Prague: Day 3

Like many other large and picturesque cities, Prague offers horse-drawn carriage tours; for those who want to move at a more modern pace, you can also indulge in an antique car tour. Or, if you are hard-core and want to earn that indulgent meal for which you've made reservations at the end of the day, you can walk. I bet you can guess which of these three options my parents and I chose for their second, and my third, day in Prague.

 (Nope, not this one. I just took a photo because I liked the horses' ear-warmers, or whatever those are.)

Yes, that's right, even after the previous evening's seemingly endless trek in search of the elusive Cubist lamppost, we hadn't yet reached our fill of walking. The best part about hoofing it on this particular day was that we were planning to see the castle, cathedral, and monastery--all of which were at the top of a giant hill up which I had already huffed and puffed on my first day touring the city. I was pretty excited for Round 2

In all seriousness, though, the hill wasn't too bad. First, the weather had changed dramatically overnight, and autumn had fully arrived. Even in direct sunlight, it was much cooler than on the previous couple of days. Second, the Old Castle Steps are pretty broad, and the slope is surprisingly mellow; you are definitely walking up a hill, but you're also definitely not climbing up a mountain. Third, the walk offers plenty of lovely sights and sounds to distract you, from buskers playing accordions and guitars along the route, to impressive views of the city from a variety of vantage points.

(We passed this statue in a small garden on our way to the Steps.)

(This is your reward for reaching the top of the staircase. Spires!)

(One of the guards outside the entrance to the Prague Castle grounds. I saw him yawn at least four times in the few minutes that we were standing nearby.)


This is the same part of the city where I had spent my first day in Prague, only I had admired the views from outside rather than purchase tickets to go in anywhere. My parents and I splurged on the admission fee so that we could see the most exciting destinations on the hilltop: Golden Lane, the Prague Castle courtyards, St. Vitus Cathedral, the Old Royal Palace, and the Basilica of St. George. You can do this in any order, but because of where we happened to purchase our tickets and enter, we started off with the Golden Lane--which the Lonely Planet guide disparagingly describes as a tourist trap.

That is probably not inaccurate, given that all the little buildings contain shops. However, this is one of the few sections of the castle grounds where you really get a sense of what it would have been like to live inside the castle back when it was relatively new. The cottages along the Lane were built in the 16th century for sharpshooters in the castle guard, but were later used by smiths. Even with all the tourists in the way, it is not hard to visualize what this area would have been like several hundred years ago; it's like what you've seen in movies, only real.

Also real, unfortunately, were the devices, holding cells, and dungeons used for prisoners. Pretty much the only good thing you could say about the prison facilities was that, subterranean and thick-walled as they were, they were probably less drafty than the rest of the castle.

From the dungeons, we moved on to St. Vitus Cathedral, which, thankfully, was no longer surrounded by a huge group of people waiting to get in--which is one reason why it's a good idea to go sightseeing early on a chilly, Monday morning in October. The exterior of the cathedral is decorated with lots of fantastic gargoyles, but unfortunately my photography skills were lacking, and none of my close-up portraits turned out very well; you'll just have to take my word for it: They were neat.

"Neat" would be an understatement for describing the rest of the cathedral. Like most cathedrals, it was full of all sorts of stuff to compete for your attention--stained glass, gilt, carvings, reliefs, huge altars, tombs, and so on. With all that going on, you'd think it might be hard to concentrate on God, but that is clearly not what Christian interior decorators thought when they decked out all these European churches. One of the notable features of the cathedral was a large stained glass window by Alfons Mucha, who also played an important role in our itinerary later in the day.

Also impressive was the over-the-top baroque tomb of St. John of Nepomuk (him again!). While the tomb was a bit too ornate for my tastes, I couldn't help but admire the level of detail of all its bits and pieces. In the photo above, for example, you really get a sense of the texture of the footwear, and the feet even have toenails and dimples--pretty realistic for a metal sculpture.

I also liked all the faux wooden branches (actually chiseled out of stone) on, under, and around the late-Gothic Royal Oratory on the south side of the cathedral.

Back outside, we wandered around the Cathedral and saw many features that I had missed during my previous visit. These included some ornate gilt windows, mosaics of Adam and Eve, and metal sculptures showing the signs of the zodiac and vignettes of people doing associated, seasonally-appropriate activities:

(Gilt windows)

(Adam and Eve, about to do something very naughty)

(The Aries section of the zodiac panel, with peasants doing something to a young tree--pruning? coppicing? grafting?)

The south side of the cathedral also had a great sculpture of St. George slaying the dragon, but unfortunately the lighting wasn't doing the statue any favors; the day was very overcast and I couldn't find any angles that showed the definition of either George's or the dragon's face. That's another thing you'll just have to imagine for yourselves.

