Rediscovering

“I want to think again of dangerous and noble things. I wantto be light and frolicsome. I want to be improbable and afraid ofnothing.” ~Mary Oliver

Sunday, March 17, 2013

I slept in till about 11:00 today. This seems to be how mybody is programming itself. First I blamed it on the jet lag. Then I blamed inon the day trips. I’ve tried blaming it on the late night Skype chats. I thinkthe reality is, my messed up circadian rhythm has programed itself to sleepbetween 2am and 11am, as that seems to be the window where I feel the mosttired.

When I got up, I finished a blog post and proofread throughit. I also emailed my travel itinerary to Mary in Zurich. I decided today wasthe start of my quest to learn even more about the history of Prague. If I understoodthings differently, perhaps I could rediscover some of the magic I saw in myfirst days on the ground. I figured the best place to start was with the goldencity’s most iconic attraction: the Charles Bridge.

My Lonely Planet travel book has an entire section dedicatedto the history of the Charles Bridge. The bridge was commissioned by KingCharles IV in 1357. It was built by the same architect who constructed St.Vitus Cathedral. His name was Peter Parler and he was tasked with creating abridge that could replace the 12^thcentury Judith Bridge, which hadbeen damaged and largely washed away in floods.

The Charles Bridge was completed in 1390, but was notformally named after King Charles until the 1800’s (up until that time, it wassimply called “Stone Bridge.”) At various times, cars have actually driven overthe bridge, and there was once a tram line that crossed it. The legend—still perpetuatedby tour guides—indicates that the bridge is given extra strength by the eggshells that were used in its construction (hence the saying: “walking on eggshells.”) Modern scientists have studied the composition of the mortar and saythis isn’t true, but many locals still believe it. After WWII, the bridge wasdedicated solely for pedestrian traffic.  

The book goes on to describe the significance of each of the30 statues on the bridge as well as the symbolism of the two towers on eitherend. I decided to take the book with me and see the evidence for myself.

I considered also using the book to find a restaurant, butonce again, knew I could pick out a place on my own. I rode the 9 back to theOhrada station. Karin lived in an apartment in this neighborhood and hadpointed out a restaurant she said was “very Czech.” I decided to give it a try.

Stepping inside, it was certainly the busiest restaurant I’dbeen in. I walked all the way to the back looking for a table, but didn’t findan open one anywhere. People were sitting, smoking, eating, and enthusiasticallytalking with one another. Returning to the front of the restaurant, I held outmy thumb and asked the bar tender, “Lunch for one?”

He looked like a pirate with long, scruffy hair and a wirygoatee. Pointing to a small doorway next to the bar, he motioned to a separate room.On the other side of the doorway was a very elegant sitting area, much cleanerthan the main restaurant. I don’t know if it was some sort of party room orjust a non-smoking section but it was very warm and inviting.

All of the tabels were long enough to sit eight to tenpeople. Only one of them was occupied by a couple.  I sat at a different one across from them(although it is not uncommon in Prague for strangers to share the same table ifthere is no other room available.) The menu was already on the table—this tooseems to be customary—and I took a minute to look it over.  It was, of course, all in Czech.

The bar tender came back and asked, “To drink?”

I decided to mix it up. I ordered a Kofola, which is a Czechbrand of soda. It is local competition for Coke and Pepsi, although mosttourists don’t seem to like it much. It came in a large beer mug. Trying a sip,it didn’t taste anything like cola. I couldn’t place the flavor at first,although it was familiar. Tasting it again, I realized it tasted like blacklicorice. It was bitter, but actually, quite good.

Looking over the menu I was surprised at how many words Irecognized. I could pick out the Czech words for dumplings, pork, potatoes, andsalad. I also recognized Czech dishes like svíčková and gulaš. I decided I hadn’thad any gulaš in a while, so I ordered that.

While I waited for my food, I read a bit of the travel book.Thumbing through the pages and seeing the museums, churches, and monuments thatI still hadn’t visited amazed me. I was instantly reinvigorated and alreadybegan wishing I had more time to see it all.

When my food came, I recalled two things that Lubos told meabout gulaš. (1) You don’t want to know what is in it and (2) it will make yourstomach feel ready to explode. This batch met both requirements. It actuallywas very tasty, although I’m sure if I knew what I was eating, I wouldn’t thinkso. The meats were all very spicy, and of all different textures. Of the fewrestaurants at which I’ve tried the dish, I’d consider this to be the best.

