the small babies are carried in something called “kangaroo poach” and the bigger ones in push chairs. He loves sitting in the shopping trolley, but has to be watched all the time, as he tends to “steal” anything he can reach. Once he even pinched a few dollars from the cash counter, unfortunately, the cashier noticed…Twice a week I play tennis with other local mothers; there is a fenced in playground and the mothers, who are waiting their turn to play, are watching everybody´s children. This really is an extremely child-friendly place!

Sunday, 12.3.78

Quite a busy week: All last weekend, Joris played in the diplomatic tennis tournament, which is a big event here, with the participation of many worthy locals. The finals, which Joris just had not made, were held on the tennis courts at the US Embassy, one of the biggest and prettiest in Canberra. Afterwards there was a buffet lunch. We met a nice new Finish couple, Marja and Heiko, and I took her on Wednesday to a lunch for “diplomatic wives”, held at a sheep farm near the town of Yass, some 40km outside Canberra. David was in the day care centre; when I arrived to pick him up I called his name from the doorway and he immediately turned and crawled towards me as fast as he could. In the evening a cocktail and on Friday a dinner, which made us nostalgic for Prague (I didn´t mention why).

On Saturday, we had our first guests for dinner – the Chandlers. They stayed till 1.30A.M., and at eight the following morning Dorothy woke me up to thank me…I hardly slept at all, as David developed a fever of nearly 40°C and was crying a lot. The doctor diagnosed an inflammation of the middle ear. He is better after a dose of penicillin, but now I have a cold.

Saturday,18.3.78

On Monday, Joris got the cold and the fever. Jolly! But we were all well enough to accept an invitation by Marjo and Heiko. The men played tennis and we chatted. We stayed for supper. That night a thunderstorm came and made an end to two months of almost uninterrupted nice, hot weather – 30°C during the day and not less than 25°C during the night, which is unusual for Canberra. It had been very dry and the sheep and cattle farmers are not very happy. (The global warming 30 years ago already?) But Canberra has enough water and we can water the lawns to our heart´s content, with the help of sprinkles, so we don´t even get tired…

 

 

 

 

Easter Sunday, 26.3.78

We stayed at home over the Easter holiday, to avoid crowds. Anyway, it was cold and rainy all week and I had a lot of work in the garden – cleaning up after the storm; by the look of the front lawn, half of the gum tree came down. It sheds leaves, branches, nuts and bark all the time, but the wind played havoc with it. Also the roses and hedges needed trimming and lots of unwanted weeds sprung up after the rains. Joris was busy playing tennis. On Friday night Marjo and Heiko came to supper, I made “my” spaghetti. The weather cleared this morning, so we drove out, east of Canberra, where the hills are low and the monotony of the landscape of greyish-green pastures is interrupted by haphazardly placed mossy boulders and a variety of lone gum trees. When we arrived, I thought there were only two kinds of them. Now I know there are several hundred varieties. At places, the grass grew in silvery tuffs, all inclined in the same direction under the wind; it looked as if hundreds of porcupines were grazing there…

We were told on many occasions, that Canberra is not Australia and her inhabitants are not Australians. On this outing, we could see why. Already the town of Queensbeyan, only 15km away, has a completely different aspect. It is far less green and tidy and the houses at the outskirts show neglected to the point of falling down any minute. On the way to the next township, Braidwood, we passed several estates; some were pretty and tidy, but most of them looked like gypsy settlements: wooden structures with peeling paint and corrugated iron roofs, surrounded by open verandas and a half built, or possibly half destroyed, sheds, car wrecks and piles of assorted rubbish – wooden planks, metal containers for rain water, broken bits and pieces that might come in handy one day…There were also several burnt down houses with only a chimney standing – witnesses to old bush fires. Braidwood calls itself a “historic” town, meaning it has two “gothic” churches from the 19^th century and a high street lined with old “American West” style houses and sidewalks shaded by roofs supported by wrought iron pillars. Half of the shops were boarded up and the only cared for buildings were the town hall, the post office and the police station. Once we left the town, we also left the “main”, the narrow tarmac road, and turned left to follow a dirt road that Joris was not happy to be driving along. To make things worse, we met with a huge herd of cattle, which did not seem to know which way it was supposed to go, and kept crossing the road in front off us, while a bunch of small, supposedly shepherd, dogs were trying to move them forward. The human Shepherd motioned us to drive trough the herd, but Joris preferred to keep a respectful distance. Suddenly, the cattle turned round and performed something like the famous stampede, heading straight for us. Joris deftly turned the car round and drove away like a hare, obeying the old saying that a cow can´t catch up with a hare…To while away the waiting for the road to become safe again, we ate our lunch – in the car.  The cattle finally did find their way to wherever they were going and we got on our way, down a serpentine and through a thick wood, till we came to the target of our journey – a beautiful valley of Araulen, greener than anything I have seen in Australia so far. It looked like something out of a Swiss calendar, including the cows and the mountains in the background (minus the snowy tops). Only the dwellings were again far from the Swiss (or any other) tidiness. In the garden restaurant of the hotel several long haired and barefoot teenagers and men in the “texas” hats and riding boots were drinking beer. Coffee or tea could not be had. Ragged and filthy children were running about everywhere. We tried to walk a bit, but there were no paths in the meadows and the road was full of dust from passing cars. There was no lack of flies, either. Beauty and squalor hand in hand…Back home in the rain. I tried to make a nice Easter Sunday dinner, but the lamb chops got burnt, while I was putting David to bed.

Thursday, 30.3.78

We spent Easter Monday with the Chandlers, for lack of family – ours and theirs. They seem to be becoming my new set of adoptive parents…The autumn is slowly setting in, in Canberra street by street, depending on the kind of imported trees planted in them. Outside Canberra there is no difference, all stays the same silvery or dark green. Yesterday we had an invitation to a dinner, which was cancelled at the last minute, the hostess was suddenly taken ill. As we had already called a babysitter, we went to a cinema instead, to see the Star Wars. (I liked the film much better, when I saw it for second time some twenty five years later…) Tomorrow we are off to the seaside, at last!

April

Tuesday, 4.4.78

It is April and we have to put on the heating, the house got very cold while we were away. We left Friday after lunch, having packed all morning (we had rented a holiday cottage right on the beach, and we had to bring not only food but also sheets and towels) in sunny weather, by the same road we took the other day to Braidswood. It is called the King´s Road, but there is nothing royal about it, as I said, just a narrow asphalt road, though it goes all the 150km to the coastal town of Batesman Bay (called in honour of Captain Cook´s friend). The vegetation grew progressively thicker and greener and in the last 11km descent to the sea, the road became a serpentine, sharply winding down the mountains overgrown with an impressive forest of tall gum trees, through which we could now and then catch a glimpse of further mountain ranges and even of the sea. The town sprawls around the mouth of the river Clyde. We got to our cottage about four, put the pram together and went for a walk along the sandy beach. There was not a soul in sight, though there were many other holiday cottages along the wide, deep bay, adorned by a couple of rocky islands. The weather was not very nice but I could not forego to have swim. The sea was surprising warm and it was lovely to be able to swim at last. With all the beautiful weather, in Canberra it is not easy to indulge in this sport for lack of water. There is one spot, where it is possible to make a few tempos in a deep pool, but otherwise the river is shallow and rocky. The public swimming pools are too crowded and do not seem very clean. We were rocked to sleep by the sound of waves crushing against the beach and woken up by the patter of rain drops on the roof. It did not look like wanting to stop any time soon, so we drove along the beach to the Turros Head, a pretty, rocky peninsula with sandy beaches, jutting far out into the sea. It rained all day, but on Sunday we woke into a shiny hot morning under the uniformly blue sky. We spent the day happily on the beach, I mostly in the water, swimming or body surfing on the big waves. Towards evening it started to rain again, so we left early.

Monday, 10.4.78

Last week a dinner at the Swedes, who had been posted to Prague. The autumn is progressing, but it is not too cold yet, only very changeable, and it rained all last weekend, to a great annoyance of Joris, who was planning to play tennis. Also the lunch for Mary and David had to be held inside, so more work.

Monday, 17.4.78

All last week we had a lovely Indian summer and Canberra is a riot of colours. I read somewhere, that there are 7 trees for each of the 200 000 inhabitants of Canberra, and most of them imported, hence the colours. I have taken to daily bicycle rides through the town (while Joris is having his lunch break and siesta at home), getting to know it and enjoying the sights. It is very pleasant to bike round the lake, where people from the offices and shops of the nearby Civic Centre are eating their lunches. From the Capitol Hill one a has a nice view and gets a good idea of the town urban plan. The nicest Canberra church is St. Andrew, also only from the 19^th century, but a faithful copy of the English Norman (gothic) style, including stained glass windows and the mystical half-light. And, oh, it was my birthday last Wednesday. No big deal.

 

Wednesday,  26.4.78

Last week we had a dinner at our Italian colleagues with a sympha name of “Martini”. I sat next to the host and had such a lively argument about the pros and cons of socialism, that I hardly managed to eat,; despite his name he was very much pro. I finally gave up the argument in order to at least enjoy the desert, the vanilla cookies – Mrs Martini is Austrian (their cuisine is very similar, if not identical to the Czech one, as in the old days of the Austrian Empire, the cooks used to be Czech…). At the Swedes´ dinner we met a nice Australian couple, Sally and Bob St.John, and invited them on Friday for a drink. Sally gave me our relation´s Tasma´s most famous book, “Uncle Piper of Piper´s Hill”. I read it through the weekend, it is not too bad, similar to Jane Austin novels. (It should still be in my bookcase.)

This past weekend was a memorable one: my “long lost“ uncle Karel Pešina and his Anglo-Australian wife Jean  (“The Uncles”, as David and Thomas used to called them later), came to visit us from Sydney. They arrived Saturday afternoon in their Volkswagen camping mini bus, in which they, ten years ago, had travelled the length of Africa and most of Europe. It was the second part of their journey “around the world”, before they had travelled in Asia (and in Australia, of course), and in both Americas. We had supper in the local French restaurant (too much salt and garlic for my taste.)  Sunday we drove about 30km east of Canberra to a place called Gundarro, to have lunch in a restored typical old Australian restaurant, almost too primitively furnished but with plenty of atmosphere. There was only one menu – corn on the knob, a baked potato and an enormous steak. It was ten times more delicious than the refined French food…Coffee was served in tin mugs and the cake in your hand. There was music and singing, mostly Scottish (or maybe Irish, I can´t tell them apart) folklore, which is the most popular of all imported lores. David loved all this commotion and noise. In the afternoon, Joris disappeared to play tennis and we were looking through my old family albums. On Monday they drove with me and David to Cooma, a small tourist town at the foot of the Snowy Mountains (110km from Canberra), where they used to work and where they met. The uniform gray-green of the landscape was only now and then livened by yellow smudges of poplars trees, which always signalled a human habitation. Cooma is similar to Canberra, but much more lively. Uncle Pešina prepared a barbecue lunch of lamb chops - very tasty- at the bank of the river Murrunbidgee. Cooma was the headquarters of a hydro project that, with the help of dams and underground tunnels, turned the flow of several rivers inland, so that their waters could be used in agriculture instead of flowing uselessly into the sea. “The Uncles” used work on this project. They departed on Tuesday and left us with nice memories. Uncle Pešina is a cousin of my father. His father, Matěj (Mathew), one of the brothers of my Grandfather, was a renowned Prague paediatrician and ironically, and tragically, his own older daughter had died of diphtheria when just three years old. He had another daughter, Alena, who in 1968 emigrated with her younger daughter Karla to Switzerland. Her older daughter, Miška, was married by that time and stayed in Prague. Uncle Karel emigrated twenty years before his sister, in 1948, when the communist took power in CZ, in a dramatic way: with a friend, he skied through the thick woods of South Bohemia, near the town of Třeboň (where the Pešina family comes from), over the border to Austria. He could have easily been shot, but luckily he was not. In the emigrants´ camp (there were many), he took up the offer of going to Australia, which was keen to bring white people to their under-populated country and give them a start, like Switzerland did in 1968 – my cousin Hana benefited from this, while her mother Helena, and brother Michal continued to Canada. Also all the friends of Karel´s had chosen the western direction – South America.

The weather changed and it is very cold: I had to put on boots and a thick jumperfor the first time. Last night we had another family visit, from Joris´s mother´s side this time, related in a very complicated way. They are our age and she is a diplomat…

Sunday, 30. 4.78

This morning we had pre-lunch drinks at Bob and Sally´s, they lent me a pile of Australian books. On Wednesday morning I was taken by my ambassadress (Laura) to the general meeting of the Women International Club (WIC), which is the first step to being admitted. They have many activities of all kinds, it would interesting to be able to join, but there is a long waiting list. Half of the members are Australian, so they leave only when the die… (The WIC has been active also in Belgium, and I have always been a member of their Book Clubs.)

On Thursday night dinner at Austrians with a Czech name Mikl, but no Czech spoken…

I put away the summer clothes, we shall have at least 5 months of cold weather. It gets dark at six. In summer it was after nine.

MAY

Sunday, 7.5.78

An exceptionally cultural week (for Canberra). First we saw an Australian film ”A Picknick At the Hanging Rock”, an excellent but scary movie based on an actual event in 1900 – a mysterious disappearance of a group of school girls. Only one was eventually found, on the verge of death. Extraterrestrial forces were implied – very scary….Then we went to another amateur opera performance in the Canberra theatre, the invitation specified a smoking. This time it was Verdi´s Masked Ball. Not only were the singers mostly on the corpulent side and had no voices to speak of, but the opera was transported into Chicago of 1924….A three hour horror of another kind…The theatre is very pretty, it is a pity there is no home company.

But the highlight of this week was David´s first birthday, yesterday. He managed to blow the candle and sucked on the many birthday cards. More than with the presents themselves, he was thrilled with the wrapping paper that he could tear to pieces – what a lovely sound - and try to eat. Joris bought him a toy train – what else – but David would not let him put it together, he preferred throwing the bits around.  A separate wind-up engine, which whistles as it chugs along, was a bigger success, after he stopped being afraid of it. He can stand alone for quite a while and without wobbling and walks safely when holding onto something, the first steps have no happened yet, but he can climb up the stairs. He has had a third (lower) incisor for some time now but the second one has got lost somewhere. He has become fluent in saying  “ne” (no) and applies it vehemently when he does not want something. He learnt it from me of course, as I keep telling him “no” quite often. Also says mamama and tatatata (for daddy) and kočka (cat) and hafhaf. In the shops, people let me jump the queue and admire his blue eyes (forgetting to add “like Mummy´s…) Lately he only naps in the afternoon.

The weather has been very pleasant, cold nights but during the day blue skies, so the sun warms the air up to 20°C.

Thursday, 11.5.78

Tuesday morning there was an emergency call from the residence – once again there was a last minute cancellation for a diner, this time a couple, so it was “duty calls” for both of us. Still, one of the guests arrived half an hour late, and without his wife. It was the ambassador of Papua New Guiney, very black and very ugly, and who had the honour to be his neighbour at the table – me, of course. Joris got off lightly, as he had the empty chair of the absent wife on one side, so he could concentrate on a rather charming and intellectual Australian divorcee on his other side. I was getting along nicely with my other, Australian, neighbour during the soup, when the “Papua” dug his elbow in my ribs and pointing to my name tag on the table, asked: “And how do you pronounce this?” That was non-starter, as I still can´t pronounce “Couvreur” properly. (And I can´t to this day, 40+ years later, it seems – no one in Belgium ever gets it.)  So I asked him, “What does your name mean?” “A man-eating lizard” he retorted and rolled his eyes. I quizzed him about his country, which before I had not known it existed. When we got to religion, he said he had written a book about it; if I buy it, he would autograph it for me…As I was not quite sure if the empty chair really was meant for his wife, I asked him, if he was married. He shrugged his shoulders and sniggered. At the desert I turned to the Australian again, but soon I heard a loud yawn on my left, so I turned back and said, “I am afraid I do not entertain you enough.” “No, no, “he said, “you have done your best”, and stared at my chest. Luckily, this “flower of diplomacy” left even before coffee was served, saying he had to take care of his wife. My theory though is, that he killed his wife just before the dinner and now he was in a hurry to get rid of the body….My ambassadress thanked me, with a hint of admiration in her voice, for having been able to entertain her difficult guest quite successfully... Yesterday a supper at an English couple home –  we were invited, not standing in for somebody.

This morning the embassy has organized a visit to the Canberra Entomological Institute, where we were told about the problems that Australia has with the cow ding and the measure taken to deal with it. It is no small thing. The cows, as well as all the other domestic animals are not indigenous to the Australian continent and therefore form invasive species. The beetles that in Europe, Africa and other continents consume all the dung and other shit (dung beetles, which in Egypt are known under a more romantic sounding name “scarabs” and were made sacred, not without reason), do not normally live here either. Their distant local relatives only ever had had to clean up after kangaroos and cannot handle the large splashes of cow dung, which is left to become the fertile breeding environment for the fly larvae. Hence Australia is plagued by myriads of flies. The graphic documentary made us a bit sick.  For ten years the institute has been busy importing the dung beetle eggs, cultivating them, breeding them and letting them wild in nature. The institute also breeds the kind of mites that feeds on the kind that feeds on leaves. When a farmer has this problem, they send him a batch of mites-eating mites and problem solved. (The ecological studies has probably found problem with this by now.)  A thought occurred to me: Could it be, that “someone” is manipulating the mankind in the same way as mankind is manipulating the “animalkind”? And we don´t grasp the purpose of this, just as the mites don´t. At the end we were shown a collection of beautiful large butterflies and even larger but less beautiful moths; the latter gave me shivers so that I left quickly.

