History is now, and then, and then once again...

The last couple days in Brno have been a lesson in history Czech style. EVERYTHING is changing here, and quickly.

The first vignette in our history lesson was our visit to the "Foreign Police," a mix of Soviet-era bureaucracy and EU-style immigration dynamism. Any foreigners staying in Brno long-term must register with the Foreign Police...who, naturally, don't speak any foreign languages. And unlike the rest of Europe, there are not any signs in any useful foreign languages so...you are on your own to use a bizarre flowchart (all in Czech) to figure out how you will be classified (we were not Vietnamese, nor were we students...and we weren't Ukrainians either) and which line you will need to stand in. But if you are lucky, like we were, you will meet a Romanian guest worker who learned his English from watching John Wayne movies and happens to know that you do NOT need to stand in any of the lines, but instead, that you need to talk to the lady at that desk who will tell you, in a combination of Czech, signs, and a few English words, to complete a form and knock on the door of room eleven. Our Romanian friend, however, would wait for a few more hours. Yet despite these obstacles, Brno is teeming with guest workers and new construction.

The second vignette in the history lesson was our shopping trip at Tesco, one of the "Hypermarts" where you can buy EVERYTHING. For Czechs, Tesco and the Vietnamese-owned stalls that cluster on its flanks represent all that has changed since the days of the "velvet revolution" (i.e., you don't need vouchers or to stand in lines to buy common consumer goods AND they give you a bag with your purchases). Yes, you still have to pay the bathroom attendant 4 koruny and take your toilet paper into the stall with you, but times are a-changing. The faces of this revolution are the gutsy Ukrainian construction workers helping rebuild Brno after years of Soviet neglect and the entrepreneurial Vietnamese fast-food joints that, in a nod to their Czech hosts, serve mayonnaise or ketchup with their noodles (not QUITE as bad as it sounds; we recommend the ketchup).

The third vignette in our history lesson was a visit to Hrad Veveri, a castle built in the 1200s that has passed from medieval overlords to protestant rebels, from Hapsburg noblemen to the Nazi SS, and finally from forestry educators to the national park service. We approached the castle by rail and water, taking a tram out of Brno for 15 minutes and then a sight-seeing boat across a reservoir and up a river. Again, we were struck by how far Brno is off of the typical European tourist map. On a beautiful, sunny day, we were the only non-Czechs among the 100-plus people on the boat.

Hrad Veveri (Veveri Castle) has only been partially restored after a century or so of neglect and abuse. As we walked around we felt like we were getting behind the postcard versions of lovingly, perfectly-restored European castles that we've seen elsewhere. We wandered all over, saw a birds of prey exhibit (Sophie got to hold a tawny owl), climbed on ramparts, and took the tour. (The tour was in Czech, but our guide, who bore an uncanny resemblance to Michelle Williams, gave us an English version of her script so we could follow along). Besides a thorough renovation to the roof, the castle is in pretty rough shape. As we took the tour, starting with the keep, a very deep round dungeon with walls about thirty feet high, and thought about SS officers operating here, it was clear that while the castle had seen its share of good times (English-style parks, hunting parties), it had seen plenty of suffering as well. The tour talked about the unfortunate things that had happened there, but focused more on the tragedies that had beset the building, not the people in it. We learned about the destruction wrought by neglect, the SS, treasure-seekers convinced that silver was hidden in the hollow parts of the walls, and horrible administration in the Soviet era. At the end of our tour handout there was a footnote telling us that Veveri now stands as a monument to the shame of the twentieth century administration of historic places. Oh, and a bunch of people were tortured and killed in there over the centuries, too. Maybe, when you've seen enough tragedies, it's easiest to focus on the most recent--or maybe the most fixable.

Yet somehow, as we slowly rode the boat back across the lake in the afternoon sunshine, it was hard not to feel that things are good in Brno, at least at the moment. A round of zmerzlena (ice cream—in this case a soft ice cream twist of yogurt and black-currant flavors that ranked up there with the best soft ice cream cones ever), a lazy walk back to the tram, and a quick ride back to our neighborhood cemented that feeling.