Jan and Jana

Tues 17^th July

Yesterday I travelled north of Prague to meet up with my Workaway family, Jan who is called Honsa and Jana, who likes to be called Jani.

The journey from Prague was easy going until I reached their town  Mšeno, at least I thought it was their town. Anyway, when I got near to the town which I thought was their town, the road was closed for resurfacing. I turned round and headed another way, hoping Kate would realise my predicament and take me another way, but she didn’t. All she did was take me round an unknown village and back to the road which was closed. I called Jana and she gave me directions another way. I was glad the road was closed because the alternative route was beautiful. The road descended down zig zag roads through rich forest and high sandstone cliffs into a valley with a lake. The forest looked magical, a place of fairies and elves. Along the way one could see old style wooden houses with high pitched roofs. It was a most delightful drive. 

It was a much longer way to the town which I thought was theirs but the scenery made it worthwhile. I reached  Mšeno and Kate directed me up a steep very narrow unmade road. I stopped outside a big iron gate. It didn’t look like the place I thought they would live in, in the middle of town but I was confident I was there. Almost immediately a large elderly lady with a large red birth mark on her nose appeared from the property and firmly told me I could not park in front of her gate. I quickly showed her the address Jana had given me. I understood that I must turn right but after that, I didn’t. I drove to a small row of shops and asked a shopkeeper who looked like he was Vietnamese but he didn’t speak English. He took me to another shopkeeper, a local and indicated on the town map which stood in the street near her shop that I should go to another town. I was perplexed. I called Jana again but there was no reply. There was nothing for it but to go to the van and make a cup of tea, and call her later. By now I was hot and a little bothered, it had been a hot day. When I finally managed to contact her, I suggested that she come and find me and told her where I was. She said she would be fifteen minutes. Jana arrived in an old yellow Fiat estate car and to my pleasure suggested we go to have a coffee. The town was very small and the coffee shop doubled as a clothes shop and one that also sold bicycle tyres and bits for bikes. It was cool and comfortable with old black and white pictures of the town from years gone by hanging on the wall.

I had misunderstood the address she sent to me and the shopkeeper was right, they lived in another village about eight kilometres away. Jana spoke good English, having lived sometime in America as an au-pair; she had lived in Yellow Stone Park.

I followed her to her village Nosalov and we arrived outside a large old house facing a stone lined rectangular pond, just across the road, which had now dried out and was full of bulrushes. Large birch trees with deep hanging branches to the ground grew on neatly cut grass around the pond. a few other houses were situated around the pond. Jana’s house looked partly under renovation and had a large yard at the side with outbuildings, including pig pen with two pigs, and was cluttered with all manner of building materials, discarded stuff, tools and equipment, too numerous to mention.

We went into the house and climbed some very old and worn open slatted wooden steps to the first floor. Jana led me into their living room which also turned out to be their bedroom for all four, work room and kitchen. Jana makes cheese and yoghurt from her two cows and goats, and makes it in the same room by the sink. The room smelt of sour milk. I had never encountered such a cluttered room as this one. On every surface was something, except for a little space on the floor, which were worn bare boards. I tried not to look surprised and she made no comment about it, neither did I. To one side of the room was a double bed on the floor with loads of clothes piled at the side. There are two desks, one with a computer and two small beds for the children, also several small cupboards and a large silver fridge next to a make-do sink unit. The room had a pungent smell, probably as a result of the cheese making. Cheeses in small plastic boxes filled one side of the worktop and all manner of stuff filled the other.

Whilst we were drinking coffee earlier, Jana surprised me saying we would go to the pictures in the evening and I would meet her husband there. We would go to see a film about Vincent Van Gogh in a nearby town called Doksy.

Jana offered me the only comfortable seat in the room, the others being wooden chairs, and asked if I would like to have some cheese. I gratefully accepted. From the fridge she brought a small plastic container and a plastic sealed package of cheese. In the container were balls of cheese covered in a dark herb. She gave me some bread to have with it and I have to say, I have never tasted such creamy smooth cheese as this before. The other cheese was a little firmer but also very creamy and delicious. She had told me that she sells the cheeses but not legally because she doesn’t have the official certifications. Her preparation conditions would never pass the standards required but nevertheless the end result was fantastic.

At eight o’clock we headed out to the cinema and arrived just as the owner of the theatre was talking to the audience about forthcoming films. He finished speaking, people clapped him and the film began. The film was an animation but one made by one hundred real artists recreating his work. 

At the cinema I men Jan – Honsa. He has long wispy hair tied back and a long dark wispy beard. He has steel grey eyes, one of which is a lazy eye.

The film was enjoyable and interesting. It portrayed his life and like a detective story, investigated why he killed himself, through conversations with the people closest to him.

Both Jana and Honsa are easy people to talk with and we spoke about the movie afterwards.

That night I slept in the van which was parked by dried out pond, although they have a yurt in their garden which I can use.