Ten days ago Heather and I went to the Czech Festival in Yukon, Oklahoma.  They had basic "Czech" food like sausages, sauerkraut, and bread.  The sausages looked Czech enough, but the sauerkraut not so much. They offered "Pivo" (Beer), but it appeared to be Coors' Lite. Or at least served from a Coors Lite truck.  They did traditional dances and sang traditional songs, and their costumes were fantastic and appeared traditional family heirlooms.  There happens to be a 20-something Czech pop singer studying in Oklahoma, and they had him perform.  That was definitely authentic.  

They had a woman selling lots of old dolls from "Czechoslovakia" which were authentic.  When I asked the woman about them, she said "I don't know, my sister purchases them. I just work at the stall. Here's her contact info."  Ending that conversation.

Overall, it was decent and better than I expected.  But my experience there was flat.  There didn't seem openings to talk to people about their Czech heritage, or share their grandparents' or parent's story.  Partly that's me not trying hard enough to talk to "interview" people.  But partly, because overall it felt like Americans celebrating mythical "Czechness", passed down from familial memories. Which it was. Nothing of actual Czech food stalls as they actually are except sausages.  No cinnamon rolls cooking on a spit, no wild pigs on a spit, no open faced Czech sandwiches called "Chlebicky", and definitely no potato balls with cheese and bacon bits "Haloushky", which is a staple of every festival in Czech Republic.  Partly that suggests the 20th/21st century food stalls might not reflect historic food stalls of the late 19th and early 20th century, and partly that suggests something faded from the the memories of grandparents' stories.  And partly, or mostly, this comparison suggests that comparisons between "the old country" and "new country tributes to the old country" shouldn't be made. Having lived in both, I went there with an open mind and no expectations, but I secretly hoped I'd find some more of my experience Czech Republic.  There were a few tributes and much appreciated moments of recognition. But overall...


As I write this, I'm listening to one of my dad's old classical music CDs of Dvorak, from the NAXOS label. He'd purchased it while I was a Freshman in high school. The liner notes in classical music are famous for giving somewhat dry brief biographies of the composers.  Each mini bio is filled with obscure and forgettable village names they grew up in,  and then their now famous contemporaries they inevitably met in provincial capitals.  While hiking along the Vltava River north of Prague in July 2012, I accidentally came upon Nelahozeves, and the butcher shop turned museum he was born in, and grew up in.  I saw the church across the street from where he was born, the museum itself, and the large Lobkovitz family palace and old hunting lodge on the hill above the village and river.  The NAXOS' liner notes begin dry and almost generically informative,

Having seen it one day in summer, I can tell you, it's no longer a dry, obscure, and insignificant little fact.  It's a beautiful narrow valley along a life-blood river in Czech Republic surrounded by green-brown hills and forests, and is a popular track for hiking, biking, and learning some of Bohemia's great history.   

In the 1890's, he went on a musical tour to America and wrote music inspired by Czech immigrant' experience, and then went back home to the old country then part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. He understands cross-cultural experiences, and wrote quartets and symphonies to bridge the difference.