After I paid, I walked back to the tram station. The sun wasshining but the wind was absolutely bone chilling! I paced around trying tokeep warm until the 9 came. Eventually, a 16 tram came along. Looking at thesign in the window, I saw that its final destination was Sidiste Repy. That wasthe same final destination of the 9. I figured they had to run the same route,so I got on and out of the cold.

I was wrong.

As soon as the 16 pulled out of the station, it made anunexpected turn. I laughed at once again going to some unknown part of town. Butonce again, it was instantly exciting. It was the first time in over a weekthat I was “lost.” The rush and the adrenaline that I’d felt in those first fewweeks instantly returned. I was back on the road to adventure.

When we got to the Flora stop, I recognized where we werefrom the night at the N2N club. I got off, and decided to transfer to thesubway. Taking the green line to the Mustek station, I came up in WenceslasSquare. I started walking towards the alley over to the Astronomical clock inOld Town Square.

The festival was still going strong and there were even moretourists than the day before. The wind was still bone chilling and my fingerswere starting to tremble from the cold. I’d wished I’d brought my gloves butthe sun had deceived me in the morning.

When I saw a café, I immediately ducked inside for a cup ofhot chocolate. I got it for “take away” (to-go) and carried it with me to keepmy hands warm. The café itself was quite touristy. It wasn’t quite Starbucksbut the layout was identical. The chocolate was decent—very bitter, but not asrich as other batches I’ve tried. The menu was all printed in Czech, but all ofthe baristas spoke decent English.

English in fact seemed more prevalent today than it hadbefore. Walking through the alley felt like an ocean of people. It was notquite as dense or congested as New York, but it was certainly the most crowdedI’d seen it. As with other touristy events, the number of languages multiplied.It seemed today that I heard a lot more English than I had in the past weeks.It came in all different dialects and accents, but it was definitelyrecognizable as my mother tongue.

The blue sky made all of the buildings, especially theAstronomical clock, really pop out in my photos. I noticed how colorful theroofs were. Colors I’d seen from the bird’s eye view were now visible at theground level.

But the real view that surprised me was what I saw when I enteredthe square. Old Town had been completely transformed. From the Astronomicalclock, to Lady of Tyn Church….there were booths, carts, bands, stages,streamers, flowers, and festivities as far as the eye could see! Sounds ofjazz, folk tunes, and bagpipes echoed off the buildings. Smells of roasted meats,fried potatoes, and sweet pastries danced from nose to nose. Tour guides hawkedvouchers and lured in customers. There was laughter. There were camera flashes.There were custom made gifts, and tacky tourist traps. It was so different fromthe town square I used to know.

Signs in Czech, German, Spanish, Italian, and English explainedwhat was going on. From yesterday through Easter was a two week long EasterFestival in Prague. There would be different bands and shows each night in bothWenceslas and Old Town Square. Craftsmen would be invited each day withdifferent foods and wares to purchase. Of course one of the main attractionswere the hand painted Easter Eggs.

I walked around, trying to take it all in. Having had myfill of roasted bread for now, I decided to try something different. There wasa cart selling treats made out of potatoes. The two people behind it weredressed a monks, although the one boy looked a few years younger than me. Ipointed to the dish I wanted to try: a long spiral cut potato wrapped around a woodenskewer. It was 50 crowns and the man gave me my change. It was crispy, but notcompletely fried like a potato chip. It wasn’t salted either and tasted veryfresh and natural. I munched on it as I walked through the backstreets over tothe Charles Bridge.

I knew I was lost the second I turned a corner and foundmyself out of the crowd. Immediately turning around to follow the rush ofpeople, I was back in the flow towards the famous landmark.

Just like both squares had been, the bridge was more alive thanever before! There were dozens of vendors and bands lining the bridge, allcompeting for the attention of the seamless wall of tourists. The atmospherewas fun and palpable. There was laughter, cheering, storytelling, and singing.

As I walked under the first archway, I opened my book andstarted reading about the first statue. I shuffled along a few paces, trying totake in the notes I was learning. After about 10 yards, and three of the statutes,I gave up. Not only was it too cumbersome juggling my book and my camera whilekeeping up with traffic, but there was just too much to see. I didn’t need tobury myself in history in order to understand the culture; the culture hadexploded right in front of me.

