We’ve long heard that Prague is a special place in the world and want to find out for ourselves. After all, this is a land of dark satire by Franz Kafka blended with the pious generosity of Good King Wenceslas – along with a heroic backdrop painted by Alfons Mucha and overlaid with the grandest of musical scores by Dvorak. The land of the Czechs is surely a treasure to be savored.
Our train pulls into Praha hlavní nádraží (Prague Central Station) and it’s pretty clear the language will be an interesting challenge. The European Union has 24 official languages (including Latvian, Slovene, Maltese, etc), but English is how many Europeans currently navigate the linguistic thicket they inhabit, and to get by in a world where English has become the language of discourse. That’s lucky for us, because Spanish (our second language) is little spoken in Europe outside of Spain.
_____________________________________________________________________________
We crossed the border from Germany and we’re no longer in ‘Euro country,’ as the Czechs have their own currency. We might be able to use our pocket full of Euros here, but we’ll likely lose too much value converting them at shops and restaurants. So before hopping the Metro, or doing much of anything else, we’ll draw out some Korun Českÿch. The Czechs call them ‘crowns.’
Next we sort out the Metro line, which takes us to a tram that will get us to the apartment. Every nation speaks in a ‘code’ of some kind, and language challenges are good brain exercises. So we’ll take our time and try to navigate the Czech Republic, and its language, as best we can.
We arrive at our nice rental apartment, owned by a friendly young guy named Jan. It’s in the Karlin district, which is only a modest walk to the center of things. And we’re near a transit line, in case we want to ride it around town. There are good restaurants near the apartment, and a food store within a block or so. It’s a fine location for us.
We had asked if there was an elevator so we didn’t have to muscle our bags up several flights. And Jan said, ‘Yes, but it’s kind of small.’ After a few days in town we realized we’d never actually seen the elevator he mentioned. I happened to open a small door in the stairwell and found a very small elevator – actually more of a ‘dumbwaiter.’ Jan was right; it's really designed more for quarts of milk, and not luggage.
Most mornings we’ll enjoy a fine breakfast in the apartment, with foods bought fresh daily. Then we’ll stuff a handful of maps and our rain gear into a courier bag for a day abroad in the streets of Prague.
The first evening is a bit chilly as we wander the streets near our apartment, and we’re glad we packed our stuff-able jackets that can double as pillows. Luckily, we’ve arrived in time for a neighborhood music fest with several good bands playing. Lots of local musical events happen in the balmy European summer and it’s easy to get lucky that way.
After a hearty helping of local rock music we wandered onward. We soon found a good place for drinks and some eats before heading back to the apartment for a quiet night’s rest.
We use the next morning after breakfast to take care of various organizing and internet chores before wandering out to find a good little eccentric place for lunch. The 'sendvič's are huge and delicious.
The streets of Prague are a museum in themselves, filled with constant fine distractions as we stroll more or less toward the center of the city. We could attend a performance of “Carmen;” it was written in French, which we also don’t speak, but the music is great. If we hadn’t just had lunch we could order some food by pointing at the pictures. Or we can simply admire the sheer beauty of this place.
We stop for a couple of ’Trdelníks’ (Pronounced Turdelniks?!). They’re a delicious cinnamon-covered roll filled with ice cream, if you can get past the pronunciation.
The city is alive with the daily life of people going to work, and children on a field trip somewhere. They recycle things here efficiently, as they do throughout Europe these days. Skoda cars, a Czech brand built by the 5th oldest car manufacturer in the world (next to Daimler, Opel, Peugeot, and Tatra, another Czech brand), are a common sight here. Plus, you can buy a novel by Ken Kesey at a well-stocked local bookstore.
Down near the heart of things we score tickets to a classical music concert in Smetana Hall, one of those old and gorgeous settings that European cities are blessed with. The entryway and the concert hall are dripping with murals and Gothic decoration, and the musicians gave a fine performance.
After the concert a stairway in Smetana Hall takes us down to the Americky Bar, ‘The Oldest Bar in Prague.’ There’s not much happening in the bar so we go to the restaurant beside it that specializes in traditional Czech food. And that’s where we had one of our best encounters in Prague. It’s a bit of a tourist place, and there are several large Asian tour groups there, but it’s fun and the food is very good.
A couple of guys are playing Czech music on fine old instruments and singing hearty lyrics in words we can’t comprehend. After a few songs, they ask us where we’re from. We say that we live in Mexico and wait for their reaction, recalling that we were greeted with silence in Germany since Mexico had just defeated the mighty German soccer team in the World Cup.
