4 Days in Prague

Prague, Prag, Praha, Prana: so many different ways to spell this city’s name.  We arrived several days ago, and took a walk along the river to see the castle and the Charles Bridge.

 After trying Czech cuisine, I now know why there are no Czech restaurants around the world.  There are only 4 dishes to be sampled: roasted duck, roasted pig knee, roasted pork with sauerkraut, and sausages. Sorry, make that 5 dishes: we saw sheep’s knee yesterday.  For some reason, they only like animals’ joints.  We tried 2 of them, the pig knee and the pork with sauerkraut – hmm.

I think I know why the city has become such a tourist attraction.  Almost every building in the inner part of the city is original or restored that way.  There are almost no modern buildings.  It’s like Venice without the water.  Preserved, maintained and promoted for people to know what Europe was like before the wars destroyed it. But with a shabby chic and an air of mystery

It’s part Bohemian fairy tale, complete with gas lamps and bearded witches and tales of the Golem in the Jewish Ghetto, and stag party destination for young Brits seeking cheap beer and other treats.  We’re just a step away from Eastern Europe and slick guys who smoke all the time and drive fast cars.  But the city is full of ancient wonders that have been restored with western money.  The beggars here lie prostrate on the street with their hats extended towards you like penitent pilgrims, while the tourists flock around the Charles Bridge and Old Town Square day and night, soaking in the atmosphere.

Connan in the castle gardens above Prague

 We’re just beginning our fourth and final day.  So far, we’ve done the following: visited the castle and its gardens, walked along the river, witnessed the famous astrological clock chime, taken a boat ride, saw the dancing house, eaten ice cream, seen lame glow-in-the-dark theatre, done the ghost tour, lost our camera, found our camera, and sampled various Czech beers.

 

Amongst the unusual things here, there is a wall dedicated to the memory of John Lennon.  We posed for pictures and added a bit of our own graffiti – Declan being The Beatles newest fan (sorry, Unc).  Nearby, there is a small bridge where people place locks to signify their love.  They lock it up and throw the key into the canal.  Just when we thought it was romantic, a tour guide came by and said that they cut them off every two years to make room for more.  So it turns out that you’re only guaranteed true love for 24 months or so.

The Lock Bridge

Blake went to the National Theatre to see a production of Gogol’s THE GOVERNMENT INSPECTOR, one of the plays he performed on Broadway twenty years ago.

Today, we’re going to visit a monastery and a hall of mirrors in the castle, followed by a fountain/lights/music show tonight.  But first, we’re shedding clothes from our luggage.  Our one-bag-per-person plan works, but each bag has become laden with heavy books, souvenirs, and cold weather gear that we can do without.  It’s painful to give it away, but we’re gonna bite the bullet and discard.