We made our way to the eastern side of the courtyard, and the entrance to the Old Palace. I have previously been to a number of palaces and castles, and generally I am pretty unimpressed because I don't like opulence (palaces) or military stuff (castles). The Old Palace was interesting because it had the feel of a building that was half palace and half castle, and was clearly very grand without being too extravagant. It is, indeed, quite old--bits of it dating to 1135--and I think that's why I liked it; the main hall (Vladislav) had quite an organic, Nordic kind of feel.

No palace would be complete without being associated with some sort of excess, and in this case the hallway was once used for indoor jousting tournaments; the east end of the room contains a massive door through which riders could enter while already seated on their horses. Ridiculous.

Most of the rooms had one of these, which I at first interpreted as either a decoration (a really, really big urn of some sort) or some sort of ceramic storage unit. Thankfully, before I could open my mouth and make a fool of myself, my mother commented on the impressive ovens (for heating the rooms, not for baking), and in so doing, she both educated me and saved my pride.

The southwestern portion of the palace contains the office from which Protestant rebels threw two of the Habsburg emperor's advisers in 1618 (an event known as the Second Defenestration of Prague; yes, other people had already been thrown out the windows before--it's a Czech thing). Luckily for them--or, perhaps, unluckily, depending on how squeamish they were--they were spared from death because the moat in which they landed was so full of, um, sewage.

Upstairs is the New Land Rolls Room, where the clerks' coats of arms cover the walls and ceiling. The offices up here are linked, via a small passageway, to the Diet, or Assembly Hall, on the first floor; back when the palace was still in use, this allowed people to run and grab literature from the library whenever they wanted to check facts during discussions and debates.

Just outside the Old Palace exit is the Basilica of St. George, which was our next destination. The church was originally founded in the early 11th century, and is considered to be the best-preserved Romanesque church in the country. Its exterior and interior have very little in common, since the outer portion is early baroque (i.e. fancy and ~17th-century), while the interior is still Romanesque (i.e. austere and featuring frescoes dating to the 12th century).

Although you could not enter the basilica's crypt, you could peer in through the bars of a grate. I found a familiar face down there:

(Mr. Skeleton--again!)

Our Castle tickets having been well and truly utilized, we exited through the first courtyard just in time to see yet another changing of the guard (my third of the trip) and then made our way past all the lovely sgraffito of Hradcany Square to the Strahov Monastery. Although it was right in the middle of the day, we had no trouble getting ourselves a seat at the St. Norbert restaurant, which my mother had selected because she thought my father might want to try some of their renowned brews. In fact, she even went so far as to (unusually) try her own wee stein of beer:

Since we had reservations for dinner in one of the nicest restaurants in town, none of us wanted to get too full at lunch. So, we mostly just nibbled on appetizer-type food, such as my cheese platter, below:

On all the menus in town, I noticed that walnuts came standard with cheese platters. I found this a bit unusual, since normally I associate cheese with fruit rather than nuts. This platter also contained a strange-looking type of pickle, which I nudged off to the side of the plate. My mother, however, bravely tried it out, and soon pronounced that it tasted the way a horse smells. I'm thinking I dodged a bullet there.


After lunch, my parents walked across the courtyard to see the library and the miniature museum, both of which I had already visited during my first day in town. I had a cup of tea while I waited, and I had barely finished drinking it before they were back again--both of those attractions are definitely worth the entrance fee, but it doesn't take long to go through them.

By that point in the day, we'd pretty much finished with the major points of interest (for us, anyway) on the west side of the river, and so we made our way back down in the hill in order to head back over Charles Bridge and consider our options for the rest of the afternoon. Along the way, we made a few quick stops in order to check off some other things from our tourism to-do list:

(Take a photo of human face-shaped parking meters: Check.)

(Visit the John Lennon wall and photograph Dad in front of "Fred" graffiti: Check.)

(Visit a spot where hundreds of lovers have shown their commitment by putting locks on the bridge and then throwing away the key: Check. Finally have someone explain to me why there are so many random locks in Prague: Check.)

(See the Infant Jesus of Prague statue in the Our Lady of Victory church: Check. One thing I can't check off my list, though, is understanding how on earth any adult could consider, with a straight face, the prospect of collecting intricate outfits for a statue, and changing said statue's clothes as part of a religious ritual. It's like those strange stone geese in the American Midwest, only weirder--because people take it so seriously.)

After navigating Charles Bridge once again, our trio split up: My father went back to the hotel for some more recuperative sleep, and my mother and I went to the Alfons Mucha Museum near Wenceslas Square. Until my mother expressed a desire to visit the museum, I had no idea who Mucha was; however, I recognized his artwork immediately. If I told you to picture Art Nouveau in your mind, chances are pretty good that you'd visualize something by Mucha. He was incredibly prolific and, because many of his pieces were used in advertising, his artwork is also incredibly familiar to many of us. I couldn't take any photographs in the gallery, but here's a taste courtesy of Wikimedia:

 

Even though I'd never heard of Mucha prior to that morning, visiting his museum turned out to be my favorite activity of the day. Walking back out into the cold after a cozy hour inside the museum, however, was not very pleasant. In fact, it was so unpleasant that we decided to call a taxi to drive us to our dinner reservation that evening at V Zatisi. The restaurant wasn't actually that far away--one of the reasons I'd selected it was that it was both good and fairly close to our lodgings--but, given that my mother and I were wearing fancy shoes and that the temperatures had plummeted, it was a bit too far to walk. 

