...Even In Australia

Tomorrow is Friday and marks the end of the week of senior school-leaving exams, the Maturiti. Students must sit for exams in four subjects of their choice, including the required Slovak; each subject administered throughout the country on its designated day. This past Tuesday no one had exams because that was for Hungarian and Lithuanian, languages that are required at some schools in the eastern part of the country. Wednesday was English and the topic was announced to everyone on the radio by the Ministry of Education at 8:00 that morning. Whip out your pens and blue books, kids, and wax eloquent FOR FOUR HOURS!

All students were dressed up, boys in suits and girls in heels, suits or business-type outfits. Wearing their green ribbons they were easily identified around town as "last years" or seniors. And it's not over yet. In June these same students will go through another version of testing in the same subjects. English, for example, is oral but this time the students have studied the more than 20 topics from which they will randomly select. They will speak and answer questions before a panel of impartial teachers, all this so that they will be able to secure their certificate. Securing a certificate is a matter of choice and there are different levels depending on the type of school you attend. At our gymnazium, where all students hope to continue at university, this certificate is necessary for admittance to higher education. So tomorrow is TGIF; I'm sure there will be a lot of green-ribboned people celebrating tomorrow night!

Well thank God I wasn't being examined on my teaching last Wednesday! Let's just say I've had better days, but if I left it at that what fun would the blog be? Indulge me here: Ever since my children were small I've enjoyed collecting childrens' books. The collection leans toward the primary years; I even have books in different languages like my latest find: "Lezioni Di Tuba" (How could I resist, Ian?) Some are classics but most are books that gave me a laugh, a thought, a visual jolt or perhaps all those things. I am SOOO ready to be a Grandma! One classic is Judith Viorst's "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day". Poor Alexander is a middle boy of three, too young to be "cute" not yet old enough to be cool. When he wakes up with gum in his hair, the day only goes downhill from there: lima beans for dinner, his best friend finds someone to replace him, his cat won't sleep with him! In short, Alexander feels he is a seven-year-old screw up, but maintains all would be good if he could just move to Australia. And I told you that so I can now tell you this.

A few days ago I had one of those lessons where everything seemed to pull together: we played an effective volleyball lead-up game that more than satisfied the class' desire to "play real volleyball". The game was quirky which made it unpredictable and also took the pressure off the less skilled girls to perform on a par with those more skilled. And of course the best part was they said, "Can we do it again!" Of course you can; you are so wonderful and your P.E. teacher is pretty marvelous herself, I'm thinking.

The next day I adapt the game for Primas (first years) changing the skills but not the rules. Primas, remember are big on enthusiasm; they once cheered when I carried out the orange cones from the equipment room as in yes, we're using the cones today! No kidding. BUT not so good with the english language end of things, so that's the trade off. First off I taught them a new word which was also the name of the game POISON. I ask "Romeo and Juliet?" Most nod yes mainly thanks to Leonardo Di Caprio. I make like I'm drinking, then dramatically clutch my throat and pretend to die; major over-acting but they got it. OK on to the rules.

Using a volleyball we basically were playing a variation of a throw and catch game they already knew. We know it in the states as Newcomb; here they call it Prehadzovana. We played it with 4 teams, however, using one volleyball net and each team starting off with five objects (we used tennis balls) The object of the game is to try to play so you retain all five balls. Missing a catch means you must give up a ball and eventually one of the four teams loses all five tennis balls. (No, in P.E. you never say you lose your balls, or pick up your balls, or give me your balls, or anything like that good for a sophomoric laugh.) ANYWAY, this team disbands and can go to any of the other three teams, alone or together. This brought some whines of "But that's not FAY-ER!" (Why is it that with so little english, they can still whine with the best of them?)

