Alice to Prague

by Tanya Heaslip

  The Czech Republic is now no longer hidden either, but accessible at the tap of a computer. On Google Earth I can fly over Prague and show my family the sights. I discovered during my last visit that the Czech paneláky have been painted pretty pastel colours. The Czechs couldn’t get rid of the paneláky so came up with a solution that I thought was very ‘them’: turn something soul-destroying into something beautiful, through their special blend of creativity and art and colour. Sedlčany in particular has been transformed.

  The Good Soldier Švejk would have approved.

  My wonderful ‘big brothers’, the Czech-Australians Míša and Jarda, and the bubbly Nad’a in Melbourne, have remained my soulmates. Many years earlier they’d come to terms with the contradictions of living in and loving two countries. They continued to share their wisdom with me as we camped in Central Australia and drank wine in Margaret River.

  Their connection led me to the charming Zdeněk Jiránek from the South Australian československý Klub. A tall, intelligent man with a cheeky grin, he brought Pilsner Urquell back into my life and I called him ‘Mr President’. He read my first chapters on meeting Karel and clicked his tongue. ‘That Karel sounds like trouble. Lucky you came home to us, Táničko.’ Every time he used the diminutive of my name, I beamed from ear to ear.

  The Klub is an oasis for homesick Czechs, a sanctuary in Adelaide that holds the culture and language of the Czech homelands. I was introduced to it by the wonderful Helena and Zdeněk (Danny) Kotásek, an older and courageous couple who’d fled the tyranny of Czech Republic decades earlier. Helena painstakingly corrected my Czech words and sighed, ‘That Karel! Hopeless Czech man. What was wrong with him?’ Her husband, on the other hand, read the draft and gripped my hand, tears in his eyes. ‘Thank you. At last, someone has told our story.’

  Our story.

  Our story of the West’s betrayal. Hitler. Stalin.

  Danny’s words, more than anyone’s, gave purpose to my story and the journey of telling it here. Sadly, Danny passed away before I could show the story to him in print and recently I received yet another one of those phone calls. ‘Ahoj, Táničko. Here is Míša. Our Jarda has died.’

  Once more my knees crumpled and my heart broke. It was impossible to believe. Jarda, still fit and energetic, had suffered a stroke while visiting Prague. He was playing guitar and singing Czech songs with his beloved wife Věra and friends in a pub beforehand. Through my grief I thought that if there was a good way for a Czech to go, perhaps there was no better way than that.

  Míša is now fighting cancer. His wonderful wife Jari remains by his side. He continues to remind me to live in the moment. ‘There is no point taking life too seriously. You won’t get out of it alive, Táničko!’

  Tak! In the spirit of the brave Czechs, this story can’t end too seriously either.

  I am reminded of Jarda’s words after Karel’s death. At the time we were fighting to hold fragments of a life together, to give it meaning, and Jarda did that for me.

  ‘It is important to find something to remember Karel by, Táničko. I’ll always remember him for his jokes. It’s all summed up in his tram story.

  ‘One night after a party Karel and I and some of the gang were going home on the night tram. It was a long trip at such a late hour so to pass the time Karel started telling a very long and very funny joke about a Russian general and a Czech soldier on their way to a military parade. It was so funny that all the people around us who were meant to get off before us did not get off, and stayed on the tram just so they could hear the end of his joke. They did this even though by now it was 3 a.m. and they had missed the chance to make it home before dawn. There were so many of them! And do you know, Táničko’—he paused—‘they had never met Karel before in their lives.’

  Acknowledgements

  So many people have helped me on my fourteen-year journey to tell this story. Every step of the road has led to the kindness of strangers, support beyond my dreams, and the generosity of people who have become friends over this time. I feel incredibly lucky and grateful. I could never have written this book without you all—thank you!

