Two Wheels Good

Not exactly what you'd call cool. Me and my learner's vest and my Honda CB500.

Only a biker knows why a dog sticks his head out of a car window.
-- Author Unknown

I just obtained my Czech motorcycle driving license, and my first thought after successfully negotiating the difficult slalom course of testing and riding and studying was, if they have to do through all of this to get their licenses, why aren't Czechs better drivers? Why do they transform into insane maniacs once they get behind the wheel?

Even Czechs will admit that Czechs are horrific drivers. Aggressive. Careless. Discourteous.

Ironically, the Czech state system for getting a driver's license is strict and unforgiving, or at least I thought so as I attempted to get a license to ride the most powerful class of motorcycles.

I had a motorcycle when I was a teenager -- a Bridgestone 100 -- which I only rode in the fields and on the trails in the country around our house, never on the roads. I'm not sure what happened to that old thing, and I lost touch with motorcycles once I headed off to college.

I hadn't been on one in 30 years, save for a romp around Santorini on a moped in the late '90s.

I'm 47 now and, like many men my age, as I sense the steady approach of Death, I feel the urge to do those things I've always wanted to do but never got around to doing.

And what better way to hasten the approach of Death than to ride a motorcycle in the Czech Republic, where, I've been reminded many times, the police refer to motorcyclists as "organ donors" and where five cyclists were killed in separate accidents around the country on one horrific day a few months back?

I've personally passed three crashes involving motorcycles in the past month or so in Prague. My gut tells me, however, that the majority of crashes involving motorcycles in this country are the fault of the cyclists themselves.

I see a lot of bikers doing some crazy shit out there.

As someone once said:

Most motorcycle problems are caused by the nut that connects the handlebars to the saddle.

I thought about getting my motorcycle license in the United States, but it seemed too much of a hassle, involving classes and such that would take a lot of time and a lot of money.

But I was also put off from getting my Czech license by rumors I'd heard that, if I failed my motorcycle exam, I would somehow also lose my car driving privileges. (My U.S. license, plus an International Driving Permit, suffice over here).

I was assured that this was not the case by Ondřej Horázný, who runs his own driving school, or "autoskola," on Ondrickova 9 in Prague 3, near Jiřího z Poděbrad. Horázný offers instruction in both English and Russian.


Horázný's humble school near Jiřího z Poděbrad.

I figured I'd spent way too long talking about getting my license. It was time to start doing something about getting my license.

I signed up for my classes in early July. The total cost for the lessons was 13,000 CZK (about $750) and involved something like seven 1.5 hour lessons, most of which were spent on the bike, with an instructor riding on the back. One 45-minute lesson was devoted to the mechanics of the bike.

My instructor was a grizzled guy named Marek, whose English was a bit, shall we say, broken. We spent our lessons doing exactly what I hope not to do when I get a motorcycle of my own -- that is, riding around the crazy streets of downtown Prague -- dodging cars, trams, tram tracks, buses, pedestrians, and negotiating the crazy system of traffic laws, most notably the default "right-of-way" law, which does away with stop signs and traffic lights in many situations in favor of a system in which, if a street is not specifically marked as the main road, drivers must always yield to cars entering from the right, even in a situation where it seems obvious that you should have the right of way because you're on a main street.

If the street you're on isn't marked with a yellow diamond, however, you're not on the main road, and you've got to remember to slow down before every cross street coming from the right.

In the United States, of course, traffic lights or stop signs or yield signs govern almost every intersection, and if you're on a smaller road and entering a busier road, you're expected to give way to the larger road. Basically, you've got the right of way unless you're told that you don't.

Not so in the Czech Republic.

It was great to be back on a motorcycle after 30 years (despite having to ride around wearing a bright green vest sporting a big L on it), and it all did seem to come back to me -- the gear changing, the leaning into turns, the stopping and starting. I did forget to turn off the turn signal quite a few times at the beginning, however.

We were riding a Honda CB 500, equipped with an odd, extra set of handlebars with brakes for the instructor in the rear. Kind of embarrassing, frankly.



I didn't kill anyone, least of all myself, or Marek. The lessons all went pretty well, and served to remind me why motorcycles are so much fun, even if you're just riding around the city. Motorcycles give you the rush that you get on a mountain bike going fast downhill. Except on a motorcycle, you have that feeling all the time.

The lessons successfully completed, it was now time for my state exam, which would consist of a written portion of 25 multiple-choice questions; a driving test with a state magistrate riding on the back of the bike; and a technical test, in which I would be asked two questions about the mechanical functions of the bike.



I was given a copy of the Czech Road Traffic Act, a thick tome full of obscure rules and regulations, all conveniently translated into fractured English for me. It is an intimidating volume.

I was also given an equally thick copy of a booklet containing all of the questions that could potentially be asked on the written exam. That would have been reassuring, except for the fact that there must be 500 questions in there, and there are lots of doozies, such as:

When regulating the traffic by light signals signal with the simultaneous signalling of red and yellow lights "Attention!" means:

a) Warning that operating the traffic with light signals will be finished.
b) The duty to stop the vehicle in front of the light signal device because the signal "Stop" will follow.
c) The duty to prepare for continuous driving.

Or how about these gems:

You are an A1-subcategory driving license holder. Can you ride a motorcycles of 125 cm3?

a) Yes, but motorcycles with output of up to 11 kW.
b) No the cubature was not exceed 50 cm3.
c) Yes and not depending on the engine output.