However, that's the idea of the game; I said it was quirky. The now-vacated court becomes POISON and a ball hit into the POISON court results in the hitting team's loss of another tennis ball. Can't you feel the tension among the 10 year olds?! Lots of screaming, drama, foot stomping (I think I was playing Queen's "We Will Rock You") and unfortunately in one case the whole team colliding to catch the ball. (They all decked one another BUT SAVED THE CATCH! Vybourne, Primas!)

After that another team (OK I'll say it.) loses its balls and regroups with the remaining two teams. Now there are TWO POISON COURTS AND EVENTUALLY A WINNER! How exciting! Well... no, not if the game is over and you don't even know you won. Ohhh. BARBORA YOU ARE WINNER! Blank look. THEY ARE LOSER! More terrible english and another blank look. Judita, do you understand winner? Yes, she does. Can you tell Barbora that her team won? Even Judy saw how silly this was but let Barbora in on the secret that her team had won the very exciting but apparently incomprehensible game of POISON! As a very wise Alexander figures out (with his Mom's help of course) at the end of the story, "Some days are just like that, even in Australia". ...and Slovakia.

Arizona...and Glen Ellyn

I arranged to go hiking again with Vladimir and Lubisa, although now they were Vlado and Luba (or Libby) because we had become tramping buddies. This time I met them at their tram stop and we started the walk on a different, unmarked trail. Our plan was to go to Arizona, felt to be a sacred, healthy place with the purest water around, although no one could explain the name. In spite of the week's rain including last night, it was once again a beautiful, sunny day. As before, Luba started picking flowers that she would mix together and dry, later adding mint and chamomile purchased from a chemist to make her herbal tea.

Early in our hike Luba pointed out the new-age Austrian windmills seen in the distance, and the town in the valley, the closest village in Austria. We walked through a meadow were there were the remains of the concrete fence pillars and barbed wire used for a barrier when the communists ran the show and patrolled the border. No one walked the meadow then except for soldiers.

We finally arrived at Arizona, a stunning, wooded area with granite outcroppings and a large fire pit. And as far as the eye could see, was the Kingdom of Bear's Garlic as Luba called it. She had brought sausages to cook, so Vlado got busy starting a fire. We were in a national park and there was plenty of wood to be had for the fire, but unfortunately all of it wet. Luba whittled sticks for our roasting utensils and I started picking garlic. This seemed to be an agreeable division of labor, although things seemed to get a little tense when Luba started offering unsolicited advice on how to get a wet fire started. But light it did and when we started grilling, the dripping fat helped the fire even more.

Our sausages looked more like hot dogs, and were almost as fat as they were short. Luba said they were special sausages for cooking over an open fire. They had been cut in an x at either end and as they cooked they curled and opened like flowers. There were logs set out that made a sort of table and benches. When we sat down to eat our feast included rye bread, sausages and salad (raw Bear's Garlic picked last week and washed and crisped for our picnic). We used knives to stab pieces of sausages, combining them with bread and garlic. I felt like a girl scout again and asked if they had scouting in Slovakia. She said it had been popular in the 1930's, but it fell out of favor because the communists thought it was "too western". I was surprised because I think of scouting as just the opposite, that if anything it leans toward communism not away from it.

Finishing our meal we tidied up the area and in 3 seconds doused the fire it had taken Vlado almost an hour to coax into existence. We passed two more natural wells as we walked downhill through the ravines, all of it still covered by a carpet of garlic. Some of it was starting to bud but we tried to pick the younger, more pungent plants. Luba quizzed me along the way: "And Jo-an, is it true that you say fall and not autumn... that you say zero not "oh"... that you cut all your meat before you begin to eat???" Like many english teachers, she uses the UK-published Headway series to teach. Some companies, however, prefer american english to the british version so she was curious about the differences.

