Waiting at the airport is boring.

Packing for an overseas trip is always demanding. On one hand you want to bring presents for your close ones, on the other hand you try to figure in vain, what the weather may be like there — and you end up taking along a swim suit and a woolly hat, rubber boots and a sunscreen. In the end you tell yourself that you're not going for a half year to the Antarctica, check your passports, and throw yourselves at the mercy of the airlines.

Every age category likes to play in the sandbox.

This year we ended up with United Airlines, as they offered a reasonable departure back from Prague for a regular price (even so, it's an outrage what we have to pay for tickets). Standard departure is arranged around catching a morning flight from Frankfurt (or Paris or London) to San Francisco, which means leaving Prague at seven in the morning. Given the requirement of being at the airport two hours before take-off, this means five o'clock, consequently getting up at three, or half past — which I consider very inhuman. You don't get to sleep much during the last night, don't get to have a decent breakfast, and then you get treated to almost twenty-four hours of the same (lack of sleep, lack of good food). If they were transporting prisoners in such fashion, a constitutional court would certainly ban it as a cruel and unusual punishment.

Let's return to the San Francisco airport and the beginning of our journey. We had arrived to the counter in an example of compliance more than two hours before the scheduled departure time, proudly beheld a line of about three pairs of people, and relaxed. When the last couple ahead of us stepped up to the counter, the clerk genuflected in a sudden gesture, while the remainder of the ground crew appeared to have abruptly began to either furiously peck on their terminals, or wring their hands (each according to their personal nature). They gradually started to leak the information that their system has crashed and they could do — nothing. We were hoping that it was just a glitch in the electronics, but after half an hour I went to have a lunch, and later swapped places with the kids and Hippo — still nothing was moving — that is, besides the minutes ticking away from those allotted for our lay-over in Frankfurt. When hundred and twenty minutes of our reserve of 150 were gone, the machines had re-started and we with them.

The girls are ready.

I understand that computers go crazy sometimes — but don't get why somebody could not issue manual boarding tickets to the few people (there were altogether thirty of us waiting there in the end). Or why Lufthansa, SAS or any one of the approximately five other co-jokers on this flight (none of whom had a down system) could not process us instead. It would have prevented a hundred headaches — passengers and airline employees alike.

The unit is failing to maintain a marching formation.

Yet we bordered an old dumpy aircraft (United still operates airliners with a single CRT monitor for everybody and similar amenities) and the rest happened more or less without issues. Kids rejoices when they discovered the TV would play Battleship, and thus spent part of the flight watching ugly aliens. I could read and try to somehow kill time, for my offspring had seriously reached ages when they are very self-sufficient and besides cursory supervision, so that they would not act up too much, they don't need much care anymore.

We landed in Frankfurt with about two hours delay, and forty minutes remained to departure of our plane for Prague. About fifteen minutes went into taxiing on the airport, attaching the walkway and so on. Then I lost track; we had to trot. An oracle would be a great help to establish one's orientation around the airport, but eventually we found a corridor to our gate — though leading through passport control. A German customs official under the pressure of several hundred people, who all needed to catch their respective flights, had slowed down his usual tempo, checked each passport very carefully, and was being obnoxious. I don't suppose it would be the first time in his life encountering a Slavic woman with the -ova suffix on her name, but he had to wonder at length and inquire, why my name was "different" than those of my children.

Before the passport guy finished pondering gender-specific name customs, frequency of Tom's jumping increased so much that it was obvious we would not make it to the airplane and we would have to get to a bathroom RIGHT AWAY. Thus the kids rushed into the first toilets along our way, while the PA system hollered last call for passengers on flight to Prague. It was 11:52, eight minutes to departure time. I was comforting myself with the hope that if they managed to shift our luggage, they would not leave without us, and with the common sense that the kids simply MUST GO despite airlines having a tantrum.

We had found a (single) mushroom.

We finished running to the gate five minutes to twelve (wall clock time). A ground crew lady offered nicely to take my carry-ons and stove them in the airplane's bottom, for I could not take them with me aboard and if I had checked them in, I would have not had to sprint with them across the airport. I did not consider it productive to explain to the lady that we were overseas passengers and those three bags we were allowed to check in had been treated so at San Francisco.

Kids learning to split wood.

