On our first full day in Czechia was quite the spectacular orientation — and indeed quite the spectacle. But it did not involve the activity for which we’d come here in the first place — namely, volunteer teaching. No, instead of working on our first day, we were invited to join the students and teachers from the school in partaking of a curious celebration called Fašanky. It was a mirthful, memorable and mysterious (for us) orientation to Czech culture, and overview of the historic town of Valašské Klobouky.

Fašanky is historically and etymologically related to the German Fasching — which in turn is related to Mardi Gras. It’s a period of revelry prior to a more austere occasion of fasting and ruminating. Ostensibly a Christian festival, it has (surprise) roots in pagan tradition (a commemoration of the coming of spring), from which it has inherited such practices as costumes, music, feasting, and — lest we forget — drinking. In fact, the Czechs, or at least those in this community, seem to really, really stress that latter part.

It begins even before the day really does: our hostess Marketa (the director of the school) brings in some shot glasses and serves us a rather hearty libation that’s somewhat like schnapps, except fruitier and with an afterbite. Normally we’re not really drinkers, especially so early in the before dark. But we figure what the heck, just this once we can indulge and get into the spirit(s), and it’s only one drink. Little do we anticipate what lies ahead.

The students and teachers are all wearing costumes; and since we didn’t lug along any of our own in the packed backpacks we packed on our backs, someone brings us costumes as well: a broccoli costume for Dennis and a carrot suit for Kimberly. After all, you are what you eat; it was inevitable that we staunch vegetarians would eventually transform into vegetables.

First we all assemble in the courtyard, where everyone sings songs accompanied by a teacher on guitar. Well, everyone but us, as we’re not familiar with them. And we dance. For which familiarity is not an issue.

Then we all pile into vehicles and drive to the headquarters of a company that is evidently a major sponsor of the school. The employees come out into the parking lot to meet us, and our students and teachers repeat the singing and dancing, and paint hearts on the faces of some employees — who give them baskets of cookies, apparently homemade.

From there, we start a procession through, along, and on the streets. And also in them. At times, teachers go out and stop traffic, and –so it seems — hit up the drivers for donations. Some of them comply, some do not. The ones who do receive one of the cookies. Evidently there’s some kind of barter system at work here that we are not privy to.

Stopping in front of some kind of business or other, we repeat our revelry for some more folks, who hand out treats to the kids, and serve shots of liqueur to the adults — the same kind of plum-flavored concoction we’d had earlier, and which is evidently a specialty of the region. Not wanting to be impolite, we take it when offered.

Then it’s on to the town square, where we repeat the ritual at the visitors’ center, a liquor store, and a health food store. In these instances, we manage to dodge the offering of even more intoxication.

One of the last stops on our itinerary is city hall, one of the historic buildings lining the square. After pausing on the ground floor to take advantage of the free facilities (in Europe, you use ’em whenever you find ’em), we head up the stairs to the central offices, where our group encores its presentation for the adoring city workers. One of them is a youngish man who, after dancing with one of the teachers, once again serves the liqueur into shot glasses and passes them around.

“That’s our mayor”, whispers a teacher to us.

Yep, even the mayor is buying everyone a round today. And as much as we deplore the idea of refusing such a gesture of hospitality from the Big Guy himself, we discreetly decline this time. We know our limits. And we’re already past them.

The final stop on our itinerary is the other campus of our school, located next to a historic building, a homestead-type dwelling constructed of heavy timbers. This time the refreshments we’re offered include a tray of hors d’oeuvres rather than booze — some of it even vegetarian. They’re served by an older gentlemen who speaks good English, and strikes up a conversation about America. He says he’d gone there to an environmental symposium in Massachusetts, and was surprised to hear that such an event would be held in the U.S. It’s a good point that our country has not exactly been at the head of the class in responsible environmental practices, but Massachusetts is one of the states where it’s not surprising to find a high level of awareness about the issue.

Well, we’ve had our first taste of Fašanky, which seems like an odd mishmash of Mardi Gras, Carnaval, Halloween, Christmas and heaven knows what. We head back home — i.e., to the school — and continue settling into our room — which this afternoon we share with a couple of younger kids who have been accustomed to playing there, and are not yet acclimated to the idea that it’s our living quarters for the time being,

What an introduction to Czechia and Valašské Klobouky we’ve had. It promises to be an interesting month ahead.

Events occurred 3/4/2025