Towards the end Luba said, "Joan, break...peace?" "Break...peace?" I dumbly repeated. "Peace" she repeated, then so did I. At least we agreed but I'm not sure on what. Was this a Slovak version of shake-hands peace I had done in church earlier that day? "PISS" she re-pronounced. Ohh! Take a piss! Got it and yes, I need to. We completed our hike, this time finishing near a bus stop which took us to our trams where we continued to our respective flats. Next weeks plans are to visit Sand Hill (in german, Sandberg), an area that fossils confirm used to be a prehistoric sea. It is 500 meters above sea level and sounds like a desert sand dune but I'm not sure.

Returning to my flat I realized my ear was really bothering me. It had been uncomfortable off and on for months, and after using a cotton swab it felt like I had water in my ear. When Ian phoned I also realized I could hardly hear out of that ear. Also, I'd rubbed my eyes with unwashed hands after garlic picking resulting in hay fever-like symptoms. I went to bed pretty miserable and slept poorly. Upon waking up things were no better and I decided it was TIME TO SEE THE SLOVAK DOCS! I'd hoped that I'd never have to do this but it seemed necessary.

Fulbright had referred me to a clinic a short walk away so that's where I headed to go see Dr. Igor Vozar. I walked UP to the first floor (reception is always the main floor which doesn't count) noticing the ornate wrought iron rail and small mosaic tiles, looking like they were from the 20's or 30's. The offices were bland but the entrance reeked of shabby elegance. I told Dr. V about a secondary issue as well (hey, why not?) but when I said I couldn't hear he looked alarmed and said he'd send me to the hospital to an ear, nose and throat specialist. I was out of there before 9:00 and no charge for the consultation. So far so good. I even kind of knew where the hospital was because it was on my way to school.

Stopped at the flat to double check the hospital address online. I was going to Zeleznicna Nemocnica which didn't seem to even be listed. The second word means hospital but I got out my dictionary to figure out the first. Part of that word means green, or growing or vegetable. Green hospital? Vegetable Hospitable? (Maybe they had electrotherapy like at the spa!) At least he didn't refer me to the OK Clinic which WAS listed online. OK? OK, what? We'll make you OK? We're not great, just OK? We're OK, you're OK? Best keep away from OK Clinic.

Over to the hospital now and directed to floor two, which if you're paying attention, you know is really on floor three. Show "Nurse Rached" my paper to see Dr. Gasparova, she doesn't take my name, instead points to a crowded hallway and says two. As the rooms are 227 and 229, two makes no sense. I go back and look pathetic, she walks me over to (locked) room 227 which also has a sign posted that says ORL Ambulancia II. And do what I ask. Neviem, she answers (doesn't know). So you know what's coming, right? I see there are 11 others there and resignedly sit down so I can ask my neighbor DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH? Bingo, Dagmar did and explained the system is that there is no system. It's not as bad as I thought, though, as she points to everyone in order, she is fourth, and I follow her.

Turns out I'm at a State hospital where she says things actually ran more efficiently under the communists. But because health insurance is deducted monthly, most people have paid into the system and can't afford to go to a private hospital. She says she goes to a private gynocologist and dentist and was being seen for her neck (everyone says that when they mean throat) because it would be too expensive. We chat and I mention Chicago, where her brother, Mark, lives in a Michigan Avenue condo with wife Andrea who really misses Slovakia. We exchange e-mails and I'm thinking a friend for Sona! Dagmar tells me she was an aupair 16 years ago for Russian-Slovak Dr, Palowski...in Glen Ellyn. This is getting too crazy and the world shrinks daily.

We continue to talk until the doctor sticks her head out the door and says Pani Vande Velde? How did she even know I was there?! I apologize for bumping Dagmar out of order and hustle in. There are two desks: Dr. Gasparova, who had summoned me spoke no english so I was seen by the other person who had no identification but did speak english. I explain the problem and sit down in the dentist's chair. She does a brief exam and it takes her no time to decide she needs to remove ear wax from my right ear. She does her thing and sends me out for 15 minutes to wait. Dr. G again calls me in, I get the cotton removed and we do a sort of whispering test across the room, the non-identified person whispering, me repeating, Dr. G positioning me and covering the other ear. The doctor washes the utensils while the other enters the report in the computer and hands me the bill, about $40. (Ah, maybe that's why I got called - cold cash!) I pay Doctor G who has a little money box for the odd paying patients like me. I ask about my other ear concern, but she says that is for a dermatologist and sends me back to the first clinic. I ask her what is the name of the hospital and she says it means Railroad Hospital. Just like the whole morning, makes sense to me!