Sudden front wheel skidding resulting in the fall of a motorcycle can be prevented:

a) By accelerating to increase the output that is transmitted to the rear wheel.
b) By releasing the front brake before banking the motorcycle.
c) by increasing the brake power on the front wheel with the front brake lever.

Study for and taking the test was one of the most stressful things I've ever done.

I studied a lot (including a helpful online version of the test, in English, that the school offers), and showed up at the ungodly hour of 7:15 a.m. at the school, as instructed. Where I sat for the next two hours in a classroom full of other students, waiting to actually take the test. Very frustrating. (Orazny said something about it having to be this way because of the time needed to get all the necessary paperwork organized, but that seems a little much, to be honest.)

I was finally called in to take the test (which I think cost another 850 CZK, or $50) with the help of a translator (1,000 CZK, or $60). I had 30 minutes to answer 25 questions. Anything less than a score of 85% means you failed.

Since each question needed to be translated, it took all of the 30 minutes for me to complete the test, and I ... failed.

Yes, I failed.

I had missed four questions. I was devastated. I was angry. Very angry. With myself, and with the system. I would have to come back and take it again. (As I understand it, you can take it as many times as you can within six months.)

In the meantime, I had to pull myself together to take the technical and driving parts of the exam.

Some 45 minutes later, I was called into a room and sat before a stern-looking state magistrate, who held out a pack of cards, face down. I was to choose one card, on the other side of which would be a technical question about the bike that I would have to answer.

The question I chose had to do with the difference between two-stroke and four-stroke engines. I mumbled something about the fact that the petrol and oil are mixed together in a two-stroke engine, while in a four-stroke engine, they are separated.

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, the magistrate asked me another, something like, "If it's not mixed in, how is the oil in a four-stroke engine distributed throughout the engine?"

I winged it on this one, and said something about the oil pump.

"Excellent," he said, in Czech.

Whew. Dodged a bullet on that one.

I then had to wait around another 2.5 hours for my driving test, since the instructor was busy with some dudes who were trying to get their licenses to drive city buses.

I left for lunch and came back at 1 p.m., only to be told that we couldn't do the driving test since it had started to rain, and the state instructor isn't allowed to ride on a motorcycle driven by a novice in the rain.

I would have to come back the following week.

So ended one of the most stressful days of my life, and I was only one-for-three.

I came back the following week, on a sunny Tuesday, and took my driving test, which I passed easily -- 10 minutes or so of tooling around the streets of Prague. I hardly noticed the guy on the back.

A few days later, I had my rescheduled written exam (an extra 100 CZK, or $6, plus another 1,000 CZK for the translator). Again, I showed up at 7:15 a.m., and again I had to wait until 9 a.m. to actually take the damn thing.

And you know what? I passed, with a score of 92%.

I have never felt so relieved.

I had done it. I felt -- and still do feel -- a real sense of accomplishment.

I've now applied for my license, which should arrive in about two weeks. In the meantime, I'm looking for a motorcycle to buy.

I'm interested in buying a cruiser bike, something like a Honda Shadow, as opposed to a sport bike like the Honda I trained on.


A Honda Shadow.

The good folks at Motorbike Ventures in Prague are giving me some help, as I try to find a bike that's a good fit.

I can't wait to get my motorbike out on some of those rolling country roads that I mountain bike on.

I just hope I can stay clear of all of those crazy Czech drivers who somehow managed to make it through the same grueling process I've just completed.

And I need to see about a sidecar for Daisy.

Oh, want to know the answers to the three test questions above? It's C, A, and B, in that order.

Prague Sunset

I took this picture of the sun setting in Prague on August 21, 2008, coincidentally, the 40th anniversary of the Soviet-led invasion of Czechoslovakia.

You can see the outlines of St. Vitus Cathedral on the right.

Click on the picture to make it a bit bigger.

Back From Brela

A plate of grilled calamari from my favorite restaurant in Brela, Nikolino's.

We've just returned from two weeks in the Croatian village of Brela, about an hour or so south of Split, on the Adriatic coast.

It's wonderful in Brela. We've visited five years in a row now. The food. The weather. The sea. The people.

At the risk of letting the world in on our secret, I plan on writing about our trip in detail in the coming days, so stay tuned.

I also have quite a few other topics I've been meaning to tackle. I'm afraid I haven't been a very good blogger on Gusto lately. My other blog, Grant's Prague Bike Blog, has been keeping me busy, as well as work, life, etc.

It's hard to live a life of gusto and also find the time to write about it all!

But I promise to try harder.

Couldn't Have Said It Better ...

"I don't believe people are looking for the meaning of life as much as they are looking for the experience of being alive." -- Joseph Campbell

A Most Extraordinary Pie

"When you die, if you get a choice between going to regular heaven or pie heaven, choose pie heaven. It might be a trick, but if it's not, mmmmmmmm, boy." -- Jack Handy

I wanted to share a photo of a pie that Daisy made from scratch yesterday.

It's a strawberry-rhubarb pie, and it was extraordinary in both taste and appearance.

I don't think I've ever seen a more handsome pie in my life.

Sadly, I forgot to take a picture after it had emerged from the oven.

