Praha

October 22isch
Prague. What do I write about Prague? It seems so long since I was there. At least three weeks ago I guess. I’m so behind in my writing. What do I remember? I think the unfortunate thing about Prague, if there has to be something unfortunate, is that my mind had already jumped to home and looking forward to seeing family and friends here and so I’m not sure I was able to fully appreciate the beauty of Prague. It was very beautiful, to be sure. The red roof tops, the romantic old buildings, the churches, palace grounds…a bit fairytale like. My favourite day was the last day when I walked away from the busy touristy areas and headed into a nice section of town. I was looking for a drugstore and stumbled upon some nice things. I enjoyed that the people in the streets were Czech and not tourists. I could actually hear the language spoken.
The weather was so beautiful and I enjoyed the little medieval fest I came upon in a church side yard. I had a Czech pastry there that was very yummy, similar to Beavertails or Hefeteig but it was rolled into thin strips and wrapped around a fat metal rod which was then held over a hot element baking it. It was then rolled in cinnamon sugar, removed from the rod and eaten. After getting what I needed at the drugstore I then hiked up the hill that seems to be the highest point in the city. There’s a big park area with a mini Eiffel tower at the top. The Czech seem to come here on a beautiful Sunday afternoon to get away from the tourist crowds. The day was very peaceful and I sat in the rose garden at the top and read my book for a good chunk of the afternoon. I had a duck, dumplings and sauerkraut dinner at a little restaurant on the way back into my area of the city.

I stayed in a lovely little hotel that had a music theme. Rooms were each named after composers and musicians depending on which floor and genre you were in. I was in the Tchaikovsky room. The food was amazing. The breakfasts were lovely and one evening I had dinner in their restaurant. The potato soup was excellent. I felt very comfortable there.

The day before, I joined a walking tour of the city. It was about a 5 hour walk through a good chunk of the town. The guide was this funny, sarcastic Czech young woman who was very enthusiastic and told many stories. It was from her that we found out that St Wenceslas whose day they’d just celebrated the day before never actually was King as the carol suggests. His brother had murdered him before he got to be king. The group participating in this walking tour was quite the motley crew. There were a few older couples from Australia, then some couples on honeymoons, there was an American LA Hollywood red carpet bouncer guy, and a very young punk rocker couple from England, and 3 big African men clad in traditional wear. It was really quite hilarious. It was good to get a bit of history about some of the places I’d already walked through and some new ones.


The Charles bridge has similarities to the bridge in Paris (whose name escapes me, I can’t believe it) where all the artists hang out. Many artists and craftspeople were selling their product and buskers were playing. On one end a young woman was playing folk guitar. Further down a group of young musicians was playing 20’s jazz music and at the far end a woman was horrifically singing opera. As I got closer I realized she was also blind. I stood and listened for a little bit and noticed that she was the one earning the most money in her jar. Beggars kneel prostrate on the cobblestones in the hopes someone will throw something into their jar. That’s got to be painful, even more painful then having to beg in the first place.