We have had rains and storms these last three days and the temperature dropped to 5°C. We are leaving to the seaside tomorrow, it is Pentecost.

Thursday, 18.5.78

The weekend was a success, we drove a bit more to the south, to Tuross Head, a narrow, rugged peninsula overgrown with eucalyptus, jutting out between a wide mouth of the river Tuross and a “sea lake”. David woke us early and the sun was shining. We chose one of the many half moon shaped beaches with golden sands, separated from one another by rocky cliffs, against which the ocean´s mighty waves crashed regularly, throwing up spectacular geysers of glittering white foam that no beer would be ashamed of. Nice to look at but it seemed too dangerous, even to me, to dare a swim. The cold wind chased us early back to the motel on the highest point of the peninsula, where we sipped tea and watched the changing colours of the sunset – the tops of the eucalyptus tress turned golden, the sea surface silver and the distant mountains purple. By the time we finished our tea, the trees lost their lustre, the mountains turned blue and then black, throwing their purple hue up in the sky, where a full moon was slowly rising. The next day we found a beach where I finally ventured into the water, it was calmer. Otherwise we sat in the soft sand and watched the rolling waves; it is like watching a fire – a perpetual, ever changing movement. The sea was of a deep blue colour, changing in the waves into transparent aquamarine. We returned in the afternoon by the same road, yet different in the now low standing sun which added depth to the landscape and richness to the colours. The eucalyptus trees don´t seem so uniform any more – if you look closely, they show the same variety as the European trees: they vary in size and shape of their trunks and branches, the aspect of bark, shape, thickness and colour of their leaves, the way they grow, some straight like the Canadian poplars, some twisted like ancient oaks, some fluid like weeping willows…

Sunday, 28.5.78

The Friday a week ago Joris flew to Melbourne for the funeral of Sir Robert Menzies, the most famous Australian Prime Minister to date. The security was extremely high because of the still unexplained bomb explosion in front of a hotel in Sydney, at the beginning of February, during the Commonwealth Conference. This was a first terrorist action in Australia and the tension was great, as Prince Charles assisted as well. Luckily, there were no bombs.

In the meantime, Canberra has lost its motley autumn mantle, apart from the evergreens all trees have lost their leaves and revealed a new view from the upstairs windows – a ridge of mountains to the east of the town. Summer flowers have died or froze to death but there is a host of spring ones (hyacinths, crocuses, daffodils), which apparently got deceived by the still warm weather into believing the spring has come round again.

David is trying to say his name – when he sees himself in the mirror he smiles and waves and says “Dada”, or some such. He can play with a ball, can open everything and is experimenting with free fall – dropping constantly his toys on the floor for mummy to pick up.

Last Friday we gave our first dinner, we were fourteen and it was a success – the guests only started to leave at midnight, which is late for Canberra. The food was prepared by a Danish chef and was tasty (baked pancakes with mushrooms and cheese, tournedos and chocolate mousse), but other preparations took me a week: apart from the general cleaning of the house, the silver had to be polished, the china and glasses washed by hand after the move, the tablecloths and napkins ironed, the tables laid and decorated…One afternoon I spent cleaning up the front garden – after a storm made our huge eucalyptus shed tons of leaves, branches, nuts and strips of bark. That is the trouble with these trees. But lit at night, it looked very decorative and I forgave him for the mess.

On Tuesday before the dinner I went to my first lesson at the Alliance Francaise – on the bicycle, it is about half an hour away. The course had started some time ago, I shall have to catch up. Today we played tennis doubles with the Canadians, even managed to win one set. In the afternoon I sat in the patio, mending some clothes, the sun was quite hot.

Monday, 29.5.78

Yesterday still sunny and warm, so we drove to the Tidbinbilla Nature reserve, were there are supposed to be lots of kangaroos and koala bears, but we only saw some droppings and bleached bones of the first and some discarded hairs of the second, as with the pram we could not walk far enough. But we did see dozens of colourful parrots and rather ugly emu´s, who let themselves be chased by small children; both seemed to have fun.

 

June

 

Saturday, 3.6.78

Since Tuesday we have been having a “quality” weather “made in England”, (or Belgium for that matter):  cold, rain, gale-like winds, low clouds rolling over the mountain tops, so we are celebrating Joris ´s birthday in the (relative) warmth of our home. His birthday coincides with the celebrations of the official Queen Elisabeth´s birthday, and he had to attend a military parade in the morning, bad weather or not, in the best English tradition. Monday is a holiday.

David finally got his fourth tooth and last Saturday made his first steps – only three and half and very shaky, but still…He can stand up without holding on to something. If he is not fighting me, he helps to get dressed and undressed.

On Thursday we had the Australian secretary and her husband of the embassy for drinks; he is of humble origins but looks like film star… The Ambassador is a grass widower at the moment, madame has gone to USA to see their children. He is rumoured to have said. “That´s because I married a rich woman – she goes whenever, wherever and for however long she wants…” This is not Joris ´s problem… (Until the Czechoslovak “Velvet Revolution” in 1986 and the consequent restitutions of property.)

Thursday, 8.6.78

Yesterday a great cultural event: the Australian Ballet of the Sydney Opera performed The Swan Lake in the Canberra theatre. The décor was a bit overdone, but we enjoyed the show.

A quote form one of the Australian books that Sally lent me:

“Australia gets on my nerves: it makes you all the time to want to do something, but there is nothing to do…”  I understand the feeling: the beautiful weather is so inviting, you want to go out and explore, but one soon runs out of options of day trips around Canberra, even in a car. It is surrounded mainly by bush.  Otherwise the distances are enormous and everything is far.  I doubt we shall be able to get to know all of it. But we shall certainly try. One has to consider an Australian well educated who, when I say that I come from Czechoslovakia, says “Ah, that´s where they have communists”, like a Czech would say “Australia? Oh, that´s where they have kangaroos.”

David is 13 months and his walking is progressing, even if he looks like drunken sailor after a year at sea.

Friday, 16.6.78

All week rain and wind, in some parts of New South Wales floods, some places are cut off the world. This is not good, as tomorrow we are embarking on our first big trip by car (our little white Dutsun), to Melbourne and Adelaide, some 4 000km. People say, we should not go, but we want to at least try. Last week our “abandoned” ambassador came for supper and brought a present for David.

Saturday, 17.6.78

The morning dawned clear and sunny, so we set out after all, in the southerly direction to Cooma and beyond, through a rather desolate, hilly and bare country crisscrossed by the rivers Murrunbidgee, Umeralla and many rivulets and creeks, their deeply eroded beds bearing witness to the recent floods. The fine drizzle and mist did nothing to brighten the scene. Only after passing through the village of Nimmitabel, when the road started to go down the slopes of the Great Dividing Range, the vegetation gradually made appearance, the trees got taller and greener, and finally we were driving through the lush green of a eucalyptus forest. In the bends of the winding road we could catch glimpses of the valleys stretching all the way to the sea, now glittering in the sun. At the bottom we entered a pastoral scene – cows, sheep and horses grazing on the vividly green slopes that they had trimmed into a perfect “English lawn”, rivers and creeks lined with willow trees, pretty farm houses – what a contrast with what we had seen before. What struck us most was the tidiness of it all – even the car wrecks at the “car cemetery” were lined up instead of piled up…The name New South Wales seemed suddenly very apt. We reached the seaside town of Merinbula at dusk. (250km)

Sunday, 18.6.78

The splashing of the rain and the roar of the sea made for disturbed sleep and a dismal awaking. We thought of abandoning our trip but were told there was no turning back – the road we had come along was flooded and closed, so we had to continue, willy-nilly. In the next town, called under the circumstances rather ironically Eden (whatever was the place called, where Noah built his Arc?), the police assured us that the road ahead was still passable and that, with a bit of luck, we might make it. The idea of getting cut off ahead and behind in the middle of nowhere was not very appealing, but we had no choice. We skirted the sea shore and passed through various nature reserves and parks, passing many landslides and crossing a number of threateningly swollen rivers, that at places flooded the land up to the tree tops, but luckily had not reach over the bridges. We remembered laughing at the sight of the names of the dried up rivers past summer, but we were not laughing now. The rain oscillated between downpour and the open flood gates. Nevertheless, we made it safely to today´s overnight place, The Lakes Entrance. It even stopped raining and we could go for a walk. Sometime in the afternoon we crossed the border into the Victoria State; covered 230km.

Monday, 19.6.78

The morning was sunny and the news good – the road ahead was open.  We went for a walk on the beach, which was similar to Belgian and Dutch beaches – sand dunes covered with grass. The sea was rough but pretty. We continued along the coast; in the sea, flat, wooded islands were scattered. The road was sometimes flooded, but passable. The countryside flat, with moors and reeds, little woods and sea inlets. We were following the coast in the western direction now and on the northern horizon we could see the southern tips of the Great Divide Range. The towns of Bairnsdale, Sale, Traralgon a Norwell, between which we crossed several rivers on the point of flooding, were industrial and everything but pretty. After Sale we were finally prevented from following the coast and were able to return to it only beyond Waragul, where we left the Princess Highway (connecting Sydney with Adelaide), but the countryside was worth the deviation - another pastoral. The individual gum trees seen from far away often take on a resemblance to any European tree. From the little town of Korrumbura, high up on the crest of the hills, the landscape bellow looked like a maquette. There were showers but the sun kept shining, which resulted in a magnificent rainbow that accompanied us all the way down to the sea shore. We were spending the night on the Philipe Island, connected to the mainland by a bridge. We got there just in time for the famous local nightly spectacle –  hundreds of penguins walking in organized formation out of the sea, to spend the night on the firm land. The moon was spilling silver on the pitch black water of the semicircular bay and the penguins, the smallest specie, looked incredibly sweet as they waddled on to the lit up sand, their short wings spread out, their white breast reflecting the moonshine and their beaks lifted up towards the spectators, not showing any fear, just curiosity. They reminded us of David walking… From our room we could see the lights of the ships anchored for the night, it was all very romantic. (340km)

Tuesday, 20. 6.78

The sky was blue in the morning, except for the horizon, where the sun was still airing its pillows and duvets, which he later hung all over the sky and was coyly peeping through them. We spent the remaining time walking around the peninsula and had lunch of sandwiches (bought in the local bakery) on the grassy head with a view at a rocky islet, a home to seals, they say. We were feeding ourselves, David and the seagulls, and basking in the sun and enjoying the quiet but spectacular beauty around us, before setting out for Melbourne, along a straight road leading through a dull plain boarded on the far north by a misty mountain ridge.

The suburbs of the sprawling industrial town of Dandedong stretched all the 27 km to merge with the suburbs of Melbourne, the traffic thickened, and so did the high wall of smog that often plagues the city. Our hotel sits on the shore of a lake in an eastern suburb of St.Kilda and from our sixth floor room we have a panoramatic view of Melbourne and its high-rise buildings. After six months in the quiet Canberra we were dizzy from the traffic and, like peasants, looked ten times before crossing a street (first right, then left, due to the left hand

driving, still in force, like in England). …(130km)

Wednesday, 21.6.78

Melbourne, like Prague, still also has trams, one yellow and green wagon with two trolleys, one for each direction. We boarded one to go to the City and found it noisy, draughty and cold. After two hours of tortuous walking along the crowded, busy streets, we still did not find anything worth mentioning beauty wise. Melbourne is reminiscent of the uglier parts of London but altogether lacks its charm, apart from the chiming of its very own Big Ben. The few old style houses that escaped demolition cower sadly in the shadow of the mostly hideous high rises. The architect who designed the city centre – a system of alternatively broad and narrow streets, intersecting at right angles, made a mistake of not making them ALL broad… Melbourne lies on the sea shore, but there is no picturesque harbour, nor does the river Yarra Yarra (this is not a typing mistake but one of many aboriginal names like Wagga Wagga etc.) comes to its own, though there is an attractive residential quarter along its banks father out. One nice tourist site was the Como Manor – a white building adorned with wrought iron balconies and surrounded by a vast park in South Yarra. With its period furniture of the last owners, it is quite a little “chateau”, a throw back to the bygone times. It was dark when we arrived to the neoclassical Parliament, but it was nicely lit.

Melbourne was founded in 1835 by Tasmania (an island south of mainland Australia) colonizers, who had bought up the fertile lands and were at first derisively called “squatters”. Eventually, they had got rich and formed the Australian “aristocracy”. They founded the city to challenge Sydney´s role as the seat of government. It was soon recognized and christened after lord Melbourne, the prime minister under king William the IV., and later it became the capital of Australia until the foundation of Canberra. Nowadays it is only the capital of  the State of Victoria. It has about 2 and half millions inhabitants.

Thursday, 22.6.78

Out of today´s 370km, some 250 covered an absolute flat countryside, dotted by cows but nothing else. Only at the town of Geelong we turned back to the sea; the narrow road bit into the steep wooded shore and crossed many ravines, hollowed by lively rivulets. The sun was shining and the sea was bottle green. We had lunch at Apollo Bay, where we left the sea, turned north and started climbing up the mountains. Though only 500m high, it got very cold and everything was covered in dew, though it was high noon. The undergrowth of dense gum tree forest was formed by giant 2m high ferns, which looked more like palms. The highest point was Mount Salina, with a restaurant shrouded in mist. Otherwise no human dwellings in sight. It was already dark when we reached today´s goal – Port Fairy; there was nothing fairy about it. (370km)

Friday, 23.6.78

Rain at night but fair weather for our further drive through unexciting countryside, until we crossed the state border to Southern Australia, where the man planted pine forests constituted a pleasant change. The oldest date from 1926, the youngest from last year. Lunch in Mt. Cambier, a town at the foot of an extinct volcano, with a lake in its crater. The lake is famous for its twice yearly sudden, overnight, change of colour: In winter, that is now, the colour is of greyish blue hue, and in the autumn, it turns sky blue. We couldn´t wait till October, so we had to believe it. In the afternoon we visited a cave, small but exceptionally rich in stalagmites and their counterparts.  After another monotonous drive through flatlands along an incredibly straight road, we crested some hills, passed Lake Elisabeth and ended up in Robe, a seaside resort. The water in the bay was turquoise blue that at the sunset reflected the purple blues of the sky. Beautiful. We spent the night in the “historical” hotel Caledonia from 1858 (in Australia, anything from the last century is “historical”). It had its original furnishing, which though refreshingly quaint after the uniformity of the motels, was on the verge of discomfort. The fire crackled in the cosy dining room, but unfortunately not in the bedroom, and the cosy dining room turned noisy. We were cold and slept badly. (340km)

Saturday, 24.6.78

In the reddish clefts of a rocky promontory outside Robe, the dark blue waters, whipped against it by strong winds, boiled and frosted with white foam. But the rest of the morning was almost unbearably dull – on both sides of the road nothing but brownish purple moors and rows of telegraph poles proving the theory of the perspective. Big wooden letter boxes and sign posts pointing somewhere into the void assured us that there were human dwellings, and presumably humans, somewhere out there. Finally, the sea was in sight again, though only as a long strip squeezed in by a funny looking, long and thin peninsula, called “The Young Husband”. I wondered where the wife was … At Meningie in the Alberta bay, within the Alexandrina Bay, we had lunch in the company of ever-hungry seagulls. Passing through slightly more varied countryside we reached the town of Murray Bridge, where we crossed the greatest Australian river, Murray, known as “Mighty Murray”. It is 2 589 km long and crosses the three states we have driven through (New South Wales, Victoria and Southern Australia). We followed its shallow valley for a while, before joining the highway to Adelaide, leading through an almost Belgian landscape – low hills, copses and green pastures dotted with luxurious villas and stately farmhouses. Adelaide lies in the Bay of St.Vincent and is encircled by a string of mountains. Descending the winding road, we had a lovely first view of the city. Overnight in an old colonial hotel in the centre, full of atmosphere – dark green, red and guild wooden ceilings, scarlet velvet curtains, dimmed old fashioned lights, a maze of narrow corridors and steep staircases – but a nightmare scenario in case of fire…

Sunday, 25.6.78

We spent the whole day walking about Adelaide, which is as lovely as her name (after a princess).  The modern centre, the City, in which exact middle towers the statue of Queen Victoria, has, like Melbourne, streets intersecting at right angles but they are all wide and surrounded by a green belt of parks, woods and gardens, and adorned by statues of the many explores of Australia. To the north of the meandering river Torrens, alive with row boats and waterfowl (like the black swan, native to Australia), lies the old town. The high rises of Adelaide are less tall a less obtrusive than in Melbourne.

The founders of Adelaide first settled in a fishing village of Gleneg in 1836. At present, the city has 900 000 inhabitants and is the capital of Southern Australia. This state never had a penal colony and was meant to a become an exemplary state, a sort of idealised England. The land was sold instead of just occupied, and the money was used to enhance immigration. Nowadays though, it is not very different from the neighbouring states of Victoria and N.S.W.