'A Wee Tingling In My Heart' -- A Quick Trip To Dublin

Daisy looks out over Loch Tay, in the Wicklow Mountains. It's known as Guinness Lake for obvious reasons. And the bordering estate is apparently owned by the Guinness family.

“I've always liked it here. Part of me is Irish. ... My family comes from the west coast, so whenever I come to Ireland I get a wee tingling in my heart that I'm where I belong.” -- Billy Connolly, Scottish actor

Everything you read in the following post is unashamedly biased. The views expressed herein are not objective.

But it's all true, I assure you.

Daisy and I just returned from a long weekend in Ireland. I love Ireland. I'm one-quarter Irish, and the land and its people -- its wonderful people -- well ... they speak to me.

It's a damn cliche, but it's true.


Mike (left), Paul, Daisy and I in the Wicklow Mountains.

Daisy's father, Dr. Paul Sindelar, who's an associate dean in the College of Education at the University of Florida, was in Dublin to work with an associate of his, Dr. Michael Rosenburg, a professor in the special education department at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, who was in Dublin on a Fulbright scholarship at St. Patrick's College.

We decided to visit them both for a few days and hang out and see the city and the countryside and eat some fish and chips and Indian food and drink some Guinness.

OK, not some Guinness. A lot of Guinness.

We had a great time. (See the bottom of this post for a full slideshow.)

Getting there

We booked a cheap flight from Prague to Dublin on Ryan Air for about 2,700 CZK each roundtrip, or around $175. Not bad. Unfortunately, hotels are another story. Turns out there was a massive outdoor Neil Diamond concert on the Saturday night we were there, and hotels rooms of the affordable variety were booked solid.

Not even my old friend priceline.com could come to the rescue.

In the end, I found a room at the Schoolhouse Hotel, slightly off-center from central Dublin, but only about a 15-minute walk to Trinity College. Turns out, it was one of the nicest hotels in which we've stayed. An old 19th-century schoolhouse converted into a hip hotel. High recommended (but pricey at an average of 218 euros a night during our stay.)

What'd we do while we were in Dublin?

Well, we did the usual tourist stuff (saw the Book of Kells, toured Trinity College, paid a visit to Christ Church Cathedral, where Handel's "Messiah" was first performed, wandered around the Temple Bar district and downed a few pints, tried to take the Guinness brewery tour but were repelled by massive crowds), but there's no use in me writing about all the things you can find explained in any guidebook.

I'd like to try to offer some advice and insight that might be unique to "Gusto." Or at least some tips that Rick Steves hasn't already written about.


I am confident in my masculinity, so I can admit that I drank something called a Baby Guinness -- Tia Maria and Bailey's. Pretty tasty.

Cheapest Guinness In Dublin (Probably)

We drank a lot of Guinness while we were in Dublin, including a pint at 6:45 a.m. in the airport as we waited for our return flight.

I couldn't wait to taste my first pint. It had been too long. But at an average of 5 euros a pint ($7.87), it's quite a shock to the wallet after the $2 half-liters of fantastic Czech pilsener.

Mike to the rescue.

He came across a cool dive -- the Palace Guest House and accompanying Restaurant Royale at 15 Upper Stephens Street, not far from Temple Bar -- that sells pints of Guinness for 3 euros each. Now that's a bargain.

(You can also enjoy a pint of Budweiser for the same price. Guinness or Budweiser? Hmmmm. How many people actually choose Budweiser?)


The Palace Guest House and Restaurant Royale.

Sure, you might have to share a table with Russian-speaking toughs downing pints early on a Sunday morning, but it's a small price to pay. And hey, we were downing pints early on a Sunday morning, too, so we couldn't point any fingers.

The staff was friendly, if a bit bruised and bleary, and you can also get a decent greasy breakfast for around 5 euros.

Best Bargain For 10 Euros

If you're going to go see the incredible 9th-century illustrated manuscript known as the Book of Kells at Trinity College (and I recommend that you do so), you'll pay 8 euros admission. For 2 euros more, you can enjoy a guided walking tour of Trinity College led by charming, witty and smart Trinity students.

And the 10 euros includes admission to see the Book of Kells and the amazing Old Library at Trinity College.


Somewhere in the Wicklow Mountains.

The guide we ended up with (I wish I'd gotten his name, or at least his picture) kept us smiling the whole time, serving his college history with a liberal dose of disparaging remarks about some of the newer architecture on campus; the etiquette at the dining hall, and why there was a woman's high-heeled shoe lodged in a branch of one of the gigantic Oregon big-leaf maple trees in the commons.

I don't normally take tours, but I'm very glad I took this one. A hoot.

A Surprising, Remote Memorial

We rented a car for a few days and headed south of Dublin, up into the beautiful Wicklow Mountains. While driving through the tiny village of Glencree, we passed the easily missed Glencree Deutsche Kriegsgraberstatte, a cemetery for German airmen and sailors from both world wars who either crashed on Irish soil or washed ashore. (Ireland was neutral in World War II.)


The German cemetery in Glencree.

Almost 50 of the 134 graves in the tiny cemetery are of civilian German detainees who were being ferried from England to Canada for internment when their ship was hit by a torpedo fired by a German U-boat near the Irish coast.

It's a lovely little spot, and quite moving, in its quiet way. It's easily missed, so keep an eye out if you're in the area. It's worth a stop.


Daisy and her father, Paul, on Father's Day on the beach in Bray (above) and on the top of Bray Head (below).