It turned out that the "taxi" ordered by the front desk was actually more of a "hired car," and was about as close as I've ever been to riding in a limousine. The journey was...interesting, and took at least twice as long as it should have. That's because Prague is a city full of one-way streets, and so you often have to go waaaay out of your way in order double back on a cross street and get yourself pointed in the right direction. On top of this, there was construction everywhere, and our driver kept wanting to go down roads that were blocked off for resurfacing. Eventually, after much detouring and many sickening turns, we found ourselves at our destination.

(V Zatisi, as seen on the previous evening. If you look closely, you'll notice a bunch of grapes hanging over the doorway--that's because the restaurant is known for its wines.)

I won't bore you with an endless description of our food, but suffice it to say that it was excellent. Unfortunately, my stomach was acting up a bit that day, plus my appetizer (a duo of goat cheese) was unexpectedly weighty, and so I could only pick at my main course. That was a real shame because it was delicious--crispy duck, two types of cabbage, and Czech "dumplings" (akin to American stuffing). Luckily, my dad pitched in and helped me clean up my plate a bit, so hopefully I didn't leave the staff thinking their food was sub-par. Speaking of the staff, we were surprised to have very attentive service, unlike in the other restaurants where we'd eaten up to that point.



Fortified by our repast, we decided to brave the cold and walk back to our hotel rather than calling for a taxi. It was not easy--cobbled streets are difficult to navigate in dress shoes!--but it was a very pretty walk. Our path took us back through the Old Town Square, where we could see the churches and other historical buildings glowing against the dark night sky. It was impressive.

 (This is one of the reasons I love Europe so much.)

Luckily, there were plenty of rambunctious revelers on hand to keep us from becoming too serious and contemplative in the face of all that architectural drama. We made our way through the still-busy streets and treated ourselves to a nightcap in the hotel bar before finally heading upstairs for some much-deserved sleep.

Prague: Day 2 (The Wild Goose Chase)

I am not a very decadent person, but I do have quite a weakness for massages. When I found out that the Hotel Central has a spa, I wasted no time in booking myself a 90-minute full-body massage for the morning of my second day in Prague. I was so eager to begin that I even showed up before the masseuse did. The hotel's exercise and spa facilities were tucked away on the bottom floor, and what they lacked in size, they made up for in pleasantness. I especially approved of the massage room's 3D wallpaper, which prominently featured birds:

Some time towards the end of the massage, my parents arrived at the hotel and settled in to their room. After the masseuse had finished working her magic on my muscles, I went upstairs to rinse off all the massage oil and meet up with my family. Nobody had eaten lunch yet, so we headed out to find a suitable restaurant. Along the way, we passed the Powder Gate in all its glory, and my parents were treated to their first taste of the moody stone structures that are so prevalent in Prague.

We ate in a restaurant in Republic Square, where, for the first time, we all got a sense of Czech (or, perhaps, eastern European?) customer service. It was very hard to get anyone's attention for much of anything--ordering, asking for refills, asking for cutlery or condiments, requesting the bill. My poor mother had to eat a beet root salad that had no beet roots, all because she was unable to get the waitress to come back over so she could explain what had gone wrong with her order. While we were in the Square, we also checked out the restaurant that I had booked for that evening's dinner--the Kolkovna Celnici, one branch of a local chain that came highly recommended by multiple different "best-of-Prague" lists.

After our meal, we wandered over to the Old Town Square. The goal was to spend the afternoon seeing the sights nearest our hotel, so that we could spend the next day wandering around on the opposite side of the river.

One of the main features of the square is the statue of Jan Hus, a 14th-century church reformer who was burned at the stake for being a heretic. The anniversary of Hus' death, on 6 July, is celebrated as a national holiday in the Czech Republic.

Also in/on the square is the Church of Saint Nicholas, which provides only very limited access to visitors during the daytime. If you are interested in seeing more of the church, I guess it's wiser to go back in the evenings, during one of their frequent organ concerts. To be honest, though, I found the outside of the building more attractive than the inside, though there was a very cool decoration on the door:

Next, thanks to some fortuitous timing, we were able to walk over and watch the Astronomical Clock display that kicks off every hour on the hour. Unfortunately, we were slightly off-center, so although we were able to see the movement of the skeleton as he rang his bell, we were not able to see the 12 apostles as they paraded in front of the open windows. We decided that we'd need to visit again later in order to see the entire show. While we were there, we admired the sgraffito on the Minute House, and I captured the cheerful colors of this lovely facade just around the corner:

Just north of the Old Town Square is Josefov, the Jewish district. We decided to head up there and check out the old cemetery and the many synagogues. Along the way, we passed these wonderful balconies, which were just some of the many structures in the city being supported by long-suffering, chiseled stone men:

(If this is what it takes to get abs of steel, I'll just live with what I've got)

Unfortunately, we discovered that the cemetery/synagogue tickets were quite expensive, and also that the grounds were very busy that afternoon. So, we decided to put that attraction off until the next day, and instead go stroll across the Charles Bridge; by that point in the afternoon it was late enough that we thought we could avoid the horrendous crowds that tend to gather there during the peak of tourist activity.