David cut is fifth tooth, unnoticed by us. Yes, he is still with us and proving to be a prefect travel companion – as soon as we start the car, he falls asleep and only wakes up at stops. Yet, the constant change and exploring of the sights, seem to wear him out so that he sleeps blissfully through nights as well. (330km)

Monday, 26.6.78

The morning brought rain, which showed no signs of stopping. Still we took to the road again, to continue our journey in the northerly direction, and through once again absolutely flat land to Port Augusta. The up till now prevalent pastures were replaced by endless fields stretching their browns of ploughed earth and the greens of wheat far and wide. The trees were scarce and so were the farms. The rain turned into a deluge and every passing lorry splashed us with tons of water, it felt every time as if we drove through a river. However, it soon cleared up and we could see the glistening waters of Spencer´s Bay, in whose arms lay the Port, and further on the low peaks of the Flinders´s Range. It was still early and David was sleeping soundly, so we gave the Port Augusta a miss and headed towards the hills, eager to leave the flatlands behind. But as soon as we entered the first rocky hills overgrown with silvery thorn bushes we encountered an obstacle: the road disappeared under a swollen creek. A driver coming from the opposite direction told us, that there were two more flooded spots, and deeper. He did not think that our little Dutsan could make it through. So, with regret, we turned back, apologized to Augusta and spent the night there. The little port forgave us our original omission and presented us with a spectacular sunset that was throwing purple golden hues at the slopes of the Flinder´s Range, which will have to remain unexplored.

 

 

 

Tuesday, 27.6.78

After another night of heavy rain, we woke up in to a sunny morning. Still heading north, we skirted the lower but steep slopes of the Range and crossed without a mishap a few flooded bits of the road. It was very pretty there but soon we found ourselves, once again, in the middle of a uniform flat. Not for nothing is Australia the flattest of all continents.  Heading south now (inversely, it was getting colder), we finally crossed another low range of hills and, at the town of Clare, we entered the famous wine growing region of Australia, the Barossa Valley, which is also renown for its prettiness. The wine industry here had been founded by Germans settlers, whose descendants continue in their tradition till the present day. The local names are all German. As Joris does not drink wine, we skipped the local popular pastime of wine tasting – a pity. Another beautiful sunset, gilding the ring of hills. (350km)

Wednesday, 28.6.

Another day of driving through inhospitable semi desert threwn with stones. Every now then, we passed irrigated areas, which, like oases, grew orange and lemon trees, whose ripe fruits shone orange and yellow amid the green leaves. The grapes had already been harvested and the reddish field were ready to receive next year´s crops. We followed closely the river Murray, even crossed it three times and had lunch, where it had flooded and drown to death a  wood of gum trees – their bare trunks and branches were very spooky. Reached Mildura at dusk. (360km)

Thursday, 29.6.78

Today was the longest and most monotonous drive of all – more of the prickly semi-desert and absolutely straight road. Here and there a square of a reddish field, torn out of the stony ground, a few heads of “lost” cattle and some dwarf gums that looked like umbrellas turned upside down by wind. Occasionally, a truck appeared, like a camel in a desert. 150km and only two towns, surrounded by orange groves and win yards, thanks to irrigation. Instead of the Murray, we were now crossing our old acquaintance, the Murrunbidgee river. After the second town absolutely nothing until we reached our next stop for the night, Narranderra, into which we drove through the arch of a rainbow. (450km)

Friday, 30.6.78

This last but one day we drove through fertile lands, dotted with prosperous white farms, fit horses and fat cows, under the light blue skies. All very idyllic, but it proved almost impossible to find a patch of grass free of the barbed wire (made in Belgium), where we could have our picnic. We reached our destination for the night, Cootamundru, in the early afternoon (150km)

 

July

 Saturday, 1.7.78

 

The last leg of our epic trip was again short but seemed the most tiring, despite the perfectly sunny weather. We were crossing a rugged mountain ridge whose slopes were covered by enormous boulders and twisted gum trees, and its tops, though not very high, were lost in the mist. The narrow road twisted up and down, which in itself was a pleasant change after the endless plains, but it was full of deep holes and ruts, making the driving difficult and dangerous. When we reached the Melbourne-Sydney highway at Gundagai, we got stuck for a long while behind a wide long trailer, impossible to overtake; though a highway, it had only one lane each way. We could see Canberra from a long way off but it took ages to reach it. Still, we arrived home at 1PM. (150km)

Joris brought me a lot of letters from the embassy (those were still the days of letter writing), so I had a happy afternoon reading them. David seemed more upset by being back home than by the whole journey. It might seem paradoxical but he had improved his walking a lot and is running all over the garden, getting used to his first pair of shoes (later inherited, by Thomas, though they were much too big for him at first. Later still, I had them covered in bronze and the boys have one each.)  Overall, he was a very good boy indeed, saying brum brum when put in the car.

We were impressed by the quality of the motels, they are everywhere, have cooking facilities in all rooms, provide cots and high chairs for children and are nice and clean. Also the roads are overall in good condition though quite narrow, which does not matter much, as the traffic is mostly light even in the most densely populated part of Australia – the so called “boomenrang” belt following the coast between Sydney and Adelaide, which is still rather empty, compared to Europe. Highways can be found only in the vicinity of big cities. The character of the countryside changes abruptly and apart from the endless plains is quite varied. Despite the occasional disorder, the country seems very clean.

Sunday, 23.7.78

After several days of horrid rainy weather, the sun is back ad I had busy two weeks, first either having people for lunch (the Belgian honorary consuls from Sydney, Melbourne and Perth) and several lady friends for coffee, or going out visiting other friends. Our neighbour, Jenny, invited me over with David, she has three children: Savo, 5, Katarina, 3 and Petar, 17 months. David is bigger than the two younger ones. Jenny´s husband, Savo, is a Serb, who fled from the Communist Yugoslavia. I continue my French lessons in the local Alliance Francaise, while David is getting used again to the “Occasional Care”. Last week we had several invitations for dinners and cocktails, a.o. for the local Belgian community at the Residence, which was very boring – the guests did not know when to leave.

At their monthly meeting, I have become a member of the WIC – I have joined the tennis and the French conversation groups.

Wednesday, 26.7.78

We organized our second dinner, with our ambassadors as the guests of honour. All went well. Lately, it is freezing at nights and the mountains around Canberra are covered with snow – a pretty sight. Also, accordingly to their name, the Snowy mountains have plenty of snow and everybody is going skiing at the weekends, the road there is apparently chocker block. How I wish I could go as well, but with David and not skiing Joris I have no chance. There is even a snow calamity in some places that we had visited – it seems we were lucky making the journey between the floods and snowdrifts.

I took David to a play group, he did not play much with the other children and seemed the most independent of them all, not hanging onto his mother´s skirts but exploring the new grounds, bravely but also carefully: when he sees a different surface, drops to all four and tests it by hands, before walking on it.

The dinner at the South African colleague, turned out quite peculiar for me. We arrived last and I had to shake hands twice with each of the four men present, because the Australian I shook hands with last, exclaimed: “What a firm grip!” and the others wanted to test it again. Then the hostess, who, I thought was some ten years older than me, said I looked exactly like her sister, and to add insult to injury, mentioned that the sister was older than she…I felt like throwing her into the open fire. My neighbour at table was the aforementioned Australian, a well-built middle aged specimen. He opened the conversation with: “If your surname means ´full of curves´, then it is very appropriate…” I explained that no, that in French Couvreur means something like thacher. He seemed disappointed but continued: “Your eyes are beautiful, your nose narrow and hooked, your moth small – how many fillings do you have?” At the same time, he squeezed my upper arm, saying “good muscles”. So I asked him, if he was thinking of buying me. He apologised, nevertheless continued in the same vein. To top it all, his wife was sitting opposite us, and I was only hoping, that this is his usual style and she is used to it. It was a bit like a bad dream, even though not altogether unpleasant: I had not experienced a similar “come on” approach since my interpreting days, when I was used to it, and I lost the ability to deal with it. It might have been fun, except that I had become such a matron, that I prefer to talk about the weather. Not that I mind an admirer, I am a woman after all, but he was a bit too brazen for comfort. Being out of ear shot, Joris seemed to like him.

Finally, we have placed an ad for a domestic help. I would rather “go it alone”, but the social life is picking up and David demands more and more attention. And my father–in-law will be coming to visit us for two months. There were phone calls all day yesterday, I have invited five to come for an interview and I am dreading it – that is one thing that the communist society had not prepared me for.

 

August

Saturday, 5.8.78

After two days of interviews I have finally settled for a young student, Suzan. All the others were much older than me and knowing myself, I would not dare to give them orders.

The Canberra social season seems to be in full swing, Joris brings home an invitation almost every day. Bad luck that both David and I have a cold. Still, we went to the Irish ambassador´s, on Thursday, who was telling long “funny” stories that nobody understood. One of my neighbours, a Maltese, did not say a word, but the other one was an nice Greek, who had been posted to Prague. His wife amused the whole table wondering loudly, why on earth would Cristina Onassis had married a Soviet citizen and went to live with him and his mother in a two and half room flat in Siberia.

Monday, 28.8.78

And so the August evenings were spent mainly partying, which was sometimes fun and sometimes not, depending also on the state of my health, the persistent cold and coughs would not go away. One evening we hosted a fondue bourguignonne supper for our embassy employees and several friends.

I played my first doubles with the WIC group, and did not really distinguished myself, despite taking lessons at the nearby court, with a coach, that used to train important players but now seems to be reduced to training hopeless women like me. Most of the time he uses a balls shooting canon, while he discusses the boobs of his other pupils. I don´t think I shall become his favourite in that respect.

Suzan seems OK so far, but “a new broom sweeps best”.  David is well into his 16^th month and the feeding times have become a bit of a fight – he seems to resist being fed, but can´t manage the spoon. He loves bananas but not much else. He measures about 85cm, no idea how much he weights, but he lost some weight, as he was not eating well when he had the cold. The other day I heard a loud boom and found him on the floor next to his cot, where he was taking his afternoon nap. Luckily, he was unhurt, he had been practicing falling from armchairs, but how he managed to fall out of the cot (still borrowed from the hotel we had stayed in in the beginning), whose sides reach up to his armpits when he stands in it, is a mystery. Probably managed to hook his toes in the netting. So now he sleeps in the wooden cot from Prague, hopefully he will not bang his head against it too much.

Last Saturday we went to see a play by an Australia playwright David Williamson, performed by an amateur company Nimrod. It was rather vulgar (lots of four letter words) but quite funny. 

In the meantime, the spring has been slowly sneaking into Canberra; the city is yellow from mimosas blossoms and before that, some sweet cherry trees softened the still harsh cold with their pink blossoms. The sun of the last days is opening the leaves and other buds  and, surprise, we have beautiful red and white camellia bushes in the front garden; I did not recognize them just by their leaves. Shall I become The Lady with Camellias?  Also the roses that I had pruned, are showing signs of live. With the warm weather I have become a keen gardener, weeding, trimming hedges and hydrangeas, sweeping dead leaves from under our eucalyptus…I have even built a wooden fence to keep David out of a dangerous place in the back yard…All this while Joris is playing tennis. There is an industrial dispute going on the telecommunication sector, no trunk calls are possible. It is also a spring holiday time, so all activities (except skiing) have stopped. The relations with my neighbour Jenny are prospering, the kids are getting along well with David, so I hope we shall be invited to the pool when their summers comes.

Monday, 4.9.78

The dinner we gave last Friday was a disaster. Serves us right for abandoning the Danish cook for a cheaper but unknown lady and her daughters, who did not do a bad job of the cooking, but had no idea how to serve or dress for the occasion – the waiter, whom she promised to bring along had been laid up wit a flue, or so she said. The guests arrived late but all together, which flustered both her and me. The introductions and the pre-dinner drinks were a mess.

As she omitted to serve the main course and the desert twice, which is customary, the dinner was over too quickly and the guests left too early, after a shamefully weak coffee and after the cook came into the salon to take her leave. No more of her that´s for sure.

Saturday was so warm and sunny that I could sunbathe in bikinis in the garden and forget about the bad experience. The cherry-like trees in our street bloomed overnight and gave out an intoxicating smell.

On Sunday we drove to the Snowy Mountains, which rise some 60km beyond the town of Cooma and whose white tops we could only admire from the shore of an artificial lake behind a huge dam near  Jindabyne, some 30km from the snowline. We settled down on the grassy slope to have our picnic, when suddenly we saw a herd of young bulls. Quickly, we had to restrain David, who thought they were just nice big dogs, from running towards them. Luckily,  I had him on the leash, as always. Only then we noticed a warning sign…We packed up quickly and found another spot in a charming valley with a gurgling brook at the bottom. Drive back under a pelting rain and it is still raining now. The cherry blossoms suffer but otherwise it is good, August was the driest month in 20 years.

 

Wednesday, 6.9.78

David is 16 months today, how the time flies.  He is still a difficult eater, very choosy (meat and veggies are an absolute no no), but weighs 14kg and an outfit for the age 3 is not really too big for him. In a week he got two new lower teeth, now 8 altogether. He has gained confidence in walking and running and only falls down when he stumbles over an obstacle. A few times he walked with me as far as the shopping centre in Manuka (about 1 km), pushing his pram.  He has mastered walking down the stairs and getting down from furniture – no longer head first. Enjoys whirling round like a dervish and doing somersaults, throws and catches the ball and makes attempts at dressing himself and at tidying his toys. Also likes to barter – whenever I give him something, he gives something back. It is to be encouraged!                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

 

Monday, 11.9.78

Back from a trip to Sydney. I flew there on Thursday, alone with David, who screamed a little but then started flirting with a pretty girl across the isle. Joris would join us on Friday. We were met by the Belgian consul general, who drove us to my Uncle´s and Aunt´s Pešina house at the city´s outskirts. The next day, Aunt Jean volunteered to look after David and I took a train to the centre. It was raining and the houses along the railway tract had a dismal look, as it is the case in all big cities – peeling paint and narrow, overgrown backyards with broken fences, lines of washing hung up to dry and filled with broken toys and all kinds of rubbish, not unlike in the outskirts of London, only worse. It seems that an Australian never throws away anything, and never tidies up. Whatever is broken or has no use, is left on the spot where it was last used.

I got off the train in George Street, near the St. Andrew Cathedral, a neo-gothic sandstone structure. I still had two hours before meeting Joris, so I was randomly walking in the streets of this biggest and oldest town of Australia: more than 3 millon inhabitants in an area of about 12 000 km2, founded in 1788 as a penal colony under the name of Port Jackson. Sydney was not so carefully planned as Melbourne or Adelaide and therein maybe lies its charm, unhindered by the city´s many sky scrapers, which are diverse in height and shape.  Apart from a few main avenues, the streets are narrow and winding.

It has been a while since I found myself walking outside without the company of Joris or David. I let myself be carried along by the crowd and thought that everybody must be staring at me. The shops I passed without looking – no time to shop. Soon the massive, yet lace like arch of the Harbour Bridge became visible in the distance – the symbol of Sydney, like the Tower Bridge of London or the Eiffel Tower of Paris. When it was built in1923-32 it became the longest arch bridge in the world (503m). There is a road, a railway and a pedestrian walkway. It spans the mouth of the Paramata river empting into the Sydney Bay. In its shadow crouches a stone house, the oldest preserved habitation in Sydney. On the way to Joris´s hotel I got caught in a heavy shower. He had arrived safely and as picked up our new car. The next day we went sightseeing together and parked the car in the underground garage at the Opera House, since1973 the second landmark of Sydney. Designed by the Danish architect Jorn Utzon, it was built over the period of 20 years at a cost of some 100million dollars. It sits, or rather billows like a set of huge white sails, on the shore of the Bay, at the foot of the Bridge. After drinking coffee on the terrace in front of the Opera and watching the busy traffic of sailing boats, tourist boats and sea faring ships, we took a cruise in the harbour. Only then could we fully appreciate the beauty of this city, where modern architecture blends seamlessly with the rugged coastline and jagged mountains in the background. The boat took us as far as Port Jackson on the Pacific shore, where we could feel the swell of the mighty ocean. The three hour cruise left us quite charmed by the Sydney panorama. On leaving the underground parking an unpleasant incident occurred: when we gave the attendant the change amounting to a dollar, which, based on Canberra rates we thought largely sufficient, he barked” Three dollars! Joris said scornfully “Three dollars?? You must be joking!” The attendant retorted: “Is that perhaps too much for you? You must be a bloody Pommy!” In this British ex-penal colony, Joris  with his Queen´s English does not make himself popular with the natives – he only owns up to his English mother to the English here, and now he vehemently denied any connection with Great Britain. While we were scraping together the remaining two dollars, a queue formed behind us, but, thankfully, there did not develop a honking chorus. We tried to apologise saying it was our first visit to Sydney and the attendant advised us not to visit too often… All this dampened our euphoria a bit, but was soon forgotten. In the evening we were invited to a dinner at the residence of the Belgian Consul general. We had no time to return to the Pešinas, and so went in search of public washrooms, which seem to be an unknown facility here. Luckily, the restaurants and the exhibition rooms of the Opera are opened to public all day, so we returned there. It has become dark and the view from the terrace of the lit harbour was absolutely fabulous. Just then I noticed that people were coming inside and we joined them – nobody stopped us and we were able to walk the corridors and staircases, which look like something out of a sci-fi picture, and afford great views of the Harbour, the Bridge and the skyline of the city, all that accompanied by Wagner´s music – the performance of his Master Singers of Nuremberg has just started in the theatre. Altogether an unforgettable experience.

We enjoyed more wonderful views of Sydney lights from the consul´s residence on the Darling Promotory. I rather envy him this spot. The dinner went on till midnight, we only got to bed at one, waking up David… .      