Admitedlly ear wax is an icky subject. I have vaugely heard of candling but really didn't understand why I had this condition. As usual I went online, but the answer to that is that often there is no answer. Some of the best information came from a doctor's website called Wax, Boogers and Phlegm. Guess you have to keep your humor about icky stuff like that. Back to the first clinic where I run into my first doc, Igor, who asks was I seen and what happened. He seemed genuinely concerned and explained that he did not have the equipment there to do the procedure. So made my appointment for the dermotologist and went home. And just as I'm embarassed to admit I had earwax I hate to admit what I did next. Humming the tune of "You deserve a break today..", I had lunch at McDonald's!

February...March?!

Now I read it! There is a weekly newspaper published here caIled the Spectator that gives us english-speakers local news, albeit most of it a week late. I also have a few editions of the slick Spectacular, its annual travel guide companion magazine with lots of good information about Slovakia. While flipping through an old Spectacular, I recently I came across a sidebar article about "How to Read Slovak Trail Marks", and had another a-hah moment. I now know I can secure trail guides in bookstores and at our local information center. The guides are in Slovak but the trails are color-coded in a way that makes perfect sense.

Trails are always marked in four colors: red, blue, yellow and green. These marks are almost always painted on trees; if it's a red trail, for example, there will be a horizontal stripe painted between two white ones, just as the markings I'd seen last Sunday. In fact, I had seen no red trails that day, as they denote the most challenging trails, ones that move steeply up and down hills. All other colors require less exertion and mean various things. The yellow trail I'd started with was a short connecting trail meant to be a path between two larger trails, and not point to tourist destinations like the castle. Green trails connect to other, larger trails and usually move hikers between tourist attractions. And the blue trail that lead me into the castle was a long, not-too-challenging trail that connects two major tourist attractions, in my case the river/bike path area and the castle.

I also noticed painted white squares with colored diagonals (not horizontals) passing through them. While it reminded me of a one-way, do not enter sign, I figured that was silly but could never see any logic to it. I now know it simply means that there is a sign containing information about the area's local wildlife up ahead, all in Slovak but at least with pictures. Finally, when you see a painted square with its top-right quarter missing (I didn't but I may have just not noticed.) it will be where the trail splits. The standard horizontal mark leads you on the regular path, with the 3/4 version leads to a tourist attraction. Most markings are 300 meters apart, so if you haven't seen something in that approximate distance you can retrace your steps to make sure you are going in the proper direction. So, I had done alright, but knowledge is power and I will do better in the future.

Well, I don't know how it happened but February is gone and good riddance! It's never been my favorite month and there's a reason it has only 28 days. But this brings on March which makes me realize I still need to chat a bit about the past month, so here goes. A while back I had mentioned that in early February we had some release time from school in order to convene for our Fulbight Mid-Winter Conference. We cooperated with Czech Republic making a group of about 30 meeting at the spa town of Trencianske Teplica in Slovakia. We were all expected to give 15 minute presentations explaining what we were doing, and if time allowed, answer questions. This took most of the three days, with some down time to tour the local castle and take advantage of the spa services.

