our homecoming tradition

as any of you who have been reading my blog for more than a year know, each October I meet up with some good friends from college in a town where one of us lives. the first annual was in Vegas, followed by San Diego, Los Angeles, Santa Cruz and, this year, Denver. starting with the Museum of Jurassic Technology in Culver City, we started a tradition of finding crazy, odd-ball, or definitively kitsch tourist-trap sites for our weekends. you know, the kinds of places you probably wouldn’t ever go if you didn’t have the right kinds of friends in town visiting. in Santa Cruz, I convinced everyone to go to the Mystery Spot and, later, we rode the Giant Dipper on the Santa Cruz Boardwalk.

this year, thanks to the excellent day-planning skills of our host, one of our first stops was the Denver Museum of Miniatures, Dolls, and Toys. it has a meticulous replica of the childhood home of a Denver scion, as well as period and regional displays — pueblos, a 16th century German town store, a hacienda — all very impressive. but in addition to these fascinating miniature displays, the museum hosts an odd assortment of classic toys and games (a very early model E-Z Bake Oven, board games from the 1950s, superhero figurines in original blister packaging) and three giant teddy bears. while either the papa or mama bear came over from England (where all three were made) in the belly of a jetliner, as would your average piece of freight, the smallest (standing at least 5 feet tall), crossed the pond in a first class seat. who knew such enthusiasm existed for such things?

the location and museum staffer added to the atmosphere, too. upon seeing five twentysomethings waiting outside the front door, the gentleman taking tickets seemed rather uncertain as to how to cope with such a large group of unexpected early-Friday visitors. he offered us makeshift clip-boards for a scavenger hunt and wished us well. the museum itself is located in the historic Pearce-McAllister cottage and displays take up most of the rooms … including two bathrooms. the toilets in both bathrooms have ribbons over the top with notes admonishing visitors not to utilize them. we restrained ourselves and one of our party, so amused by the situation, took a clandestine photo of one of the toilets.

next year, the plan is for the House on the Rock which, pursuant to the criterion posed above that we go places one would never go unless with the right group of friends were in town.

a history of tea

while I was in Český Krumlov, among many pleasant local establishments, the owner of the Krumlov House recommended a place called Dobrá čajovna for tea. it’s down a back alley near the entrance to the castle and, she advised, served its teas in the style of their place of origin. I checked it out and was not disappointed; in addition to living up to it’s name as a “good tea house”, it lacked all trace of that blight of gorgeous tourist towns — the o.a.p. tour group/herd. my visit to the Krumlov Dobrá čajovna fell into a euphoric phase of my travels and I spent an hour and a half waxing … euphoric about travel in my journal (at nine pages, unquestionably my longest entry of the trip). I enjoyed my tea, wrote, savored the Czech atmosphere, watched the kids of one of the employees explore the cafe, and headed out and on to dinner.

a week later, back in Prague, wandering around a packed Wenceslas Square, I spied the cafe’s distinctive sign pointing down another back alley. same decor, same menu, same good tea, but a more Prague than Czech atmosphere (i.e. expat and/or international — lots of English). enjoyed my tea, rested my feet after walking back from Vysehrad, wrote a shorter entry in my journal, read my book, and headed off to find dinner.
a week later, back in Madison, heading up Gilman St to exchange my movies at Four Star, I once again spied the cafe’s distinctive sign. and it clicked, why the sign and decor looked familiar when I was in Krumlov — I’d been inside a Dobrá čajovna before, though one called the Dobrá Cafe. I must confess to feeling somewhat dismayed that this great teahouse I’d found turned out to be a chain — do U.S. companies have to co-opt everything?
except it’s a Czech chain! the tea room in Wenceslas Square in Prague is the original. the Communist regime forbid the importation of tea, but a group of tea enthusiasts met anyway to sample various teas smuggled into the country. after the Velvet Revolution, they opened the location in Wenceslas Square and have since expanded to all over the Czech Republic, as well as to Budapest, Krakow, Bratlisalva, Burlington, VT, and Madison, WI! if you enjoy tea, and find yourself in any of these cities with some time to spend at a tea house, check this one out.

(incidentally, I figured out it was a Czech chain because the package of tea I bought for a friend last week was in English and Czech. why the hell else would the packaging be in Czech?! it is not a language one slaps on merchandise without reason.)