On our way to the bridge, we passed by this doorway, which I never would have noticed if I hadn't been with my parents. However, having recently gone on many guided tours in cities along the Danube, they were replete with cultural awareness and so recognized this bit of "graffiti" for what it really was: a blessing written in celebration of Epiphany. Although some people think that the three letters (K, M, and B) stand for the first names of the three wise men, that is apparently just a coincidence; instead, they are a modern derivative of "Christus Benedicat Mansion" ("May Christ bless this house").

From the bridge, we had an excellent view of some of Prague's many spires; the most dominant in the image above are those of the Saint Vitus Cathedral. Our walk across the bridge was quite leisurely, since we read about each of the bridge's 30 statues as we walked. My favorite was the statue of Saint John of Nepomuk, whose church I had walked past the evening before.

I obviously have very good taste in statues, because St. John is an important guy--he is the patron saint of Czechs. He was tossed off the bridge by Wenceslas IV, and reportedly "the stars in his halo allegedly followed his corpse" as it floated down the river. The gold halo--and matching quill--are the main reasons I like this statue, though I also think the weathering is very striking. 

The base of the statue contains several bronze panels, each of which possesses a patch that has little or no oxidation. We were puzzled by this until we read that there is a legend that says you will return to Prague one day if you rub one of these panels; the polished areas were places where hundreds of tourists had touched the plaques each day over the course of many years. We all partook in this tradition, as demonstrated in the photo above. After reaching the far side of the bridge, we turned and retraced our footsteps, leaving our exploration of the west side of the Vltava for the following day.

Back on the eastern side of the river, we located our restaurant for the following evening, V Zatisi. This was not too difficult, though it did take us down several windy backstreets. There were many lovely serendipitous finds along the way, including this incredible bit of vegetation:

Next, someone (okay, maybe it was me) thought it would be a good idea to try to find the Cubist lamppost mentioned--in, I might add, an incredibly vague way--in the Lonely Planet guide book. My parents both agreed to this readily enough, which is crazy--especially since their plan was to follow me as I led the way there. Nobody should ever follow me anywhere, since my idea of navigation is going with my gut and adhering to Douglas Adams' advice to tail other people who look like they know where they're going.

After managing to accurately locate a couple of shortcuts to get us to a main road, I then directed us in exactly the opposite direction from where we needed to be; we soon found ourselves back at the riverbank, staring at the hideous monstrosity of the Nova Scena, the modern extension of the National Theater:

(This modern monstrosity is what they decided they should build next to the beautiful, elegant, historical National Theater?)

We then followed a series of dead-end leads attempting to locate what was not only theoretically the only Cubist lamppost in the world, but definitely the hardest-to-locate lamppost in the world. The problem was not so much our navigational skills, but rather the detail (or, more accurately, lack thereof) on our map. We walked down so many streets, and around so many blocks. Eventually, and totally by accident, we found ourselves in Wenceslas Square, which happens to be very beautiful in the latter hours of the day.

 (The yellow building on the left is the famous Grand Hotel Europa, which I visited on my last day in Prague; the building at the end of the square is the National Museum, in front of which is a statue of King/Saint Wenceslas himself.)

Throughout our visit, Wenceslas Square was full of vendors who were selling traditional Czech food; they were all part of a special food heritage celebration that happened to coincide with our trip. The entire square smelled incredible, thanks to things like pastries, sausages (and more sausages, and even more sausages...), fried potatoes, roasted nuts, and various other things I couldn't quite identify. 

By this point in time we were beginning to despair, and I was feeling guilty for making my poor parents walk halfway across Prague for something that probably wasn't even going to be that exciting. Then, miraculously, we exited an arcade and found ourselves at the lamppost, completely by accident--which, I guess, proves that old saying about only finding things once you stop actively seeking them.

(Don't ask why the lighting is so different here; I can't explain it. Perhaps the lamppost was illuminated by the halos of otherwise invisible angels that led us there in order to end our long and painful trek through the city.)

So, there it was, the only Cubist lamppost in the world, in front of which my mother melodramatically collapsed in faux exhaustion. We weren't really sure what, exactly, would make a lamppost Cubist, but once we saw it, it seemed pretty obvious--all those angles and facets and lines. It is kind of interesting, and I'm glad that I can say I saw it, though I'm not 100% convinced that I wouldn't choose to do something else if I could have a do-over (though, to be honest, I probably would seek it out all over again--I find strange enjoyment in doing totally random things like questing for lampposts).

