Our third week volunteering in Valašské Klobouky ran quite a gamut, from recasting the play for our student performance to dropping in on a theatre class at a local arts center to being guests at a church potluck. Oh yes, and finally buying the perfect pair of shoes for both of us (that is, for each of us; we don’t both wear the same shoes). All in this same quaint little town.

On Monday morning as we’re returning from our weekend getaway in a country cabin, there is more snow — only the second snowy day we’ve experienced in our years of global volunteering, both right here in the past few days. It’s just enough to dust the landscape with a romantic winter vibe, and not to accumulate any slush. Still, the temperature is wintry enough to keep the students mostly inside.

The younger students — not the kindergarten, but the lower grades — again rehearse their performance of “The Boy Who Cried Wolf”, which they’ll be presenting at a school event the following week. And they do quite smashingly, despite the cramped classroom that serves as their rehearsal space. They also run through some exercises that involve making letters with their bodies, and have a blast doing it. Later in the week, we’ll be rehearsing the upper grades for another story, which we call “The Silly Boy”.

Speaking of which, one of the teachers calls a conference with us, for the second time, about the girl we’ve cast as the female lead in that show (and is just about the most talented student performer we’ve ever worked with). She once again expresses concern about the girl’s behavior — her bullying and arrogance, which we ourselves have never witnessed — and reiterates her conviction that we should replace her in the part to penalize her. And it becomes clear that the school administration is determined that we make this change, even though they’d previously indicated that they’d leave the final decision up to us. So reluctantly, we resign ourselves to having to do a personnel shuffle with only one week of rehearsing left.

After school, we walk down the road about half a mile to a business that makes and sells shoes. Not just any kind of shoes. Barefoot shoes. Which might sound like an oxymoron, but barefoot shoes are the next best thing to actually going barefoot. We ordered a pair of pairs online before we started our global vagabonding, and we loved them more than we ever expected to. They were ideal for all kinds of terrain, from city pavement to rugged mountain trail.

Unfortunately, with uppers made of canvas, they wore out before too long. So when we returned to the states we ordered more, from a different company. And these were made of sturdier material. Kimberly’s pair worked out great, but Dennis’s, being too stiff, were not suitable for his abnormally wide feet. So for the past few months, he’s been making do with sandals, with thick socks in the winter, and covered with galoshes when things got soggy.

The company we drop in on is called Orto, as in Orthopedic, because their focus seems to be therapeutic footwear. But they also have quite a few smart-looking barefoot shoes on display, in a variety of colors, in the tiny showroom. There are several that appeal to our eye, but are not quite right for our clod flippers. Not to worry, the helpful saleslady goes back to the warehouse (and/or factory) to retrieve more for us to try. Well… those are not quite right, either. So she goes to fetch more again. And then again. Finally, after about an hour of her patiently tolerating and indulging us, we have a bingo. Both of us. Which is quite a miracle. It’s a miracle enough that Dennis found appropriate shoes for his duck feet, but for Kimberly to find some at the same time is astronomically improbable. Yet here we are, both happy hikers.

Later in the afternoon, we drop in at the arts school in town – and we’re delighted to see that there is an arts center in such a small town, a school from which the sound of a violin can sometimes be heard wafting as you pass in the street. Our purpose is to audit a theatre class taught by a tall young man to a group of 6 youngsters, including 2 from our school. He leads them through variants of some of the same theatre games and activities that we’ve taught. participated in, or considered in the past (with our years of experience, we’ve pretty much seen them all). And he puts a novel twist on some of them, resulting in a refreshing little session that the kids really enjoy. As do we.

On Thursday we again take a bus to the nearby town of Brumo-Bylnice, to have another rehearsal for the “Silly Boy” story in a real theatre. There are two new boys joining the group, both quite competent. We’re introduced to the tech dude, a bohemian-looking Bohemian named Robin. With only one week until the big day, we face the unpleasant task of replacing the female lead. But how to do it gracefully?

