Czechs rebound swiftly after record August flood

Last August, a torrent of muddy water swept through Pavel Truhlar's marionette shop in the middle of the night. Soon after, the sign above its door was sticking up forlornly from the flood.

Today, Mr. Truhlar perches on a rickety stool in his tiny workshop, carving minute features into a knot of wood that will someday become a doll's head.

"You would never know this place was totally destroyed five months ago," he says, surveying the store bustling with other artisans bent over precise needlework, two lively puppies, and customers from four different countries.

Still, the flood took its toll on the Shop Below the Lamp, located along an alley nestled against the massive haunches of the Charles Bridge in central Prague. "We were only able to save the stone walls and the roof beams," says Truhlar. "Everything else had to be rebuilt."

The floods of August 2002 will go down in Czech history as the worst in a millen- nium. Whole sections of the capital, Prague, were inundated. Roads, bridges and the subway system were ravaged by a sea of brown water. Thousands of homes and businesses were destroyed, and several villages were washed clean off the map.

Yet life has now almost returned to normal. Only a few hundred of the more than 250,000 people displaced by floods are still living in provisional shelters, thanks to extensive government housing programs. Of 17 subway stations damaged by the deluge, all but six are up and running. Government flood recovery has cost nearly $3 billion, spurred on by the need for swift reconstruction in this city that depends on tourism for much of its income.

The most lasting damage has been to the cultural and academic infrastructure of Prague, a Central European center of ancient universities and theaters. Thousands of books and valuable manuscripts stored in cellars are still waterlogged, while dozens of small theaters and art galleries lie in ruins.

With the limited finances of the cultural field, their recovery has been slower. Most of the books will be lost forever, experts say, and many theaters and galleries are still floundering, looking for reconstruction money.

One exception is Truhlar's shop, which offers a livelihood to some 50 artisans and professional puppeteers.

Because government funds have concentrated on housing, Truhlar and his colleagues pulled their shop out of the mud with assistance not from the state, but from 30 artists and other friends of the well-known shop. It took the volunteers three months to disinfect and dry what was left of the building and the puppets stranded there.

"There are dozens of shops with mass-produced puppets in Prague, but there is no other place where artisans can come to sell handmade marionettes and actually make a living at it," says Tomas Balek, a craftsman who spent much of last fall helping to clean and rebuild the shop. "This is important to our culture because each marionette is a personal expression that we send out to the world. This place was well worth saving from the flood."

Page: 1 | 2