When we heard the news of Babi’s death, we were on a family bike ride, wearing face masks and keeping our distance from other Czechs who had also escaped to the countryside that Saturday morning for fresh air. Babi was my husband’s grandmother. Like my family back in Virginia, we had already been under quarantine due to the coronavirus for several weeks.…
In the age of Trump, when fear, nationalism, and racism have spread from the United States outward toward Europe and beyond, even raising my children in a fairytale village outside of Prague still doesn’t keep them safe from the Trump-created crises that pop up on their social media and in the news.…
Each year in early January, Radek and I sat down to map out our family’s adventures and sync our planners (his electronic, mine a hardbound “student’s planner”) until the following September. With three children and an active lifestyle, laying the framework for our travel adventures required patience, stamina, and the willingness to be flexible.…
When my children were younger, hiking was simple. Sure, we had extra things to pack (milk, diapers, changes of clothes), naptimes to work around, and the occasional temper tantrum to defuse. But, my kids never seemed happier than when they were traipsing through the woods, stick in hand. Now, that they are almost teenagers, it’s not as easy.…
When Radek mentioned he’d like to take me to Paris to celebrate my 40th birthday (which happened to coincide with Easter weekend), it sounded too good to be true. I imagined walking hand in hand along the Seine, visiting Trocadero at sunset to see the Eiffel Tower, and climbing the steps to Sacre Coeur in Montmartre. Afterward, we’d drink champagne and eat mussels cozied up at a table for two in the Latin Quarter. It would be the perfect way…
It’s Saturday night at our local microbrewery. Radek and I are chatting about the recent Czech presidential election with our neighbors. (Truth: They’re making jokes. I’m listening in hopes of improving my Czech humor.) The younger children have lined up plastic soldiers and army tanks on the wooden table and are preparing for battle. And my 13-year daughter is hunched over in an armchair at an empty table. She’s not pouting. She’s reading. …