Prague’s Magic and the Czech Republic
I was intrigued by a romantic notion of Prague’s “stardust”–the crossroads of Europe, a city once larger and more magnificent than Paris or London, a city whose “glory will touch the stars”, that was “on the cusp of the divine”. I read “mazes of shady alleys, along with legends of demons and occult forces, lent the city of dreams a dark side and provided frightening fodder for Franz Kafka’s 20th century tales of paranoia. Be it benevolent or evil, a dreamy spell hangs over Prague, where the clocks run backwards or not at all…explore and you might find a bit of stardust left in the cobblestone cracks.”
On our first day there, I think we got a tweak from the dark side of Prague. We pulled into the Hlavni Nadrazi train station at 6 a.m. on Monday, October 12. The first few hours were plagued by golems. First, we couldn’t find a working ATM (finally found one and held our breath as the machine gave birth to our money with a sound like it was chewing our card &/or cash). Then, we couldn’t figure out the metro ticket machine…we, who pride ourselves on taking public transport in every city we visit. After about 10 attempts to get a ticket–an American stopped to show us the trick (it’s the order you push the buttons, feed the money). Getting off at our stop, Namesti Republiky was easy enough–but then we got lost looking for our hotel. We walked 7 blocks too far. It was an odd morning. Quiet and deserted city of cobblestone, sun beginning to peek into the alleys…and here we are forcing our wheeled luggage over the cobblestones…ka-klop, ka-klop, ka-klop, stop and free a wheel, ka-klop, ka-klop, ka-klop, stop and free a wheel… We found the hotel and settled into room 501 of Hotel Central, Rybna 8, Praha 1 (which was the exact room on the brochure cover), sleeping for an hour on the hard bed with tiny little flat pillows. We missed breakfast at the hotel, but picked at the scraps as the kitchen broke down the buffet. And we tripped out into a now rainy Prague.
It was cold. And the rain turned hard. We were tired and still smarting from the frustrations of the morning. After we were good and soaked, we made our way to a cafe to warm up and eat lunch–figuring out that we got taken for an extra $7 on the tab. What a “reality bites” way to start in what was supposed to be such a magical place.
After lunch, we stood with a small, damp crowd and watched the astronomical clock chime 1:00–with a smile-inducing rooster crow at the end. I can’t figure the clock out. And I suspect, it was never meant to be figured out. It has multiple faces–all simultaneously moving, 24 numbers, and what looks to be the moon phases and zodiac signs. And then there are moving statues that appear in windows, and skeletons, book readers, angels also. We stood there perplexed for a while–trying to see exactly where and how it told us it was 1 p.m.
We wandered into the Jewish Quarter, only then realizing it was Yom Kippur and sites were closed. We gave up for the day and retreated to a coffee shop to write postcards and pray for sun. Over the next few days we would spend a lot of time on Charles Bridge–often starting at the quiet dog-walking hour in the morning. The first morning, I saw a brindled, Boston Terrier/Pug dog crossing the bridge, leash-less with his owner. Over the next few days, I kept seeing this dog and other Boston terrier / pugs that made me take a second look and wonder if it was the same one. There was a plaque on the bridge with a dog in the scene–rubbing the dog in the plaque was said to be good luck, safe passage. The dog was golden–all the way from his nose to the tip of his tail–from all the petting while the rest of the scene stayed a steel grey (the scene was of a soldier patting the back of the lab/greyhound dog’s head, while a kneeling woman looks to be confessing in a church behind him). Later that first day, I found a gorgeous cyan-tinted photo of a silhouetted man walking a Pug over the bridge…same dog? I eventually bought the cyan photo, along with other cyan and sepia tinted photos by the same Charles Bridge vendor. The photos remind me of those cold, windy, quiet mornings on Charles Bridge.
So, we walked the bridge, taking in the statues and their guidebook stories one-by-one. We lingered on the windy bridge–people watching, looking at the art vendors’ work, listening to buskers (one man played Stairway to Heaven on drinking glasses–rubbing his finger around the lips of glasses filled with different amounts of water to create different notes). There was a “troll man” (as Bryan called him) at the end of the bridge. Troll man wore two small red rubber “ears” atop his head and sold what looked like childrens’ colorings.
We ducked into coffee shops often to warm up–cinnamon or chocolate always sprinkled on top of the cappuccinos and offerings of things like potato omelettes. One morning, we made our way to Kostel Sv. Mikulase (St. Nicholas) church. An amazing dome in an unbelievable church…paintings, statues, exceedingly ornate and still undergoing restoration. We walked up up up to Prague castle, loving the colors of the homes, the streets, the sites. Great views of the red tile roofs of the city.
It didn’t take long for Prague to charm us…rain and all.
Prague is like the dream of an artist. Murals on buildings of black stone, murals on buildings of white stone, murals across the face of golden yellow buildings, splendid and decadent curliecues and spires of gold, carvings and statues decorating most buildings’ windows, everywhere–colors of gold, golden browns, reds, and greens of old copper. Lanterns. Cobblestones. Candles outside the restaurants. And the nooks and crannies of countless alleys, each keeping some secret.
One night we went to the Rudolfinum for a performance by the Ceska Filharmonie. The hall was small, with nice lights and ornate grills and painted designs on the walls. The incredible and beautiful sound in the first few seconds pulled tears from me. Later a cello player who looked to be our age joined them on stage. I believe they said he had been a political prisoner before the Velvet Revolution. After a great round of applause for the “required” piece, he did an impromptu encore, “picking” his cello and playing a sweet little song. THIS was the Praha magic. I remember gazing at the ceiling and listening…hoping that I could record the music and feeling in my memories.
On our last day in Prague, the sun finally came out. We sat in the square in the sun before making our way around for gifts to take home. We bought hand-painted egg ornaments for our mothers, and a lifelike, delicate puppet for my grandmother. I bought a beautiful pen & ink sketch called “Pearly” for 600 kc (600 koruna was about ~$20) It is a sketch of chiseled lady fingering her long strand of pearls. We bought books for the train ride (I got the appropriately titled “Prague, Farewell”) and we spent a few kc’s at a little shop on cheese, chocolates, chips and juice boxes for the 8 a.m. to 1:45 p.m. train journey to Munich on Friday 10/16.
