Castle in the Sky: Prague, part 2
Morning at the Hostel ELF is much quieter than the
nighttime. While the crowd is lively and people are in the halls late into the
night, all the showers are open and the breakfast tables are mostly empty
around 8 or 8:30 am. This made it easy for us to get a decent start without
getting up at the crack of dawn.
Today’s target: Prague Castle. Since it lies on the other
side of the river, we get the distinct privilege of walking through the Old
Town again. Yesterday’s golden sun was hiding behind grey clouds, and as we
crossed the river, the sky started to spit a little rain. I’d actually gotten a
bit of heat rash on my legs the day before, so the reprieve from the sun was
okay with me.
The complex was first begun in the late 800s, and much of
the Castle was built in medieval times, and some of the structures display the remaining
walls and foundations from that time. In addition to the castle itself, which
honestly isn’t much to see inside when compared to other great castles, the
grounds include St. Vitus’ Cathedral, a gorgeous gothic cathedral. It’s not in
use at all as a place of worship, so it’s more museum than anything. The walls
are decorated with coats of arms of the, presumably, rich and powerful people
of the time, which always strikes me as an odd thing to find in a church!
St. George’s Basilica maintains a very medieval feel. The
complex also includes the Powder Tower, which displays historic military
uniforms, and then there is the Golden Lane. We could easily have missed this,
but it turned out to be our favorite part of the complex.
The Golden Lane has a long history; it’s a little lane of
tiny homes and shops. Some of them are currently used as shops, while other are
set up in ways they would have been used in the past. One was briefly the home
of Franz Kafka—it was a popular place to be in his time. Another was the home
of a famous fortune teller, who according to legend was killed by the Nazis
because she predicted an early death for Hitler. The top floor holds a long,
narrow armor exhibit which was pretty cool. The communist regime required
residents to leave the Golden Lane homes when they took power.
The Prague Castle became the headquarters for the Communist Czech
government. In 1990, after the fall of communism, the castle was reopened to
the public.
We stayed long enough to eat lunch at the café. We both
ordered “sliced potatoes baked with cheese,” which turned out to be a bit like quiche
with an enormous amount of potato, and each piece was the size and shape of a
brick. That might not sound good to you, but we both like potatoes and it
worked for us.
Most of the time at the castle it was kind of drippy and
rainy, but not full-on rain. We kept walking, headed to the John Lennon wall.
On the way we saw some public art near a museum, including three massive bronze
sculptures of crawling babies, and instead of facial features they had a
barcode on each face. This was worse than the puppets for Lora. Mostly less
disturbing and more entertaining were the fountain sculptures, by the same
sculptor David Cerny, of two men peeing. Their, uh, delivery systems moved around
as they peed and attracted a lot of attention. It turns out that you can text a
message to the number next to the sculpture, and they will spell it out in “pee”.
As we walked around, I was watching for a souvenir. We’d
been noticing that lots of stores carried items with a mole cartoon character.
Thanks to the glory of Google, we now know that this is Krtek, usually known as
The Little Mole. There had been a short movie featuring him in the 50s and animator
Zdenĕk
Miler, who brought him back in a TV show that ran off and on from the 50s until
2002, wanted to have something Disney-esque for Czech kids, because Disney was
contraband. According to what I read, it was not unusual for children on the
street to be shown a picture of Mickey Mouse. If the child knew who it was,
then the child’s parents would be brought in for interrogation. So The Little
Mole has some deeper symbolism. I’d still like to find some of the cartoon,
because apparently you don’t need to know Czech to enjoy it.
On the way back to the old town we stopped by the Dancing House,
which is actually 2 whimsical buildings designed by architect Vlado Milunić.
The two buildings have some curves that suggest movement, and from the front it
really looks like one is holding the other for a dance. The buildings are
nicknamed Fred and Ginger in honor of those famous dancers.
The rain got a bit heavier and we took refuge in a
restaurant that served Lora goulash and me something I can’t remember, and it
was excellent. Both involved dumplings made of bread smashed together, so we
have not been short on carbs. Several women who did not speak Czech or much
English sat down next to us, looked at our food, and asked us to point to what
we ordered on the menu. As we left they were happily enjoying the exact same
dinners.
Time to walk back to the hostel, probably a mile and a half
or so, and it began raining in earnest. We stopped in a supermarket to get
water, and we each picked out a bottle of Czech hard cider—mine was spiced
apple and Lora’s was apple rosé. Pretty hardcore. I swiped a produce
bag to tie around my woven purse, which I couldn’t quite cover with my
raincoat. By the time we left the store the rain had slowed up a tiny bit.
We definitely looked bedraggled when we reached the top of
the hostel stairs, where happy hour was in full swing. Someone looked up and
then said “Ah, Americans don’t drink.” After that walk home I was tempted to
prove them wrong, but it didn’t seem like a bottle of spiced apple cider was
going to convince anyone. Instead we went to our room to peel off wet socks, shoes
and jackets.
Castles, Kafka, communists, Lennon, peeing men, drunk
British boys, barcoded babies, Mickey Mouse and moles are strange bedfellows. It’s
a world of hopes but also a world of fears. I can’t help but think, you know,
there’s so much that we share. It’s probably time we’re aware it’s a small
world after all.
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