An Evening with the Hari Krishnas

Marcello

This is my flatmate, Marcello, age 35. He's a theoretical physicist from Italy specializing in gravity. More importantly, as a flatmate, he's a good guy.

We had heard about the half-price nightly specials at Govinda, the restaurant near our flat run by the Hari Krishnas. We decided to check it out.

The Hari Krishna bakery
next door to the restaurant

Govinda does a nice lunch business.

Every night from 5:30-6:00 p.m.
they offer what's left on the menu
for half price.

You can click on my title
to go to their web page.

The smell of incense
wafts out from the gift shop.

It's a good thing we arrived at 5:25
because every single table filled up quickly.

Diners go up to the counter to pick up their food.
We didn't have to select what to eat.
This was a good thing, because we had no idea
what it was. After we started eating it became clear.

Our plate of food cost $2. That's probably with the Czech Value Added Tax of 20% added in. I ordered strawberry lassi (yogurt drink) and Marcello ordered freshly-squeezed carrot juice which added another $2 each to our meals. We had lentil soup, raita with beets (that's the refreshing pink yogurt salad), sweet tomato chutney (I could taste cinnamon), rice and a tasty amalgamation of broccoli, carrots, potatoes and possibly zucchini to go with the rice. It was good and filling.

You don't have to sit at a table.
These three Hari Krishna ladies enjoyed
the lower tables with floor cushions.

The clay on their noses
is from the Ganges River.
They wear it to signify that
they recognize their bodies as
spiritual temples
not just physical
flesh and blood.

A Hari Krishna lady had confided in me
weeks before in the bakery that the best thing
about these outfits is they hide
every possible figure flaw.

Inside the gift shop and cultural center

When I was a kid, the Hari Krishna movement seemed very threatening. During the 70s, a common fear of American parents was that their young adult children would run off and join the Hari Krishnas or the Moonies, two religious movements considered cults at that time. Anytime you went to an American airport in those days, flyers had to avoid aggressive supporters of a Libertarian guy named Lyndon LaRouche and orange-bedecked Hari Krishnas that would encircle you with what seemed like wild drumming and chanting.

This encounter, so far, hadn't been anything like that. After dinner, Marcello had to head out to English class. I had time to pop into the gift shop and cultural center. Lo and behold, a program was about to begin. Being an empty nester, I didn't have to be somewhere at a certain time. I could be spontaneous and stay! And having no fear at this age in life that I would "run off and join the Hari Krishnas" staying to learn more about their life seemed more interesting than threatening.

Every Wednesday night, after the restaurant closes at 6 p.m., the Hari Krishnas hold a congregational chant. Tonight was going to be even more informative, because a young man who graduated from a Hari Krishna all-male secondary school in India was going to give a slide presentation on the school. I was lucky to sit down next to a very nice young woman named Christine who offered to translate and explain everything to me.

I love singing. It's 100% non-cynical. I have done solitary meditation but this was going to be my first group meditation or chanting. The room was standing room only with approximately 70 people in it wearing a mixture of saris, regular Western casual clothes, and even one suit and tie. Many people came straight from work.

The chant was led by three men. The chant leader played the harmonium, another man and Christine rhythmically clanged finger cymbals, and the young man who would the evening's speaker played a drum that reminded me of a conga drum.

It was beautiful. The entire room focused on the chant and it truly was like a transcendental spiritual vibration could be felt. The number of people, the rhythm, the sounds of the drums, keyboards, and clanging cymbals all added up to a sum greater than it's parts. The leader later told me that doing it together is what helps prevent boredom and mind flicker (what the Buddhists call "monkey mind.")

Before the program began

I wish I had taken a picture of the young man who shared his slides that night. He emanated a deep spiritual nature. It's not easily described. I just know it when I feel it. He was 20 years old. Hari Krishnas from all over the world send their children to this school with a Krishna curriculum. It didn't occur to my skeptical Western mind until the next day to ask if the school was accredited by an outside agency, but I did ask where the girl's school was (1 km away), how many teachers and students were native to India and how many weren't.

The speaker's English was "native" because so many Americans and Aussies attend the school. He said the boys were raised with austerity and taught to be celibate until age 25. If they reach 25 without breaking their celibacy, they have a good chance of making it as a good "householder." He said "you only have to look out in society to see what happens when the boy doesn't keep this celibacy. He will never keep it and he will likely be part of regular society's 50% divorce rate."