Eventually we got to our seats; I even talked the attendant to let us swap our places so that we would not be completely separated. And then came the take-off and with it the "smell of home" — two Czech families sitting in front of us, with adolescent children, who had apparently never been introduced to personal deodorants. I understand that a miner leaving his shift may not smell like roses, but if you wear brand name apparel and participate in a worldly activity such as airline travel, could you please enhance your image with a simple shower and personal hygiene?

After landing we could not wait to be home, or in Granny's condo, that is — and so I grabbed our luggage as it came out on the carousel, and rushed out — just to realize when I glimpsed Grandpa that Lisa's car seat had remained back inside the airport; I had counted on Lisa using it. I had to make complicated phone calls about being allowed back into the customs area of the airport and subsequently look for the seat at the oversize baggage counter, re-threading my exit through the customs.

Eventually I sent Grandpa and Granny, Tom and a portion of our bags ahead, and me and Lisa called Kočička for help — it's twenty minutes by car to Písnice, but by public transport it may take several hours. And I could use the occasion to have a chat with Kočička — it could not cover the two years we had not seen each other, but at least something. And we had agreed on a trip with the kids around Prague.

Even Lisa decided to try it.

At Písnice, welcoming with Granny and Grandpa continued, and talking and unpacking as well. In the evening I was at the end of my rope, but naturally in the moment when it would have been appropriate to go to bed, my body woke up, for it was set up for nine hours delay; I had hard time falling asleep. Lisa, on the other hand, went stiff too soon, I think she did not even brush her teeth — but then she rummaged around already at four a.m. So we started working on school homework and I tried to chase the kids back to bed in the later morning. The result was, I would have liked to sleep, but my offspring was perky.

A pack chasing a cat.

Then we went down town with Granny; later I passed the kids on to Grandpa, who promised them a visit in a toy store, and took care of them while I did my shopping (of climbing gear). I finished it rather quickly and so I told myself I would stop by the toy store and check if Grandpa and the kids would still be there. I could not see them anywhere, but I had a sudden black-out — a line of relatively large, PURPLE-PINK plush horses was displayed on a prominent spot — and I was quite clear in that moment that Grandpa could not possibly resist Lisa.

I continued in my program, a get-together with one of my virtual friends. Given her kids, we went to McDonald's, where I first (and sadly not the last time) encountered the phenomenon of turnstile toilet. Insert ten crowns (~US¢50) and only then you're permitted to go pee. Simply a hassle. Grandpa brought our kids to McDonald's, too, Lisa naturally toting the purple horse, Tom with a battery powered electric train set, and so we were leaving for home upholstered with toys like Christmas trees. Kids were, of course, ecstatic.

Courtyard in Telč Castle.

But Grandpa managed to show the kids other sights as well besides the insides of a toy store — Tom and Lisa described the astronomical clock at the Old Town city hall (they were most fascinated by its animated skeleton sculpture), and Tom said they visited a beautiful church of Our Lady of Snow, and then they went to the church with the "gentleman in the wall", but he had forgotten the gentleman's name. Given the fact that Lisa had jumped with joy on Wenceslas Square, how beautiful houses they have there, it seems that they are not indifferent to architecture.

On a tour with Grandpa.

I talked them into a dinner at Divine Comedy (steakhouse in Písnice), as I did not feel like shopping for food and cooking — again, an hour had arrived when I felt completely exhausted, followed by inability to fall asleep in the evening. Lisa faded out prematurely again, and rummaged around in the morning prematurely, again.

We met with Kočička in Adria for lunch, but Eliška had a bandaged ankle, and so we cancelled our original plan of a trip to Petřín and instead went to a nearby Lego Museum. Lisa first made faces, as to say she wasn't interested much, but in the end had enjoyed it as well — both the exhibits and the playing with Lego blocks, where Kočička and I could sit down and have a chat. Naturally the kids had eventually enticed us to buy them small kits, but what can you do? I was more interested in getting a discount for a train museum that I had (so far) kept secret from the kids (and mostly Tom), but had preliminary included it in our plans in Prague.

Tom, however, asked for a ride in the street car, and so we got on board with Kočička, rode with them to Újezd station, and at hopped on the Petřín funicular. It was drizzling outside and the overall weather was rather nasty, so I kept ignoring occasional shouts, "there's a playground over there", still I had promised that we would certainly visit the beautiful castle (Prague Castle) that you can see from the funicular.