But the Czech accordion player bursts into a broad smile, leans forward with a ‘thumbs up’ and says, “You beat the Germans!” European memories are long, and ancient rivalries live on. We were instant good buddies, and they played several more songs before giving us one of their CDs. Life is good, out on the road.
(A recent article about the supposed mental health of sports fans, says we were sharing the glow of schadenfreude tinged with the essence of gluckschmerz. Just ask Freud.)
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––
European animosities are as deep as the history is long. I once sat at a bar with a couple of guys I knew, one Hungarian and one Romanian, and made a wise crack about their ancient conflicts. That quickly developed into a loud dispute (“Remember what you bastards did back in 1526?!”). I regretted bringing it up.
But when I mentioned ancient battles to an Aymara boatman on Lake Titicaca at Puno, Perú, he turned to his Quechua buddy and said, “Yeah, while we were fighting with each other, those damned Spaniards conquered both of us!”
Octavio Paz said, “Man…is not in history; he is history.” As long as we remain trapped by our childish passions and frettings, we may never rise above our long and tragic history.
Or, as the flawed philosopher Rodney King said in 1992, “Can’t we all just get along?”
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––
We awake to another fine day for a long walk – meaning, it’s really not raining all that much this morning. And the enchanting streets of Prague are beckoning us onward, to the historic center of things. Actually, just about everything is historic in central Prague, and it’s a term that’s easily overused here.
But it’s also the non-historic stuff that calls to us from shop windows and sign posts, the sort of everyday detritus that really defines a city and a people. Catchy signs and posters divert our eyes and our attention as we wander in the general direction of a goal we may well reach today. Or maybe tomorrow. Prague is a lot like Paris, gorgeous, wonderfully walkable, and with plenty of things to see and do to keep you marvelously distracted.
On such a nicely drizzly day in the city we find a place called ‘Cacao,’ that just happens to serve up the sort of warm and rich beverage we had been craving to ward off the chill.
After getting ourselves well fortified, the streets of Prague and her richly encrusted buildings are once again calling us forth. We’ve had no particular grand plan for visiting the city, but there are so many things to do and experience here that our time will go quickly. And we’re content to simply keep our eyes open and let the whole of it wash over us. Maybe the whole of it will end like a Kafka novel – which never really ends and the people never really get where they're going. It could happen to us, and that would be OK.
An assembly of extravagant cars-for-hire occupies our attention for a while. But we’d prefer to walk and don’t bother to ask for prices. We could also opt to ride the Prague Beer Bike, powered by the beer drinkers aboard (Powered by Beer!), but we pass on that one too.
A store selling ridiculous floppy puppets grabs us. They’re very light weight, and we buy a couple for the grandkids back home. And so we continue to wend our way onward to – somewhere up ahead.
We arrive at the big open square, with its carnival atmosphere. And then we lose ourselves for a while among the happy throngs enjoying a cool summer day in the heart of central Europe.
Actually we did have a loose plan, of sorts – to find the square where the Mucha Museum is located. Alfons Mucha (pronounced ‘Mooha’) was an unsuccessful young artist in Prague who was advised to find another way to make a living. Shortly after he arrived in Paris he was tapped at the last minute to quickly produce a poster for Sarah Bernhardt, and he soon became world famous.
We’re drawn to the visual and graphic arts, so the Mucha Museum became a destination for us. They were showing a couple of other guys at the Museum (we’ve seen those guys), but it was the astoundingly prolific Mucha who we came to see. (We hiked up the stairs, but couldn’t resist taking the hilariously teensy elevator back down.)
After his success with Sarah Bernhardt, Mucha’s floridly heroic and romantic images would soon be found on everything from book covers, to playbills, to sheet music, to calendars, to postage stamps. His achingly beautiful illustrations of young women would grace biscuit tins and cigarette tins, and the sad and piercing eyes of a Russian mother would beg for donations to help the starving victims of a famine.
He also designed furniture, dinnerware, cutlery, etc, etc….
After all that, it was time for another fine dinner and a good night’s rest, before going on to explore more of the city.
On a new day we set out to find the John Lennon Wall. John is highly revered here and the memorial wall, near the Charles Bridge, is an enduring testament to his legacy. A singer was doing credible renditions of his work during our visit. And there’s a ‘John Lennon Pub’ nearby if you want to linger over the moment, although we did not do so.
A walk over the ornate 600-year-old Charles Bridge – along with several hundred fellow walker-gawkers – is one of the must do attractions of the city. It’s a strolling-party-scene, but the bridge is lined with portrait artists (some of them talented), odd-but-clever musicians, and tall ecclesiastical statuary. Life on the ancient Vltava River below is entrancing, as well as views across the river to the ominous mass of Pražsky hrad (Prague Castle) on the heights at one end, and to the ornate gate into the red roofed Old City at the other. It’s really a joyous experience worth plunging into.