Nevertheless, we woke up early into a bright sunshine and had another wonderful day: my aunt and uncle took us on a tour of the oldest part of Sydney, called On the Rocks, at one end of the Bridge. It is very dilapidated, but under reconstruction; when finished it will surely be charming – a bit of old world in the shadow of the new skyscrapers. The residential quarters  are a paradise for Art Nouveau lovers, reaching here new heights of this decorative style.  We had lunch in the revolving restaurant on the 42th floor of the Sydney Telecommunication Tower, with more fantastic views of the town, Harbour, the ocean, the mountains, all “moving” around us in a slow motion.  At 2PM we took leave of our dear hosts and started on a slow journey back - the car still had to be run in. But the road to Canberra, over the Blue Mountains, thickly covered by blue-green eucalyptus forest (hence the name), was interesting enough to make the time pass quickly.  At the approach of Canberra at dusk, the blue waters of the Lake Griffin contrasted prettily with the pink of cherry trees blossoms lining its shore, yet the lights of the Capital in the darkness seemed rather pitiful after the glamourous Sydney.

Friday, 15.9.78

On Monday we went to the Finns for drinks, to welcome Marjo from her little holiday at home; she came back with a new hairdo, which does not become her, even Joris, who finds her otherwise attractive, says so.

The spring is advancing, the ugly bushes in our garden have turned into golden balls of forsythia flowers, but yesterday an icy wind blew leaden clouds and rain that made the cherry blossom snow down, while real snow fell in the higher regions. We went to the library to see some Australian documentary films about the today´s youth – all rather depressing: two about 15m years old single mothers, one about homosexuals and another, to even things out, about lesbians, and two about “normal”couples but pretty deprived anyway.

Sunday, 17.9.

The weather is slowly getting better, it was even possible to sunbathe in bikini, though with shivers. I weeded out some rose borders. In the evening we took our Madame Ambassadrice to a dinner in our favourite restaurant on the Red Hill. We had a nice and interesting chat. Joris plays tennis as one possessed, he even complains that it is too much. He put his name down for several tournaments in our club, and when he advances, it takes up the whole weekend.

Sunday, 8.10.78

The last three weeks have left me socially quite exhausted. Apart from two invitations to a dinner (one with the South African, the other with an English couple) and two cocktails (one to say good bye to the Lebanese ambassador and one small one at Toni´s, a very sweet and popular Australian bachelor, who is one of the most active of the tennis crowd. But the difficult event was a working lunch that Joris was hosting in our place. Apparently for the first time all members accepted, so I had to provide seating (and food) for 18 gentlemen. The dining room could not take them, so I put some tables in our library cum TV room. The discussion and the lunch provided by the Danish cook were both a great success and were rewarded by an applause.

One Saturday our faithful English friends took us to the theatre to see a play The Flexitime by a New Zealand playwright (Roger Hall), not bad but nothing special; another Saturday, madame Ambassadrice returned the favour and invited us to dinner, in a restaurant with a funny name ” The 9^th Hole”. Not surprisingly, it was in the golf club…

The main social event was a banquet offered by the Governor and his wife to a delegation from the metal industry, and the Heads of Missions. We were invited as Joris is chargé d´affairs at the moment. We thought it would be a big bore, but the Ambassadors of Austria and Luxembourg, who were my neighbours at the table, were quite amusing, and it turned out that I play in tennis doubles with the “better” half of an Australian couple, also seated at our table; He is something important at a Ministry. The evening passed quickly.

Last Friday David was 17 months, we celebrated by taking him to the doctor, he had been coughing for a few days but suddenly took turn for the worse. We had an invitation to a barbecue lunch at the Germans, and as it had been very warm, we went anyway, keeping David in his pram. He absolutely refuses to take the syrup, even with his favourite lemonade. Also his eating is getting steadily worse, he lives practically only on milk, but the doctor said it is OK, as he is quite chubby anyway. He has learnt to drink out of a bottle by himself, discovering he has to tip it, and also from a cup. He is beginning to respond  to simple commands, like bring me your socks etc. and puts his “menagerie” of stuffed animals back into his cot, after playing with them. After “tata” he says “mama” as well – finally! He stopped sucking his thumb, which he had bitten till it bled, and also lost interest in the bunny, his first toy, a gift from his Uncle Daniel.

Sunday, 15.10.78

David´s cold turned out to be measles! So he spent a week in bed and was very good about it, mostly sleeping. Now, on the contrary, he is being quite a difficult and whiney convalescent. Fortunately, we only had to go out twice, to a reception for the Spanish National Day and to a “wine and cheese “ evening at my French teacher´s, a boring affair.

On Friday the doctor confirmed my suspicion (the cigarettes started to taste vile) of another baby to come, which was our intention. Lucky thing I had had the measles…

Sunday, 29.10.78

David got over his measles quite quickly and looks well again, but is still coughing, so the doctor prescribed penicillin, in order to avoid  chronic bronchitis. We gave one dinner at our place, mostly young Australian couples, it was fun. Also two cocktails , one following the other, as we could not accommodate all the people we know in one go. Even so, we had to move all the movable furniture in to the annexe. Joris ordered a lot of food and the guests were impressed by the amount of tasty snacks. There was a journalist and a photographer and we got into the local gossip press, though the photo of us did not make it.

Afterwards, as the rooms were empty of furniture, I did a big spring cleaning and put away the winter clothing. This proved a bit premature, as the weather is often cold and rainy. Still, Canberra looks very pretty with flowering rhododendrons, lilacs, thorn bushes, roses and jasmines. Thanks to all the rain, everything is of lush green.

Saturday, 11.10.78

Two weeks of busy nights, a cocktail at the Greeks  and one not very enjoyable dinner with an English couple, Mary and Brian, and one dinner at our place. We are running out of people to invite and Joris has to spend his allowance. It went OK, even if one Australian guest arrived late and without his wife, so we were 13…The wife is rumoured to be a beauty, but nobody has seen her yet. Last Tuesday was the day of the Melbourne Cup – the most famous horse race in Australia. In the Sate of Victoria it is a public holiday but also everywhere else it is celebrated at “Cup lunches” with champagne. I was invited to one at my neighbour´s friend Janice, whose husband is a Slovak, though his name is Polak. There was a private betting, but I did not win anything. Neither did Joris, betting officially. Betting on horses is his only vice (that I know of). There were a couple of dinners with the ”locals”, which Joris enjoyed as he adores meeting new people, but I have had quite enough of the new faces in one year. Last week I had a test in my French course, the result was better than I expected.

Yesterday, Joris played in the diplomatic tennis tournament but not very successfully.  David and I went only to partake of a buffet at the French Embassy afterwards.

David passed his 18^th month and we are being assured, that the real fun is going to start now, and it is true that he is starting to have fits of temper, throwing himself down and bagging his head on the floor. Usually, I add a smack on his bottom which makes him stop. He is becoming quite dexterous with his toys, like fitting in the various shapes and building thing out of bricks Even though he is not one for much cuddling, it is now necessary that I settle him down myself before going out – he cries at a mere sight of the baby-sitter… In the Occasional Child Care he is now in the section for bigger kids. He was a bit scared at the beginning and even now cries when I leave, but five minutes later is happily playing – I watch through the fence as usual…At home he runs all over the house and garden.

Sunday, 12.11.78

It has become very cold again, in the hills around Canbera it is snowing – and we are like mid May in Europe! But the spring flowers in the gardens are in full bloom and colour abounds.

Yesterday, I went to see the musical Grease, re-creation of the rock´ n roll era.

Instead of going to the sea side as planned, we have to entertain the Inspector of posts from Brussels, if possible lavishly, as he will be checking, how we spent the government money…

Thursday, 23.11.78

 

My Father-in-law arrived last Wednesday. During the two days of flying he was cradling an enormous Paddington Bear, red gumboots and all, for David. Mother refused to undertake such a long trip. Moreover, as an Englishwoman, she can´t bear the Australian accent… Father was very tired, but we dragged him to lunch with the Inspector on the Red Hill. As a good Fleming, he was still able to keep the conversation in French going, relieving me of this difficult task.

Monday, 27.11.

Friday attended a dinner at the Danish ambassador, always a great honour to be invited at the higher level. My neighbour was the Polish ambassador, “Old Worldly charming. Moreover, after the meal, the host entertained us playing piano, a pleasant change from the effort of after dinner coffee conversation.

Saturday brought beautiful weather and we all went on a boat trip on the lake Burley-Griffin. On Sunday it got really hot, so we went to Kambah Pool to cool off in the cold river, at least me and David. In the afternoon, while the men were taking a siesta, I went to see a film Julia with Jane Fonda and Vanessa Redgrave. Sad but good.

Friday,1.12.78

Christmas is approaching, so it is getting busy. I went to the Christmas meeting of the WIC (Women´s International Club), to taste international X-mas  cookies. To my shame, I did not bring any, but enjoyed those of the others. Children from a nearby school came to sing carols. Also I was included at the lunch at our residence for the Ambassadors´wives. I was not very keen to go – I prefer to be a big fish in a small pond then the other way round, but it went well. The Peruvian lady had had a posting in Prague and was very enthusiastic about it.

Tuesday,5.12.78

Back from the weekend at the seaside at Kiama, situated north of Batemans Bay. It was further than we had thought and we arrived only at 5 PM. But from the road we had beautiful views of the blue sea, yellow sandy beaches among reddish cliffs and, on the other side, the rugged mountain range of the Great Divide. During the night we were pestered by mosquitos and in the morning, David was covered in mosquito bites. There was a hole in the windows netting and we had a row with the hotel about it.

I went for a swim, but the surf was so strong, that I could not venture far enough, though David was all for it. Unusually for Australian beaches, this place was crowded, and the pic-nicing families were very noisy. So we departed to see the local curiosity, “the blow hole”, but despite the miserable weather, the hole refused to blow, so we went to an aquarium instead. David could not decide whether to be amazed or scared. On Monday it stopped raining and we drove inland to visit a rain forest nature reserve and its waterfall, Minnanurra. Just a short drive over low hills the exotic coast gave way to a nearly European landscape – a valley with green pastures with grazing cattle, sporadic farmhouse and small villages. At the end of the valley rose a vertical rock face, at the foot of which we entered the rain forest, yet another ecosystem. We had to leave the car at the entrance and go on foot, in the humid heat and in a deafening noise of the cicadas. (We had heard them already on the way to Kiama, and we thought for a while, that something was wrong with the car.) The parking attendant caught one for us and explained, that they live only for a few days after undergoing a metamorphosis process of seven years underground.  Joris stayed with David and my father-in-law and I started on the way to the waterfall through a great variety of trees (white and red beeches, sycamores, cedars, palm trees of the cabbage trees variety, fig trees) and a undergrow of nettles, brambles and firs that grew to great heights. In the end, we had to give up the waterfall, the path became very steep and I was worried about father´s heart in the heat. He would not let me go on alone, as I was some four months pregnant. From here we drove via Kia and over a steep, wooded and cool hill to the Kangaroo Valley, where it became so hot and steamy – the temperature must have gone up at least 20° C – that we thought the engine would overheat. Getting out of the car to take photos of a quaint crenelated bridge spanning the Kangaroo river felt like entering an oven. We did not see any kangaroos and quickly continued on, up another hill to another nature reserve with another waterfall – the Fitzroy – on the river Yarrunga (height 180m). This time we were able to reach it, as the going was downhill through an arrow gorge between sandstone rocks cleaved vertically, so that they looked like pipes of a stone organ. It was all so beautiful that we found it hard to leave, but we had a long way back to Canberra along the Hume highway ahead of us. We passed Lake George, full of birds and fowl with their young.

Wednesday, 6.12.78

David has made a lot of progress in the last month, from a little animal to a little human being: walks and runs erect even on stairs, feeds himself and knows, what he wants; he can´t say it yet, though he has learnt a few words,  but points or takes me by the hand and leads me to it. Loves going in the car and can climb into it by himself. Has grown a lot and does not fit in the plastic tub, I bathe him in the big one now. He is being a good boy – how long will it last?

 

Thursday, 21.12.78

More and more pre-Christmas socialising: on Thursday the 7th the South Africans organized a dance party on a boat on the lake, not the thing for a pregnant woman and no way to leave early…On Friday a dinner at Audray´s, where I sat next to the son of an Australian writer K.S.Prichard, whose book Coonardoo had been translated into Czech by my beloved English professor, Dr. Emmerová. We had a good chat. On Saturday we took father to the Tidbinbilla reserve to get to know wallabies and emu´s. The latter he got to know more than he bargained for: we were enjoying our pick-nick, when a huge emu stretched his long neck and snatched the top half of father´s sandwich. Father hid the rest behind his back but the emu´s wife was in position and pinched it, biting father´s hand in the process. No great harm done, but some blood and quite a shock for him. Luckily, David was having his bottle, not interesting for these aggressive birds. We finished our lunch shooing off the ever increasing flock of emus as best as we could. In the evening supper with an English (she)/Australian(he) couple. He prided himself of never ever having washed up… On Tuesday, 12.12., our  3^rd wedding anniversary a dinner at the Dutch colleague, so the celebration was taken of. Father was also invited and it turned out, that he new our host´s father. On Wednesday a cocktail at New Zealand, on Friday a coffee morning at the new president of WIC, Jenny´s friend Jane Polak. On Saturday a long day at the Swiss, starting by a swim at their pool followed by a barbecue; children were welcomed. The weather was good for a change, so it was a success, though the announced dancing  never happened.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

It was also exactly a year since we had landed in Australia, but I have no time to recapitulate in this Christmas season feverish times. On Sunday, rainy and cold again, lunch at our English colleagues. Yesterday the monthly lunch at the Press club, normally men only, but as it is Christmas, wives were graciously admitted as well. Quite a few parties we had to refuse.

 

Christmas Eve, 24.12.78

 The whole day was spent packing for our trip to New Zealand, so we sat to Christmas dinner (fish fingers, no carp) quite tired. The only Christmas tree we could get was a casuarina – the local pine tree with scarce branches. I decorated as best as I could and David´s amazement and delight at the lit tree and the pile of presents was well worth the effort.

Despite it falling in the middle of the summer here, Christmas is celebrated in the “old home country” (England) spirit, with turkey and Christmas pudding on the 25^th, but I insisted on “my” Christmas Eve, though Joris refused to open his presents till the morning.

 

 

YEAR 1977

 

Intermezzo: NEW ZEALAND, THE SOUTH ISAND, 25^{th 1978} – 3. 1.1979.

 

N.Z. is only 3 hours flight away, but as we had to take the short flight to Sydney first and wait three hours for the connection, it was an all day trip, also because Christchurch, where we landed, is two hours ahead of Canberra, so it was 6PM already. The flight was very pleasant as we were served unlimited free drinks and an excellent lunch of turkey and all the trimmings – a Christmas up in the air. Before landing we were treated to a fantastic view of the South Island´s mountains´ rocky tops, peaking through the white puffed up clouds, the ones above 3 000m covered in snow. Christchurch is on the East coast of the island, on a flatland with mountains in the background. On the way to the hotel we were surprised to see the countryside looking so completely different; somehow we supposed, it would be just piece of Australia that had drifted away a bit. But the bit is some 2 500km and this southern island is much more similar to Europe than to Australia. N.Z.´s climate is cooler and wetter and consequently greener. (We were quite happy not to see any eucalyptus trees for a change.) The only things they have in common, apart from the head of state (the British Queen) and the official language, are the vast uninhabited spaces and the disproportion between the number of people and heads of cattle and sheep: at the time of writing, there was slightly over 3 millions inhabitants to 55 millions cattle, and 8 millions sheep. The capital, Wellington, and the biggest town, Auckland are on the North Island, where 70% of inhabitants live, including the ethnic Maoris, a Polynesian people with no relation to the Australian Aboriginals and somewhat higher level of civilisation. At the time of writing, N.Z. was a poorer country, which was reflected in houses made mainly of wood and small, old fashioned cars, as far as we could see on the way to the motel. But everything clean and orderly.  They take their being “down under” very seriously here: the numbers on the telephone dial go fro 9 to 0 and the hot and cold taps are reversed… Joris and Father went out to dinner with some relatives on Mother´s side, but I was too exhausted to join them.

