Prague

U Glaubicu

For years people have been raving to us about Prague, so it seemed time to czech it out. Frieda also wanted to see Vienna and Budapest, sometimes called “the Paris of the east,” so we embarked on a short trip, just 10 days.

We set off about 11 Friday morning and arrived in Prague around 8:30 Saturday night. Of course we'd lost 9 hours but still, it's an ordeal to get to Europe from California: 24 hours with little if any sleep. The good news was that the core 11-hour flight was on Lufthansa and they take pains to make the flight bearable: TV, movies and meditation videos, meals, snacks, drinks including wine and, after dinner, cognac or Baileys, plus a hot towel to wipe your hands, not to mention pillows and blankets, all included at no extra charge.

 

Our neighborhood

Once in Prague we took a taxi to the apartment we'd rented in Malá Strana on Mostecká near the foot of the Charles Bridge, a pedestrian-only structure lined with statues and with towering gates at either end. Parked out front were several red topless sightseeing cars that looked like they dated from the early 30s with for-hire signs on their windshields. The apartment was on the 3^rd floor. Frieda had thought there was a lift but it turned out to be a walk up and the last flight was steep, with short steps reminiscent of a Mayan pyramid; a struggle with our luggage. Inside, though, it was spacious. The living room, overlooking the street, was so large I felt like I should invite people up from below (there were plenty milling by) and have a party, just to fill it up. But there was no taste on display, no art on the walls. The furniture seemed to have been bought at rummage sales without any design or ruling perspective and scattered at random. A minion of the landlord, who met us there to hand us the keys, suggested a restaurant up the street for dinner. It was called U Glaubicu (just about all the names of everything in Prague are unpronounceable). Frieda felt it was too cool outside so we went in but found all the tables in the front room were filled. Another room with a bar was filled as well. A salon down some stairs was also filled, so we took another flight down to a cellar with vaulted ceilings and there finally found a table. The charming waitress (most everyone spoke English) told us this cellar was over 700 years old, and suggested a meal of pig's knuckle, which turned out to be an intimidating if tasty hunk of meat, with potato dumplings. Frieda had braised beef with bread dumplings. We discovered, over the next few days, that the Czechs are crazy about various joints of pig, and dumplings, which are frequently chopped up. To wash it down we had the famous Pilsner Urquell, which is ok but a little too bitter in the finish for my taste. We got stuffed for a tab of about $30. After dinner we took a walk halfway across the bridge, and then returned to a MiniMart for some supplies. That's when we noticed a display of cannabis chips, cannabis lollipops, cannabis candy bars, and even cannabis vodka on display. WTF! The clerk got strangely irate when I snapped a picture of it, as if it was supposed to be a secret.

Old Town Square

 

Sunday we slept in, had yogurt and croissants for breakfast, and then set off to explore Prague Castle, not that far but uphill all the way. The weather was overcast, a bit chilly. There didn't seem to be anything specific of great interest to see up there: a hodge-podge of palaces in a hodge-podge of architectural styles. Indeed, there is so much architectural variety in Prague that it's an ideal place to have a class on the subject. We circled through the crowds of gawkers back toward our apartment and got some schnitzel for lunch at a touristy place near the base of the bridge before heading off to look for the John Lennon wall, a sort of impromptu, democratic art project near the river that's been ongoing since the 80s. It was colorful if a tad vapid. From there it was a short walk to the Kafka museum which had an amusing animated sculpture out front of 2 men pissing at each other: apparently a pissing contest. Inside, the museum was dark, morose, and gloomy, with a series of texts describing the trials of Franz's life. After our tour we found a cafe nearby to discuss Kafka's depression over spritzes. The spritzes weren't as good as the ones in Venice because here they used sparkling water instead of prosecco, but nevertheless they reminded us of Venice. Like the spritzes, for us, Prague didn't measure up to Venice. “Must an artist suffer to create great art?” Frieda asked. “It's a Judeo-Christian thing,” I said. 