Tucking away my book, and opening up my camera, I decided toenjoy the show.

One band that I found the most entertaining was made up of atuba, playing along with other homemade instruments. One man had a banjo thatlooked like it was made from a large pot, a stick, and some rubber bands.Another man was playing a washboard with egg beaters. All of them togethersounded quite good but it was a great spectacle to watch.

I also noticed some “little everyday things.”

…There was a Dad teaching his son (probably 5 or 6 yearsold) to ride a bike. Despite the crowd, the Dad would walk backwards a fewpaces ahead of the boy to clear some space, and the son would wobble along onthe bike, smiling as the momentum got him going.

…There were four boys, probably in their mid-teens, justhanging out on the bridge. Loitering is what we’d call it back home. Itreminded me of the times that my friends and I have hung out downtown withnothing particular to do besides feel like a metropolitan tourist.

…There was man with his dog, a black lab. He had one ofthose rope chew toys and played sort of a tug-of-war game with it. He usuallylet the dog win, but in the few times the animal conceded defeat, he’d toss thetoy in the air for him to catch in his mouth.

Altogether, it showed me yet again that despite the “cultural”differences—which certainly are fun to experience and enjoy—there is so muchsimilarity between all of us. The “little everyday things” that make us happydo seem to be very universal.

After I’d crossed the bridge, I went down the stairs on theone side of it to lower Malastrana. As it turned out, I walked into a wedding…completewith limousines, white dresses, the whole nine yards. The festivities were justgetting started (the bride hadn’t come down the aisle yet) so I ducked around thecorner as quickly as I could. Not all tourists were quite as polite. Many ofthem stayed to snap a few photos.

Walking through Malastrana, I loved the rustic oldatmosphere. Having more tourists out and about made it feel special too.Watching them as they discovered the same magic I’d seen just weeks ago helpedme to see it all over again.

As I stumbled past the swan beach and into a courtyard, Irecognized where I was. This was the site of the peeing statue (called “Proudy”in Czech.) Once again, tourists were laughing and gawking at the animateddisplay—which apparently writes Czech sayings with the stream of “pee.”

Recognizing where I was (from a few weeks back with Thibaut)and recalling my conversation with my parents from the night before, I suddenlyhad a crazy idea pop into my head. I turned out of the courtyard, and retracedmy steps back towards the wedding. Looking in the windows of the small shops, Ifound the used book store (Shakespeare & Sons) that Thibaut and I hadvisited. Pushing open the door, I stepped inside.

I searched the shelves. First the history section, thennon-fiction, and finally found what I was looking for in on biography shelf.Pulling the tattered beige book out from its hiding space, I opened it and readthe forward. It was exactly what I was looking for. The price was 226 crowns(about $11 USD.) I bought it, and headed home to schedule another trip.

Before getting on the subway back to Wenceslas Square, Iwent over to the park in town and took pictures of the tattered Czech Flagsculpture. There was quite a bit of construction going on in the area, whichmessed up the flow of traffic and made it even harder to determine ifjay-walking was acceptable or not.

I caught the subway back to Wenceslas Square, andtransferred to the 9 back to the dorm. The only notable moment of my trip backwas a homeless man on the tram who sat next to me talking to himself very enthusiastically.

When I got to my dorm room, I started jotting notes for myblog post for today. I also chatted with Bill from back home and then cookeddinner (soup) before booking the trip.

I had to search through my email a little to find theinformation I needed. After booking Barcelona with the travel agency, they’d givenme a promotional code for nearly $60 off an additional weekend trip to any ofthe cities they operated in. There was one city I’d decided I wanted to see,but there was no way I was going there without a tour guide.

I found the code, opened the website, and booked the hostel.I also reserved tickets to see the attraction that had given me the idea, sothat reading the book wouldn’t be in vain. I looked at airfare, but didn’t buyit just yet.  Once I received myconfirmation email, I saved it and pulled out my new book to start preparing.

I read parts of TheDiary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank when I was in seventh grade, but I have(shamefully) never read the whole thing. I could think of no better way toimmerse in the story than to read her tale and then visit the Anne Frank housein Amsterdam!

My trip is set for the middle of April! It promises to beanother great adventure!