Yes, we were at a spa, but ahem, a SLOVAK SPA, established at one of Slovakia's numerous natural springs. Scratch that: we were at the Flora Hotel, a facility with spa services available IF they could arrange the necessary out-of-house providers. That Sunday afternoon, we Slovak Fulbrighters bounded off our bus, checked in and immediately tried to sign up for massages. The reception desk said of course, but would first have to call the personnel. Ohhhh, OK, and when might we find out? Come back in an hour (or ten minutes, or after dinner, during your conference, in the middle of the night)...just come back. They seemed totally surprised and unprepared that they had a group of people clamoring to schedule massages. (me being one of the predominant clamorers) Their list of spa options looked inviting, but just try to get in to see "The Wizard of Oz". It seemed impossible.

We opted for the "healing waters" of their pool instead, fitted out with powerful jets. Being careful not to flash anyone in the public area of the changing room, I got into my suit. Slovak rooms are uni-sex, but have private changing rooms: just don't mix up the two! Chuck, our resident spa guru was the only one of us who used the sauna, mainly because he was the only one who figured out the procedure. (We couldn't even figure out how to get into the pool. We could see it through the window, but it took a Fulbright Committee of us to actually find the entrance.)

Meanwhile, with persistent "checking back later" I scheduled a massage. Reading the options I saw that I could get a foot reflex massage, shiatsu, under water massage, bubble bath with supplement of herbs and salts or finnish sauna. The list also included some ominous selections like vacuum massage, manual or mechanical lymphatic massage, turf pack and kinetic therapy-curative gymnastics. Overwhelmed by the offerings and figuring I'd best steer clear of turf pack, I went with a classical massage. I also steered clear of the ELECTROTHERAPY ROOM which was right next to my massage room. (Why did I keep thinking of "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest"?)

Slovaks take great pride in the curative powers of their spas. Specific spa towns list diseases they claim to treat as well as methods of treatment. Trencianske Teplice specializes in treating the following conditions: rheumatic degenerative and inflammatory diseases, arthritis, ancylosing spondylitis, rheumatism of muscles, diseases of the spine, neurologies, conditions after operations and accidents of the motor apparatus, and sclerosis multiplex, which I'm pretty sure is NOT a movie theater.

Treatments include balneotherapy, specialized medical care, baths in thermal pools, mud compressions, limoplast/combination of mud and parrafin, physio therapy/hydro-electro-heat therapy, gas injections (!), rehabilitation, acupuncture, medical therapy, turf compressions, kneipis therapy and diet food. Our hotel could arrange access to the thermal pools, but as they were located elsewhere it was inconvenient. I would like to visit one, though, because that whole centuries-old experience is the basis for the contemporary treatments offered at spa towns.

My first massage was 20 minutes and all business. Remember this was all about healing, not some glitzy spa getaway on a remote island. We all compared notes afterward and I decided I would be more daring with future choices, regretting having chosen such a mundane massage for my first round. Meanwhile the Bears lost (remember?). I watched just a little, but the "young uns" saw the entire game which didn't start until midnight. I believe it involved significant amounts of pivo (beer) and cheering; the elders in neighboring rooms not being pleased.

Speaking of young uns, there was a decidedly split representation in just who was interested in massage. As pivo-drinking Jason (age 22) put it, "IT"S A DUDE!" No masseur for him; he'd check out the weight room, thank you. The women of all ages seemed to be more inclined to sign up, but some didn't have the time nor interest to keep "coming back later" so just quit trying.

Not me! I next went in for the massage with lava stones, a full 60 minutes this time. I had smooth, heated stones under my head, between my toes, in my palms and even on my belly. At half-time, you slowly sit up and join your masseur in a cup of peppermint tea, before flipping over to the other side. "And what are you wearing at this point?" asks a modest-aware Susan. "Well, my undies." I reply, only thinking about it for the first time. When you're getting worked on, you feel like a carcass and modesty doesn't even occur to you.

The last massage was the best, the honey detoxification regime. While only 20 minutes it seemed to be the most physical by far of the three massages I'd had. At the end of my treatment he sent me on my way, instructing me to drink five liters of baby water (what they call distilled nursery water). Out the next day for a walk I came upon a fountain which I could smell before I saw. It was bubbling over with sulphur waters and had a courtesy cup for anyone wishing to drink. Eeeew! Having bought my baby water at the potraviny, I took a pass on the public stinky waters of the fountain.