  It all began in Margaret River. The fabulous Karen McDonald believed in me and my story from the outset; Lorraine and Richard Firth generously invited me to write in their magical home, Merribrook; my beautiful writing soulmate Bernice Barry offered up her kitchen for the next draft and supported me along every step of this journey; clever gals Wendy Mitchell and Rosi Moore-Fiander gave early advice, as did the generous Keith McLeod; Margot Edwards held the best-ever workshops in her farmhouse; the inspiring Pat Negus never stopped believing in me; the brilliant Rebecca Scott painstakingly transcribed my tapes from afar when I couldn’t write; the inspired healing work of Brad Mitchell, Debbi Wilson and Kym Walker helped me write again; and the wonderful Patti Miller mentored me through the Australian Society of Authors, encouraged me and believed I had a story worth publishing.

  Then came the Adelaide crowd: the sensational Moggies writing group (and you all know who you are); Rob Grindstaff brilliantly edited from afar; and Penny McCann and Stephanie Mallen each worked tirelessly to create opportunities for my story to be heard.

  Perth followed: I met the brilliant Kathryn Heyman at a workshop (thanks, again, to Bernice); Kathryn later mentored me with magic and generously assisted me towards publication. My beloved friends Jane Aberdeen and Kellie Hill encouraged me over glasses of wine and never let me give up. The all-round-simply-wonderful Martin Rooney kept me going—thank you in so many ways, Martin.

  Alice Springs: Jo Dutton, Genevieve O’Loughlin and Leni Shilton offered helpful advice; and the sparkling Carolyn Lopes and Marg Bowman created the opportunities for me to meet the incomparable Bernadette Foley.

  Bernadette’s insight and wisdom and fabulous support led me to my publishing contract—truly a champagne moment! Thank you always and forever, Bernadette!

  Throughout there were many helpful and wise eyes: Annette Every, Roxane Scott and Dani May advised on numerous versions of the manuscript; the inspiring Helena Kotasek from the South Australian Czech Club reviewed the first and last round of Czech words; the already busy Toni Tapp Coutts and Liz Harfull generously read and offered comments; and my beloved Andrea Davies supported me throughout.

  An enormous thanks to my publishers Annette Barlow and Tom Gilliat who have given me this incredible opportunity; to the eagle eye of Samantha Kent—thank you, you are the best editor imaginable!; to Chloe Erlich for her beautiful photographs; and to everyone at Allen & Unwin who has brought my story to life. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

  Then of course there are the wonderful people who made this whole journey possible. Darling Michael White helped set me on my adventure; the inimitable Peter Barr made it happen; the generous and extraordinary Czech people opened their homes and hearts to me; and course, the tremendous trio—Míša, Jarda and Karel—made everything possible. I will always be thankful I met you.

  Finally, there is my beloved family without whom there would be no book: Mum, Dad, M’Lis and Chris, Brett and Fiona, Ben and Laura, and my cherished nieces and nephews—thank you, all.

  In particular, I need to thank my precious Mum and sister, M’Lis, who supported me through many dark days of this journey and stood by me every step. My nephew Mitch inspired me to keep going too: ‘I want to go to Prague because of you, Aunty Tan!’ Niece Anna, at age thirteen, read the first half of the book and told me, with sparkling eyes, that she ‘loved it’—encouragement beyond words for an aunty! And my talented niece Bonny took evocative and beautiful photographs of me in the horse yards—thank you, beautiful Bon! Finally, a special thanks to my wonderful cousin Fleur McDonald—you have been the most extraordinary support and it has been so much fun going through this process with you!

  But the greatest thanks of all go to my darling husband, Steve. There aren’t enough words to capture your encouragement, patience, love, and the fact you would ‘never, ever’ let me give up telling this
story, as you knew how much it meant for me to tell it.

  Thank you all and everyone. I am forever grateful!

  The facts in this story are true in so far as my memory, diaries, letters and notes are an accurate recollection of my time in the Czech Republic although certain events, timeframes and travels have been compressed. Some names and events have been changed out of respect for people’s privacy. Any factual, language, spelling and style inaccuracies are mine and mine alone—promiňte.