Lemonade Joe or How Czechs Build Tipis
As the English camp wound down, it was time for the great hike. Asking about the destination, I was surprised to get the answer "Czech America."
Later I would learn that Bohemia also houses Czech Paradise and Czech Switzerland, but Czech America gets its name from its "Grand Canyon" and, mainly, because some famous Czech Westerns were filmed here, including the 1964 classic Limonadový Joe. Yes, Lemonade Joe, perhaps the greatest Czech Western hero, whose "endorsement of Kolaloka (Crazy Cola) lemonade as the refresher that assures deadly aim, convinces the Arizona sin-town to abstain from alcohol" (IMDB).
If you think this sounds too good to be true, have a look:
It may be a parody, (and it's quite ironic in the beer capital of the world) but it's not the only Czech Western floating around. In fact, Westerns and Native American culture became quite popular in the Czech Republic, a country which I would classify as not very wild West (though what it lacks in bucking broncos it makes up for in outdoorsmanship). Much of that popularity can be credited to the work of German author Karl May's Wild West stories, which were then made into popular films. So it shouldn't be surprising that I spent Saturday morning watching Czechs set up tipis for their summer camp. (It wasn't the first time I'd experienced a tipi here. One of my first is-it-a-date-or-not-a-date dates with my now husband ended up at a campfire in front of a large tipi.)
Living in another culture often teaches you something new about your own, and watching these tipis go up, I felt the closest to native American culture that I had since going to the Rosebud Indian Reservation in South Dakota. I've never seen a Native American set up a tipi, but I will show you how Czechs do it. First they laid down the tipi canvas and measured out the wooden poles to make sure that the base would be the proper circumference. The first 3 legs of the tipi were tied at the tip and raised.
After being placed at the proper distance from each other, additional wood poles were added, and then a string was used to tighten the poles together at the top.
The canvas was then rolled inwards towards the last pole and after the pole was placed, the canvas was unrolled and pulled around the structure. As they wrapped it around, a hole was naturally left in the top for ventilation.
At the closing of the canvas, pegs were added to holes in the canvas to pull it tight around the poles. Finally the tipi walls were pulled taught as wooden stakes were driven into the ground.
The interior view:
So where does one find the equipage to build tipis in the Czech Republic? My husband's keen eye spotted the logo on the tipis:
We checked the website, and it's a Czech firm that since 1994 has been making copies of Native American handiwork: baby carriers, medicine bags, knife sheaths, dresses, and so forth. They tan the skins with brain and they sew with animal tendons. This is not amateur fan art.
So if you're ever in the Czech Republic in the summer, don't be surprised if you come across a tipi or a group of people in authentic dress. If you're lucky, they might regale you with some words in Lakota.
Later I would learn that Bohemia also houses Czech Paradise and Czech Switzerland, but Czech America gets its name from its "Grand Canyon" and, mainly, because some famous Czech Westerns were filmed here, including the 1964 classic Limonadový Joe. Yes, Lemonade Joe, perhaps the greatest Czech Western hero, whose "endorsement of Kolaloka (Crazy Cola) lemonade as the refresher that assures deadly aim, convinces the Arizona sin-town to abstain from alcohol" (IMDB).
If you think this sounds too good to be true, have a look:
It may be a parody, (and it's quite ironic in the beer capital of the world) but it's not the only Czech Western floating around. In fact, Westerns and Native American culture became quite popular in the Czech Republic, a country which I would classify as not very wild West (though what it lacks in bucking broncos it makes up for in outdoorsmanship). Much of that popularity can be credited to the work of German author Karl May's Wild West stories, which were then made into popular films. So it shouldn't be surprising that I spent Saturday morning watching Czechs set up tipis for their summer camp. (It wasn't the first time I'd experienced a tipi here. One of my first is-it-a-date-or-not-a-date dates with my now husband ended up at a campfire in front of a large tipi.)
Living in another culture often teaches you something new about your own, and watching these tipis go up, I felt the closest to native American culture that I had since going to the Rosebud Indian Reservation in South Dakota. I've never seen a Native American set up a tipi, but I will show you how Czechs do it. First they laid down the tipi canvas and measured out the wooden poles to make sure that the base would be the proper circumference. The first 3 legs of the tipi were tied at the tip and raised.
After being placed at the proper distance from each other, additional wood poles were added, and then a string was used to tighten the poles together at the top.
The canvas was then rolled inwards towards the last pole and after the pole was placed, the canvas was unrolled and pulled around the structure. As they wrapped it around, a hole was naturally left in the top for ventilation.
So where does one find the equipage to build tipis in the Czech Republic? My husband's keen eye spotted the logo on the tipis:
We checked the website, and it's a Czech firm that since 1994 has been making copies of Native American handiwork: baby carriers, medicine bags, knife sheaths, dresses, and so forth. They tan the skins with brain and they sew with animal tendons. This is not amateur fan art.
So if you're ever in the Czech Republic in the summer, don't be surprised if you come across a tipi or a group of people in authentic dress. If you're lucky, they might regale you with some words in Lakota.
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