Thankfully, our hotel was pretty near by, so we did not have far to drag ourselves back home so we could rest up a bit before dinner. Unfortunately, my father was still recuperating from a cold that had plagued him during his entire vacation, so he stayed home in bed while my mother and I went out for a ladies' night--one that lasted not only through dinner but also the rest of the evening, since my mom stayed in my room in order to escape my dad's snoring. She definitely needed to get some good rest, because our next day of sightseeing would be even more action-packed than the first.

Prague: Day 1

Apparently, Prague is known as the "City of a Thousand Spires." The logic of this name became clear to me during the taxi ride from the airport to my hotel, when a massive spire suddenly loomed to my right out of the rain and fog hanging over the city. I couldn't see much, but what little there was was impressive. Given that I'd already been hit on in the airport (admittedly, by a bunch of drunk Brits on a stag do, but whatever), Prague was looking pretty good.

My hotel, the K+K Hotel Central, was also looking pretty good. It's the kind of place I would never book for myself, but am quite happy to stay in when directed that way by a travel agent. From its stained glass windows to its frescoes to its elaborate metal filigree stair railings and elevator shaft, it is quite the shining example of Art Deco style (of which, incidentally, there is no shortage in this city). Also, it has a spa where you can get 90-minute massages for less than $100. What is not to love?

For my first day of sightseeing, I decided to follow the Lonely Planet's walking tour itinerary for the Hradcany district (apologies for the lack of appropriate diacritical marks throughout). Hradcany is the area to the north and west of Prague castle, which, in turn, is situated to the west of where the Vltava River makes a major bend southwards. The district is primarily residential, though it also contains a number of landmarks and other interesting things for tourists to see and do.

To get there, I would first have to walk through one of the biggest tourist areas in the city--the Old Town Square and its environs. Since I anticipated visiting those on another day, I tried to walk through quickly. However, it is difficult to navigate the press of tourists that seems to populate the square at any given time; people are forever stopping to take pictures or window shop or watch a busker, and nobody seems to realize that other people around them might actually want to get somewhere prior to sundown. It is immensely frustrating. 

Once you find yourself hemmed in and crawling along, it is hard to avoid looking at all the interesting things around you. The reason that so many people stop to take pictures is that there is a seemingly endless supply of things to photograph in Prague: gargoyles, frescoes, reliefs, spires, plaques--and those are just the "normal" buildings, not the landmarks.

By chance, I found myself in front of the Astronomical Clock with a bit of space around me, so I had to stop and take a photograph while I could. Right next to the clock is something potentially even more impressive:

This is the "U minuti" house, a Renaissance building with pretty incredible sgraffito decorations. The property, which dates back to the Renaissance, was once home to everyone's favorite Czech writer--Franz Kafka. In case you are architecturally uninitiated (as was I until 24 hours before I saw this building), I should mention that sgraffito is achieved by layering different colors of plaster. I read the word for the first time in my Prague guidebook while on the plane to Prague, after which I promptly forgot about it and didn't even know what I was looking at when I took this photo; it wasn't until I got home and did some research that I found all this out. That, my friends, is the beauty of traveling: It forces you to learn new things.

By accident, I eventually found myself at the entrance to the Charles Bridge, which I did not want to cross at the busiest time of day. It gets incredibly packed with tourists and, therefore, pickpockets and other scammers. I was happy to cross the bridge early in the morning or later in the evening, but not during the biggest crush of pedestrians. Instead, I walked up to the more northern Manes Bridge, and crossed the Vltava there. This was not only a more direct method of getting to my destination, but also a wonderful way to view the Charles Bridge from a totally different perspective; so many people want to see the iconic bridge from the structure itself, but you get a much better sense of totality and context when you see it from the next bridge over.

From there, I made my way up the hill towards the castle; part of this journey involved walking up a seemingly endless flight of steps (the Old Castle Steps) right in the midday sun. The reward at the end is a rather stunning view of the city:

By this point I'd deviated a bit from my original navigational plan and had begun making silly choices in order to get myself to where I eventually needed to be (a statement that may, in fact, be an accurate description of my life in general). The benefit of meandering a bit is that you wind up finding little treasures along the way:

There are little fountains like this all over the city. I can imagine why/how/when they came into being, but I'm guessing there is not a whole lot of practical purpose for them now. I love that they're still there, though--they add a lot of character.

Around the corner from the fountain was the St. Vitus Cathedral, the foundation stone of which was laid in 1344 on the site of a 10th-century Romanesque rotunda built by Duke Wenceslas (chief patron saint of the Czechs, and the "Good King Wenceslas" referred to in the beloved Christmas carol). It looked pretty breathtaking even though it was under construction:

Also breathtaking was the massive crowd of people lined up to get inside. I have visited a lot of churches and cathedrals--including biggies like Westminster Abbey and Notre Dame--and I have never seen so many people waiting to cram inside. If this is what it's like in October, I would hate to visit Prague during the peak of the tourist season.