 

U Dvou Srdci

For dinner she made pasta in the apartment, and then we ventured out into the darkness and crossed the illuminated bridge into Old Town. The bridge was choked with tourists, many of them Asians, and all of those armed with cell phones on selfie-sticks. It was also lined with musicians and street performers. A couple of them were playing Brahms on accordions, and Frieda was so impressed with the tightness of their collaboration that she tossed her loose change in their hat (she couldn't figure out what any of the Czech coins were worth and, anyway, none of them were worth very much). Farther along was a trio with 2 violins and a cello (plus some girl beating on a box) playing popular hits. It was fun trying to guess what tune they were rendering so we stopped to listen to 3 or 4 songs. Their enthusiasm and the pop music had drawn a much bigger crowd than the Brahms of the solemn accordionists. In the time we were there they sold half a dozen CDs. There were also a number of beggars on the bridge. We called them supplicants because of the peculiar posture they all adopted, kneeling with their arms stretched out to hold their upside-down hats and their foreheads pressed against the pavement, something like the child's pose in yoga; it gave an impression of total self-abasement that you would never see in the States. Many of them had dogs trained to assume a similar posture. At the end of the bridge is a choke point where you have to cross a narrow street roaring with auto and tram traffic. Amid clumps of singing Czech boys swerving through the crowd on the far side there were many open shops, including one where, seated prominently in the window, a woman was reading a newspaper while her feet dangled in a glass tank of water where a school of small black fish were nibbling her toes. Frieda was grossed out and also chagrined by the fact that there were no shoe stores.

 

Powder Gate

 

Both of us slept badly that night so we got a late start the next day. My nose was clogged and I thought my allergies were acting up. But it was a beautiful, sunny day. We took a tram to the train station to buy tickets to Vienna for 2 days hence. We wanted to make sure we got seats and get the lay of the station. Afterward we walked back through the new town, which looked generic and seedy, to the Powder Gate, the antique entrance to the old town, dating from 1475, and stopped at an outdoor restaurant called Cernovar near the Tourist Information office for some quite delicious smoked pork ribs (pigs must run when they see a Czech coming). Then on to the Mucha museum to see his Art Nouveau posters, which I found just decorative. From there we crossed the cobbled Old Town Square, ringed with a collage of architectural styles, and continued on to the old Jewish quarter, now a home for Rolex, Ferrigamo, and Prada stores. By the time we got back to my favorite cafe below the foot of the bridge for our by now ritual spritzes, my calves were aching from the long walk. I surmised this was due to the uneven surfaces of the ubiquitous cobblestones that force you to continually adjust the angle of your foot. 

Alien Babies

 

We woke up Tuesday feeling we'd sort of done Prague. We liked it, just didn't feel the level of enthusiasm we normally have in Italy or Spain. Something a little too dark and gloomy about it. A bit too medieval and Hogwartsian. Perhaps Prague appeals to Harry Potter fans for that reason, but it lacks the Mediterranean glow that warms my heart. At Frieda's instigation we walked up Nerudova to see the named doorways Maria Theresa had ordered before the days of street addresses, stopping for drinks, then went to a couple gardens, Wallenstein and Vojanovy, both refuges of peace and tranquility with fountains and wandering peacocks. As we were returning from the latter a Czech guy approached us in the street and gave us a sales pitch on a nearby restaurant called U Dvou Srdci (don't ask me to pronounce it). The guy was so charming that he persuaded us to go in. Although not attractive outside, inside it was delightful. We shared some excellent potato soup in a bread bowl and then split a pig knee, also very good. We both had some Budweiser (nothing like the swill of the same name in the States), Frieda light and I dark, and they comped us the best schnapps we had on the trip. Total bill: $28.

 

From there we crossed the Charles Bridge again, walked south past the Neo-Renaissance National Theater, and took a pedestrian bridge to Slovansky Island, a kind of park with paddle boats for rent that resembled the sightseeing cars parked in front of our apartment. Frieda wanted to take a picture of the tubular blue men sculptures sprouting from the river below the Functionalist Manes exhibition hall, or maybe she just wanted to visit the WC. In any case it was another peaceful refuge from the hustle and bustle of the city. After a few minutes rest on a park bench we returned to the National Theater, crossed the bridge back to the west side of the river and walked over to Ujezd to see a sculpture about Communism called Broken Men, rather obvious in its message. On Kampa Island we saw the giant alien baby sculptures, the point of which was not obvious at all. It was here that my 4^th left toe began to pinch. I hobbled on for spritzes at our usual cafe below the bridge and next to the outdoor market. This had become my favorite spot in Prague to sit, have a drink, and people watch. On the way back to the apartment we passed a couple of street performers doing a levitation act before stopping for sausage sandwiches to have with the rest of a bottle of red wine we'd bought the day before. Overall I felt that Prague had its charms, I had no real complaints about it, but I felt no deep affinity for it.