Fading Seaside Resort

Some 20 kilometers south of Dublin, along the coast, is a faded, and still fading, resort town called Bray. It's easily accessible by train from Dublin, and it's worth a day trip, or even an overnight stop.

I don't know what it is about the place. It's picturesque, but it's not Nice. And it's more than a little frayed around the edges. But Daisy and I have been to Bray twice now, and enjoyed ourselves thoroughly each time.

There's good hiking along the clifftops to the neighboring village of Greystones, or to the top of Bray Head, which is what we did on this visit.

And there's a quirky old Victorian-era hotel that faces the sea called the Esplanade that we really like. Double rooms were around 79 euros a night.

Plus, Bray is the perfect base from which to explore the Wicklow Mountains, where
many scenes in movies such as "Braveheart" and "Excalibur" were filmed.

Where We Ate

We enjoyed a fantastic Indian meal at Jaipur, at 41 South Great George's St., in central Dublin. Pricey (but what isn't in Dublin?), but worth it (main courses around 20 euros each).

Some of the beat Indian food I've ever had.

We also ate well at Unicorn, at 12b Merrion Row, near St. Stephen's Green, an Italian restaurant that's made something of a name for itself. Again, pricey (main courses around 30 euros each), but the food and the atmosphere worth it. It's got a nice buzz to it. You can tell people are having a good time, and eating good food.

And in conclusion ...

There's energy in Dublin. Young people clog the streets, and they seem happy. There's a lot of laughter and good spirits. The restaurants and bars and shops are packed.

And everyone -- and I mean everyone -- is so damn friendly.

When I travel to Ireland -- and I must have made some 15 trips by now -- I feel like I'm home.

I can't wait to go back.

P.S. When looking for a nice quote about Ireland, I happened to come across the one by Scottish actor and comedian Billy Connolly that begins this post. Not only does he say what I, too, feel in my bones, but in an odd coincidence, we happened to run into Billy Connolly while we were doing a bit of shopping in Dublin. He was in town for a sold-out show at the Olympia Theatre. We happened to be watching a street performer when Connolly walked by, stopped, and threw some money into the hat, with a twinkle in his eye and a big smile. He seemed genuinely delighted by his brief encounter with one of those statue people covered in metallic paint, and then stayed to watch as a wee little girl came up to the performer, hypnotized. It was a nice little moment.


A funny name for a Chinese restaurant in Bray (above) and a shop in Dublin (below).

Funs Was Had By All

I just had to buy this wine-in-a-can the other day.

I'm not sure what was more interesting -- the name, or the fact that it was WINE IN A CAN!

It cost about 30 CZK, or around $2 for the can, which was basically one generous glass. It was of Italian origin.

And you know what? It wasn't bad! I've had much worse. I would have happily drank more, frankly, but you're definitely paying for convenience, considering I can buy an entire bottle of very drinkable wine in Prague for less than $5.



I got a kick out of this funny translation on a game of travel Chinese checkers I bought recently.

Sorry for the poor quality of the photo, but I think you get the idea.

The Mystery Of The Pterodactyl's Nest, Solved

This nest once had a baby in it. What kind of baby? Read on.

The mystery of the pterodactyl's nest has been solved.

Last month, I posted about a giant nest that Daisy and I had found on a cliff top in the village of Únětice.

No one could figure out what kind of a nest it was, or even if it was a nest. There were no feathers around, nor any droppings.

My friend James Gogarty, who lives in the neighboring town of Roztoky, has finally solved the mystery. He writes:

"Czech scientists have recently discovered the existence of the once-thought-extinct central Bohemian condor.. .. No no, sorry.

"According to the mayor of Únětice, Vladimír Vytiska, it is the remnants of a photo shoot by the famous Czech photographer Jan Pohribný. Some time before our ever-exploring Grant stumbled across this puzzle, Pohribný had constructed the nest and shot it along with an appropriately placed infant to create the image of (the Czech/English) shared expression 'leaving the nest.'

"So there we have it. No mysterious pterodactyl. Simply a child leaving home...

"Upon looking at Pohribný's website, he appears to enjoy combing nature shots with surreal imagery, several of which were shot around Únětice."

The world's ornithologists can sleep tonight in peace.

A New King Is Crowned (Best Red Wine In Prague For $5)

A (plastic) bottle of red. A (plastic) bottle of white. Whatever kind of mood you're in tonight.

As someone pointed out in a comment on one of my earlier blog posts, one of the best ways to find drinkable, but inexpensive, wines in Prague is to seek out wine bars and shops that offers wines from the barrel.

I live in the village of Černý Vůl, west of Prague, and the nearest place I know of to buy wines from the barrel is in Suchdol. It's a little kiosk along Route 241 called, wonderfully, Relax Vine. The proprietor is very friendly and offers small tastings of all of his offerings.

The wines on offer from the barrel on my most recent visit were from Argentina and Macedonia. I decided to sample both a red and a white -- a flowery, crisp Torrontes (65 CZK, or $4, per liter) and a chewy, dark Cabernet Sauvignon (60 CZK, or $3.75, per liter), both from Argentina.

I have no idea from which vintner the wines originate. Unfortunately, my Czech is pretty awful, and certainly not good enough to engage in a wine discussion.