Tuesday, 26.12.78

After 360km drive arrived to Duneden, lower down on the east coast. The narrow road took us inland through flat land with pastures and scattered pine woods, with the view of the “Southern Alps” range to the west. The traffic was not heavy, and yet, every time we got stuck behind a truck, the driver pulled to the side and let us pass – I have never seen anything like it before (or since…) We crossed several green rivers lined with yellow bushes and marks of high water when the snow melts in the spring. Had lunch in a scented meadow with the view of the sea in the distance. The road climbed up the mountains and then wound down steeply to the town at the end of a deep bay. Dunedin is a university town and calls itself “the Edinburgh of the Southern Hemisphere”, a slight exaggeration, except for the weather – cold and rainy. The Anglican cathedral of St.Paul had been founded by nobody else but Joris ´s great-great uncle, bishop Nevill, a cousin of his English  grandfather (Mother is neé Nevill), and consecrated in 1912. He is buried there and a statuette of him stands above the cathedral main entrance. (You can see it, if you googgle the cathedral.) The relatives we met in Christchurch were his family. (360km)

Wednesday, 27.12.78

In the morning we set off to the Lake Ten Anau, 300km away inland in westerly direction, through green valleys, towards the row upon row of the Alps mountain range, the furthest snow capped. The weather cleared at last. We crossed numerous rivers, the Clutha, the biggest of the island, among them. One river we had to cross on a railway bridge, driving on rails. Thankfully, we did not meet a train there – it was a one rail track to boot. Picnic among the buttercups, in the company of a herd of cows. The road was lined by a golden profusion of St.John´s broom and some of the hills were covered with long stemmed yellow grass, giving them an appearance of lion´s head.  The mountains were green lower down, black and rugged higher up. We arrived early to Te Anau and went for a walk on its shore. Its name in Maori means “The cave of the swirling water current”. This cave has been discovered recently. It is the 2^nd biggest lake of N.Z. by surface and we could only see a tiny bit of its surface, framed by the mountains and silvery golden in the dusk. (290km)

Thursday, 28.12.78

We got up at six to catch the boat to neighbouring lake, the Manapouri (means anxious or sorrowful heart), the 2^nd deepest in N.Z. and often described as New Zealand’s most beautiful. The weather was rather sorrowful as well, overcast and cold; later it began to rain and the mountains were veiled in mist. The lake has many islands and inlets and the surrounding mountains are crisscrossed by many silvery waterfalls. After two hours we got to the opposite shore, were we were taken on a tour of an underground power plant and then by bus through the Wilmot Pass. Despite the poor visibility due to mist outside and the misted over windows inside, we were impressed by the raw beauty of the wild nature of the pass – its steep slopes covered by a profusion of mountain beeches, their trunks covered by thick lichen and their colours ranging from greyish green, dark green, yellow, brown to bloody rust, according to their many species. On the ground a great variety of mosses. The road crossed a number of rushing streams with waterfalls. At the end of the pass we boarded another boat and continued on the “Doubtful Sound/Fiord”, the second most famous fiord after Milford Sound. It was named Doubtful by Captain Cook, when he was exploring the N.Z. sounds; he doubted whether it was navigable under sail and did not enter it. (Otherwise New Zealand was discovered by a Dutchman Tasman, in 1773, and hence its name, after the Dutch province Zeeland – compare with “New Amsterdam”, the original name of New York…) It continued pouring with rain, the water of the sound was pitch black and the mountains tops rugged, one peak often a mirror image of its neighbour. After two hours we turned back, profoundly chilled.

Friday, 29.12.78

David has grown two new upper molars and one upper incisor! No fuss!

Today´s trip to the lake Wakatipu was short (170km), along a green valley cutting through mountain ranges and criss-crossed by numerous streams with opaque blue green water. The meadows on each side were dotted either by white specks of sheep or colourful spring flowers – margarets, bluebells, lupinus, to name just a few. As the road climbed higher, the mountains crept nearer, the countryside grew more rugged, the rain got harder and the tops of the mountains were shrouded in mist. Quite suddenly we arrived at the shore of the huge lake, at the foot of yet another mountain range in the background, called the Remarkable, and remarkable it was. The road continued along the shore, narrow and squeezed into a rocky precipice above the milky blue green water melted from the distant glacier. Our hotel was in Frankton, in one of the bays opposite Queenstown, the popular tourist town. In the afternoon, despite the rain, we took a chair lift up the Coronet mountain (1730m). There are ski runs in winter.

Saturday, 30.12.78

We woke up into a pouring rain and thought of leaving prematurely, but by the time we finished breakfast, the sun came out, so we stayed and had what turned out a fantastic day. First we went up a steep slope in a cable car, which frightened David out of his wits, to admire the stunning mountain panorama around the lake, ridge after ridge emerging as we ascended. Then we took a cruise on the lake on board of a steamship Earnshaw from 1912, to admire the same panorama from the bottom up. Under the blue sky the water turned dark turquoise and clashed with the green of the weeping willows on the shores. After a short run through Queenstown in an ancient two-wheel cart, went by car to the Kelvin´s Heights, following a winding road among the pastel coloured mountain flowers. Towards the end, the tarmac changed into a very steep dirt road, and we very nearly got knocked off the mountain face by a bus, which has no business to be there. From the top yet another breathtaking panorama was our reward. Nothing but long yellow grass grew there but to David´s delight, we could watch mountain goats, chamois and deer romping around. We even saw a grown stag drinking from one of the little lakes. Reluctantly we left this delightful spot to have supper in a colonial hotel in the Arte Nouveau style.

Sunday, 31.12.78

In the morning a quick visit of the open air museum – a reconstructed gold diggers village, from the New Zealand gold rush in the 19the century (See the Booker Prize winner of 2014, the Luminaries by Elisabeth Catton.), then left direction north, following first the river Kawaru in her gorge of steep black rocks and then the river Cluthy flowing among grey gravel banks through a contrastingly flat valley with many orchards, but otherwise rather desolate and sparsely inhabited. It got very hot and the desolation grew, rounded hills covered with nothing but dull rusty coloured grass, occasionally livened by golden clusters. After the Lindis pass (900m) along the river Lindis, which offered some refreshing flowering mountain vegetation, the same desolation awaited us, but in the distance we could see the snow sprinkled double peaks of Mt. Cook massif  – our goal that day. The long straight road finally brought us to the lake Pukaki at the foot of Mt.Cook, where it ended in a little village built entirely of dark wood, blending prettily with the sounding nature. No sooner than we arrived, the rain came down, so nothing to it but an early supper and glass of red wine to say Good-bye to the Old Year. (271km).

 

  Australian Diary 3, Year  1979

 

January

 

Monday, 1^st of January 1979

The first day of the new year turned out nice. After the usual morning mist and rain the sun appeared and the white clouds hung only around the peaks. Mt. Cook is with its 3764m altitude the highest mountain of New Zealand and has perpetual snow. We set out to explore the Tasman glacier, one of the many preserved in N.Z. and one of its main attractions. After a short car ride and a pick-nick lunch we started to walk Indian file along a stony path trough the moraine field towards the bottom tail of the glacier. David was stepping courageously, looking as if he could walk 10km, but 15 minutes later began to cry and wanted mummy to carry him, which with his 20+kg and me being pregnant was not feasible, so we had to abort the expedition. It started drizzle and blow, anyway. Towards the evening it cleared completely and we went for a walk through the beech woods and along the vast lupinus field. This flower is typical for this region and flowers in all shades of pastel colours. A very pretty sight contrasting with the snowy peaks. The mountains were sharply edged against the pale blue sky, the black rock took on a silver hue and the snow glittered in the setting sun. The thin sickle of the new moon was rising above them – a good sign!

Tuesday, 2.1. 79

Despite the beautiful and quiet evening, a terrible storm arrived in the night, the hotel hut shook frighteningly. In the morning we learnt that a mountaineer lost his life on the Mt. Cook in an avalanche…It was still windy and wet, but the bad weather was left behind in the mountains and it became hot. On the lake Pukapi the sun and the clouds produced a shadow play. Soon we turned towards the north again and drove along a flat and monotonous plain with an occasional pine or larch copse. Farms and even sheep were scarce, except around the lake Tekapo, a green blue jewel set among wooded slopes. Behind us the Mt.Cook range slowly receded and finally disappeared from sight. Through green and fertile valley of the river Apihi and over some steep hills we reached the coastal plain and, finally, Christchurch. (331km).

Wednesday, 3.1.79

In the morning a quick walk around the town and a visit of the Antarctic museum, where David was fascinated by the stuffed animals, running from one to another with loud ooooh´s and aaah´s. After lunch to the airport and bye bye New Zealand!

 To conclude: From what we saw of it, it is a beautiful country, but I feel I would not like to live here. Not only because of its vast distance from Europe and anywhere, but also because of its comparatively small size: all the time we were there I had the feeling of being on a ship, stranded in the vicinity of the Antarctica, even if that is a continent as well…

(The islands´ mythology and history, geological and natural, and of its discovery, settlement and development, is very interesting, but I will not go into it now at the time of translation – the year 2016, the age of Google and Wikipedia…)

 

Back in Canberra

Sunday, 7.1.79

Arrived safely, found the house had not been burgled or burned down, and on the whole were happy to be home again and unpack the suitcases for the last time. Even David seemed to realise this time that that´s where he belongs. He was surprisingly well behaved during the whole journey, even all the hours in the car; though he did not sleep much anymore, he seemed absorbed by the passing landscape.

He is 20 months now, no longer a “teenager” and is interested in everything, which he shows by pointing – no words yet, though he has started singing. No idea how he came by it, certainly not form me. The 4 months old baby in my tummy was well behaved as well.

Friday, 15.1.79

It has become very hot, nearing 40°C, we went swimming once in the Kambah river, where the water was pleasantly cool, though it was quite impossible to walk on the sand barefoot.

We were not looking forward to a big dinner at the German embassy, but they provided an air conditioned tent, served cold soup and ice cream as a desert. Still, all the guests left a dark sweat stain on the velvet of the chairs…

Saturday, 20.1.79

A week ago in somewhat cooler weather, we drove to Sydney – we had been invited to the premier of Beethoven´s Fidelio in the famous Sydney opera house. David was left in the care of a “Granny for hire” lady. The building evoking the sails of a ship is spectacular but had cost much more than foreseen and the planned underground car park had to be abandoned. So this super modern cultural centre of a more than 3 million metropolis, where nobody ever walks if they can help it, is served by shuttle buses, which involves a lot of queuing, albeit orderly, and on this occasion made even more cumbersome by the dress code: black tie and long dress, because of the presence of the Governor General. The concert hall was huge and felt cold, not only because of the too efficient air conditioning– the ladies in the known had brought furs, though outside it was very hot and humid. I shivered and thought with nostalgia of the red plush, gilded plaster and crystal chandeliers of European theaters…The stage décor was also stark and grey. Not being an expert on operas, I could not judge the quality of the performance, but I am glad that Beethoven had produced one opera and nine symphonies and not vice versa. At the end, the orchestra played “God Safe the Queen” and the audience stood. While waiting for the bus we could admire the Sydney Harbour Bridge and waters under the light of a full moon.

For Sunday lunch we took Father to the revolving restaurant, meeting up again with Aunt Jean and Uncle Karel Pešina. Then took a crowded ferry across to Manly, the Sydney beach.

An exhausting day and still we had to go to supper at the Belgian consul´s general house, the superbly situated mansion above the harbour we had visited before. This time we found out that the garden borders on the bay and that the consul owns a boat… And to think that if Sydney had become the capital, we would have been living there… On Monday Joris was in a meeting all day and we, Father and I, rather suffered in a park, while David was having a super time  on swings and merry-go-rounds, never minding the heat, wind and the smell of rubbish – the dustmen were on strike.

Back in Canberra it was hot as well and yesterday we were invited to a picknick, which in Australia means a barbecue, a very popular entertainment here. At every suitable spot all around the town, you´ll find large barbecues, built from brics with government money. It may be hot as hell under the midday sun, but the fire for roasting stakes is roaring. Luckily, this was a supper. Afterwards, in the cool of the night, we watched the brilliance of the Southern skies – who would have thought, when I was singing the tramp songs about the Southern Cross after a day of hop picking, that one day I´d actually be sitting under it, munching on charred steaks…

Monday, 29.1.79

The Australia Day holiday, commemorating the founding of the first official penal colony at Port Jackson. There is not much enthusiasm for it anymore, but everybody is happy about a free day, and goes – picknicking. We also went out and ate our sandwiches on a little river bank, surrounded by smoke and smells of the proper barbecued lunches. I took a dip in the cool water of the river, where it formed a pool.

 

February

Tuesday, 6.2.79

The New Zealand Day and David is 21 months old. I take him to the Occasional Care twice a week, it seem to help him on with English a bit, but he still does not make sentences, just utters some semblances to words. He has grown two new molars, without too much teething trouble. He manages to climb out of his play pen now, but is quite sure on his feet, and runs all over the house. We are often at Jenny´s pool, it is great to splash about in this heat. We went to the theatre once, the performance was not much good.

 

March

Tuesday, 3.3. 79

The weekend at the seaside, at Batemans Bay again, was a success, On arrival at dusk we saw a group of kangaroos, for the first in the wild. At night they represent a danger of collision, no light matter, as they are very heavy. People attach big iron “fences” in front of their cars, to avoid damage. This time David was not worried by the sand and enjoyed wading in the sea. I had several long swims, once in the unwelcome company of jelly fish, luckily I did not get stung. There was a full moon and the crooked branches of the gum trees formed a pretty lace against the night sky. (D.H.Lawrence: the Kangaroo: “The smooth, blue, inhuman skies of Australia, the pale atmosphere so hard to describe. Tabula rasa. A new page of mankind. And on this page – nothing.”)

Sunday, 18.3.79

 

Some more quotes from the “Kangaroo”: In Australia, there are no real class differences. There are differences in wealth and appearances, but it does not make anybody feel better or superior, only better off. It is a big difference between feeling better than your fellow beings and feeling better off.

Freedom, everybody says, you have freedom in Australia. And it is true. There is a great feeling in the air, of a relief, relief from tension, from pressure. There is no control… Above you, the sky stretches, around you the air expands. There is no trace of the squashed Old Europe.

But what next? The emptiness of this freedom is frightening…there is no inner meaning, just a strong consciousness of empty spaces. Consciousness of freedom without responsibility, freedom to do what you like. And all this of no interest at all. What can be less interesting then obtaining freedom? The great swarming and busy Sydney flows into the myriads of the suburban cottages like an unchecked shallow flood. And then? Nothing. No inner life, no higher command, a total disinterest – that´s the result.

Not even the race for money is being taken too seriously here. Nobody cares very much for the power that money brings. To tell the truth, money is no use where there is no real culture. Money is the means to reach a higher, fuller, more subtle level of consciousness – or nothing. And when someone does not sincerely care to reach it – what is money to him? Money is a European, and American, invention. It has no real power in Australia.

 

Although it was written more than 50 years ago and much has changed since then, basically it still rings true. Foremost the feeling of freedom and at the same time emptiness, which leads to a certain mental laziness; the meaning of literature and arts, and even culture itself, gets lost in these empty spaces stretching out of sight and harsh, unforgiving nature. The level of education is on average pretty low. “I do not know and I do not care” is a common attitude.

There is a lack of cultural tradition and no feeling of belonging in this country/continent, where the white people had arrived only a couple of hundreds years ago. The national pride does exists, but is weekend by the still very strong ties to the “Mother Country (England) and  an inferiority complex towards Europe. After all, they are still a colony with the Queen as its head (also on stamps) and governed by a British Governor General. I was stunned, by the way, to watch on TV a Trade Union foreman being knighted. The very existence of knighthood in this egalitarian society, where everybody calls everybody by a first name, borders on the absurd.

Still, I like it here and don´t mind the prospect of staying on for three more years. When you arrive here with your own cultural “baggage”, the life can be very pleasant. You can enjoy the freedom and fill in the emptiness with your own resources. What I would not like is to have been born and grown up here without ever visiting Europe, which is the case of many of Australians.

 

April

Sunday, 1.4.79

Last two weeks a little bit of culture, twice in the cinema (Death On the Nile and Death On the Cross – actually that was not the title, but could have been, it was about Jesus of Nazareth) and a visit of the Parliament, which is modelled on the British one. Also a dinner with the committee members of the recent tennis tournament, which Joris had won. He more or less had to dragged me to it, as I have entered the 8^th month of pregnancy and am again huge, like with David, though, honestly, I don´t “eat for two” but scarcely for half. Trying to fit between the chair and the table and to abstain from wine is no fun.

Sunday, 8.4.79

Yesterday definitely the last “social duty” – taking out Madame Ambassadrice out for a dinner, she is “a grass widow” at the moment. The food in the restaurant in “our” shopping centre in Manuka was OK, and what the place lacked in elegance, it made up for in gallantry: every lady received a red carnation. It made me think of a communist meeting and no doubt it was slipped in the bill…

Instead of socialising with humans we turned our attention to fauna and visited a Zoo, where local animals, wallabies, kangaroos, ponies, sheep and goats roam freely, and David loved it. There was even a pair of bored camels. These animals had been imported at the time of the gold fever in the 19^th century as means of transport, because they were better suited to these hot and dry conditions than horses or oxen. After motorisation they were turned loose. They thrive here in their thousands till this day, mainly in Central Australia.

David has passed his 23^rd month, he is getting old… His vocabulary is slowly broadening, mainly in English, and he brings a lot of drawings from the day care. The meal times are still often a drama, not only is he choosy, but insists on messing up with his hands, even though he is perfectly capable of using knife and fork, if he has a mind to. But if he does not, he drives me to distraction.

Thursday, 12.4.79

Believe it or not, another birthday has come round – 35 already! (in the meantime another 40 have come round…). No special celebrations, as a gift I got a giant wrist watch, to hang on the wall and remind me of the time passing… (It is still marking time in my study now, 40 years later,2019.)

Tuesday, 17.4.79

We spent the Easter weekend at Thredbo, a ski resort founded and developed by Czechs, in The Snowy Mountains, which form part of “The Great Divide”, and where you find the highest mountain of Australia, Mt.Koscuiusco (2229m above sea level). A road leads all the way up and we followed it by car up to the point, where it became so bumpy, that I feared I might give birth even before reaching the  summit. The weather was nice, but all in all, neither the place, rocky and barren, nor the hotel, very basic, were suitable for highly pregnant women and small children.