Courtyard at Castle Roštejn.

On Saturday, we had kind-of invited ourselves to Zuzka. I had been joking when I said that we would stop by when Bob would be making blueberry dumplings again, but Bob actually had cooked them for the occasion. And we took a train to Úvaly, which was another experience for Tom — he wanted to check out all possible public transport machines, and this way we covered the railway. The train was the two-story Elefant — how wonderful. Only Lisa caused a lengthy scene when I did not allow her to take along her purple plush horse Fiona. I was rather surprised how long Lisa managed to whimper; she must have apparently grown close to Fiona already.

A dwarf is showing the way to the treasure.

The weather remained steadily variable, but the kids did not mind, and at Zuzka's they alternatively screamed indoors and on a trampoline in the yard, which was great. I took along a tablet for Tom, just in case the majority of younger girls would stop being interesting (Viktorka is a year younger than Lisa, and Julinka is only four — Ema does not count, she's seventeen, and stayed with us, adults). Eventually Julinka became the greatest admirer of the railroad game on the tablet, and it surprised me.

On Sunday morning the weather began improving and we proceeded in moving to the cottage. This year we had no car, which meant taking a long-distance bus (Tom excited); Grandpa came to pick us up in Cerekev. Týna with her girls was already at the cottage, and this finally gave our children a good opportunity to thoroughly acquaint themselves with their cousins. To my surprise all the kids converged onto a sand box and stayed there pretty much for the rest of the day. This is the advantage of a cottage as opposed to any city stay — offspring can be simply pushed out on the back yard, and they always find something to play with, one does not need to organize any activities. I only did not expect that our children in their respective ages would still appreciate sand box and mud pies. Well, Tom had manipulated all the girls into building roads and tunnels and sand castles, and so these were not just plain mud pies, but still it was an interesting window into the soul of a third-grader.

Roštejn's devil had scared the kids.

On Monday the kids continued with incredible endurance in the sand box. I gladly offered to go food shopping with Grandpa's car — I usually curse California's imposition to always having to go in a car everywhere, but after a few days in Czechia, I had discovered that I missed the freedom those four wheels give you. And actually I missed the very act of driving; after twelve years there, it became a natural part of my life, so much that without a car I feel like without a toothbrush — somehow not quite myself.

Tom sometimes makes teenage faces.

In the afternoon, to provide some relief from the sandbox great dig, we planned a trip to the woods. Children were awfully eager to hunt some mushrooms, but this year the forest has been rather dry. Eventually we had found just one goat 'shroom, and Lisa carried it like a relic. A pub got opened near the Dýmač Lake, and we topped the trip with beer (adult part of the expedition) and ice cream (kids). And we could not skip the evening's campfire and sausage roasting. Happy children again confirmed my experience that it's not necessary to come up with complicated schedules and activities, just let the offspring run OUTSIDE and give them basic natural elements like water, fire, sand (and sausages).

On Tuesday Grandpa complained that he was too busy, and that we needed to do some shopping and wood splitting, and Tom heard it, and we had to take care of the wood together. At last he must have gotten tired of endless digging tunnels in the sand box, and he yearned to be useful. First he just fought with it, but when we arranged him a lower stump, it went better. Subsequently Lisa wanted to try it, too, and managed to split a few logs herself, and was happy about it. Grandpa was probably going crazy; I admit that three lefties with an axe must be a horrible sight, but it came to no injuries or material damage, and perhaps it was not such a disaster after all.

Even Oli had climbed up the castle tower.

In the afternoon, grandkids Matýsek and Barborka from Jihlava came to visit our neighbors, despite Matýsek just having started his first school year — so great was the attraction of seeing our children again. Both sides were naturally ecstatic about the reunion, so much that Zdeňula and I had to announce a walk in the neighborhood to prevent demolition of our properties. Kids practically never ceased to run on our way to the pond, and must have covered the distance about three times, for they kept running to and fro. In fact, energy levels in the dithering juniors lowered over time to a mere bearable, but it was a whoosh. Tom was happy to finally have a BOY friend, for throughout our whole stay in Czechia we have not met many — my sister and all my friends all have younger daughters, and Tom felt accordingly left out.