At the end of the Charles Bridge we lose ourselves in the crowd as it pours through the old gate and into the Staré Mesto (Old Town). This is a place to find Baltic Amber, odd multi-colored sweet things to munch on, lots of tourist trinkets, and even a Mexican Restaurant! (No, we didn’t stop there.)
The distinctive kind of architecture to be found in this area keeps a person’s eyes elevated and off the pavement.
The Apple Museum caught our eye, but we didn’t stop. Still, it looked intriguing.
You can take an afternoon break for another delicious Trdlo (’Turdlow!?’), a cinnamon-crusted shell full of ice cream.
And after all that, the day ends well again at a very nice bistro near the apartment. It’s really hard not to like beautiful Prague.
On another fine day we happen upon the Jazz Dock, along a canal down by the river. It’s just the kind of place we hope to find when we travel. It looks like a fun spot where lots of local bands perform; but it’s still early in the day, so we make plans to return later.
We get back to the Jazz Dock early enough to get decent seats as a good local group starts the evening. The fine chops by the young woman on the sax and the guy on the piano quickly set the good vibes flowing, and the gorgeous flaxen-haired singer beguiled us. The ample food and drink also kept us happy and content.
Afterward, we crossed a bridge over the river to the closest tram stop as the quiet of evening settled onto the city and the glow of Prague Castle glistened across the water. It was another good day indeed.
On previous Euro-trips we’ve spent time following the lives and work of artists such as Picasso, Matisse, Van Gogh, Toulouse-Lautrec, etc. But we also have a particular interest in the work of Egon Schiele, and his mentor, Gustav Klimt; and that’s one of the reasons we’ve traveled to central Europe this time.
A tram near our apartment took us over the river to a park near the imposing grey Soviet-era National Gallery. It’s where a number of Schiele’s important works are shown, and works by Klimt, as well.
We first encountered a powerful display of photography from the First World War. And along with that, the cartoons of Josef Lada featuring his hapless soldier called, “My Friend Švejk” – a Czech precursor to Bill Mauldin’s WWII cartoons of “Willy and Joe.”
Several of Egon Schiele’s provocative works are hung in the Gallery, including his morose “Dead City.” It’s an allusion to the village of Česky Krumlov, where he came afoul of the local authorities, and where his mother was from. And it will be our next destination as we follow the trail of this doomed young artist across the Czech Republic, to Vienna.
Among Alfons Mucha’s more famous works – and certainly his most gigantic – is The Slav Epic (look for it on Google) showing the story of the Slavic people through centuries of historic events. We had hoped to see this work at the National Gallery, but it was no longer on display.
We finally exited the Gallery past a bizarre work that may well be titled “Electrician’s Nightmare,” for all I know. It looked like a lot of work, and I guess it’s ‘art.’ I tend to judge art by whether I’d want it around the house. I’m not fastidious, but I can’t imagine having something around that requires that much dusting. Sorry, it flunks the ‘Dusting Test.’
We’ve been to lots of European castles, but after almost a week in town it seemed we should make an effort to at least get near the Prague Castle. Tram 22 goes very close to the Castle and gives a good peak at it from several angles – along with throngs of Asian tourists (they seem to have replaced the classic fat American tourist in Bermuda shorts with a camera and a straw hat). We wanted to climb those steep streets, but not get stuck in those massive tourist crowds swarming around the Castle itself.
We left the tram after the rain quit, and made our way through various byways and alleys toward the Castle. The streets of Prague were again filled with enough fascination, magicians, fine crystal, and sheer beauty, to keep us distracted as we plodded our way uphill.
The Castle was soon lost to view among the tall buildings, and I was reminded of Kafka’s novel, The Castle, in which his protagonist, named ‘K,’ only views the Castle once briefly from a hill outside the city. After entering the surrounding warren of narrow streets, he never actually gets to the Castle. In fact, he never sees the Castle again. That seemed to be us, as we huffed our way up the hill. The famous Prague Castle is probably still up there, but we got sidetracked, as we do, and lost interest somewhere along the way.
And anyway it was getting late. It was time for yet another wonderful dinner with a couple of cold Czech brews, in a fun place with a bunch of locals on another back street, far away from all those tourists.
So a glorious visit to the Czech capital has come to an end, and it’s time again to pack our bags for the next leg of the journey. We’re off to a place we’ve never heard of before this trip, and with a link to Egon Schiele – that magical place called Česky Krumlov. You'll definitely want to join us there. — PRW
—————————————————————————
Interested in Prague scams? This Czech guy is very entertaining, and he hates all those new Thai Massages popping up around town!