Next door to the grocery was the bakery dedicated to the making of oblakti, the communion wafer-like treat made at most spa towns. I brought coconut, vanilla, chocolate and hazelnut versions back to school and I think it was gone before anyone even took a coffee break.

In between massages we convened for our presentations, all different and all interesting. Kicking off the program were current scholars, Fulbrighters with the highest status (and largest stipends), including friends Chuck and Janeil. Breaks and lunches were built into the program so lots of chance to network or just be a Monday morning quarterback. Whatever. Next came the teaching assistants at universities followed by student projects. This category was amazing and I was so impressed with both the variety and expertise of these graduate students, most of whom were not far away from their undergraduate years.

Juliana was making a documentary entitled "Czechploration: Implications of Czech New Wave Images". Involved in public health was Kat, working in drug abuse prevention. An ultra-marathoner herself, she is organizing a fitness-based intervention and will hold a 5K/10K this spring. Ben attempted to explain his "Novel Retrovirus Assembly Research", and actually did a good job of presenting to non-scientists, although don't ask me to re-explain. These were just a few of some stellar power point presentations by an impressive group of young researchers.

This left three more groups yet to pesent. My group of five exchange teachers went next, with the highlight being Jon's math games and songs he composes to help his students remember their math facts. Accompanying himself on guitar, he shared "All Along the Desktops" sung to a Dave Matthews melody. Here's his final verse:

All along the desktops, books turn page by page.
Students are enlightened with pencils sharp and open brains.
Outside of the math classroom, where wild rectangles prowl
Two circles were approaching, 360 degrees around.

I guess that dies on the page but it was hysterical live, and I hate math! No one will ever forget Jon! As for me, my presentation went well. I talked about the low status of Physical Education in Slovakia and how I am handling the situation. Afterward I talked with Betsy, one of the scholars based in Brno with her family, including 8-year-old daughter, Sophie. She said it sounded exactly like Sophie's Czech gymnazium where she is usually the only girl to participate, especially in swimming and ice skating.

That left our teaching assistants to present, but sharing their experience at the high school level this time. Finally we heard from our newly arrived scholars, including Andy who we had just met on the bus coming to TT. Andy just stepped down from the department chair position at Wheaton College where he works in teacher training in special education. Like with physical education, Slovakia has a different mindset about special education. But unlike PE, there is a positive attitude and openess for change in special education. Andy and wife, Christine, school psychologist are team teaching one of Andy's courses here at the university in BA. They have already visited a number of schools finding segregation the norm, inclusion being a completely new concept.

Last went Kevin who will put his business and academic expertise to use as he teaches Czech NGO's how to build strategic management plans. Aware of his place that morning in our three day long (or three long days) program, Kevin told the story of his college graduation where, due to circumstances, he was the last in a very large class to cross the stage and receive his diploma. Being congratulated by his sainted granny brought smiles to his family as she said, "Why, Kevin, you must have so many friends. Everyone clapped the loudest for you." At the close of Kevin's report, we applauded wildly for our new friend!!!

Bear's Garlic

Happy belated St. Patrick's Day. I had an interesting weekend and would like to share. Last Saturday some of my colleagues gathered at The Dubliner to tip some Guinness to celebrate Nyall's birthday and St. Pat's as well. The Irish Pub is a bit overpriced and well-patronized by lots of Ryan Air tourists from UK, but it seemed to be the place to go for our celebration. I brought some chili-flavored dark chocolate which everyone thought was "interesting" (they hated it, just as they did the gournet root beer from Chicago), Zuzka brought a cake and Nyall ordered a plate of munchies. Most of the talk was in Slovak and my mind and eyes were wandering.