Granny on Petřín watchtower.

To further disrupt sand box fixation, we underwent a trip to Telč with Grandpa on Wednesday. Týna, the girls and Granny were all left to their own devices the whole morning, and we had a cultural excursion. Our children had visited the castle already once two years earlier, and ever since then they point out whenever they spot it in a movie. We managed to buy tickets, have a walk in the castle park, and I had fit in a bathroom break before the tour. After the impressions from Prague facilities with coin-operated turnstiles (regularly ten crowns in train stations for a old-style, disgusting affair) I simply cannot omit mentioning Telč Castle toilets. Clean. With toilet paper. Light. Soap. And free! Finally I felt like visiting a civilized country in a twenty-first century.

The tour proceeded without a hitch — I admit I could start working there as a guide myself, and I sometimes tuned the commentary out. A surprise awaited Lisa in the ballroom — mannequins wearing dresses from the fairy tale movie Helluva good luck. Eventually the kids had talked me into visiting an exhibit of props from the movie — I refused going myself, but they managed to do it on their own; there was no way to get lost in the single room. We continued by walking around the square and buying ice cream — and returning back to the cottage for lunch.

Petřín watchtower.

Just like the forecast said, on Thursday the sky turned overcast and temperatures dropped, but we did not mind. We had planned seeing Roštejn Castle. Given the fact that all the kids got up early in the morning, we were standing in front of its gate before ten o'clock — despite our disembarkment being somewhat reminiscent of Normandy. First I drove my kids and Granny in Grandpa's car and dropped them off at the Pařezitý Lake, from where they hiked to the castle through the woods. I then returned to the cottage for Týna and her girls, and drove them all the way to the castle. Thus we all merrily gathered and stormed the ticket office.

Lisa could admire herself from all sides and angles.

We were wondering when and how we were going to split for the tours. Their Option A includes Old Gothic Castle and Museum of the Crafts, with a beautifully carved Nativity Scene, while the Option B was supposed to also include Fairytale Creatures. We had never seen the latter, and thus were undecided. The cashier and guide (in one person) promptly ended our indecision — we had come as first (and so far only) customers that day, and she would take us wherever we wanted, little children being no problem, for they can be intermittently released onto the courtyard. And that was it. All of us got to see everything, beginning with nineteen months old Olivia and ending with Grandpa. We had explored the Nativity (Opt.A), and then we found ourselves in a hallway near the tower full of fairytale creatures (Opt.B). Oli throw herself enthusiastically on the nearest dwarf and before we could intercede, she was dragging it away. Her joy of finding somebody her size was unstoppable. The guide lady either really loves small children, or her nerves are made of steel — she said it was OK and waited until we extracted the dwarf from the Oli's passionate clutches and returned to its place.

I was surprised by the attention Elsa and Olivia gave to the lectures, and how well they coped with the whole tour — besides the passionate encounter with the dwarf, there were no other incidents — I think it was a pleasant change for the girls from the endless array of sand boxes and playgrounds. I simply believe that little children belong to the old castles and museums, only if there were more guides able and willing to engage the interest of the youngest visitors.

Rings on Vltava - kids playing squirrels.

We ordered coffee and the kids lollipops and ice cream at a castle kiosk, and all that was left to do was executing the carefully planned logistic transfer — first Grandpa (as he was to start cooking lunch), then returning for Granny and own kids. Well, at least I got to drive around the Highlands and compensated for my driver's withdrawal.

Lisa tried aerobic.

In the afternoon, Grandpa took us to Třešť; we boarded the bus for Jihlava, where we switched to another one to Prague. It was a bit close, for we had no tickets or reservations, and hoped it would work out. In the end it worked flawlessly — the connection was operated by Student Agency, and it impressed (not just) the kids. Service like on an airplane, even better for we each had our own screen with a movie, the kids got hot chocolate and coloring books — all that in a price of a one-hour ride to Prague.

On Friday we finally got to the trip to Petřín. We started with a lunch at a Thai restaurant — first we wanted to check out a newly opened Café at Vyšehrad, but when the server finally (after about twenty minutes) noticed us, she told us that our order would take at least forty more minutes; we got up and went to the Blue Tooth. There, the service was fast, but the food was mediocre at best. Children did not complain about their chicken satay (only the server kept correcting our U.S. pronunciation, as if it mattered), the soup was quite good, only their green curry was awful. I would say that it lacked coconut milk, which seems to be pretty essential for a Thai cuisine. Still, we had eaten and were ready to take the street car and the funicular up the hill.