In the end, though, I liked them so much I bought 1.5 liters of each. The wines are poured from the barrel by spigots into plastic soda bottles. The packaging, and the price, is conducive to drinking all of the contents in one sitting.

On the Wino-Meter, I'd give both of them a solid 7 out of 10. (They'd normally get an 8, but I'm taking a point off since they're not widely available.)


The Relax Vine kiosk in the village of Suchdol.

In other tastings of late, I tried two more budget wines from Tesco -- a California Cabernet Sauvignon, described on the bottle as a "medium-bodied smooth red wine with rich black currant flavors," and an Italy Sicilian Red Wine, described only as a "dry red wine."

The Sicilian Red was drinkable, but entirely forgettable. There is simply nothing to recommend it, except the price, which, if memory serves me correctly (I've misplaced my notes), was around 55 CZK, or about $3.50 per bottle. I'll give it a 5 on the old Wino-Meter.



I have to admit, though, to being pretty impressed by the Cabernet Sauvignon, especially considering its price, which was also around 55 CZK, or about $3.50 per bottle, I believe.

The wine is remarkably meaty, and eminently quaffable. I'd say that, especially considering the price, it's as good, or even slightly better, than my previous favorite $5 bottle -- the Cabernet or Merlot from Brise de France (which usually retails for around 75 CZK, or $4.75 a bottle).

As with the Brise de France, it's not going to blow your socks off, but it's entirely respectable, and you won't be embarrassed to serve it to guests. If only the bottle had a different label. That whole "Selected By Tesco" text is pretty cheesy looking. The Brise de France has the upper hand in the label department.

In the end, I'll give the California Cabernet Sauvignon by Tesco a score of 8.5 on the Wino-Meter, which makes it the new Best Ride Wine (Widely Available) In Prague For $5 Or Less.

A new champion has been crowned, but the quest, as ever, continues.

Your thoughts welcomed.


A new king is crowned.

'A Faith Of Verbs'

"This is my living faith, an active faith, a faith of verbs: to question, explore, experiment, experience, walk, run, dance, play, eat, love, learn, dare, taste, touch, smell, listen, argue, speak, write, read, draw, provoke, emote, scream, sin, repent, cry, kneel, pray, bow, rise, stand, look, laugh, cajole, create, confront, confound, walk back, walk forward, circle, hide, and seek. To seek: to embrace the questions, be wary of answers."
-- Terry Tempest Williams, naturalist and author

Feeding The Fascination With Trdelnik (Trdlo)

Making trdelnik at a food stall at a medieval festival in Okoř, near Prague. (See video below.)

Last summer, on my Prague Bike Blog, as part of a post about a cycling trip I took to the castle at Karlštejn, I mentioned that I'd enjoyed a trdelnik (or trdlo), an unusually shaped and unfortunately named, but nevertheless quite delicious, Czech pastry.

The pastry is made by wrapping a slice of sweet dough around a metal cylinder, which is then used to flatten the dough, like a rolling pin. Still wrapped around the cylinder, the dough is then rolled in sugar and cinnamon and nuts and placed over an open flames or glowing coals, where it is heated until brown.

Then it's sprinkled with more sugar or cinnamon and such and served hot. It kind of looks like an edible brown beer mug with the bottom missing.

Anyway ...

Since then, I've been amazed at how many people come to the Biking Blog because they've searched on Google or elsewhere for trdelnik. The pastry appears to have caught the public's fancy in some way. It's unusual, and it tastes good. That's a winning combination, I guess.

Even Alex Kapranos, the lead singer of the pop group Franz Ferdinand, found the subject irresistible. He wrote about what he called these "sweet chimneys" in one of the food columns he used to write for "The Guardian" while he was on tour.

I was in the Czech village of Okoř last weekend, at a medieval festival at the 14th-century castle ruins there, and they were making trdelnik, and there must have been 20 people in line to buy one hot off the cylinder. And I'm sure 19 out of the 20 were locals, not tourists.

In the interest of feeding the fascination with this treat, I decided to film a little video at the trdelnik stall that shows in greater detail how they're made.



There's at least one website out there that offers a recipe for making trdelnik at home.

As they say in the Czech Republic, "Dobrou chut'!"

(Meeting) The Man Who Fell To Earth

Colonel Joseph W. Kittinger shakes hands with a mere mortal during a visit to Prague.

"As you get older it is harder to have heroes, but it is sort of necessary."
-- Ernest Hemingway

I met one of my heroes the other day. In fact, I had a beer with him.

His name is Colonel Joseph W. Kittinger, and he's one of history's bravest men. Many people consider Colonel Kittinger to have been the first man in space. I'm one of them.

In fact, the Smithsonian's National Air & Space Museum in Washington, D.C. just awarded him its Lifetime Achievement Award, putting him in the company of the first man on the moon, Neil Armstrong, and John Glenn, the first American to orbit the Earth. They've also created a permanent exhibit at the Smithsonian on Kittinger's career.

What did Colonel Kittinger do?

In a nutshell, he rode a giant helium balloon into space and then, wearing an early version of a spacesuit, he jumped -- 103,000 feet (31,333 meters), or almost 20 miles, above the desert of New Mexico. Colonel Kittinger still holds the world's record for the highest parachute jump, the longest freefall (more than four and a half minutes), and the highest balloon ascent.

And he did all of this in August 1960. He went up in a balloon because no airplane or rocket could yet ascend to that height. Soviet cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin wouldn't make his trip into space until April 1961.