I swung round the north side of the cathedral and eventually made my way over the Powder Bridge and up to the Royal Garden. Just outside the garden was a building with some more impressive sgraffito; from a distance, the dark triangles at the bottom made the wall look 3D, as though it is made of textured stones rather than flat plaster on brick:

The Garden itself was a lovely respite from all the throngs of people that I'd encountered everywhere else. There were only a handful of other people there, which I found surprising--it was an absolutely incredible day, with no trace of the moody weather from the night before, and with temperatures warm enough to render jackets unnecessary.

Perhaps because of the mild weather, the plants were still looking vibrant and happy, though autumn was in evidence thanks to the yellowing (and falling) of many leaves.

Also in the garden were the Summer House (a.k.a. the Belvedere) and the Ball-Game House, two beautiful buildings erected in the 16th century by Ferdinand I. I exited the garden next to the Summer House in order to proceed to the "starting point" of my tour, which should have been quite close by. Actually, it was quite close by, but I just wasn't sure how to get there. The walking path ran parallel to two tram lines, and I wasn't sure if I was allowed to just cross over the tram lines to go down a perpendicular street. Rather than risk being yelled at or, more importantly, electrocuted, I took the long way around. As a result, I wound up having a couple of wildlife encounters:

(Firebugs)

(Remnants of a massive flock of jackdaws and rooks that were foraging together on the lawn of the Ministry of Defense building around which I was walking.)

At some point during this walk, I was suddenly hit by the desire to listen to the third movement of Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 17 in D minor. I realize how pretentious this sounds, so let me explain. Colin Farrell plays this song on the piano in the new version of Total Recall, and it is gorgeous. I had never heard it before, but I downloaded it at soon as we returned from the cinema. Since then, I frequently find myself needing to listen to it at random moments; in this case, I plugged in my headphones and wandered down Na Valech watching birds and looking at Prague's ridiculous collection of architecture. If you want to add drama to an already dramatic city, Beethoven is the way to go. 

Another way to add a bit of spice to your day is getting lost and walking in circles while looking for an obscure monument. Try, for example, locating the Pisek Gate from the southwest rather than approaching it, as the guidebook suggests, from the north. After a while I decided I no longer cared, and was happy to move on to stop 2 on the Lonely Planet walking tour. Only after I got home and looked for the Gate on Google Images did I realize that I actually had seen the monument, but simply hadn't recognized it for what it was. I really wish I'd known that before I wasted 20 minutes making an ass of myself by walking back and forth in front of cafe diners who were probably wondering what on earth I was up to.

In any case, near the Gate were two Cubist houses painted in very bright colors. I didn't take any photos because I thought how annoyed I'd be if I lived in those homes and always had people snapping photographs out front. To be honest, they weren't all that exciting anyway, though they did teach me that Cubism was a style that could be applied to architecture as well as paintings--yet another artistic fact of which I was previously unaware prior to reading the Prague guide book. 

With those two landmarks checked off my list, I retraced my steps back across the Powder Bridge, just in time to see 3 new soldiers arrive for the changing of the guard. The soldiers around the castle area (and perhaps the whole city?) are a curious mixture of British Beefeater and US Tomb of the Unknown Soldier guard; like the Beefeaters, they will stand completely still and show no expression no matter how many people pose in front of them and snap their pictures, and like the US guards, they have a very ceremonious changeover between shifts. I've never quite understood why people find these changeovers so exciting, but it was pretty impressive to see the new guards marching in with their bayoneted guns shining in the sun.

From there, I made my way through the bustling castle courtyard to Hradcany Square, where I was less impressed by the statue of Tomas Garrigue Masaryk (first president of Czechoslovakia) than I was by this incredibly ornate street lamp:

I also admired the ornate sgraffito (see, I told you it was everywhere) of the Schwarzenberg Palace:

From this point onwards, I had much better luck figuring out where on earth I was going, and how to get there. I exited the square along Kanovnicka, a small cobbled street that I shared with several people who appeared to have just attended a wedding nearby; a few minutes earlier, I'd seen the bride and groom getting post-ceremony photographs in one of the courtyards between the cathedral and the castle. Come to think of it, this may actually be why there were so many people waiting outside the cathedral--perhaps that's where the wedding took place, and visitors could not enter until the ceremony was over. Not that I've ever wanted a big wedding, but even I have to admit that the St. Vitus Cathedral would be a pretty amazing place to get hitched.

Speaking of religious buildings, I soon passed the Church of St. John Nepomuk, and although I would have liked to have gone in, it appeared to be closed. So, I proceeded to the eighth portion of the walking tour: Novy Svet, a lovely little residential lane that used to be inhabited by "court artisans and tradesmen." Although the Lonely Planet points out that these homes are not exactly on the scale of the castle and palaces just up the hill, I sure wouldn't complain about living there.