Climbing on Bláža.

I had been up on the watchtower last time when I was a little kid, and I was rather looking forward to get there again. I had also read that the watchtower was hosting an exhibit of Jára Cimrman, which I longed to see. Well, I was out of luck, for it got superseded by Igráček — at least the kids enjoyed it. Ascending the tower turned to be a challenge; Lisa made a wrong turn on one of many platforms, and it took us a while to figure out that she was using the alternative staircase (the descending one) and we could not meet again until we made it all the way to the top. We had reunited there happily and could enjoy the view.

Gutovka.

Of course we could not leave out the mirror maze. The children liked it probably even better than the watchtower — Lisa is generally enamored with mirrors, and was certainly impressed by the opportunity to see herself not once, but endlessly many times.

Our friend Péťa reserved the whole Saturday for us. And since she brought her four-year-old Julia and eighteen-months-old Erik in tow, she suggested Rings on Vltava. A huge outdoor rope gym made the kids disappear in the net and we got our peace. They would intermittently emerge, and over time we introduced lunch, ice cream, and other additives. I was highly impressed by the very concept of the Rings. A huge playground, a deck with waiter service, surrounded with sandboxes and a jumping castle, an indoor coffee shop with a room for tiny kids — an upholstered "basin" encircled by tables, so a mother can deposit her child in a safe space and dare to sip her coffee (an indulgence often unavailable while little hands keep reaching for you). An outdoor area with several levels of attractions, with something for the barely walking Erik, and our schoolchildren. Somebody must have had a great idea, and I hope it would last.

With Grandpa in Valdštejn Gardens.

As we had come to the Rings on a weekend, it was pretty packed with people, but then again the kids could enjoy extra programs, like puppet theatre or demos for children's hobby clubs. There was floorball for boys, and zoomba and aerobics for girls. Lisa was first somewhat shy, but her eyes were shining, and in the end she climbed on the stage and went jumping to the music. Now I can only hope that we could find something similar for her at home.

New Castle Stairway.

I had arranged climbing at Srbsko with Zuzka and her girls for Sunday. It was horribly hot, so we only walked under Bláža, and subsequently climbed in a relative shade of this wall. That is, the kids had climbed, among general screaming and back-talking, which looks like this: a child screams and talks back and remains obnoxious — until the moment he or she finishes the route, and beams with pride and begins to boast to everybody how difficult it was to get there (and in the case of Lisa, how she WAS NOT, but REALLY was not scared). We had wanted to finish the day in a bar, but for a while it looked like there was not a single table free — and then Zuzka discovered that it was only the outdoors deck that was packed, while inside it was cool and EMPTY. We had a late lunch or early dinner, and then moved on to an ice cream parlor, which we fail to locate, but the kids did not mind a simple food store novelty — and home we went by train again.

On Monday I needed to run some official business errands and thus I handed my kids over to Grandpa, who declared that he would take them to Gutovka. I found them there an hour later — Grandpa was reading a book on a shady bench, and offspring did not have time to even exchange a few words with me, for having to manage a system of dams, Archimedes screws, and water wheels, was sufficiently fascinating even for a grown-up — and so I called Granny that I was changing the originally planned date from Adria to a lunch at Gutovka, as the kids got stuck.

St. Vitus Cathedral.

It was a challenge to rip away our wet and happy juniors from all the beautiful things and compel them to have lunch. They agreed under the condition that they would be allowed to return and play some more. After lunch Tom bruised his leg and the playground filled up considerably, so we took off for the Castle. I wanted to show the children a part of history, but my plan fell flat. Spoiled by Telč and Roštejn, we never expected such a tourist madhouse. We would have probably coped with crowds, but not the tourist prices. A scoop of ice cream for 60 crowns = ~US$3, I refused to buy on general principle — when the same thing was ten crowns = ~US¢50 in Telč. I would have understood 200% capital city mark-up, but 600% seems to me like an outright robbery. Then I had discovered that they had made locations unaccessible that you used to be able to just walk by only a few years earlier — such as Daliborka Tower or Golden Alley. Again — I would not have objected to paying an entrance fee — but you cannot do that individually, the only option is to pay three hundred crowns = ~US$15 for a whole array of locations. They try to diminish the impact in that the ticket's valid for two days, but I did not want to have my kids spend two whole days just roaming the Castle, I wanted to show them only a few basic spots. A public toilet with ten crown turnstile topped it off. Especially with the turnstile broken and captured tourists having to climb over or under the bars — depending on nature, some frisky ones were jumping them. Nothing but an embarrassment.

