On Thursday, April 3, Carol and I waved goodbye to Hilde and Adi and hopped a train to Prague. Carol refers to this day as “the wild ride”, but it proved to be the first of many such “wild rides”!
We caught the train from Bamberg, Germany, to Nuernberg, connected from there to Marktredwitz, connecting to Cheb where we boarded a final train to Prague. We thought. All these connections were bad enough, but during the last leg when the conductor came by to check our tickets, he said something in Czech to us. I must’ve looked at him kind of like a dog that hears a noise and he repeated the word “autobus” complete with pantomime of driving a bus.
I didn’t completely understand what he was getting at but figured we would handle whatever came along about that bus. I guess I’m used to things like this in the Czech Republic, plus my cold was getting worse and I was a little out of it from the travel, so I just returned to my book. Carol asked me what the conductor had said, and, when I told her I didn’t know for sure, she gently suggested that maybe we should find out about this bus thing just in case.
So I went to find the conductor and asked him if he spoke German. He did! I was able to find out that we were to stop at a station in about half an hour and take a bus to Plzen where we would board a train that would then take us to Prague. Then he promised to come and get us to make sure we got off the train when we were supposed to, which he did. We never did find out why all this was necessary, but we figured that it was track construction.
The train stopped in a town called StÅ™Ãbro which means “silver” in Czech. I assumed it was so named because of silver mining in the area, especially since I saw lots of full dump trucks along the roads there. I still don’t know if that’s true, but what little I can find online about its history refers to “ore mining”, so I might be on the right track.
In either case, Carol and I hurried off the train, rushed through the small stationhouse, and breathlessly confronted a long line of identical, white, somewhat rickety buses parked out front. I pulled up short and wondered aloud to Carol which bus we should board that would get us to the right place. A tall woman standing just outside the door, who incidentally strongly resembled Keith Richards, swept her cigarette toward the line of buses and said, “VÅ¡echno,” which fortunately I understood meant “all of them” in Czech.
So we boarded the nearest one and settled in. Keith Richards and a few others were scattered around our bus, but I don’t think any of the 10 or so buses were near full. Our convoy drove up hill and down dale for probably 30 minutes or so through some amazingly beautiful countryside. Finally we pulled into a train station in a town named Kozolupy and rushed with the others onto the train there. No sooner had we boarded than the train started moving. Good thing we hurried.
We then traveled to Prague without further incident. Once there, we had to take the subway, drag our bags up two flights of stairs to the street, then walk about half a mile up and down a couple of hills to Pension Lida. I was really wiped out by then. The pension place was a big house in a residential area and we had to ring the bell for someone to let us into the front yard.
After a few seconds, a stocky young man named Jiřà (pronounced “Yizhie” and translated as “George”) came bounding down the stairs to open the metal gate, took my giant bag in one hand and Carol’s slightly smaller one in the other hand and bounded back up the stairs to the house. There he paused to point out some directions, such as which way the river was and where the restaurants could be found, then he opend the house and took the bags up two more flights of stairs before we got to our room (#8). He wasn’t even winded!
The room was very light and spacious with a double bed and a single bed and a very large bathroom with a balcony. Jiri invited us for coffee but we declined because it was getting late and we were hungry. But he had to go though his spiel anyway one way or the other, I think, because one simple question about where to eat triggered what I refer to as his loop tape.
But he was SO friendly and spoke great English, was overly helpful and had lots of correct information. He and his wife Jan run the pension. They served a wonderful continental breakfast each morning to all the guests and there were lots of Americans there. It’s in the Rick Steves guidebook, and, though it was a little trying to get to, I would recommend this place very, very highly indeed. By the end of our few days there, we really hated to leave; we got so spoiled on this, Carol’s first rented room stop, even though she had trouble unlocking and locking the door of our room.