Colonel Kittinger's heroics as a pre-astronaut in Project Excelsior furthered research into how man could survive in the vacuum of space. His jump also perfected the technology that went into ejector seats in high-altitude aircraft and spacecraft, such as the Gemini program.

On the way up, part of his pressure suit developed a leak, and his right hand swelled up with blood to twice its normal size, but Colonel Kittinger didn't tell anyone on the ground because he knew the mission would be scrubbed if he did. Even though he didn't know what would happen to him and his suit, he kept on soaring upward.


Colonel Kittinger titled his autobiography "The Long, Lonely Leap."

I dedicated a previous post on this blog to Colonel Kittinger because I wanted to spread the word about his feats and share my obsession with the remarkable film of him jumping out of the gondola, the inky blackness of space enveloping him, the curvature of the Earth clearly visible below.

A cover story in the August 29, 1960, issue of "Life" magazine calls Colonel Kittinger a "new space hero" and says the images of his leap are "some of the most exciting pictures of a man's daring ever made."

He is quoted in "Life" as telling ground control, "There is a hostile sky above me. Man may live in space, but he will never conquer it."


Colonel Kittinger was kind enough to autograph this August 1960 copy of "Life" magazine, with a picture of him in free-fall on the cover.

The Boards of Canada, an electronic music duo from Scotland, used footage of Colonel Kittinger's jump for their video of a song called "Dayvan Cowboy." The footage of Colonel Kittinger in the first half of the video is all real. It then devolves into a bit of fantasy, but the music complements Colonel Kittinger's experience perfectly:



If those jumps weren't enough (he did three in all, the first two from slightly lower altitudes), he went on to fly almost 500 combat missions over Vietnam before being shot down over North Vietnam in 1972 after shooting down a MiG-21. He was captured and held for 11 months as a prisoner of war in the infamous Hanoi Hilton, along with U.S. Senator John McCain and others.

In that first blog post, I mentioned that, even though I'm a professional journalist, I couldn't muster the courage to call Colonel Kittinger and interview him.

Well, I finally found the courage, and called him up at his home in the United States, and he answered the phone, and we had a fantastic conversation. I was buzzing for hours afterward.

Incredibly, when I told Colonel Kittinger that I was calling from Prague, he said, "I'm going to be in Prague in a few weeks."

Just imagine how I would have felt if I'd waited a month or so to call him. "You're in Prague? Well, I was just in Prague a few weeks ago!"

I think I would have jumped off of something very high if that had happened.



As it turns out, Colonel Kittinger and his wife, Sherry, were coming to Prague as part of a European tour of aviation and military sites. Their visit to the Czech Republic included a trip to the aviation museum in Kbely, in northeast Prague, as well as a tour of the castle and the Old Town. It wasn't his first visit to Prague. He flew a hot-air balloon over the city a few years ago.

Colonel Kittinger was kind enough to take a few moments out of his visit to have an early evening drink with Daisy, Emma, and me, as well as Stewart and his two boys.

What a thrill. He even said we could call him Joe (although I find that difficult to do). I'm in awe of this man.

After the Vietnam War ended and he was released from prison camp, Colonel Kittinger went on to work for Martin Marietta and founded ballooning and barnstorming companies in the United States.

In 1984, he became the first person to fly a balloon solo across the Atlantic Ocean -- from Maine to Italy. And he's still flying biplanes and balloons, at the age of 79, and traveling tirelessly around Europe.

Now that man's got gusto.

Thanks, Colonel Kittinger, for a meeting I will never forget.


Stewart was as thrilled as I was to meet Colonel Kittinger.

An Arresting Nesting (Or One Big Bird)

I'm a pretty big guy, and that's a pretty big nest.

I think Daisy and I discovered a pterodactyl's nest on a hike the other day.

We live in the small village of Černý Vůl, west of Prague. One of our neighboring villages is called Únětice, which connects to Černý Vůl via a lovely walking/cycling path.

Few outside its own inhabitants have ever heard of Černý Vůl, but some of you out there probably know all about Únětice. I did not know this myself until I moved out here, but Únětice is the name of a historical culture of humans dating to the Bronze Age -- around 2300 to 1600 BC.

Únětice culture is noted for its various metal objects, such as daggers and flat axes and flint arrowheads and bracelets.

Why Únětice? Well, according to the village's own multilingual website, it's attributable to the excavations, in 1879, of more than 50 graves from the late Bronze Age that were found on a barren hill overlooking what is now the village. The work was performed by a local doctor and amateur archaeologist by the name of Čeněk Rýzner.


Somewhere in this landscape is where the Bronze Age graves were discovered. The rocky outcropping that houses the nest can be seen in the upper right.

One notable feature of Únětice culture is that graves, for the first time, were set up in definite rows, just as they are today. The Únětice website notes that "Úněticians were the last people in prehistoric times to bury their dead in the fetal position in a coffin hollowed out from a single piece of wood. Unětice graves are also unusual as they often contain more than one body, these are probably family graves, very rare in prehistoric cultures."

Fascinating stuff. And to think I had once thought that all Únětice had going for it was a cozy little pub with cheap beer and good food.

Anyway, Daisy and I went on a short hike on Sunday, and decided to climb to the top of the hill where the graves were excavated. I'd been up there on my bike before, but hadn't noticed any marker or sign indicating the historic site.

