WHY:

On January 26, 2007, my father died. Grief comes in different forms and sudden death provides no warning - no time to contemplate the lasts and the firsts. Christmas was a long way off, but I knew, when it came, the first Christmas would be tough, especially for my mother.

For a number of Christmases, I’d visited a friend, Greg, who was working internationally. At that time, he was living in London so that year I suggested my mother join me on a flight to the UK. We’d spend a few days visiting one of her brothers together, and then we’d split up and she’d spend Christmas with another brother and his family and I’d spend it with Greg. She accepted the offer of a distraction from her first holiday without Dad in 55 years.

MEMORABLE MOMENTS:

The thing was, I’d already spent the previous Christmas in London (I know - ho hum) and, well, there’s more of the world to see. Greg is always game to travel so when I said: “I’ll fly to London but let’s go somewhere else for actual Christmas but I want to be surprised,” he rose to the challenge. After we got mom safely onto a train to her brother’s in Devonshire, we headed to Heathrow. The most memorable part of that trip was checking in for a flight to an unknown (to me) destination. The airport staff all enjoyed keeping the secret from me, as Greg was too, and it wasn’t until we got to the gate that I allowed myself a peek at the departure board to learn it was Prague, a city I’d never been. Thrilled!

Prague was full of street markets which are best explored carrying a cup of svarak - mulled wine stiffened with plum brandy. When you are tired to wandering or have overdone the svarak, you can go to a marionette show, which we did. Fascinating. We also found ourselves in front of a fun house mirror which stretched and squashed us, first inflating and then destroying our self esteem as it messed with our girths. And then we completely messed with our sense of reality by hitting the Salvador Dali museum. Topped it off with a Christmas concert in one of the stunning halls.

WHEN:

Greg and I have made a bad habit of going to Roman Catholic cities on Christian holidays. We’ve been in Cork on Easter where the city goes into a temporary temperance, and panic ensues, and next week I’ll tell you all about the fun of Italy at Christmas. So it should not have come as a surprise that by arriving in Prague on December 24 we were very likely going to go without dinner. Needless to say, with some perseverance, we did find something to eat - I believe it was pizza, not exactly a Czech speciality.

WHAT DID I LEARN:

One thing I learned traveling as a 79-year-old, as my mother was, got us more attention on the flight than I was used to. Flight attendants hovered around her with extra blankets and a hot water bottle for her feet! Geez, if this is aging, sign me up!

I also learned the charm of Christmas markets. Toronto’s Distillery District is a valiant effort to match the fun of stumbling on cobblestones, unsteady from the booze that’s working hard to keep your blood flowing, while admiring a bunch of stuff neither you nor anyone you know actually need, but we can’t come close to the architectural wonder of Old Town Square or Wenceslas Square.

Something I’d known but that got reinforced is that siblings, regardless of their age, will bicker. Mom and I traveled to Lincolnshire, her home county, to see her brother Mike (the one I wrote previously about who’d lived for decades in New Zealand returned to England in his 80s to get the NHS to pay for his cataract surgery. No joke). I toured them around looking at the houses they’d lived in and the school they attended. I was particularly amused when they spent 15 minutes arguing about whether the house (pictured below) had one staircase or two. Or some other pointless debate. Very like the teens they once were.

Honestly, the thing I learned most on this trip is that not to having to organize everything was a welcome break. That bit of mystery about where I was going to spend Christmas stands out as a high point in my life.

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