I have to tell you at this point that Carol had what I call a “lock tour” of Europe - it seems that everywhere we went, she had trouble with the doors and locks for some reason. Some of it was understandable, but it became a joke for the trip that the locks in Europe just didn’t like her. I, on the other hand, had the “head cold tour” of Europe. I’d take locks any day.
The next day was drizzly and cold and I bought some raw garlic at a vegetable shop and gnawed on it all morning in an attempt to stave off a sore throat. It worked to an extent.
We walked down the hill to the Vltava River, which runs through Prague and along which many of Prague’s major sites are located. Walking along the river at water level below the seawall reminded me of the Thames in London. Then we rounded a bend and could see the castle. I’m always just thrilled to see this place!
We mounted a staircase up to street level to see the dancing house, a construct by architect Frank Gehry (see http://galinsky.com/buildings/dancinghouse/index.htm). Near there was a gallery named Manes (pronounced “Mah-ness”) which was holding an exhibit called Prague Foto. We toured the exhibit and it was great! Every major Czech photographer was represented, as well as the photography university that Jana attends in Opava. Not only were there photos and reprints, but there were lots of books as well. We were both impressed at the number of visitors there for a Friday afternoon. I have to say that, if it wasn’t for Carol, I don’t think I would have even noticed it. In fact, the show lasted only three days, so I probably wouldn’t have even been in Prague for it.
After that we stopped at the National Theater, but there were no tours that day. We walked the Charles Bridge in a really cold wind then made our way to the old square to see the Astronomical Clock strike the hour. Then we found a great little place for lunch, Mlejnice (means “Mill”), and each had a fantastic potato dish. It was so good that we were sorry to have to leave so much on our plates; they served it up in mammoth proportions and we couldn’t possibly finish them.
After that we walked to Wenceslas Square and visited the best photography store in the country, Foto Skoda. I got some film and then explored this immense store. I think we both could have stayed there all afternoon - it pays to travel with a fellow photographer. Come to think of it, the pension where we stayed had lots of beautiful photography on the walls. There was even a cyanotype in our room, a technique that Carol taught me!
By the time we left the store, we were getting very tired. The crowd was getting crazy so we found a teahouse just off the square I’d always wanted to visit. It’s called Dobra Cajovna (means “Good Teahouse”). Stepping into it was like stepping into another dimension, the 1960’s maybe. It was quiet and peaceful, with calming music and a pleasant aroma about it. The furniture was loungy and it was filled almost to capacity. We found a table for two and I went to the counter to get the menu and a small brass bell. After we perused the extensive menu and settled on something called Yogi tea, we rang the bell and a waiter appeared to take our order.
The tea was delicious and we had fun surreptitiously observing the other people. There were teenagers, hippie types, 20-somethings, business people, but not many tourists. We reminisced about the good old days when we had time to lounge around a teahouse all day with our boyfriends. Not that we ever actually did that, but we had the time.
After our tea interlude, we continued up the square to the equestrian statue of St. Wenceslas. There was a group demonstrating at its base, a popular site for demonstrations. The sign they held said something-something-Kosovo, and the placards had grisly pictures of the atrocities there. Carol, being an activist, was excited to be that close to a “real” demonstration. I remembered my first Prague demonstration on that very site back in 2005 and how scary it seemed to me in this “former Communist country”.
We made our way up to the steps of the National Museum and shot some pictures of the square from that vantage point. The exhibit there didn’t seem very interesting so we didn’t go in; besides, we were tired, it was raining again, and it was getting late. So we dropped downstairs to the subway and went back to our room. I know we were both extremely glad to have JiřÒs place to relax in after a cold, rainy day in Prague.
Next day we had much better weather but we had another one of Carol’s “wild rides”. So I guess we were on the wild ride tour of Prague!
