‘Czech’ing on the weather (and yes, I recognize the lame, and overused pun)

I am not going to lie, it is going to be a little difficult remembering the sights and events that make up our time in Prague, since I am now on a train leaving incredible Berlin and on my way to Dresden. The only thoughts that really occupy my mind right now are the events that transpired over the last three days and my subsequent anxiety to share them. But as the organized blogger must do, I will stick to the order of the trip, and recount our adventure in the Czech Republic.
I broke the news to Jason late last Wednesday night that it was supposed to rain for the next seven days of our trip. At least he purchased an umbrella. Thursday morning was cold and foggy. I was disappointed that upon our arrival in Prague, all Jason would see would be my yellow sweater in front of him instead of the reputed views of Prague’s bridges, castles, and steeples. And yet as we crossed the Austro-Czech border, the brooding mist dissipated into flooding sun. God really wanted Jason to see this splendid city :-).
After locating our hotel (we had this huge room where you could actually climb out on the roof and enjoy Prague’s beauty), we headed out into the city. Walking over the Charles Bridge at sunset was one of life’s truly remarkable moments. From the pink clouds overhead to witnessing the Vitula River split the golden buildings of the old town on one side from the stately Prague Castle shadowing over the red-roofed houses of the other, was beyond picture worthy.
After wondering the cobble-stone streets of the city and going into one after another brightly lit store, Jason and I stumbled upon Prague’s main square, just in time to watch the glockenspiel show when the grand clock struck 5pm, and wooden apostles went around in a circle singing. We then dined at a restaurant I experienced with Carolyn and Nikki when we were in Prague two years ago. The food once again was quite enjoyable—our server’s humor even more so. For instance, when Jason asked for the “check”, he promptly responded, “I am ‘Czech’” and just stood there since we had asked for “him”. We both laughed slightly awkwardly, and of course we asked him if he had used that line before :-).
Although it was late, the city was alive; although Jason and I were exhausted, we walked, and we walked, and we walked. Attraction after attraction passed by our lingering footsteps, until the maze of Prague’s medieval streets confused our directionally prone senses and we were lost. Several map consultations and step retraces later, we finally found our way back to our hotel and the warm comfort of our beds.
The next morning after toast, eggs, and coffee from our lovely hotel, Jason and I set out for Prague Castle (or the slightly airier, wordier description: “the metaphorical and historical throne of the Czech lands”). The building of this colossal structure began in the 9th century, was rebuilt in the 16th century, and it now houses the president of the Czech Republic. Our uphill climb reward was the changing of the guards ceremony that occurs every hour in front of the castle grounds. Our impeccable timing proved itself once again. We witnessed the changing of the guards and toured the remarkable gothic architecture of St. Vitus’s Cathedral (which was also remarkably crowded). Touring the rooms of the old castle was definitely interesting, although not enthralling since my knowledge of and interest in Bohemian history is not much. However, that moderate level of enthusiasm dramatically increased when I discovered that the room I was staring into was where in 1618 Protestant nobles threw two Catholic governors out of the high window—their fall only broken by a large dung heap below (although Catholics claimed they were saved by angels). This incident is declared as the “spark” of the still-talked-about 30 Years War that ravaged Bohemia, Bavaria, and Prussian lands. (I remember learning about that event in my 10th grade European history class because of the seeming hilarity surrounding the war’s origination.) When I saw the “No pictures allowed” sign, I was quite devastated. Yet upon weighing the importance of historical memory vs. rule breaking, I quickly snuck a picture; you know, so that way in 30 years from now, I will be able to remember that room :-). After some handicraft shopping within the castle walls, Jason and I took a much-needed break from the cold and grabbed lattes at Gloria’s Coffee. More walking followed, only to be rewarded by delicious bread bowls of soup and pizza, of course.
We finally arrived at our next destination: Petrin Hill, a large public park above the city. We took a funicular up the hill which of course made watching the steep climb below all the more enjoyable. Once on top, we enjoyed a beautiful walk through the multi-colored forests of Prague, coming across the Strahov monastery which houses the nation’s oldest book collection. We also randomly walked into a Miniature Museum where every art piece was viewed under a microscope. This art consisted of minute copper train cars glued to a strand of hair, or a lock, key, and scissors, glued to the legs of a mosquito. Quite eccentric (especially knowing that someone’s living revolves around creating microscopic every day objects and then gluing them onto various recognizably small things to note the impeccable scale).
Our beautiful walk that afternoon around Petrin Hill ended with an old wooden church and a waterfall, an incredible conversation with my traveling partner, and a delicious two-hour dinner that consisted of chicken in an herb butter sauce, mashed potatoes whipped to perfection, and steamed vegetables. A cinnamon banana bundt cake with caramelized bananas and walnuts on top, white chocolate mouse, surrounded by caramel and dark chocolate drizzle—quite the description mouthful (and several actual mouthfuls :-)) was for dessert.
Jason planned a lot for our second full day in Prague. After a quick coffee at the
Globe bookstore (known for its unique selection of English books), we walked to Wenceslas Square (named after St. Wenceslas—Bohemia’s patron saint, and a sight of historical demonstrations such as Jan Palach setting himself on fire here in 1969 to protest Soviet occupation or the 1989 celebration of the fall of communism). The square also has a reputation to be a targeted pickpocketing area.
Now a small section of our guidebook is devoted to the haunted places of Prague, and when we read that St. James Church—the sight from where a thief attempted to steal jewels, but was stopped when the Madonna statue grabbed the thief, his arm having to be cut off for his release—we decided to go czech it out. A mummified arm still hangs above the door of this church, and its Gothic interior is labeled as Prague’s “creepiest sanctuary”.
Next on the “To do” list: Climb the clock tower of the Old Town Hall. We arrived on the outlook balcony just in time for the noontime trumpet revelry. The sights of the bustling city below satisfied my eyes, the rising music of a distant Dixie land band satisfied my ears, but my stomach reminded me of its needs as well, and I gave in to my latent brotwurst desires upon leaving the clock tower :-)….
And now for the Jewish quarter; with its famous cemetery (the gravestones are layered on top of each other due to lack of available land and anti-Semitism), old and new synagogue, and Jewish museum, it was Jason’s most looked forward to part of our time in Prague. We arrived, only to find everything closed since it was Saturday and the Sabbath. Our misfortune, and one more (big) reason to return.
In the evening of our last night, Jason and I listened to the brilliant musical talent of Handel and Bach in an organ and violin concert at St. Nicholas church. For an hour we listened to this dual instrument concert, the whole time not being able to see the musicians. This meant that I knew the detail of every fresco within my periphery as to avert my concentration away from falling asleep. I left wishing I understood more about music (or more honestly that I cared)…
A brief return to Wenceslas Square to see the Memorial to the Victims of Communism and visit the English-chain Mark & Spencers for my desired McVites purchase, also allowed us to find a tapas restaurant for dinner. Yet with the knowledge of our early morning train ride to Berlin, and a lot of suitcase reorganizing and repacking before us (due to our large contribution to Prague’s economy), we decided to call it an early night. I could not believe that the time had finally coœme for me to return to my favorite city—the epicenter of my 20th century German history interest, and the reason for this trip: Berlin. I was about to be one person out of a hundred thousand participating in the hype of November 9th 2009 in celebrating 20 years of a free, reunited city and nation.