We ended up climbing to the top of the rocky bluff, on a rough, steep path of loose rock and dirt. At the top, we were rewarded with sweeping views of the surrounding countryside, and a nest.

A very large nest.

Situated on the outermost section of rock. Constructed of one- to two-meter length sections of straight twigs.

We saw no gargantuan birds flying nearby, and the nest, on closer inspection, revealed not a single feather or eggshells or any other signs of habitation, like droppings.

Was it a joke? A prank pulled by local teens?

I can only say that the nest looked authentic to me, and that it would have taken some serious commitment to the joke to lug all those twigs up there and arrange them into something that could pass as a real nest.

If it was real, what kind of bird would live in such a large nest? A friend says it may have been a stork's nest.

Daisy's father, Paul, an avid bird-watcher, suspects it's a raptor's nest and probably that of a falcon.

"They often nest on rocky outcroppings like the one you climbed," he says, "and don't build much of a nest structure, which also is consistent with your pictures. American kestrels are cavity nesters, so I suspect Eurasian kestrels are, too. It may have been a larger falcon, but I'm not sure whether any are likely to breed where you are. I think the nest may have been abandoned or never completed. With no feathers and droppings, it clearly was never used."

I'm fascinated by this nest, and if anyone has any thoughts about the topic, drop me a line, please.

We never did find any historical markers pointing the way to the excavation site in Únětice. But if you have an afternoon, I recommend a hike in this area. Park near the restaurant Koliba in Roztoky and take the path toward Únětice.

At the very least, check out Únětice's website. It's very cool, and in English, German, Dutch, and Czech.


The view of Únětice from the top of the rocky bluff.


This cemetery in Únětice is one of the most well-tended and colorful I've ever seen. It also proves that Úněticians continue to bury their dead in rows.

Loveliest Of Trees

LOVELIEST OF TREES
by A.E. Housman

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.

Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.

And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.

PragueScape

One of the things I find charming about Prague is the tradition of regular folks -- usually from the country, it seems to me -- coming into the city to sell things from their gardens, often outside metro stations.

Little bouquets of wild flowers or grape hyacinth, freshly picked and daintily tied and wrapped in leaves of ivy. Bunches of daffodils. Stalks of pussy willows.

I caught up with these two friendly folks outside the metro station at Hradcanska. I bought a bunch of flowers from each to give as a gift.

I don't know their names, or where they're from, but they brightened my day, and I thank them.

Best Red Wine In Prague For $5, Part 2

The wine's not bad, but the label's awful.

I am on a quest to find the best bottle of red wine in Prague for the equivalent of $5 (around 80 CZK) or less.

In my first post on this topic, I singled out the Merlot or the Cabernet Sauvignon from Brise de France, which can be found in Prague shops for anywhere from 70 to 80 CZK per bottle.

As I said in my previous post, "it's a pleasing wine, pouring a dark, deep, rich red. For the price, it's got a nice little bit of spiciness, with hints of black cherry."

On my new Wino-Meter, which takes into consideration taste, color, bouquet (or what I like to call smell) and price, Brise de France gets an 8 out of 10.

Since then, I've drunk a number of wines all costing 80 CZK or less (in one case, much less) and have had a number of reader recommendations. Let's start with the reader tips.

One gusto reader said the 2006 Cabernet Sauvignon from Los Reyes, Cosecha, Chile, sells for under 40 CZK at Norma supermarkets in Prague. At one point, apparently, even selling for 30 CZK. I'd never heard of Norma, but have since discovered it's a German discount chain, which has recently been taken over by a German retail chain, a move that may spell its demise in the Czech Republic. Or has already spelled its demise, since I haven't seen one anywhere.

Can anyone help out with this intriguing mystery? Where the heck is Norma?

Roll Out The Barrels

Another reader wrote to plug the barrel wines available from the wine shops around town, "especially the Chilean Merlot or Argentine Malbec for 55 CZK a liter." There's a wine kiosk in the village of Suchdol, near where I live, and I've enjoyed some drinkable wines from there in the past. I'll have to go back and drink a few more for the purposes of this search.

My only complaint with these wines-by-the-barrel is that the wine is served up in the 1.5-liter plastic bottles usually used for soda, sealed by a plastic top. Their shelf life is thus very limited. Basically, you've got to drink that baby right away (not that that's usually a problem).

'Now That's A Bargain!'

One reader wrote to pass along the "wine tip of the week," saying Tesco is selling the "excellent Rosemount Estate Shiraz for 189.90 CZK -- now that's a bargain!!!" I will definitely have to check that out, but at the equivalent of $12 a bottle, it's way out of the range of this post.

Hollywood & Wine

Speaking of Tesco, however, my good friend Stewart brought over a bottle of California Red Wine from Tesco, which he said cost 54 CZK per bottle, or $3.40.

The label (which sports a drawing of the Hollywood sign) looks pretty crappy, actually. They could have sunk a few more pounds into a more sophisticated design. As for the wine, it's totally drinkable, if forgettable. There's absolutely no finish to it, and it barely makes its presence known to your tongue. It's a decent screw-cap table wine, and for the price a pretty good deal.

On the Wino-Meter, I'm giving it a 6 out of 10.