Tuesday, 24.4. St. George Day

We “celebrated” the day at the place of pre-natal gym – it was the evening with fathers-to be, to prepare the “new” ones for the event. Refreshments and socializing followed. Earlier that week we had a guided visit of the hospital, where I am to have my baby – a modern, austere building in Woden Valley, with nice views of the mountains. Also went to see an Oscar winning film with Jane Fonda, “Coming Home”.

I am feeling fine, only my hands get swollen at night. Not much longer now…

 

 

Monday, 30.4.79

The autumn colours have arrived, and it still nice and sunny, though cool in the evening, sometimes we have to turn the heating on. Lately I have stopped going out to dinners, too much trouble in my present state, not to speak about figure… Furthermore, I got tired of the never ending questions “When is it due? Would you like a boy or a girl? Have you got a name?...”. It is worse than the stereotype questions after our arrival here.

 

May

Monday,7.5.79

So David turned two years yesterday and we spent the weekend celebrating his birthday, giving him first his plastic tricycle and then a little drum and a toy xylophone, to complement his trumpet, which only he starts “playing”. Our neighbour Jenny and her three children came on Saturday to have the cake with us. I tried to teach David to blow out the candles but he did not want to do it – he liked the candle lights too much. We continued the celebration on Sunday – lunch at Macdonald´s, also with Jenny´s lot. We gave him the rest of his presents, also from his Grandparents, sent from Brussels. He played quietly all afternoon in his room, where I put up the best of the many painting he had made at the Occasional day care, where he still spends happily two or three days a week. Vocally, he is making some progress, knows about three dozens Czech words, less in English it seems, he babbles continuously in a language of his own…At the 2years´check he was found adequately developed, but bigger than average: almost 99cm and more than 17kg.

 

(When reading the following “analysis” of your character, David, forty years later I had to laugh – you have not changed much!)

He likes tidiness, or rather seeing things where they should be and remembers the places of all things well. So he tidies, but only if he feels like it and when he does not and is told to, throws a tantrum. On the other hand, gets upset when things are not where/as he thinks they should be, which sometimes leads to problem in case of difference of opinion. (Like, p.e., when I removed some items from his room he started to put them back - and I did not think he had even noticed.) He is walking/running well, up to two hours non-stop, but again, only where he wants to, and when pulled/pushed in another direction, he would throw himself on the ground and let himself be dragged along, screaming, to consternation of passers-by, not directed at him but at me, the Australians are very tolerant towards “kids”. (This used to happen even in Switzerland at the end of our hikes, when you were 6 or 7 – remember?) To sum up, he knows very well, what he wants, and is extremely stubborn, which often leads to fights with me, lately even literally: he tries to hit me with all his force; I either leave him in his room till he gets over it, or in the end smack him. The fights are usually about getting dressed/undressed, in/out of bath, going to bed and the like. Also at meal times- he does not like to try anything new, especially meat, which usually ends up on the floor…But on the whole, he is quite a good boy and tries to be helpful, like when I am hanging up the washing in the garden, he hands me the pieces from the basket, or brings me a glass from the kitchen when he thinks I want a drink with my early evening TV show, after he had once seen me taking one. Luckily, he found the alcoholic beverages disgusting, when I let him taste some. (That has changed J!) Not much success with potty training and I have not quite taken away the bottle – people tell me that children of his age would regress anyway, once the new baby arrives. So we take it easy.

Sunday, 20.5.79

The last two weeks have seemed endless. I feel OK, only some back pain and very tired. “It” – we had not ask the about the sex – does not even kick much, according to the doc, not enough room… We don´t do much anymore, but last week we went to the races and I bet on a winner, unfortunately very little, being very prudent, so the winnings hardly covered the cost, and once to the Weston park, only Joris went with David on the kids´train, I did not fit in it anymore…

 

 

Monday, 21.5.1979

 

Last night in bed, the baby was kicking my ribs. I tickled “its” little heel and said to Joris, how strange, a little creature is moving around inside me, ready to pop out (hopefully), yet we don´t know, if “it” is a boy or a girl, if “it” has all that “it” should have and what “it” looks like. Little did I know that in less than 5 hours I shall know… About half past eleven we turned off the light and Joris fell asleep immediately. Before I managed to settle down, shortly after midnight I felt the first contraction, very mild and I was wide awake. Soon after another mild one, and more followed, every five minutes and getting stronger. I was confused – I had been told to go to the hospital when contractions happen every 15 minutes. As David´s birth had been induced, I had no previous experience. At 1AM I got up and phoned the hospital. A nurse told me, I should not put off coming, if the contractions pattern stays the same. Hoping they will stop – the middle of the night is not the best time to start giving birth –I settled down in the would be baby´s room and wrote down instructions for the help, who was to come daily while I was in the hospital, to feed the men and to help with David. Contractions kept coming and getting stronger, so I woke up Joris, who thought he was having a bad dream, and then David, who thought it was fun and clutched his Teddy and a book. We grabbed him and the bag, luckily all packed, and drove out into the frosty, starry night. The streets, normally a smooth bitumen, seemed to have changed into cross country roads, I felt every little bump, but we had not so far to go and arrived at the hospital at about 2AM. While Joris and David were left in the waiting room, I was laid down on a very uncomfortable bench, impossible to do relaxation and breathing exercises, which I began to need sorely. Also the baby gave me such a kick that I threw up, the first time in both my pregnancies. The nurse looked and said we are half way there, wheeled me to the operation theatre and phoned the doctor. The crucial 10cm were there before the doctor could stagger out of bed and I was told to start pushing. Remembering that with David I was pushing almost an hour without much success, I set to it with determination and already at the third go I felt the head. Panic took hold of me - Please God, don´t let there be complications with no doctor yet in sight. In the meantime, Joris, also thinking there will still be a long wait, drove back home to put David in the care of Jenny, as had been arranged beforehand, just in case. And case it was, but Jenny did not hear the bell, when we tried before leaving…So, to his great regret, he missed the arrival of Thomas, who popped out of me so fast, that the nurses only just managed to catch him, and at 3.45 AM I held my blooded baby son, still attached by the umbilical cord, in my arms. Bliss!

Only then there were complications. The doctor arrived, but the placenta would not come out and I got terrible shivers. After some poking, the doctor said, nothing to it, we have to give general anaesthesia to get out. But – at this hour, no anaesthetist was at hand and it took him hours to arrive. The little Thomas having been taken to the nursery, I was left on the operating with my shivers and the legs up – a sad ending to such a happy and easy birth. Afterwards I woke up in bed with a sore throat and feeling depressed as every time it had been administered to me (once quite unnecessarily in London, for an extraction of a wisdom tooth, without even asking me; the English are soft…). On the whole I felt like I had been severely beaten but I could sleep all day and in the evening, when I held my new son in my arms agin, all was forgotten, only the bliss remained. Joris arrived with flowers and David, who seemed very pleased to have a little brother, stroke his head and called him “děti” (children).

Thomas weighs a bit more than David did, but is also 2cm longer, so he seems thinner, only his cheeks are chubby- his head is a bit squashed from all the rush to get on with birth; it will surely right itself, like David´s bump on the head…  (This rashness, Thomas, stayed with you until this day…J) The night he spent in the nursery with the other new-borns. On Tuesday already e was given his first bath – here they leave a few cm of the umbilical cord, so there is no open wound. The stump is supposed to fall off later. I decided for bottle feeding again. It looks like, as before, I shall not have enough milk and Thomas seems to have a healthy appetite already. Also, in our way of life, it is more practical. So I have undisturbed nights and most of the days, as Thomas sleeps through them as well and does not cry, only whines from time to time. He lies on his tummy and can already lift his head turn on the other cheek. He has big, dark blue eyes, some black hair and his ears have stayed flat against his head, so o hat for him. On Thursday, I finally had a shower and washed my, both very necessary as I am having lots of visitors and a photographer came to take the first pictures. (This was long before digital photography and smart phones – by this time Luka had about a hundred photos and videos taken of himself…) And it was the day Joris was allowed to take me out for supper – nice gesture on behalf of the hospital, to let the parents have one quiet evening alone together, in many cases the last one for a long time… Joris came every day with David in tow, whom the Occasional Day Care let stay this week every day till after the lunch session, when Joris picked him up. The “occasional Granny”, Judy, took care of the rest.

Saturday 26.5.79

In the afternoon, Joris came to fetch me and “the holiday” has come to an end. Outside, David threw a fit, when he realized, that the “toy” brother was coming home with us. Apparently he had already screamed all morning, wanting to go to “school”. Mercifully, after we arrived home he immediately fell into an exhausted sleep, and so did we all…

Monday, 28.5.79

The house was more or less in order, but with a new even an “experienced” mother has her hands full. Joris is quite good at taking care of David, even if he puts his pants back to front sometimes and never can find a matching pair of socks (for himself either…). Thomas is slowly shedding the marks of his rushed arrival into the world, which had drawn some criticism from Joris concerning his looks. By now, according to Jenny, “he is so pretty he should have been a girl!” He has lost some weight (3.70kg), but drinks well and a lot. Hardly a cry from him till now.

 

June

Friday, 1.6.79

Despite the fact, that the birth took place in yet another for me strange country, everything, from getting pregnant, trough being pregnant and to the birth itself, happened under much more relaxed circumstances. Consider all that happened between David´s conception and his birth: it was planned to take place in my native Prague, but Joris was rather suddenly called back to Brussel to sit for his final diplomatic exams. We had to leave already early next year (1977), which threw me into panic – the idea of giving birth “in French” frightened me no end. No less frightening was the process of finalising my emigration, which, though “legal” through marriage to a foreigner, was still quite a hurdle in the communist country. There was the last Christmas at home to get through and many good-bye parties and other, more painful good-byes. And finally the packing and the move – the furniture by truck, Joris by car and poor me by train, as explained in the beginning of this diary. Then the health complications at the end and the rather traumatic birth. On the contrary, with Thomas it was all plain sailing in the “backwaters” of Canberra, except the maybe a bit daring trip to New Zealand. In any case, a second time is always easier and one does not get so tense and worried about the baby either. In Australia, the attitude to pregnancy is also more relaxed, after my experience in Belgium, it seemed almost on the point of negligence, the gynaecologist hardly touched me during the check-ups, there was no eco taken, in short, no fuss. Also in the hospital all examinations were done by the nurses, the doctors hardly stopped at the foot of the beds. Still, the nurses were friendly and capable, there was no hierarchy - they all occupied themselves with everything – and the overall care was good. Today a nurse from the Manuka clinic dropped by to check on Thomas, all OK.

Monday, 4.6.79

We are slowly getting used to the life with four. Thomas is a good baby and before I gathered enough energy to introduce the “rigid” feeding regime of a bottle every four hours, crying or no crying as I had done with David on Mother´s advice, he arranged his own: more or less every four hours between sleeps, but in the evening he wants his bottle every two hours. As I don´t want his crying to wake up David, I have given in; by ten or eleven he has had the three. The reward – he then sleeps all night till eight. Quite unusual for a not quite two weeks old and very satisfying for all. My absence has done David a lot of good, he seems suddenly very grown up, like he takes care of his guests (Jenny and her kids). So far he is not jealous and takes care of new Thomas´s stuffed toys without wanting to appropriate them. He is still at the day care every morning, brings home many “art works” and learns new word and finally also sentences. Yesterday nice weather and we went to the Weston Park, the first time with Thomas. In the evening we celebrated Joris´s birthday, with a festive supper and a cake.

 

Sunday, 10.6.

Friday I took Thomas to the clinic, for the check-up, will be going every week. He is putting on weight nicely. Jenny is not feeling well, so we took her three kids with us to McDonalds. They had fun together. David has learnt a new trick – to climb on a chair when he cannot reach something, not so good…I have started to take him to so called Play group, an organized pre-school activity for children between 2 and 4 years old. I can´t take advantage of the Day care for ever and soon I hope I shall be able to be ”dropping off” Thomas there instead, in the baby section. Jenny is still not well, she has a virus, which here is being blamed for every illness they apparently thrive in this what I consider a healthy environment. (In this respect, Australia was far ahead of Europe, where only recently all ills are blamed on them.)

So I had her children at home. They are all older, so they teach David new ways to play with his toys. I gave him a doll before Thomas was born, so that he would have his own baby. He is taking a good care of it now. It is getting cold and misty, so no more playing in the garden.

 

Thursday, 21.6.79

Thomas is one month old and prospers, he weighs 4 and half kg and drinks well. He can clearly see and his hair is turning blond. When on his tummy, he can hold up is head and when on his back, he moves by pushing with his heels. I took him to the Occasional Care for the first time, while I took David and myself to a hairdresser´s. It went well.

I am learning, how to be a mother to two children, it is a very different “ball game“: it is much easier to throw and catch one ball than juggle two…By that I mean, to be fair to both the baby and the toddler, who have different needs, to balance affection and discipline. At the same time, David is learning how to be an older brother and not an only child any more. So far it is going well but then, a tiny baby, who is mostly sleeping, is not much of challenge. David is happy to have a new “toy” and is very caring, I just have to be careful, that he does not accidentally smother Thomas with love…There is sometimes a bit of trouble getting David to go to bed before I put Tomas down. The other night he told his firs lie, claiming he did a “kaka”, in order to be picked up again.

After three months of more or less hiding at home, I finally ventured to appear at a society event, and just any old cocktail or dinner, but to a black tie (and long dress) reception in the Government House, given by the Governor General on the occasion of Her Majesty the Queen Elisabeth´s birthday. We had been invited in lieu of our Ambassador, who is on trip to Darwin, the Capital of the tropical Northern Territory. He kindly let us have his car and driver, which was a blessing: Governor´s Residence sits in a vast park, and without a

chauffeur driven car one is obliged to park outside the grounds and walk a km or two to the main entrance. As it was dark, misty and raining, the stroll would not have been a pleasant one. (We had been there once before, invited for who we were, at a pre-Christmas reception for Ambassadors and their number two´s, and then we had to walk the mile in the high noon summer heat – I had nearly fainted while waiting in the queue at the door, being pregnant.) I managed to squeeze in my old purple velvet dress and difficulty breathing – where shall I put the food, I was wondering. At these buffet receptions, no matter how little you take of every dish, you always end up with your plate overflowing. It turned out a very snobbish and rather boring affair, but both the dress and my stomach held so all was well (that ends well). Today a national holiday and fireworks in the evening. Jenny came by with a small aquarium and a gold fish for David – he had been fascinated by the one they have. Jenny is a typical

Australian, it was not easy to break the ice with her, but once a friend, always a friend.

 

Monday, 25.6.79

Last week another stand-by for our Ambassador, at a dinner at the French residence. As it is usual with the French seating protocol, the hosts sat opposite each other in the middle of the table and we, as the least important guests, sat at the end, which meant I only had one neighbour, the British High Commissioner (=Ambassador), and was afraid he would only talk the lady on his other side, she being more important. (We stick to the English way – the hosts at the opposite heads of the table and the least important guests in the middle. It more tactful, I think, and also more practical, as nobody is left next to an empty space, unless, of course, somebody does not show up…). Luckily my neighbour was charming in the typical English way – superficial but sufficient and we had a lively conversation. It is very awkward not to be able to chat at a dinner table for lack of a neighbour, or, which is worse, of a responsive person; many are those, who barely answer “yes” or “no” and never ask any questions…The evening surprisingly ended by dancing to taped music.

The weather is nice, on Saturday we went to races, I got one winner, an outsider. I tried to sunbathe on the unfinished (no railing and no door) terrace with a nice view in front of our 2^nd floor bedroom. It required some acrobatic to a chair and myself through the sash window with a push up fly screen and I shall not repeat the experiment. Strangely enough, David´s room has a door but no terrace, just a ledge, luckily with a fence, preventing people stepping out into the void. Did the architect´s plans get mixed up?

An oil refinery is on strike, because of some trade unionists imprisoned for holding public speeches without permission, so scarcity of petrol issued. (This can only get worse, because of Iran´s revolution.) And a general – all Australian – strike is announced this week. Better not watch the news, disasters everywhere. I had not bothered with the news much back at home, did not even have a TV. Whatever happened, happened elsewhere, far away. Nothing bad could happen in a communist country and if it did, it did not make the news. Now we might be or get in the thick of things any time. (In other words, the difference between life in prison and in freedom.) Here it is peaceful, but a bush fire would suffice…

Also, having children makes me more sensitive to suffering of children of others and people in general -  most everybody has children and everybody is somebody´s child. The foremost in the news these days are the “boat people”, the refugees from South Vietnam and Cambodia, tens of thousands of them, hundreds of the small boats have sunk and drowned all on board, the big ships with thousands of people are for months anchored in the harbours of cities, which won´t allow disembarkation. The Asian countries don´t want them and Australia and the Western countries are willing to safe just handfuls, a drop in, or rather, from the sea.

(In the news I am listening to now while writing this 40 years later - August 2019, just substitute Vietnam and Cambodge for various African countries, or the Midle East…And even then there were already hints of climate change – extreme hot temperatures, draughts and floods. But nobody cared…)

 

July

 

Monday, 9.7.79

Social life is quiet, thank goodness, it is not easy to get ready and away from two babies, even with a capable babysitter. Last week we gave a buffet dinner, to pay off all the “debts”, which weighed heavily on Joris´s mind. It went well - the guests stayed till midnight that did not please us as it normally should, because we both had a cold, which in Joris´s case developed into a bronchitis. We spent the weekend at home, watching Wimbledon, Martina Navrátilová got her 2^nd title and Bjorn Borg set a record, winning it for the 4^th time consecutively. I went for a long walk with Thomas in the pram, to the Embassy to get the papers for Joris, and back, 1 and a half hours, it did me good. David is beginning to show jealousy, he does not take his afternoon naps anymore and he resents me giving Thomas his afternoon bottle, climbing on my back, pulling my hair and even scratching and hitting Thomas. I had to get very angry and it all ended up in tears and being sorry. Still, normally he is being helpful obedient to verbal commands – that is a progress. According to Joris, he has reach the 1m mark.