The solution we’ve hit upon is to tell the cast that up to this point we’d only been trying out different possibilities in the roles. And we run a scene three or four times with alternate performers each time. And then we put it to a vote, figuring that if everyone is as resentful toward the girl as they seem to be, they won’t vote for her. Sure enough, she receives only one vote, and she’s out. Her replacement, it turns out, is the daughter of the teacher who’s been goading us into making a switch. We’re afraid that might reek of nepotism, but nobody seems to give it a second thought. In fact, everyone seems quite happy about the change. Well, except maybe for us.

On top of it all, we have to vacate the theatre early today. So we adjourn to a sports field nearby to run the “Cotton-Eyed Joe” dance that the students will also be performing. While they’re there, they have a chance to romp around and do some sports-type kid stuff.

Speaking of kid stuff, Kimberly has another morning with the kindergarten at their hideout called The Forest. Which is not exactly a forest, but it is a hike away from the campus, in a tree-ish spot with a tree house, swings, a sandbox, and many other dream features for a toddler. Even a deliciously muddy stream they can cavort in with the rain boots they all wear every day. How much better could being a kid get?

On Saturday, we’ve been invited by the parents of one of the students to a potluck lunch at the Seventh Day Adventist church across the street. They want to introduce us to their fellow congregants there, and give them a chance to ask us questions about the U.S. — and they themselves are going to be presenting a slide show about a trip they took to the States a few months earlier. And while we weren’t terribly eager to spend a Saturday afternoon in church, we happily accepted the invitation to interact with our current neighbors.

Seventh Day Adventists believe in, among other things, consuming a healthy diet; and that’s one religious conviction we can wholeheartedly get behind. It’s very much in evidence at this little luncheon, which is held in a little meeting hall right after their regular church service. There are quite a few sumptuous vegetarian options to tickle our palates, including some sweets that are not at all too sweet.

After lunch, we adjourn back to the sanctuary (as we suppose they’d call it); and even though the congregation has already conducted its worship service for the day, the pastor leads them in a prayer and a couple of hymns and assorted ritual folderol. Then the father who had invited us gets up to make his presentation.

He shows slides and talks for a long time about (it seems to us) rather trivial details. It’s fascinating to see our country through the eyes of a traveler. His travels took him to Tennessee, Kentucky, Georgia and Florida. But he had not been interested in Dollywood nor the beach nor even Disney. No, the main draw for him, and seemingly his main reason for taking the journey in the first place, was The Ark Encounter in Kentucky — a “life-sized replica” of the one Noah is said to have made waves with. Well, it’s a replica except for the air conditioners and, apparently for some explanatory features added for modern tourists. (A few years ago, the Encounter added a touch of authenticity by sustaining flood damage.)

The presenter shows some images of the exhibits, depicting how the animals might have been quartered, how food and water might have been stored, and even — the thing that everyone most wonders about — how all the waste was disposed of. And there are images of some of the passenger critters — including dinosaurs.

He also shows some photos of some of the other highlights of his trip; and except for a detour to Sea World in Orlando, his itinerary seems to have been pretty much all church related. He even worked in a visit to the widow of the man who claimed to have discovered the resting place of the original Ark.

And he shows a photo of a group of men he encountered somewhere in Florida, a few African-American fellows decked out in Central Casting biblical garb. They represent the Black Hebrew Israelites, a sect who believe they are the true “Children Of Israel”, and sometimes can be seen proselytizing in highly visible public places.

“And”, the speaker says with an incredulous shake of the head, “they really believe all of this.”

At the conclusion of this presentation, he takes questions from the audience, who also direct questions to us. Fortunately, they mostly speak some English (and if they don’t, he translates), because we have not exactly picked up the Czech. After this, there is yet another hymn and prayer.

And we wrap up this eventful week by going out with some of these nice folks for a walk through town, getting some tidbits pointed out about some of the local landmarks. Our first real stroll in our brand new shoes. And one might say we’re doing it while walking in someone else’s shoes. Shoes that belong to people who, to extend the metaphor, walk on very different feet from our own.

Events occurred: 3/18-22/2025