Sitting down next to us were three women, one in a bright red hoodie. Leaning back, I could just barely make out I-L-L and then State. Had the Redwings landed in BA? Finally I could no longer resist, and went over to introduce myself to the three ISU people on leave here for a series of concerts. They were members of the Fine Arts faculty and included a pianist, opera singer and friend. Before long I was taking photos, giving directions and assuming ambassador-at-large duties. I introduced them to our table and before leaving, they sang Happy Birthday to Nyall, opera style. The entire pub quieted down and then burst into applause. Nyall turned bright red from his face to his shiny bald head, I think!

As predicted, this past Monday the weather finally took a grumpy turn for the worse, becoming cold, damp, and dreary. Like many folks around here, however, I made plans to spend Sunday outside to take advantage of our last nice day for awhile. I packed a lunch in my backpack and attended church in my hiking clothes. From there I had figured out how to take a tram to the end of the line and pick up a trail head that would lead me to Devin Castle ruins, a 2-hour one way hike, which I could either make an out-and-back, or just catch a bus back to BA. I'd been to the castle last August and knew the terrain would be hilly but not difficult, and of course the final reward was the spectacular view of the Hrad over the confluence of the Danube and Morava Rivers.

Riding the tram to the end and remembering the online explanation I'd read about the trail, it seemed I had gone too far. I exited and walked back in the opposite direction, and sure enough found the road about 1/2 mile back. I was looking for yellow trail signs, but soon realized that meant yellow painted markings, not signs. Once I figured this out, I easily followed the well-marked trail, first walking through homes on the side of the hill, which then turned into one-room cottages used on week-ends where people typically kept a garden in the small patch of hillside green.

Finally the cottages ended and the woods took over. The trail was wide and fairly dry and I was surprised to see so many woodland blooms in brilliant purples, yellows and lavendars. The signs continued to be well-marked and I noticed I was also on the green trail as each marking had both these colors. One sign said 1:45 to Devin Castle which jived with what I had planned so it seemed that I was on the right route. After a while, though, no signs, and then finally only a green sign. What happened? Had I lost the Yellow Brick Road? Although I had previously seen the castle from a crested hill, now I was in the woods with only trees...and a green sign.

I decided to backtrack figuring that in my enthusiasm (I walk fast) I had missed the yellow turn-off. I stopped the first couple I encountered with the inevitable question, "DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH?" The couple were about my age, both with day packs, he with two large filled plastic bags, she with a friendly smile. "Yes, of course." she says. We discuss my apparent mistake, but it seems that yellow route turns into green which is the way to Devin. I had been going the right way but with no map to confirm the rainbow of routes, it wasn't immeditately obvious.

She invited me to join them, and I must admit my immediate inclination was to decline because they were ambling, and I was on a faster pace, heading "somewhere" quickly. But I agreed and what serendipity! I got to know Libusa and her husband (whose name I can't remember). Unbelievably, she is an English teacher working no longer at school, but doing corporate adult education because there is more money in it. Libusa's hubby spoke no english but understood some if not most of what we said. After a while, she asked if we would mind resting at a local camp site, one of their favorite spots. It was here that she said, "Are you seeing all the Bear's Garlic?" as she pulled a few leaves from the ground and took a big bite out of one of them. With my usual american eloquence, I think I replied, "Huh?" or something equally articulate. (Twelve weeks of Slovak and I didn't even have the presence of mind to say, "Prosim?", a polite way to say please, come again. Reading Slovak is easier than hearing, but spitting it out is hardest of all.)

We were sitting in an area completely covered with Bear's Garlic, a plant whose leaves resemble lily-of-the-valley. (Careful here, l-o-t-v leaves are poisonous.) In church earlier that morning we had sung Amazing Grace, so rejoicing that "I was lost but now am found", I gamely chomped on a leaf! As soon as I bit the leaf released a strong odor, a combination of garlic and chives. The pungent odor, however, was much stronger than the taste, which was like that of a sweet vidalia onion. My new friends had been out picking Bear's Garlic; having already filled two big plastic bags.