 

Thursday, 19.7.79

Thomas will be two months old and I took him to paediatrician, just be sure all is well, and it is, weight 5.30kg, less then David at this age, but the same length: 59cm. He is losing his lovely hair, soon he will be bald like David was… I am all packed to go alone with the children all the way to Queensland, for two weeks to stay with the Pešinas at the beach. I need a break and to lose more weight, we had several dinners, one at our home, and one at the Vatican Legation, the Monsignore is a keen tennis player (!). There were several other priests and serving was taken care by nuns (!). All the time I felt very sinful, just the night, when the Skylab orbiting the Earth was to disintegrate in the atmosphere, possibly above Canberra. Luckily it fell to pieces on  some other, uninhabitated, place in West Australia.

Tomorrow I am leaving, with both kids and the pram for Queensland, to stay for two weeks with my Aunt and Uncle Karel Pesina at a beach, where they have a cottage. A long journey.

 

August

Monday, 6.8.79

I am back, not having lost either of the babies or the pram, only about five kg, which had been the idea behind my trip. We left for the airport at 5 AM, only to find the airport closed because of mist. It caused a 2 hrs delay and I nearly went back home as I would miss my connecting flight to Sydney, where I still had to catch another to Brisbane and then one more to Townsville, where we were to catch the bus to Tulle, to meet the “uncles” to pick us up. But I stayed and hoped for the best. David got into the plane with enthusiastic cries of éro, éro, , but then got frightened by the noise of the small plane and kept trying to leave through the loo. Not even the charming air hostesse could calm him down. Thomas, in the “kangaroo poach” on my tummy slept peacefully through. In Sydney they promised to get us on the next plane in 2hrs time – another long wait. But somebody took pity on us and let us stay in an empty staff room; not only it had coffee, but also a door that I thankfully shut so that I no longer needed to chase after David all over the airport. I fed the kids, changed their nappies and had a bit of rest, so we were fit for the next leg of our  journey to Brisbane (they did get us on the plane at 12). In the bigger plane David was quiet, the weather was clear and I could watch rugged East Australian coast and the blue Pacific Ocean. Another plane took us over the town of Rockhampton, 1 732km from Sydney, where we crossed the Tropics of Capricorn into the tropical zone. From the air Townswille was a row upon row of corrugated iron roofs reflecting the sun rays amids vivid green. From the ground you could see that roofs covered white houses, mostly wooden and on styles, not so tidy as they seemed from the air. It was 3PM and the heat felt like a wet blanket, the smallest effort, like taming David, made me sweat. The bus for Tulle left hours ago – we should have arrived there by then – and there was no other. Nothing to do but spend the night, I was recommended a hotel, a tube-like “sky-scraper”. From the room on the 11^th floor there was a nice view. In the end it was a welcome stop, we could wash and eat, and take out lighter clothes (it was cold in Canberra). The first bus was leaving at noon, so I did some shopping on the High Street lined with palms.

(There is a photo of us at the bus stop, which is still clear in my mind, but I have quite forgotten how adventurous the journey was. It explains why we look so fresh. No idea, who took the photo.) Even though the (air-conditioned) bus came from as far as Perth, on the west coast, it was half empty and we could make ourselves comfortable, with Thomas in the pram carry cot. David also fell asleep soon, and I could watch the countryside, flat land with eucalyptus trees on the right, hills with eucalyptus trees on the left, with an occasional garden of flowering bushes interrupting the eternal greyish green. Only after we passed the river Herbert the vegetation became tropical – first sugar cane fields (the town Ingham boasts the biggest sugar mill in the Southern hemisphere, which sounds grand, but when you look on the globe, it means hardly more than when we say “in Central Europe”…), then the flaming coral trees and banana plantations, spoiled by blue plastic protecting the rings of ripening fruit from vermin, and then pineapple fields – as Agatha Christie had said, it was disappointing to see such a delicious fruit growing in the earth as common cabbage…After a low mountain ridge covered in dense and luxuriant rainforest we reached the Cardwell and there was the sea, finally, a narrow strip at least, bordered by the mountainous island Hitchingbrook Then Tully at last and the Pesinas waiting for us with their Volkswagen caravan, to take us the last 30km to the Mission Beach, the end of our nearly 3 000km journey. (I am wondering now, how ever did we let the Uncles know, that we would arrive a day later – no mobiles and almost surely no telephone either.) They had built the cottage themselves, simple but comfortable dwelling with the inevitable corrugate iron roof among a palm groove and within a stone throw from the public beach – no one can own a piece of beach up to a distance of a several meters above the highest tide. The cottage did not have an extra bedroom, so Uncle Karel arranged a flat for us in a holiday complex about 1 km away, free of charge. It was winter (tropical) and off season; we were the only guests. The flat was sparsely furnished, so safe for (and from) David, but had a kitchenette and washing machine, and a nice view of the ocean and its various islands. Mission Beach is a 15km long narrow sickle of coral sand and a famous holiday resort. After a short walk on the beach and a cold supper we went to bed, since after seven it was getting dark.

The first week till Thursday it was warm and cloudy but enough sun to get tanned. I had David always wear a T-shirt (and hat which he luckily kept on) but on one overcast day I let him run about naked and in the evening his shoulders were a little sunburnt. (I have forgotten this lesson by the time we lived in Ecuador and on not only overcast but even a rainy day in Casa Blanca I let you play in the surf without T-shirt or cream, which you hated, and your back got so burnt, that I and you have not forgotten it to this day…) We stablished a routine, in the morning we walked along the beach to the “Uncles´s cottage, “parked” Thomas in hgis pram in the shade and with David went frolicking in the sand. There was a little stream and puddles left over from the tide, which David loved. The sea never ceased to frighten him till the end, though the surf was mild. When I went for a dip, he cried all the time. For lunch we went home and after I put David down for his afternoon nap, I went to have run and good long swim, leaving Thomas in his pram on the beach. The pram was on big wheels and covered with a mosquito net; there was nobody around except a few dogs. Still, one day some people came by and told me off for being a reckless mother. (I suppose I was and always have been a little – what do you think?) Anther day I was got out of the water caught in a sort of string with blue beads. Before I extricated myself I felt a few stings, but it was not too bad.  (Did not need Joey or anybody to pee on me…) . Towards the evening we went back to the Uncles for supper. Here I want to repeat, that I took this adventurous trip in order to lose weight gained during the pregnancy with Thomas and when we were shopping in Tulle for food for our lunches, I only bought diet biscuits and soups for myself. (Thomas was still on bottled milk and David on potted “solids”. After all my exercise I was ravenously hungry in the evening and was looking for a substantial supper, but as it turned out, it seemed that the Uncles were on a diet as well: the suppers were very frugal, just cheese and ham a few slices of bread. As I had imprudently mentioned my intention to lose weight, I could not very well protest or ask for more. I had never been so hungry in my life, but the goal was achieved: 5kg down after the two weeks. In Tulla, there  is also a cane sugar mill, it stinks as horribly as beat sugar mills, so I firmly declined Uncle´s offer of a visit. I had been to one when at school back home, and it was quite enough. The cane field are set on fire before harvesting, in order to get rid of insects and vermin. It is very hard and dirty work and the Australians used to bring virtually slave labourers over from nearby islands. (Mark Twain describes this in his excellent book “Following the Equator”). Saturday it rained all day, we all three huddled in my bed – the room was cold, not having any glass in the windows, just  mosquito netting… Sunday brought brilliant sunshine but also a rather cold wind; only on the last but one day it got really warm and the owner of the hotel took us out in his small motor boat to the group of coral islands called  “The Family”. We landed at one on them, on a white beach formed by crushed coral; when we walked it produced a sound like jingle bells. The top was rocky and covered with vegetation, but trough the clear blue water we could see the colourful coral formation and tropical fishes. Too bad I had no snorkel. (For snorkelling above the corals I had to wait till we moved to the Philippines, our next posting.) Further out is the Great Barrier Reef of about 7 000 similar islands strung for a thousand km along the eastern coast.  (Unfortunately we could not go that far and in the end, I never I never saw the Reef proper. And it is now apparently dying…) I watched the pinky sunsets every evening, but only this last night it was warm enough for a star watching walk on the beach. Next morning Thomas woke me up earlier than usual with his grunts, so dared the morning freshness to watch, for once, a sunrise. Sunsets I had seen galore, especially in Prague, where I could watch the sun setting every night behind the Castle. (But until this day I can never have enough of them.) But sunrises, that´s another matter, I like to sleep in. The ones I did see were usually after partying the night trough… And never over the sea. The spectacle was worth leaving the warm bed. The sky was pale blue and only a stripe of yellow above the horizon indicated that something was about to happen. A few little pink-grey clouds gathered over the fiery spot of the nascent sun, as if to welcome it. After what seemed an eternity, the top of the sun popped up quite suddenly, like a balloon held under water and released. It seemed to pause, as if checking out the world it was emerging to, then it continued to rise majestically in its orange splendour. When I could no longer look into it, I went back to catch a bit more sleep. The way back was easier, the children slept in the bus and my air ticket had been changed to a direct one Townswille – Sydney, where Joris was waiting for us. He did not look too neglected. The weather in Canberra was mild, so no big shock. It was super two weeks, the first time I could enjoy the seaside for such a long time at a stretch. The children survived well, Thomas at not quite three months was goodness itself, sleeping peacefully most of the time and when awake, amusing himself with the “mobile” over his pram.. David, at 2 years and 3 months, was more trouble – “the terrible two´s”, wanting to be carried on the walks to and from the Uncles ´cottage, while quite capable of walking the distance; at the weight and size of him – over 1m - an impossible task for me, and me pushing the pram as well. A smack on the bottom usually solved the situation. He got to throwing things and kicking them about, refusing to pick them up. Being jealous of Thomas also caused some problems, mainly at feeding times. But he is very caring, when nobody is watching. He was happy playing in the sand with sells and sticks, but never ventured into the sea. But on the whole, considering the strange surroundings, he was a very good boy. He seemed happy to be back home and in the Occasional care.

 

August

Sunday, 12.8.79

Wednesday, I took Thomas to the clinic for a check- up: weight 6.75, length 52cm, both a little less than David at his age. (And I got back to my old weight and size.) He is becoming very sociable, trying to talk and is smiling and laughing a lot. I find it difficult to put him down, but there is a lot to do with preparations for our trip to Europe, leaving on the 14h.

The winter is in the air, mimosas are in full bloom (1.8. was the “Mimosa Day”), but it is rainy and windy, and the first snow has fallen in the mountains. High time to leave for the northern hemisphere summer – if there is any…

Yesterday Jan and Jenny with husbands and children came over for a “good-bye” lunch, altogether there were six children plus a baby (Thomas), so it was a ruckus. Today busy packing and David senses that something is up and clings to me as never before, probably worried that he would be left behind. We are leaving on Tuesday, the14th.

 

 

The trip:

1) Canberra to Los Angeles (three stopovers), projected time 17 hrs

Having learnt from our flight to Australia, we had slightly less pieces of hand baggage but one more child to carry…Everything went well till Fiji, where we stopped for refuelling for the . After the take off the children fell asleep immediately and we started to dose off as well, but half an hour into the flight, the pilot´s voice came on: “As you may have noticed, we have turned round are heading back to Fiji.” Nobody noticed anything, of course, but apparently a warning light went for one the engines… I said to Joris, if necessary, you grab David and run for the left exit, I´ll run to the right with Thomas. So, fearing the worst, we “emergency” landed and waited full eight hours for a fault to be found and apparently repaired, as we finally took off again, not in the best frame of mind. The children had all the sleep they needed and stayed awake, and bothersome, for the whole flight to the next stopover in Honolulu, in the middle of night there, to face another unpleasant surprise: as we were entering the US here for the first time, we had to go through the passport control and the customs with all 80kg of luggage (three suitcases ant the pram), and not a porter or a trolley in sight. It was hot and humid and David kept running away. The only one in good mood was Thomas in my “kangaroo pouch”, until he got hungry. Finally, we got on the plane for the last leg of the journey and arrived to L.A. at 1AM local time – on Wednesday, the 13^th, as we had crossed the date line again and got back the day we “lost on the way to Australia, only it had been a Thursday and we got back a Tuesday. The airport was a bedlam with an hour wait for the luggage; at least here there were porters, portly negroes. The bus which was to take us to our hotel was long gone, so we got there in a taxi, only to be told, that our room was long gone as well and no vacancies, even though Joris had asked the PanAm company to let the hotel know. At least the hotel found us a room in another one and even had us driven there. We slept till noon and then were fetched by the original hotel, Sheraton, 5 stars and with a pool. During the afternoon I washed all the soiled clothes (in a machine) and prepared more bottles of milk. The next day we finally set out for Disney Land and tried a few attractions (David, you might remember the trip by train through the jungle?) It was crowded and hot and not all that suitable for very small children, so we di not go back and spent the day lazing at the pool. The city of L.A. did not seem worth a sight-seeing tour.

           

2) Los Angeles to Montreal, 1 stopover in Toronto

A pleasant flight in a spacious Dakota airplane till Toronto, whose modern airport made the transfer smooth, in spite of all our luggage. Two hours more and we landed in Montreal, when my aunt Helena met us, loaded with nappies and fresh fruit. She had recommended a hotel but did not personally check it and we found filthy, smelly and stuffy, evoking images of cockroaches and lice, and posing a definite fire danger with no escape routes. So Joris called Sheraton, where they said there was a room. So squeezed back into a taxi, but despite the splendour of the entrance hall, the room was not much better, only cleaner and the beds just iron cots. We were too tired to try anything else and settled down as best was as we could, only to be woken up by Thomas, who was hungry and his crying woke up David, who, on his part, never stopped “talking” to himself loudly till the morning, when, to add insult to injury, we were asked to leave; it turned out we were given a staff bedroom, “out of kindness”… Joris ´s patience snapped and he book a room at an airport hotel. It was far from the centre, but we had lost all interest in sightseeing; it was raining anyway. The hotel, called “Mirabella Palace” and was worthy of its name and worth of all the trouble. It was the atrium type, a glass covered courtyard with plants, waterfalls, and a swimming pool, which you could watch either from a restaurant terrace or a glass lift. The rooms modern and simple, yet very comfortable. Also the hotel was completely soundproof, not a peep from the airplanes landing or taking off. By now we have learnt that staying in a five star hotel when travelling is not a question of snobbism but a common sense. You can relax and despite the travel hassle, feel you are on holidays. Thomas woke us up again, but both boys let us sleep in the morning. We packed everything and went to have lunch with aunt Helena in her flat with a nice view over the city. My friend and colleague from the university, Irena Žantovská, who had emigrated in 1968 to Canada via fake marriage to a Murray, and it is with this name she making a name for herself at the McGuire university, in the field of architecture, although she was studying English and Chinese and was the cleverest girl in my year. At one point we sort of shared a boyfriend. He also emigrated, but I did not ask if they were back together.

In the late afternoon we returned to the hotel and went to the airport through a connecting corridor. The plane to Brussels was delayed by several hours and during the wait David was restless; a difficult eater at home, when travelling refused to at all, only wanted to drink bottles and bottles of milk and lemonade, which went through him like through a funnel and consequently I was busy changing his nappies and panties. Although I had a good supply of them, in the end all got wet. Also on the planes I had to keep changing him or Thomas, not an easy thing on an airplane seat. Not very restful. When we finally took off, we could enjoy a nice view of Montreal, rosy golden in the setting sun, full of skyscraper but also greenery dotted with emerald coloured swimming pools. The last leg took 8 hours and was a nightmare: the kids wouldn´t sleep and David, overtired, made such a ruckus, that I slapped him and then broke down in hysterical sobbing myself. The flight seemed interminable and did the queues for luggage, passport and customs controls. It was midday in Brussels and very hot and humid. Daniel brought us home to an empty flat – Mother and Father had left in a hurry for England, because Granny had a fall in the bathroom, so they had to go and see how she was. So no helping hand for me and I spent the three days in Brussels washing and redoing suitcases for our trip to England, while Joris spent the time at the Ministry. At night we hardly slept, the boys had not yet managed to get over the time difference. Poor Thomas, who had been so good as a new born baby, sleeping solidly through the night as soon as we came home from the hospital, was now making up for it, through no fault of his.

So hardly refreshed, we were in the air again (on Thursday, 23^rd of August) and on the way to London, where Mother picked us up – after an hour´s search for her car in the huge airport garage. Finally we made it to Granny´s house in West Byfleet. She has luckily recovered from her fall. We had two quiet weeks there, Mother occasionally, though not exactly enthusiastically, took care of her grandchildren, who finally started to sleep through the night, so Joris and I could take trips into the pretty surroundings and do some shopping. One for once sunny summer day, some friends of Granny came for an afternoon tea. David behaved well, even playing a host, offering biscuits to the guests and Thomas, all smiles, was handed from one lap to another.