Novy Svet dead-ends at a massive wall, which I assume is the border to Cernin Palace. There is nowhere to go but up--northwards up a long staircase, or southwards up Cerninska. Before doing the latter, I stopped to snap some photographs of the lovely little Romantik Hotel U Raka, which sits in the shade provided by the wall, the hills, and several leafy trees. It is, indeed, quite romantic, and I could see that the hotel's owners anticipated their guests would do lots of romantic snuggling by the fire over the coming months:

At the top of the hill is the Loreta, a shrine to the Virgin Mary. This is a good point to mention that Prague is full to the brim with people who are "professionally religious," if you know what I mean--priests, friars, monks, and, in particular, nuns. All of these get in for free at Loreta, though (surprisingly) I didn't see any there when I arrived--something I found unusual given that Loreta is apparently "a hugely popular place of pilgrimage." I did, however, see plenty of other pilgrims elsewhere in the city, likely heading towards the hundreds of other religious destinations in Prague.

I hadn't intended to go into the Loreta, because it was around 3 PM and I had a couple of other places I wanted to go before they shut at 5. Somehow, though, I found myself wandering in and buying both myself and my camera a pass. I am so glad I did.

The Loreta was full of amazing things, literally from floor to ceiling. Above, for example, is one of the many frescoes that decorated the outdoor walkway. Notice the skeleton at the bottom? He was not the last I would see within the Loreta's walls.

One of the reasons I love old places--and European old places, in particular--is that they have such great stuff. Everyday items like doors and locks are transformed; the lock above, for example, is so fancy you could practically put it on a cord and wear it as a necklace (a bulky one, to be sure, but you get the drift).

Another thing Europe does well is religious decoration. Whatever else you may say about the Catholics, they know how to build breathtaking places of worship. I'm guessing that this level of opulence is not exactly what Jesus had in mind when he began spreading the word of God, but it sure is impressive nonetheless. Actually, my favorite part of this particular place was the smell--I love the smell of old buildings because I love the smell of old wood, and that scent permeated the air here. What I did not love was being watched by a hawk-eyed volunteer attendant who seemed convinced that I was about to deface the property in some way; she made it very hard for me to relax and enjoy myself.

Upstairs was the "treasury." I almost didn't go because I had no idea what that meant, but it was the best part of the whole visit. There was a vault lined with precious items made of diamonds, gold, coral, ivory, ebony, and other priceless materials; it was a small collection, but, still, the amount of opulence was enough to boggle the mind. 

This, for example, is an ebony crucifix with an ivory Jesus and skull-and-crossbones. The detail was amazing--Jesus even had toenails, and the skull had teeth. Speaking of skulls...

...here's Mr. Skeleton again (in the actual creepy lighting in which he was displayed)...

...and yet again. Early Catholics were a bit morbid, to say the least. The first skeleton was part of a mural on a wall at the far end of the hallway, set aside from the rest of the hall by thick velvet curtains. It had absolutely no explanation, so I'm not sure what it was, why it was important, or what it showed. The second skeleton, however, was a decoration on the door of what I'm pretty sure was called a "mortuarium." It was a cabinet that came from a monastery, and inside were details of all the monks who died--their names, for instance, and information on the important things they had achieved during their lives. Even though this is a pretty positive purpose for the cabinet, the decoration on the front makes it seem dark and depressing.

An antidote to all this could be found outside, where I walked up past a row of cherubs in order to make my way to the Strahov Monastery, founded in 1140 by Vladislav II. The buildings I visited, though, "only" date to the 17th and 18th centuries. I made a beeline for the Strahov Library, which is kind of like a real-life version of the library that is built for Belle in Disney's Beauty and the Beast.

Visitors can look into the two main reading halls, but they can't actually go in. However, it is possible to look at the many biological curios (with a few cultural items thrown in for good measure) that are crammed into the cabinets out in the hallways. There are several dozen birds' nests, many collections of butterflies and moths, shells, various sea creatures, and a narwhal tusk. Next to the tusk are also two whale penises. That's not something you get to see every day.

Across the courtyard from the library was the one attraction I knew I had to see while I was in Prague: the Miniature Museum. Described by Lonely Planet as "weird but fascinating," the museum features the work of Anatoly Konyenko. Appropriately, the museum is quite small--basically one large room with an alcove, housing 20-30 stands with either a microscope or a magnifying glass. On each stand is a miniature of some sort--miniature reproductions of paintings, the world's smallest book, carvings made out of poppy seeds, sculptures placed in the eye of a needle, and so on. They are incredible. You cannot see them and not smile. Perhaps the most amazing thing is that you can easily go back and forth between naked-eye viewing and lens-assisted viewing; this is useful for convincing your brain that you really are seeing what your eyes say you are seeing. That, without a doubt, was the coolest museum I've ever visited.

I finished up the walking tour by heading along the Petrin Lookout Tower footpath, though I didn't actually go up to the tower; I figured it would be closing soon, plus I thought it was a bit expensive for something that doesn't give you a view that is that much better than what you can get for free at the many lookouts strategically placed on this (higher) side of the river. So, I eventually wandered down the hill and through the streets that led me inexorably to Charles Bridge.