I had asked Christine why there were so many men there that night and she told me the Hari Krishna movement is about 2/3 male. She has no idea why. We giggled about the odds.

The young man didn't have pictures of the girl's school. He said it was not as austere as the boy's school since girls are more tenderhearted and needed to be raised with more opulence (who can disagree with that???).

When he asked who in the audience would like to send their children to his school, about 5-10 people raised their hand. I didn't feel an ounce of proselytizing that night. The people in the audience seemed like regular people.

Christine, a gifted translator,
and poised young Czech woman.

Thank you, Christine, for sharing
your faith with me!

A Hip Hotel in Smichov

Right after I finished my TEFL certificate in December, I realized I hadn't seen anything in Smichov, the neighborhood where my English school was located. I had pretty much beat a path from the metro to the school front door every day. Finishing our certificate was like coming up for air and seeing Prague again for the first time.

I set out to explore what else was in the neighborhood and happened upon this very cool hotel. I loved seeing that what captures my imagination about American culture captures Czech imagination about my culture. Jazz! How fantastic!

The big inviting front windows

The world's all time favorite jazz musician -
Satchmo!

It's hip! It's happy!
It's Herbie Hancock!

On the way to the dining room through the lobby.
Don't you love those light fixtures?

Lounge under Lionel
on his vibes

Some hotel lobby bars empty out.
Other people seem to respond
to this one as much as I do.
This is midafternoon!

Surprisingly, with all of this great jazz memorabilia,
the Angelo Hotel doesn't have live music.
But the incredibly helpful front desk manager
got out a map and showed me every place in Prague
with great live jazz.

The jazz wall behind the front desk

Ray Charles and Miles Davis
serenade the dining room in black and white

The dining room in midafternoon
ready for that night's business.

You can click on my title to reach
the Angelo Hotel's web page.

I Could Have Danced All Night

For a jazz lover, the Prague Jazz scene is wonderfully vibrant. I could go hear live jazz in a different spot for probably three weeks straight. Last week though was something special: the 50th anniversary of Traditional Jazz Studio, a Prague jazz band playing FANTASTIC music.

You read that right. This band has been playing together since the 1950s for 50 years! Last week they played and reminisced at the smoke-free Czech National Museum of Music.

Pavel, clarinetist and band leader

Pavel, the band leader, said that back in the 50's, the Communist regime didn't object to their music too much because it was, after all, the music of the "poor American Negro." Doing more instrumental music, rather than vocals, helped avoid official objections.

By the 1960's Pavel said musicians must have dropped in status, in the regime's eyes, as a potential danger to be watched extra carefully. The authorities turned their censorous attention to people in literature instead.

The band playing together full tilt
This was probably
"When the Saints Go Marching In"

Two horn players having a blast (literally)

Fantastic brass and bass

The piano player had great riffs
all through the night

I almost couldn't get a picture of the drummer
he was back there working the skins so hard

Two musicians who obviously enjoy each other
on the bandstand and off.

Here's someone you don't meet everyday: a contented man.
The trumpet player had all three
of his childhood dreams come true.
He became an engineer.
He plays the horn for joy, not as a job.
He played it in America, live.

No one could keep off the dance floor!

These guys have created magic for 50 years. The next day I was so exhilarated from all that dancing I kept singing Rogers and Hammerstein's "I could have danced all night, I could have danced all night." Is there a mailing list? Put me on in it! Wherever these guys are playing, I'm there!

You might enjoy this later post about Pavel's band:

An Evening of Jazz at the Reduta

Two great spoofs

Rick Steves, an American TV host on PBS famous for his shows about travel in Europe, has found a new travel expert that he is really excited about...someone who may be able to tell you more about Europe than he can! Where else would you find someone this skilled but YouTube. Enjoy:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1O_G03zqHf8

And daughter #2 has sent along an Obama spoof that perfectly captures America's joy besides being completely hilarious. I can just imagine the dance floor filling up with everyone singing along when this video gets played:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8PI12R8YNU>

An Example of Why People go Nuts Over Prague

Recently, our church organist, Walter, invited several of us to hear him solo at a Christmas concert. He was singing several Russian selections, including four songs by Rachmaninoff. He was performing with a group called the Prague/Frankfurt Chamber Orchestra (I hope I have that right) which included musicians and choir members from both cities. The group was performing in a spectacular church in Vinohrady. Vinohrady is a very cool residential neighborhood which my friends often compare to Georgetown in Washington, D.C. I was particularly taken with the muralist who has done several gorgeous murals in churches around Prague. My pictures just don't do justice to how captivating they are.

