Clik here to view.
Kafka in Prague
You may be thinking that this trip to Prague is just cafés and marionettes. Yet, I tell you it is not.Althea and I are studying like nobody’s business. Our average day consists of a three hour workshop...
View ArticleClik here to view.
Bare Naked Ladies
Here in Prague people think nothing of looking at naked people, as Althea and I are learning. Our photography teacher began our education in regarding nudes at all times and in all places during his...
View ArticleClik here to view.
It Looks Like Love to Me
This poster is plastered to the side of many trash cans in the city park. I believe it’s calling for dog abstinence, or at the very least refraining from unprotected sex. We’ve noticed an air of amore...
View ArticleClik here to view.
We Really Are Expanding Our Minds
I could have titled this post Nazis, Communists and Feminists. But, to make it more readable, I’ll stick to bullet points. Oh, that’s a bad pun. Nazis: For two days in May, 1945, as the German forces...
View ArticleClik here to view.
Czech Language
Betsy, in her continued quest to take hold of the language and become a part of the community surrounding her, feels she is making great strides. For example, the proprietress of the cheese shop next...
View ArticleMore on Marionettes
Yesterday at the Prague Castle we visited the Golden Road, sort of a Bohemian street of shops a la Disney World. We browsed through a couple of shops and were strolling down the cobbled street when I...
View ArticleClik here to view.
The Grave of Franz Kafka
Kafka’s grave is in the Jewish Cemetary. This photo was taken through the fence, because here in Prague the hour of closing is just a suggestion. If something closes at 5, for example, the guards chase...
View ArticleClik here to view.
Ten Years Later
Dr. James Orcutt and Betsy Kalman On December 1st, three thousand six hundred fifty days will have passed since I learned I had breast cancer. For about the first thousand days I woke up every morning...
View ArticleRemembering The Holocaust
I have a confession to make: When it comes to remembering the Holocaust, I try not to; in fact, I will go to great lengths to avoid it. When I was about nine years old, I read Anne Frank; The Diary of...
View ArticleIn Search of Creativity
Once I got stuck in traffic behind a hand-painted box truck decorated with silhouettes of rebel soldiers kissing Southern belles under trees dripping with Spanish moss. In addition to the Civil War...
View Article