There, I listened to some buskers whose music was just too good to pass by. In fact, it was so good that I bought their album. The lead singer is Matej Ptaszek, and the guitarist and washboardist are the new partners he has recently acquired after parting ways with his former collaborator. Evidently, the new group do not yet have a name or an album, but I will keep my eye on Matej's website in the hopes that something will come along soon (click here to see a brief YouTube clip of their performance.)

After that, I finished my stroll across the bridge and meandered through the streets near Old Town in an effort to look for any restaurants or shops I might want to visit before leaving the city; I was particularly interested in buying some food to include in this month's Foodie Penpal parcel. I came up empty, though I did manage to locate a Starbuck's, a McDonald's, and a TGI Fridays (*sigh*). Had it not been Saturday night, I might have been tempted to try a Czech restaurant for dinner. However, even at just 5:30 PM, the atmosphere in the streets was rapidly changing from "family-friendly" to "party-friendly," and the last thing I wanted was to be a single lady out on the town in the middle of that. So, I made my way back to the hotel with the plan to get up early the next morning to experience Charles Bridge at sunrise (as recommended by--you guessed it--the Lonely Planet guide). My other big plan was to have a 90-minute massage at the hotel's spa--my reward for the nearly 6 (well-spent) hours devoted to exploring Hradcany on foot.

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Next up: I rendezvous with my parents and do more sightseeing...and eating!

Foodie Penpals: September Reveal

You may remember that last month I had a bit of a delivery debacle and almost didn't get my FP parcel in time to write about it on the reveal day. Luckily, this month there were no such problems. In fact, not only did I get it well before the end of the month, but also the delivery occurred while I was home enjoying an unexpected day off. Win-win (though not a win for the postman, who had to wait for me to quickly change out of my pajamas before I could go down to collect the package from him at the door).

My penpal this month was Kylie Hodges. After we did the usual correspondence about food allergies/preferences/desires, Kylie and I continued e-mailing each other because it turns out that we have something in common other than a love of food: a diagnosis of IBS. Nobody ever really talks about IBS because it's not exactly the most exciting or comfortable topic, so it was nice to have a chance to complain and vent and share advice. I directed Kylie towards potentially the single most useful recipe I have ever found online--psyllium cookies (a.k.a. "Pookies"), which I love to hate.

Luckily for me, all the contents of Kylie's FP parcel were much more appetizing than Pookies...well, almost all of them, since some items were not actually edible:

At the top of the box was handmade card featuring a lovely garden scene. Underneath that, cleverly doubling as packing peanuts, were three hand-knit dish cloths. I am going to feel very guilty getting these dirty; however, if I don't use them, Kylie's hard to work will in vain, so into the sink they will go!

The cloths had been protecting two Pooles Produce jars: one of hot horseradish sauce, and another of Bramley applesauce (or "apple sauce," to do it the British way). Kylie didn't know this when she mailed my package, but I adore apples; if I could only eat one type of fruit for the rest of my life, it would definitely be apples. Applesauce has been a staple of my family's cuisine since I was a little girl. When I was young, I used to go collect apples for both my mother and grandmother so that they could use them to make their own fresh applesauce; it is still something that is served at every big holiday meal hosted by my paternal grandmother.

I have a couple of favorite recipes that involve applesauce, including one for healthy wholegrain muffins (thanks, Ellie Krieger!). When I first moved to the UK, I was distraught to find that applesauce was nowhere to be found in the shops; I kept having to make my own every time I wanted to bake. It took me months to realize that applesauce has a different function in the UK than it does in the US; here, it is viewed as more of a condiment than a side dish. Thus, it is in grocery stores, but in a different place than what I was used to--next to the mustard and tartar sauce rather than the canned fruit. Weird. In any case, the Pooles version looks delicious and I think it may be destined for some apple muffins here in the next week or so.

 

Also in the box were two of Kylie's favorite spices--cardamom and nutmeg. I can't see cardamom without thinking of chai, and I have long had a chai recipe that I've wanted to try. I found it ages ago when I was housesitting for a friend and picked up a magazine in which director Mira Nair talked about making chai for her cast every day. Since Nair is actually from India, I figure her chai is the real deal; now that I have a box of cardamom pods, I will have to give her recipe a try.

The final component of the box was a package of Chorley cakes made by Newmans of Radcliffe. I had never heard of Chorley cakes, but according to Wikipedia, they are a close relative of Eccles cakes and "Sad cakes." All of these delicacies are natives of Lancashire (Eccles, while now part of Manchester, used to be in Lancashire), and are similar in that they are all flat, fruit-filled pastries. Apparently, Chorley cakes, a.k.a. "Fly Pies," are the least sweet of the three, and are often eaten with a spread of butter on top and a piece of cheese (Lancashire, of course) on the side. Since they contain baked currants, these are pretty much Sasha's worst nightmare, so I will obviously be eating the entire package by myself. I am looking forward to it.

Here you can see the whole spread all at once--not only tasty, but also symmetrical. Thanks very much to Kylie for all her good choices!