The musicians were all professional level yet I think they all have day jobs. The entire wonderful evening in an intimate setting with live singers and live music cost a mere $7.50 to attend. That's less than a movie ticket! And nights like this happen all over Prague all the time.

I frequently meet expats who have moved here specifically for the music. "High culture" music is everywhere in Prague and delightfully affordable. A terrific seat to the opera costs $20 in Prague.

I could have looked at this painting all night.

The conductor and my friend Walter, who soloed.
Walter gave his Rachmaninoff "strange Russian soul"
even though he's actually Dutch.

"We Built This for Our Nation"

Yesterday's trip to the Ballet was fabulous. The National Theater was so very beautiful. I want to know everything about it.

Over the stage were the words in Czech, "Národní Sobe!" I asked the usher what it meant and she said she would translate it as "We Built This for Ourselves" or "We Built This For Our Nation." It's a beautiful thought, isn't it? One generation speaking to another.

My main floor seat could not have been better. I was so close I could smell the gunpowder of the gun and hear the squeak of ballet slippers. Next to me sat a proud mother of a ballerina. I realized one of the things I loved about this theatre is that it is human-sized. The last fine art theatre I had frequented in America, the Overture Center in Madison, Wisconsin, was cavernous.

No pictures were allowed. The gilt, the glamour, could I even capture it with my own photography? It was sooo beautiful. I cried.

Pavel Pišan was terrific in his role as Paris. His job was to be a slimy bad guy and he did seem like a slimy bad guy. I have no idea how he does that when his natural personality is the exact opposite! His features are so sharp he can communicate emotion easily across all those seats. Pavel has a perfect face for stage work.

Whenever I hear Prokofiev's famous big brass lines from this piece in the future I know it will conjure up this very special memory of hearing fantastic music in an exquisite setting showcasing world class ballet. It was a privilege to be there.

We can only do one thing at this moment: listen

Here is an example of the high level of culture I see in the Czech Republic. Every time staff arrive to open the little cafe near me I can hear them taking down the chairs and preparing for the shift with their favorite music playing loudly in the background.

What do they listen to? The same thing: the coloratura soprano aria from Mozart's Magic Flute opera. Occasionally I hear someone's passionate singing in accompaniment with some of the easier lines leading up to the soprano voice soaring. Sometimes the accompanying singing dies off though because the music is just so beautiful it demands our complete attention.

SHED Your Music

When it came to purchasing music, the good ole days weren't better. In my tweens, we purchased "45s", records that contained an "A" side and a "B" side. If the artist merited it, we'd purchase a whole album, once we had a job and were earning money. It was amazing how many albums one person could amass without any overt effort due to 100% disposable teenage paychecks.

But then we needed portability -- we were in our cars, right? Cassette tapes could be popped in and listened to in vehicles and in portable players. So we purchased the same music that we already owned once, only this time on cassette.

The music industry then said, "no, you don't want cassettes, you need to get all of your own music on eight-track tapes." I can't remember what the selling point of eight-track tapes was, especially since they would change to another track right in the middle of a song. That format was really short-lived. But I had a few of those too.

Next came CDs. The music industry said, "oh the quality is better, you can find the exact song you want, and it won't skip or get stuck [not true and I"m not falling for that one again!]

By then, if you really liked a band, like the Beatles or the Stones, you were likely to have purchased it in four different formats! Oh how the musicians of today must envy the luck of those musicians who came before them. Carole King must still be dining out on album sales alone, before boomers purchased her Tapestry album (one of the largest selling albums ever) again on cassette...and again on 8-tracks....and again on CD.

So here I sit with this CD collection, not having digitized it previously because it wasn't a compelling use of my time. Since I'm moving, and I want the music, but don't want the physical 'stuff,' I'm finally digitizing it to take with me. Thank goodness, I started this project a month ago, it takes forever! I'm transferring each CD to a small storage device. I think it will actually increase my listening.

But that's it! My time is too precious to me to spend this much time messing around with metadata. I don't have any idea how to digitize sentimental homemade cassettes. Do you? This was the easy part of shedding the old and moving on to the new ala Julie Moregenstern's 'SHEDing' process. The harder stuff is coming up.