Travelling To Track Down Treasure

The anticipation was tantalising; knowing that behind the roots of these trees were the routes of my heritage was exciting to say the least. The oldest wooden house in Czech Republic was not only pleasing to the eye but it also held an extremely personal bond to my family.

At the age of just twelve, my maternal grandfather was one of 669 children that managed to flee Nazi-occupied Czechoslovakia thanks to Nicholas Winton's life-saving Kindertransport. Rehoused in England, in the wake of The Holocaust, the former had omitted-on-purpose any recollections of his younger years, and henceforth, the said house was seldom heard of by all he knew and loved.

That was until my mother and uncle were fortunate enough to visit their "fatherland" with my grandparents before my granddad passed away. Subsequently, throughout my childhood I dreamed of embarking on an adventure to the dwelling which my mum had described as no less than breath-taking with its beautiful, dark exterior and its traditional timber structure.

And now here I was, in Czech Republic's second largest city, having just descended the leafy path from 28 Drobného Street, once owned by my great-great grandparents, to the house in the garden, which had been built especially for their daughter’s family. Used for countless winters of blissful, slippery sledging, the path planted me directly in front of the wooden wonder. Flanked by luscious greenery, it stretched the length of at least four average sized houses. I was in awe of the ligneous balcony that proudly inhabited three sides of the building; I admired the hardly-weathered shingles on the terracotta coloured roof; and I boasted to my family with the overly-elaborate terms I finally had a use for from my now not-so-pointless A-Level in Art and Architecture.

‘What a beautiful looking house’ became, ‘look at its historicist morphology.’

In hindsight perhaps I was verging on annoyingly pretentious; but regardless of my architectural showiness, the day I discovered my Czech connections in the flesh, or in this case the wood, surpasses all the other fond memories I’ve made throughout my travels purely for its familial significance and sheer splendour.

And how could another nomad replicate my experience? Well, though it wouldn't be the same, it’s still a beautiful piece of construction. And I have told you the address have I not? Off you go, I dare you!