Storming the Castle (Part 2)

Feb 15. 2013 (continued)
Continuing around the courtyard, I found myself on the other side of the Cathedral. This view was equally as impressive as all the others had been. I found another stranger and she took my picture in front of it.

The next building open to the public was St. George’s Basilica. It also required a ticket for admission, but was very ordinary compared with the Cathedral. A few small shrines lined the walls, but the highlight was the crypt. There was an upper level behind and above the altar, and then a lower level. The lower level reminded me a bit of the treasure room from National Treasure (minus the gold and all that.) It was expansive and all hand carved. It amazed me how all of these buildings—the pillars, the arches, the sculptures, and even the basement—were all build by hand so many years ago.

My favorite part of the Basilica though was St. John’s Chapel in the back. An ordinary room from the outside, the ceiling towered above with a beautiful mural of the Holy Trinity descending onto Earth. There was the image of God, of Christ, and of a dove representing the Holy Spirit. The colors were faded, but the detail remained. It was eye-popping, and almost took on a 3D effect.

How did people paint ceilings like that?

At this point, I really couldn’t silence my stomach much longer. According to my map, the restaurant was just around the corner from the Basilica. A tour guide walking past asked me in a British accent if I was finding everything. I asked about the café and he gave me more detailed directions. Turned out it was nestled in a back alleyway of the castle.

When I walked in, I found that it was a very unassuming room. The bar and kitchen were along the back wall opposite the doors. There were probably eight tables scattered about. There was a terrace off to the left that overlooked the city, but it was closed for the weather.

I took a seat and removed my jacket. Instantly I became aware of how cold I’d been. The adrenaline had kept me warm, but my fingers were freezing. Looking over the menu of warm drinks I decided on a hot chocolate. I was pleasantly surprised when it turned out to be a white hot chocolate.

If I’d caught a glimpse of Heaven in the Cathedral, I got a taste of it when I sipped this warm beverage. It was thick, rich, and creamy. I had never tasted sugar so pure before. I enjoyed every last drop of it and when I got to the bottom of the mug, a huge gob of white chocolate dropped into my mouth.

A local tip we’d been given was to always ask for “the lunch.” This is a local item that usually isn’t featured on the menu and is often a little cheaper to order. It often bundled a few things together so that you got more bang for your buck. I asked my waiter—whose English was pretty broken—about it and he said it was good. What more did I need to know? I ordered it.

It turned out to be a three course meal. The first course was a soup. The soup was made of a carrot broth with chunks of turkey and various sprouts sprinkled in. It was awesome and perfect for the cold day. The flavor was a little salty, although not nearly as salty as the pasta sauce I’d made the night before. An observation I’ve made is everything seems to be served broiling hot. I suppose that’s what homemade food tastes like in a restaurant, but I’ve pretty much burned my tongue every time I’ve gone out to eat.

The entrée for the meal was similar to the goulash I’d tried the night before. It was a beef stew with chunks of potato—almost like gnocchi—mixed in. There was also onion and red pepper stirred in. While soup and stew probably are not complimentary courses in the US, they both tasted incredible.

The dessert was cheesecake. I have no idea if this too is Czech or if they were making an appeal to tourists. According to Ivana and Lubos, there really isn’t a “Czech dessert.” The cheesecake was alright. My uncle makes cheesecake every year for Christmas and I have to say his is quite a bit better. This almost tasted healthy and wasn’t real flavorful. With dessert, I got a cup of tea. I couldn’t pronounce the name of it, but it tasted to be lemon flavored.

The restaurant was probably a little over priced but the entire meal with the hot chocolate and tip was less than $20 USD. This exchange rate was great! My waiter brought me the check, and left. I waited for a while staring out the window. He eventually came back and asked if I was alright. I said I was. He left again. This was strange to me. Everywhere else we’d gone, we’d paid right when they brought the bill. When he came back again, I said, “I am ready when you are.” He looked at me funny and then walked off.

It dawned on me what a bizarre and euphemistic language English is. We don’t say, “I’d like to give you money now so I can leave;” we say “I’m ready when you are.” Who knows how that could actually be interpreted? Ready for what?

Shortly after that, another man came over to the table and said, “Michael’s English isn’t very good. He doesn’t understand what you need.”

“I’m just ready to pay,” I said. He said he could help me so I paid him and gave him a tip for Michael. It occurred to me that it may or may not make it to Michael, but there wasn’t anything I could do at that point. Putting on my jacket, I stepped back out into the cold.

The next item on the map was the Rosenburg Palace. It was a smaller palace that had been added later to house the noblewomen. As I walked into the courtyard where it was supposed to be, I didn’t see anything. There was another woman walking around who looked just as confused as I did. There was one small, ordinary looking door in the corner, a few tables that—had they not been covered in snow—may have been nice to sit at, and a few scattered bushes, but nothing that looked like a palace.

I turned to leave the courtyard when I realized the woman that had been in there was gone. She couldn’t have left the courtyard; I’d been standing by the exit the whole time. I decided I had nothing to lose by trying to go through the door in the corner. Worst case scenario, I was told to leave and I could blame the error on being a stupid American.

The door was unlocked and, sure enough, on the other side was a woman waiting to take my ticket for the Rosenburg Palace.