'Nice, Drinkable' Italian
Another anonymous reader put in a plug for the Merlot 2006 IGT, Cielo family, from Veneto, Italy, selling at Interspar for 67-79 CZK per bottle. "It is nice, drinkable, I think in this category," the anonymous reader said, going on to say: "Czech red wines are terrible if cheaper than 120-150 CZK, especially those you can buy in supermarkets. And they are often only bottled here, but made of low quality grapes from Italy and Hungary anyway. (It is written by very small letters on the rear side of bottle.) Almost only chance to find good and cheap red wine is to visit winemakers and their wine cellars directly, but even in that case they will be offering a lot more of white wines."

The Cielo brand is widely available in Prague, and is definitely a good bargain bet. Again, very drinkable, if unmemorable.

I just finished a bottle of Cielo Cabernet Sauvignon, which I bought for 69 CZK ($4.36). Not bad. The taste was very grape-y, almost like grape-flavored Kool-Aid or something.

I finished the bottle, nonetheless.

The Cielo Cabernet Sauvignon gets a 6 out of 10 on the Wino-Meter.

Crapola de Espana
One bottle I actually couldn't finish was of Sol de Espana from the well-respected vintner United Brands, a Spanish table wine that was for sale at a Vietnamese market I frequent near Hradcanska metro for around 34 CZK ($2.15). It was absolutely undrinkable -- vinegary and just plain awful.

I don't think the bottle was bad. I think the wine is bad. I had a swallow and poured the rest down the drain.

The Sol de Espana came close to breaking the Wino-Meter.

And the quest continues...

As always, please share your recommendations, both good and bad. I promise to do my best to taste them all.

The Most Dangerous Road In Prague

The road in question is elevated one to three meters from the surrounding farmer's fields, with no guardrails to prevent cars from plowing through the fields themselves.

I love to drive.

I'm very comfortable behind the wheel. I once drove a BMW 850i 240 kph (150 mph) on the German autobahn outside Munich. I've driven on the dizzying roundabouts of London and the chaotic city streets of Rome, on the dramatic highway that hugs the cliffs of the Amalfi coast, south of Naples, and the similarly spectacular road that twists and turns high above the crystal-clear waters of the Adriatic on Croatia's Makarska Riviera.

The point is, I'm not intimidated by challenging drives.

So what I'm about to say I don't say lightly.

The scariest, most dangerous driving I've ever done may just be outside the western Prague suburb of Horoměřice.

The road in question starts in Horoměřice and passes between the villages of Nebušice and Přední Kopanina, before connecting with the highway that heads out to the Prague airport. On the map, this road doesn't really have a name, other than Do Horoměřic and, closer to Horoměřice, Hrdinů. (See map at bottom.) I'd say the whole section of road is about three kilometers or so.

What's so scary about a country road?



For one, it's elevated -- why, I don't know.

Many sections of this twisting, turning highway are raised one or two or even three meters above the farmer's fields it passes through. There's no shoulder to the road, and no guardrails, so you have the edge of the paved surface, and then ... space.

If your tire strays a few centimeters, you're flying through the air into the field.

To make matters worse, there is no center line painted onto the road, and vast stretches of the highway also do not have white lines to help drivers discern the edge of the road.

You can't take your eyes off the road long enough to blink.

And what's pretty scary during the daytime becomes absolutely terrifying at night.

Staring into the beams of oncoming headlights, keeping your car on the road and out of the way of oncoming traffic is a wild guessing game. You have no clue where the side of the road ends and the inky blackness of night begins. You're driving by instinct, and there's no room for error.

And forget about it if it's raining at night. You feel lucky to make it home in one piece.


In the rain, especially at night, keeping your car on the road becomes a guessing game. At least this particular stretch has white lines on the edges of the pavement. Hard to tell from this perspective, but that two-meter drop-off begins just on the other side of the white line.

And with no center line to keep drivers in check, oncoming cars and trucks often stray much too far into the opposite lane.

Of course, people drive much too fast on this road, and many have the temerity to pass slower cars or trucks. Czechs are among the worst, if not the worst, drivers in the world (why the aggression?), which is bad enough if you're encountering them on normal roads. Put them on this stretch of pavement and it's a disaster waiting to happen.

(As if to prove my point, this morning (April 7) -- a particularly foggy, rainy morning -- I passed an accident that had just happened. A car had plowed into the rear of a piece of slow-moving farm machinery.)

I've seen a few accidents on this highway, but not nearly as many as I would think, given the circumstances.

Incredibly, drivers also will encounter cyclists and pedestrians on this winding highway of fear. As a cyclist myself, I'd rather take my chances on the Prague-Brno highway than ride on this road.


View Larger Map

The Prague ring road is going to be built right through this area, and once that happens, this ugly stretch of pavement will likely be abandoned. That can't come soon enough for me.

In the meantime, perhaps the city of Prague or one of the surrounding villages could see fit to allocate a little money to paint some white lines on the pavement, at the very least. A guardrail would be too much to ask.

I simply can't understand why this road is allowed to exist in its current state.


A cyclist rides down the most dangerous road in Prague -- either foolhardy or unaware of what lies ahead.

Look at me, I'm clever and well-read because I have an obscure quote*

"There are but three events in a man's life: birth, life, and death. He is not conscious of being born, he dies in pain, and he forgets to live."
-- Jean de la Bruyère (1645-1696), French essayist and moralist

*all credit to DoubleFister on expats.cz