Libusa filled me in saying that this plant is good for picking about 3-4 weeks of the year. Supposedly when bears come out of hibernation they eat this because it is good for them, hence the name. It grows in woodlands, happily spreading to cover the ground. By the time it blooms with a star-like white flower it is no longer good for picking and although it has a small bulb like garlic, it is the leaf that is used.

She said she cooks it like spinach, sometimes adding it to potatoes and a few eggs too. (This sounds very much like the "Stumpf" that Grandma Valentine Van De Velde used to make most Fridays: spinach combined with mashed potatoes and an egg on top, a typical meatless dish back in Catholic pre-Cana days.) Libusa also uses it in pesto and soups and says the whole place smells like Bear's Garlic.

I later googled it and sure enough there it was in 24 languages and 40 synonyms, all in Central Europe where it is indigeous. The Slovak version, like many others, translates to garlic honey-eater. People believed that if you actually said the word "bear", out would come the big brown ones, so safer to call them honey-eaters. (Think Harry Potter and he-who-will-not-be-named.) Since it can't be cultivated and only harvested for a short time, it's known more locally than internationally. On the other hand, because it is not readily accessible, some chefs have made it trendy by introducing this hard-to-come-by flavor.

It is high in sulfides so probably those bears knew what they were doing. While not too famous, sulfides are important for linking together enzymes in ways that benefit our bodies, like in forming anti-bodies. If we lacked sulfides we wouldn't have the naturally occurring hormone insulin. Have you ever met a bear with high blood pressure, clogged arteries, stomach pains, indigestion, diahhrea and/or colic!? Thought so; Bear's garlic handles all that and more. It also stimulates the appetite so a spring-time feast of it makes sense for Yogi, who as we all know is smarter then th av-er-age bear!

If you go on organic sites (as opposed to botany-based) you read words like vermifuge and depurative. Prosim? It seems that some people use this as a remedy to basically cleanse the intestinal system and purify the blood. Try this tincture at home: Fight off the bears before they wake up and pick their garlic. Chop it up and fill a small bottle with it. Cover with 40% vodka and let it soak for 15 days in the sun. Take 15 drops a day in a glass of water and let me know how you feel! (Oh, and you'll probably have to go to Vermont or Virginia to pick "ramp" the closest thing to it stateside.)

Looking for a more social Bear's Garlic experience? Come to Eberbach, Germany for the annual ramson's festival held in late March/early April. Make plans now!

Libusa and her husband go and walk the woods every week-end like many other Slovaks. She also picked flowers for tea while we were together but she couldn't think of the word in Slovak for what she found. We have made plans to meet again and she said she'll bring the sausage! I do need to ask her about one ominous thing I read though. Ever since the practice of wooded areas being sprayed, the incidence of rabies in foxes has been greatly reduced. The downside, however, is that foxes can carry a parasite whose eggs end up, invisibly, on the garlic leaves. Called liver flukes, ingesting them raw is supposed to cause brain and liver damage!

We continued our hike until it was time for us to go our separate ways: I toward Devin Castle and they to Devinska Nova Ves so they could take a bus back home to cook up their garlic stash. Lubisa gave me two hiking options, asking me why did I want to go to the castle anyway. From that fork, we were looking straight down on the Morava River and I could follow the bike path to the castle. I could also go along the crest of the hill, across the valley and through the village and come out at the same place. She recommended the former, not feeling confident that her latter directions would get me to my destination. Of course I chose the high road (much more interesting) and, now following signs that had mysteriously turned to blue, I did not get lost. I asked Libusa would I see more garlic on my way. She said no and she was right; it had only been back in the woods as this part of the trail was open and sunny. In fact, the rest of the hike was downhill all the way in every way, with the real fun having been meeting new friends and looking forward to more good times next Sunday. Sometimes getting lost is a good thing!