This was the first area of the Castle I went into where photography was not allowed. This is too bad because the rooms and the views were remarkable. They looked like something out of a fairy tale castle. The bedrooms were not huge, but the furniture was not. The beds were decorative and the clothes were colorful. Each room contained the usual bed, desk, sitting chair, and dresser. In one room there was a display showcasing a 16^th century mouse trap. It was a large, clunky device (probably the size of a shoe box) with a small mouse shaped hole on one side. The idea was the same as modern mousetraps: food inside would lure in the vermin, and then various gears and levers would eliminate it from causing trouble the house.

The entertaining room was large and decorative. There were sofas and chairs made with silk cushions. One of the walls was gilded in gold. While it was stunning to look at, what caught my eye was a painting of Archduchess Maria Theresa. Maria Theresa had been the archduchess of Prague when it was still part of the Holy Roman Empire. She was descended from the Hapsburg house of Vienna and was the mother of Marie Antoinette. The portrait of her was huge and very elegant, but what caught my eye was the bottom of the frame. Inscribed in large letters under her name (Maria Theresa) was my family’s last name.

I have done a bit of research and there doesn’t seem to be a direct connection. The brief references that I have found suggest that it may have been a distant relative on her mother’s side, or perhaps just the name of the artist of the painting. Either way, it amazed me once again. Now I realized, not only was I walking on historic ground, but it was the same historic ground my ancestors had once walked.

The final two rooms of the palace that were open to the public were the ball room and the meeting room. The ball room was not as big as one would imagine, but it was decorative in its own way. The meeting room on the other hand was very grand. There was a long wooden table with 10 chairs seated around it (four along each side and one at each end.) The windows to the one end of the room had a great panoramic of the city and there were benches facing out so that people could enjoy the view. I imagined what it would be like to preside over a meeting in that room. I thought of how the discussion was probably just as heated and frustrating as it is in modern board rooms today.

The next area of the castle was called the Golden Street. This was a series of homes and offices that had been constructed for the soldiers and their families who worked and lived in the castle. The dwellings were actually carved into the walls of the castle and according to the few English placards, the soldiers had been required to pay for their construction.

Walking down this street and popping in and out of the homes was again like strolling through a story book. There was an apothecary’s house and an herbalist’s office. I saw rooms where scientists had practiced alchemy and where craftsmen had made candles by hand.

Going up a narrow tower in the middle of the street, the second story of the building (the guard space between the walls where the windows revealed a well concealed view of the city) had been converted in a museum of knights. I’d heard about knights in shining armor. I’d watched movies, read history books, even take a test or two on the crusades, but I never understood it until I saw this exhibit. While the information was all in Czech, the armor, the shields, and swords told their own story. They were impressive and powerful.

At one point, a large school group came through the exhibit. They were all American kids and they loudly photographed and pointed at everything. I noticed people avoided making eye contact with them and stood off to the side while they passed.

After looking at the armor, I went back downstairs. At the end of the street were two famous houses. One had belonged to Madame of Thebes, famed Tarot Card reader of the 20^th century. She ran her business out of her house where she also prepared dinner and waited for her son each night to come home from World War I. She gained notoriety after accurately predicting the end of WWI, along with various events associated with Hitler. When she predicted Hitler’s death, the prophecy became public knowledge, and the Nazis had her executed. Interestingly enough, Hitler committed suicide soon after.

The other house belonged to a famous Czech film director whose name has escaped me. During the Communist occupation, Czech films were destroyed. This man hid films that dated back to pre-World War I and safely protected them until the fall of communism.

After exiting the Golden Street, the next wing over was the dungeon. The inside reminded me of a child’s toy castle. There were cages made of wood, and chains hanging from the walls. I descended down several spiraling stair cases into what I gather was the torture chamber. In the middle of the room was a place to build a fire. Above the fire pit was a device called a “Body Case.” It was a series of handcuff-like vices that went around the neck, wrists, waist, and ankles all connected by chains and then suspended from the ceiling. There were various picks and torture devices, including a block and axe for cutting off heads. It truly looked like something out of a movie set.

Leaving the dungeon and travelling around back into the square, I found the exhibit called “Story of Prague Castle.” Walking through some of the oldest rooms in the castle, they had displays explaining how Prague had begun as a prehistoric village in 600 BC, eventually became the capital of the Holy Roman Empire, later the capital of the German Empire, and eventually of Bohemia, before becoming part of the Austro-Hungarian state. Along with the information were pots, bones, jewelry, and fragments dating back to the early prehistoric settlement. There were carvings and pieces of statues left from the Roman Era. A hat belonging to Saint Wenceslas (for whom the square is named) was displayed.

One room was called the King’s Prayer room. I can only imagine what it looked like when it was decorated. It had not been well maintained, but apparently at one point was filled with paintings and crosses. I imagined how many Roman Emperors and Germanic kings had sat in that room, bereaved and praying about difficult decisions.

As I stared at one of the displays, apparently a wooden chest of some sort, I heard a woman standing behind me say in very rough English, “Is for clothes.”

I nodded and continued to stare. She repeated, “Is for clothes.” I looked at her and she said, “Sorry.” At that point I was able to read her lips and I realized I had misheard her. She repeated, “This floor closed. Sorry.”

I thanked her and started moving to the exit. I checked my watch. It was only 4:00. The book had said that the Castle was open until 10:00. Looking at the back of my ticket, this was confirmed. What was also confirmed was that, while the castle grounds are open until 10:00, the actual castle buildings close at 4:00.

Weeks would not be enough time to take in all of the detail and beauty of that monument. But I was hooked; I had to see more. There were still four more public buildings I hadn’t been in yet, so I decided I would come back tomorrow to see those wings as well.