Elsa and Olí at Rings.

We finally had an ice cream at Světozor, as I refused to finance the usury at the Castle, we finished licking it at St. Francis Gardens, and I left the kids with Granny, while I myself traveled to Ruzyně, where I had arranged climbing with Zuzka. She trains children there (only some of them have gotten quite adult over time), and so just to be sure, I had lured Radim and Lukáš to have some more buddies to climb with. I would like to mention that the way was even worse than it used to; the wall is at the end of the world/Prague, but the Mass Transit Company had decided to revolutionize the city lines, which in the case of the Dědina subdivision consists of cutting off several thousand people from their connections to the subway. Buses that used to run Dejvická or Hračanská routes now either shuttle from nowhere to nowhere else, and you have to take another bus or street car from the subway station, then hike a bit around Šárka and subsequently find the bus stop for Dědina. If you already have to switch, why can't the buses and street cars at least share a platform so that you would not run up and down the neighborhood like crazy? In my case, of course, in the context of my time off, going to a sports facility, I did not really suffer; but what about all those who have to get to and from their workplaces or schools?

Elsa kept up the pace with our kids in mischief and consumption of ice cream.

Climbing was nice; I had checked out a new outdoor wall with a refreshing, pleasant breeze. After twelve years of life in a semi-desert, any place in Europe feels horribly muggy. Thunderstorm clouds on the horizon surely did not improve my predicament. Still, my company was great. It was refreshing to discover I was actually enjoying a reunion with Václav, with whom, long ago, I did not part under the best of circumstances. It seems that time turns past into good memories and diminishes troubles into little inconsequentialities.

Flying children.

On Tuesday I dragged our whole family into the Rings on Vltava. I felt it was an ideal place where children of various ages such as my nieces and my own offspring can run about and find things to do, while we adults can sit down to a meal, beer, coffee and similar benefits. It had, I think, worked out great. Elsa courageously followed the example of my kids, although it created a few unnerving moments — for example, her climbing on a great jungle gym. Other times she was visibly trying to grasp the older kids' world — like being able to pick her own favorite flavor of ice cream (chocolate) and I think she managed to finish most of it.

A scene at lunch was practically classical. Týna had chosen pasta from the kids' menu, while the rest of the family agreed on fried cheese. The result: girls snubbed pasta and instead stole fries from adults' plates. It reminded me of another scene of several years earlier, when I fared the same way while trying to provide my children with a healthy choice (the only difference, I think, was that instead of pasta, I had ordered a rice pilaf then).

Extended family on a walk.

From the Rings, Grandpa and I wanted to cross the river via ferry and go visit The Railroad Kingdom. Týna said they would come along, which I appreciated as a form of motherly courage. Yet given how much the little girls had enjoyed seeing Roštejn and the Rings, a model railroad museum did not seem as a bad idea. The ferry was an attraction all by itself; our children had once taken a large boat in Canada, and now in Prague they experienced a tiny vessel that can carry up to twelve passengers, and the river crossing was much nicer than some circumvention via bus over traffic-jammed embankments.

Zipping on a ferry.

The train museum was a nice surprise. By far not all exhibits were finished yet, but it must be the greatest collection that we had seen yet. Tom was in seventh heaven and the girls found much to see as well. We looked for buttons to push and things they caused. Lisa fed chickens, Tom felled a tree, and I watched a Čechomor performance. I had also spotted a naked man escaping through a window and similar fun things. There's a playroom for smaller kids, Tom could enter a cabin of a real train engine — and Lisa eventually begged twenty crowns for a ride in an arcade helicopter, although I attempted to convince her that she was too big for it.