After another wonderful breakfast in the dining room of the pension, we asked Jiřà for directions to the castle, which was our prime target that day. He said he noticed some tram track construction the day before along the tram line that takes you to the castle, but he wasn’t sure if it was affecting getting there at the moment. It is SUCH a good thing he mentioned that! Here’s what happened:
We walked down to the river again and caught the tram to the National Theater. We changed to the one that Jiřà recommended and it crossed the river and headed up the hill in the direction of the castle. So far so good. Just when I was smiling to myself that we would make it there in no time, I noticed we were crossing back across the river and arriving at the National Theater again! So Carol and I debarked and caught the other tram that Jiřà had said to take if the primary one wasn’t running to the castle.
In between, we noticed a sign tucked into an alleyway explaining about the construction, but it was in Czech! I’m continually surprised that Prague, being the international tourist destination that it is, doesn’t have very much signage in multiple languages, especially in case of detours. Good thing it isn’t a very big city and good thing I know my way around.
The second tram eventually got us to the castle grounds. Wild ride over (we thought). It wasn’t raining that day, but man it was cold up there on the castle hill! Because of the delay the crowds had built up and we were among hoards standing in line for tickets. We got through it, or I should say Carol got through it. I was standing in another line for the ladies’ room while she stood in line for tickets. An advantage of traveling with someone else - something I’m not used to.
We got inside and decided to skip the St. Vitus Cathedral tour at first because there was yet another line to get into there. We walked around the immense grounds, saw some changing of the guards, an excellent multi-room exhibit on the history of the castle, including archaeology, and then discovered that the royal apartments were closed for the month! It was the spot I most wanted to see due to a quirk in Czech history.
It has not been uncommon in the history of Prague (four or five times at least since the Middle Ages) for leaders who have enraged the populace because of unfairness, corruption, etc., to be thrown out of windows. One of my favorite words in the English language is used to describe this: defenestration. If you know that French for window = fenêtre or that German for window = Fenster, you can see where the word comes from. I just think it’s funny.
So the reason I wanted to see the royal apartments is because the room where the most famous defenestration of Prague occurred in 1618. As an aside, I want to say that the seven people thrown out of the window on this occasion survived because they landed in a huge pile of horse manure. You just can’t make this stuff up!
I was grumbling a little about that, especially because there were NO SIGNS that the apartments were closed at that time, so we decided to get in out of the cold, cold wind and have some lunch. We had some marvelous soup in a restaurant that used to be the home of the royal something-or-other. Since my throat was continuing to get worse, the soup was very well appreciated!
After lunch, we noticed the absence of a line at the cathedral, so we decided to go in. Apparently as a concession to the tourists who couldn’t see the royal apartments, they had waived the entry fee to the cathedral, which is why there was no line. It almost made up for the closed apartments - almost. But, again, there were no signs about any of this. Wild ride, indeed.
St. Vitus’ is fantastically beautiful! One of the highlights of the cathedral is the Wenceslas chapel, which contains the tomb of St. Wenceslas (you know, that “good king Wenceslas” in the Christmas carol). He founded the church there in 925. The present Gothic cathedral, which dates from the 1300’s, is enormous. Check out http://sacred-destinations.com/czech-republic/prague-st-vitus-cathedral.htm for some great pictures and interesting history of it. Since it’s enclosed within the castle walls with plenty of courtyard to spare, you can get an idea of how huge the castle complex is.
After the cathedral, we walked the rest of the grounds and left via the so-called Golden Lane, which is a small street with very small houses where goldsmiths used to live and work. Franz Kafka, the famous author, lived in one of these houses (No. 22, which actually belonged to his sister) long enough to write one of his books there in 1916-17. We stood in this teeny little house, which is now a souvenir shop.
We returned to our room, with a modicum of wild ride, or maybe we were just getting used to it. I was, however, feeling worse and worse, not helped by the fact that I think I was detracting from Carol’s experience. I continued to gargle and eat raw garlic, but it only staved off the cold for so long.
Anyway, we rested that evening and, for our last night in Prague, watched curling on TV, discussing how those sexy curlers must brag in the pub to the girls about their athletic prowess! They can really push those brooms! And that manly stance of the guy who slides the stone!
Next time: Vienna!
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