Sunday, 2^nd of September, we had the christening of Thomas, in a pretty little Norman church in a nearby village, Pyrford. It is a protestant church and Father had had to arrange special permission and find a catholic priest to perform the catholic rites, which did gladly, as he is a Catholic himself. Mother is Anglican, but was happy as well, because her father had been an important member of this church community and is buried in an honorary spot at the outside wall with a commemorative plaque. The church was nicely decorated with white and yellow flowers (the Vatican colours), and Granny´s niece Mary with her family arrived for the occasion from Eastbourne. Daniel was also there, but Mark was in New York at the time. David looked very solemn and was on his best behaviour despite my fears he might throw a jealous tantrum seeing that Thomas, adorable in Mrs. Breitenstein´s lace christening outfit, was the centre of everybody´s attention. He was smiling throughout. The one who misbehaved was Granny, who was making “funny” remarks, which she thought nobody could hear – she was deaf. We all had tea and a cake in the garden afterwards.

On Monday we went to London to do shopping for Joris, extra-long sleeves shirts and such.

London is not the same pleasant city that I used to like so much, it is overrun by foreigners and spoiled by new high-rise buildings, though the countryside seems unchanged – old houses with tall chimneys and evergreen fences, meadows with cows and horses or men in white playing endless games of cricket.

On Wednesday, 5.9. I embarked, alone with the two children, on another journey, to Prague which, short as it was, turned out a real crusade. Joris took me to the airport, but discreetly disappeared at the passport control, though with his diplomatic passport he could have gone further; we were afraid that David would make scene at a later parting – this was one our problems when travelling: David was constantly worried that one of us might get lost and we had to stay together all time. This went smoothly, as David had gotten used to one of both of us “disappearing” from Byfleet.  But it was hell from then on, despite Joris having booked an ground hostess to assist me. I had two heavy bags, a handbag, Thomas in the “kangaroo poach” and David on a “leash”. She met us, but was not very helpful and did not like watching David and the bags for me while I went to the Duty free to buy Campari (for my Aunt Myška) and “American” cigarettes for friends, goods unavailable in the communist economy. I used all my three boarding passes, so I had three bags full, which the hostess refused to help me with, obviously disapproving of my “greed”. Then she left us, saying to wait for her till the boarding. Easier said than done – not surprisingly, David had become allergic to the airports and started misbehaving badly, wouldn´t stay still, wanted to go somewhere and when restrained, threw himself on the ground under people´s feet. When I bend down to smack his bottom, Thomas threw up on my chest. At one point. A mass of travellers started rushing to a gate, and David, acting on previous experiences, decided to join them. I let go of the leash at the time and I had to abandon the luggage chasing after him. When I finally caught up, he pulled me forward with the strength of a bull dog. Thomas threw up again. With a big effort, we made it back to the luggage heap. The hostess reappeared 1min after the boarding was announced and while a male colleague relieved her of my bag, she did not offer to take another one, but was swinging along empty handed. Once on board, David calmed down, but insisted on sitting on my lap, though he was, once again, soaked trough. Thomas, thankfully, slept through most of this. After touch down I stayed put, while the crew was celebrating with champagne the fact, that the British Airways landed in Prague on time – a first this year! I did not get any, but a Czech ground crew came to help me, took my bags and guide me to the passport control, behind which the Belgian Consul waited for us. However, a bad surprise awaited us at the luggage retrieval counter: the suitcase with all the children´s stuff (clothes and disposable nappies, not available locally) did not arrive. (Later on I transpired, that it had gone to Australia, as Joris put our address there on the tags). I was near desperation, but once in the arrival hall, my spirits lifted: a welcome committee od Jaruna, Milada with their children a Daniela were there with flowers. Tears and talk flowed, to the bewilderment of the consul. They immediately offered to make a collection of things I needed for my kids, including a pram. Then we squeezed into the consul´s car and arrived at my school friend Mahulena´s mother flat in Trojická street, where David and I also stayed the last time, before Canberra. However, this time, I did not feel so welcome: she was getting ready to leave for Canada to visit her younger daughter Zdenka there. So no baby-sitting this time, I was on my own. Life was not easy there, everything was lacking, including the mineral water to make the formula with for Thomas, and I have grown used to my new easy life. Yet I still felt this is my home and was happy to reunite with family and friends. The lost suit case arrived via Australia the second week, and 15 September Joris from Brusels by car. David got quite upset by the reappearance of his Daddy and wouldn´t let go of him, even if before he did not mind being left by me in care of “strangers” and apparently was a very good boy with them. We spent two days people-and-sightseeing, and then drove to Stráž, to see Aunt Máňa, sadly without her beloved Otto. We managed some walks and swimming and one day we drove to Třeboň. Then we left for Saarbrücken to visit Honza and Sonia. We arrived at seven very tired, the children both had diarrhea and did not sleep a wink. We managed to settle them down somehow and spent a nice evening over schintzels, potato salad and beer talking away. Early next day, we left for Amsterdam, to spend two nights with the Breitensteins in my old room from my stay with them in 1968/70. Went for a nice walk in the woods  and had enormous pancakes for lunch in an old fashioned restaurant. The drive to Brussels was mercifully short and the parents were back from England. Joris´s sister Liz with her four years old son Guillaume was visiting from Paris. The children got on well, despite the language barrier. Gérard arrived later and we had a family reunion evening, at which Daniel introduced his new girlfriend Dominique – he had parted ways with ballet dancer because she was too often dancing abroad with the famous Béjart company. (They organized a big family engagement party during our next visit, but broke up abruptly shortly afterwards, nobody never got know why. Brigitte appeared next – 3^rd time lucky.) Mark was still in N.Y. |Not to sit still for too long, on Sunday we drove to Antwerp, to “show of” the two first new Couvreurs to their great uncle, Walter. He lives alone, except for about six black cats, in an old gabled house. The rest of our stay was spent, how else, washing and packing. Due to the shopping spree in England, our suitcases were full to a bursting point. Thursday, 27.9. in the afternoon we left for |Canada, with a night stopover in Montreal, where we had supper with aunt Helena, her son Michal and his local wife Liz (whom he later divorced, now has a new partner Patty). They unfortunately, can´t have children, so no little Canadians cousins. In the morning we continued to Vancouver, on the Pacific shore of Canada. Though the flight across took 6 hours, the plane was quite small, as it was a domestic flight, and not at all comfortable, the kids fell asleep just before landing, nothing new there, and kept me so busy, that I missed the Rocky Mountains when flying over them. A pity! We arrived to our hotel, Sheraton, a cylindrical building of 40 floors, before noon in a downpour (Vancouver is one of the wettest places on earth) and were told no room before 2PM. With both babies crying and soaked trough I lost my temper and got them to let us in a room. I changed the nappies, prepared bottles, fed the boys and at 6 fell exhausted in bed, but before we could fall asleep, a fire alarm sounded. We jumped out of bed and rushed out to the corridor, where other guests were gathering. No sigh or smoke or fire, so I called the reception and was told: false alarm! So back to bed; the alarm kept sounding sporadically but we did not move, hoping, it was still false, and luckily it was; we slept soundly and woke up safe and sound into a cold but mostly sunny morning, with spectacular clouds, which soon dissipated, and we could enjoy all the touristic things in Vancouver, a visit of a ZOO on a peninsula jutting into the bay, where David enjoyed killer whale show, a bus trip through the city, a cable car ride to the top of the mountain Grouse. We were quite taken by the city. Leaving David sleeping in the room, but taking Thomas with us, we had supper in revolving restaurant on the top floor of the hotel, with a spectacular view of the night lights of Vancouver. We had breakfast there as well, the city looking great in daylight as well. Vancouver left a good impression on us, despite the rain starting again, we were leaving again, this Sunday, 30.9. for the Cook Islands via Los Angeles, where yet again the plane was late, Thomas was yelling from the top of his lungs and David was picking up a fight with other kids. When the plane finally arrived, it was almost empty, so we could spread and sleep a little till the stopover on Fuji. For the rest of the flight I was watching an endless but ever changing sunrise – the sun had to chase after us and we gained the day that we had lost on the way out, arriving the same Sunday in time for breakfast – a feast of tropical fruits plus the traditional cooked one. The island we were heading to seemed so small, that I doubted the plane would fit in it, but it did not miss the only runway next to the ocean and landed hazardously but safely. The airport consisted of a few bamboo huts on pylons, but the entry formalities were as protracted as in any of the big airports, though performed by smiling black natives with flower wreaths round their necks. A rickety minibus took us to the hotel, a group of brick huts with palm leaves roofs. From our patio we could glimpse the blue waters of the bay. Joris and Thomas went to bed and David and I went exploring the lagoon, with warm, crystal clear water too shallow to swim in and bits of corral on the sandy bottom, pretty to look at but painful to step on. The ocean was quite far away, crashing against the coral reef. In the afternoon it clouded over and it rained intermittently, but it was very hot and humid. In the morning, David was full of ugly red insect bites and Thomas had a heat rash, so we took a taxi to “town” to get some lotion. Despite an overall impression of poverty, the drugstore was well supplied as any in the “civilized” world. In its centre, the island is dominated by high volcanic mountains, covered with lush tropical vegetation. We noticed many isolated gravestones – each family having their private graveyard? The population is now mainly catholic. The Islands used to belong to New Zealand, but has gained autonomy. By the time we got home, David developed a high fever and we called the hotel doctor, who diagnosed an exhaustion from the several days of diarrhea, lack of food and the heat, and gave him pills that stopped the diarrhea and made him sleep through the night. At least we could enjoy our last day, swimming (me) and sunbathing.

On Wednesday, 3.10. morning we left, with mixed feelings – more disappointed than not, via Fuji (again!) to Auckland, N.Z. When we landed there in the evening, it was cold and raining. The drive to our hotel took us across the whole of the N.Z. capital, which did not impress us very. much. In the morning continued to Sydney, where the supposed immediate connecting flight to Canberra was cancelled and we had another 4 hours wait. No need to describe it… It was about 6PM, still the 4^th of October, after more than two months “on the road”, we spilled out of the taxi in front of our house and finally into it. A while later, my and Jenny´s friend Jan (a lady despite her name) appeared with a cooked supper, a very welcome surprise.

The first week home was spent recuperating, David and Thomas took it in their stride and started sleeping through the night after a few days. I had them both checked at the Manuka clinic, they had not come to any harm, on the contrary – David´s English and even Czech has improved considerably and Thomas has been quietly growing and developing his charm, but I ended up in bed with a mild pneumonia.

(I forgot all about this, but in recent years, it has become “a habit” of mine – getting a bout of pneumonia after an exhausting trip… At the time, we should have drawn some lessons from this trip – do not go round the world with babies and toddlers, and more especially, do not venture on tropical islands, but we had not, really, as we were posted at the other end of the world from home. During the next home leave, before our transfer to the Philippines, we went, among other, to the island of Bora-Bora, the “dream of all tourists”, one of the French Polynesian islands of Tahiti, which was very beautiful but the native styled huts were totally unsuitable for us and when David stepped on a sea urchin we gave up romantic for practical and moved to the capital, Raratonga, on the main island and into a huge, boring hotel with a safe swimming pool… Still, despite of all the complaining, I have no regrets.)

 

Back in Canberra, October

 

Monday, 22 .10. 79

Besides getting into the old life in one place, I am kept busy with David´s potty training – it is high time but also time consuming - when he is not sitting on his new “potty chair” and amusing himself with drawing, I have to constantly be near him with a potty at the ready, when he is running around the garden, naked, which makes it easier. It is very hot. Thomas was 5 months yesterday, he weighs 9kg and is a happy baby, smiling or even laughing most of the time, especially when I am changing his nappy; it seem like he is very ticklish. He is getting used to Uncle Walter´s  playpen again without any trouble, David´s mobiles and  other toys are new for him and fascinate him. In his cot he moves about on his back, ending up right across it in the morning. Sometimes I leave him in the Occasional Care with David, no tears but always happy to see me. David is not jealous any more, on the contrary, is happy to hand him toys and tells me to pick Thomas up, when he is crying.

 

November

Tuesday, 6.11.79.

The weekend was busy and turned out memorable: Joris won the in the singles of the “Diplomatic” tennis tournament, so is very proud, as his name will be for ever engraved on the silver cup, almost like Wimbledon. I spent both days watching and cheering with the kids. The finals were played at the French Embassy court after a pick-nick lunch on the grounds. Joris is the president of the Committee this season, so I had to organize a dinner for the committee members and their wives, 18 people in all.

David is 2 and half years old today and celebrated the occasion by asking for the potty himself, to do a “kaka”… He weighs 19kg and measures 103cm. He knows, what he wants, is very stubborn and has quite a temper (Already!!). On the pro side, he is quite willing to help me, in whatever he can, like fetching things, cleaning after himself, trying to get dressed and the like. Sometimes he skips his afternoon nap, but stays quietly playing in his room. It is becoming easier to communicate and make him understand simple “rules of life”. In fact, he is chattering a lot, but his mixture of English and Czech is hard to decipher. Jenny invites us often next door, to play with Peter and splash in their pool.

Today is also a national holiday, in honour of the famous Melbourne Cup Horse Race. Jan invited me to her place with some other friends, to have “mimosa” – the traditional  drink of

champagne with grapefruit juice – and to bet. I backed a favourite, but he collapsed before the finish and had to be shot – quite a traumatic experience. I got invited to join their tennis group. I already have one – of mothers with babies and toddlers, with whom I also have a “play group”: once a week one us hosts it at her place with all the kids. We all have big gardens, sdo it is fine. The tennis takes place on the court in Manuka, next to which there is a fenced-in playground, where we can safely “park” the kids. They very quickly learnt, not to get on the court or cry for mummy´s attention.

 

Wednesday, 21.11.79

Thomas turned six months today! I took him to the clinic for a check-up, he weighs  9.60kg and measures 71cm, a little less than David at that age. It also deems his eyes will be darker, more blue green than blue. He can turn over on his tummy and back again at wish (his). He wakes up quite early in the morning, but waits patiently and quietly for his mummy to “rise and shine” and take care of him. David is sleeping late, he takes after me in this respect. He is obediently eating solids already, only has a bottle in the morning and at night, and has two naps a day. He is beginning to show some of David´s temper but on the whole is sweet and happily plays in his play pen.  When David climbs in with him he squeals with pleasure, even if sometimes treated quite roughly by his “heavy weight” brother.

It is still nice and hot and the last two weekends Joris was playing lots of tennis, and I played some, too, with my ladies´ doubles, and also went to my reading group. Next year we shall concentrate on the Australian literature. It did me good to exercise my “little grey cells” a bit.

 

December

Thursday, 13.12.79

Yesterday was our weeding anniversary, Joris took me out to restaurant with a band, but after an afternoon of tennis was so tired, that only just managed one very slow slow-fox…

Today we have had the hottest day here ever – 36°C! (This was a long time before the global warming…) We spent the day at Jenny´s pool. In the evening a terrific thunderstorm came and brought the temperature down by 10°.

Friday, 21.12.79

Last week we were busy with various cocktails and dinner – a run up to Christmas – so I quite forgot another anniversary: on the 17^th, it has been two years since we arrived to Australia. They passed like a dream and we are still happy here, even if we are beginning to understand what we kept hearing – that there is absolutely nothing to do in and around Canberra. It is not quite true, of course, especially with two small kids. It is a bit sad to say every weekend let´s go somewhere, but where?, having already explored the surroundings within the radius of one day car trips several times. One feels one is wasting the prevalently pleasant weather. We thought of going to the Blue mountains, but the bush fires started there. Still, now the X-mas holidays has started, we shall be going to the seaside, we rented a house in our favourite Bateman´s Bay. It will be good to change “the scenery”, both boys are being difficult, David misses his “school” and refuses to have his afternoon nap, and Thomas is fretting out of solidarity or because he can´t manage to sit up. We shall spend Christmas there and the car is packed up to the roof with presents – Joris insisted “Father Christmas“ must come exactly on the day, while I´d have been content to have “Baby Jesus” pass by a few days earlier in Canberra – the children wouldn´t know the difference, and we are adults, after all. The house stood practically on the wide beach and had three bedrooms. We put David in the “master”, in the double bed, but he still managed to fall out of – it was his first time out of his crib. Some mornings we found him in the bed of Thomas´s (who slept in his folding crib) room.  The weather was changeable, at least we did not get burnt. The beach and the sea were well suited for children, there was no surf to speak of, and fortunately no jelly fish. We cut a small casuarina fir tree and decorated its spare branches. David thought the candles were solely to be blown out, as he had been taught at his 1^st birthday.  Joris was pleased, he is not keen to have “live” candle flames around. The main attraction for David was tearing up the paper wrappings, though he duly handed the presents over. The last day I went by car to visit my “play group” friends, who staying in Rosendale, about which I heard. It was on the rocky part of the coast, with a spectacular surf and blow holes. We returned on Sunday, the 3Oth, passing long queues of cars heading to the coast – a good thing we had gone the weekend before. At the seaside, Thomas mastered sitting up on his own, which makes him very happy and the parents proud.

The New Year´s Eve, Monday, 31.1.79

The last day of this eventful year we spent quietly at home. Both David and Thomas were sitting with us at the table, but I was the only one to wait for the year to roll over, a little sad for the Old Year and lifting a glass to  the New One, hoping it will be kind to us. (have you two ever read the H.C. Andersen´s fairy tale The 12 Months? That is what has always made me sad on the New Year´s Eve…)

 

“You know, it doesn´t matter what you achieve; without the joy of sharing it with someone you love, everything is empty…”