We said good-bye to the rest of the family in front of the museum. We could get back to Písnice by a streetcar and a bus, but Lisa and Tom talked me into taking another ride on the ferry. It had probably taken us longer that way, but we had more fun. Kubackis joined us for dinner; we had tried to find a Vietnamese restaurant in a local market area of dubious repute. The restaurant was nice, the owners let us use a separate room (perhaps because we were rather a large group), but then the menu caught us unprepared. I had thought that I know enough about Vietnamese food, but most likely in Czechia there is a different regional branch than in California — some things are labeled differently and I think they cook them differently, too. It's not really possible to ruin a chicken soup though, so that one I liked. After all that perpetual fried cheese, it was a welcome change.

Everybody liked the train museum.

On Wednesday, our last day in Czechia, it started to rain as forecast. However, children were firmly resolved to visit the ZOO, and so we went. When we entered through the gate, the whole huge place contained about hundred fifty visitors, which in practice meant that we had the whole gardens for ourselves. The animals were quite confused by it and curiosity made them come out and gape past their fences — perhaps they were wondering where had all those people gone? Thus we had great views. I was hoping a bit that we would spend there an hour or two and head back home, but unfortunately for me Tom has got a phenomenal memory and kept pointing out animals he had seen two years earlier. Lisa does not remember as much, but now she can read, and in the end my wonderful offspring dragged me all over the deserted zoo for SIX HOURS.

Train engineers.

I tried to find advantages in it. For example, we could pick where to sit at the restaurant, as the only other busy table was the one occupied by the animal caretakers hiding there. We were able to climb up the watchtower without having to wait for and push past anybody. I had refused to take the open-seat funicular on account of the rain, but we would have surely not encountered any obstruction there. When I needed to defreeze a little and perk up with a coffee, no problem — no queues. And we had found the hippos in a frisky mood. Instead of three boulders resting motionlessly in the pool, we had spotted scenes from their private life. At least that was my impression — the kids voiced concerns that the larger hippo seemed to be drowning the smaller one, jumping and crawling on top of it, but I think that the pachyderms just wanted to take advantage of the relative privacy suddenly provided in the midst of a busy summer by a rainy weekday at the start of the school year.

Having visited the ZOO, we had fulfilled the last point on our schedule, and on the way back home I handed the kids over to Granny, who promised them another visit to the toy store, thus allowing me to pack in peace. Tom had taken off his warm sweatshirt at the store and within five minutes, somebody managed to steal it from him. On one hand, I am upset that my son always somehow drops his stuff wherever he fancies (this has been the third lost sweatshirt in a few months), but I am more unnerved by the arrogance of someone who would deprive a child of his warm overcoat on a cold day, leaving him just in a t-shirt.

Hippos in the ZOO were busy.

The only planned item for Thursday was our departure. Again I congratulated myself on having found a noonish flight from Prague, for we could take time in the morning to shower and finish packing. Only Tom had managed to park his new toy bus-caterpillar from Granny under the couch and forget it there. Well, perhaps somebody would bring it along later. Grandpa brought us to the airport, and the trip took less than half hour on the bypass.

We had the whole ZOO for ourselves for an entire day.

The automated check-in system had confused me a bit. Well the machine is not quite fool-proof, for in the end I had to summon an attendant to have her explain the mysteries of the contraption. After the professional started cursing the part where the kids' passports would not scan in, fighting a hopeless battle herself for a while, we were informed to approach a counter where our luggage would be checked in. Hence, instead of one attendant, modern technology has made two such attendants doubly busy, and it takes twice the time in comparison to checking in through a single person.

In Frankfurt we had again the dubious privilege of encountering an unpleasant customs official — this time he was harrassing me for not having entry stamps in our passports. As if I had known why the other customs man did not stamp them. In the end I had to locate our old boarding pass stubs to prove that I had not spent with my two small children inside the glorious European Union any minute longer than I had claimed. Perhaps they were afraid we would have worn it out or something.

Another unpleasant surprise awaited us inside the plane — we had reserved window seats, but in this model, our seat numbers were scrambled away from windows. So not only we were separated, but Tom had ended between two women. Fortunately the kids did not mind much, they were happy each having their own screen and being able to watch movies of their choice. I was happy to finally be on my last leg of the journey home — for years a feeling has been growing inside me that mankind should finally get its act together and invent instant teleportation.