The city's architecture is spectacular. I'm happily surprised there are not more communist-era, institutional buildings devoid of character that stain the skyline of some Eastern European cities.
I'm also really impressed with the Czech people - warm with a live and let live attitude. Maybe it's the influence of nearby Bohemia. And they seem proud of Prague, as they should be.
But the West has certainly made it's mark here with McDonald's fast food joints everywhere. In the hotel breakfast room this morning, American country & western music was playing. In the taxi, it was American hard rock (Oh, and by the by, despite warnings in guides that I should be wary of Prague taxi drivers, my experience with them has been good - friendly and no shenanigans. One guy didn't have change so the two of us wandered the train station looking for someone to make change).
After some time wandering, I ended up in the Jewish Ghetto at a synagogue that is centuries old. In the adjacent graveyard, the head stones were stacked like playing cards because they buried people twelve deep. It's incredible that this place survived the war.
Next I walked to Old Town Square. There were food vendors set up throughout. I zeroed in on a vendor that had a huge roasted pig splayed spread eagle over his cart. The skin looked like a barbecued football. This vendor was popular with the big crowd so I queued up and was handed this massive pork sandwich, cut from the pig to order, topped with a heaping amount of onions, and a reckless amount of mustard. It was so good but after eating it with my hands, I needed a bath. And I washed it down with this punch from another vendor. It was some mulled wine, boozy concoction. People of all ages were slamming this stuff back like it was water, but to me it was lethal. I felt a bit woozy.
Anyhoo, I shook it off and from there headed over the bridge and up the hill to Prague Castle. As I trekked up the hill, a cat followed me. I couldn't shake the tail...Get it? I figured the cat smelled the pork drippings on me and I started to worry that others may follow suit. I pictured myself running down the hill with dozens of cats in hot pursuit and me jumping in the river to escape. That thought must have been courtesy of the boozy concoction I had just drank.
The cathedral at Prague Castle is stunning. I was wandering inside and taking a few snaps when this huge hand landed on my shoulder from behind. I jumped and made a squeaking sound. When I turned, the sausage-fingered hand was attached to this burly guy in a uniform - he reminded me of the sandwich I just ate in the square. He started wagging a digit at me and pointing at my camera. In broken English, he demanded to see my permit. I didn't know what he was talking about. But he wouldn't let it go. It turns out you can't take photos in the cathedral without a permit. Oopsie, doopsie. I apologized and said I didn't know. But still he wouldn't let it go, looming over me and giving me the stink eye. I thought he was going to arrest me. Now I pictured myself running down the hill with him thundering after me instead of the cats but he might follow me into the river. Well after an extended period of shaming, he let me go as he had other offenders to confront, a flash popping gaggle of Asian tourists. I booked it out of there and didn't look back.
The day ended on a more civilized note. I got a ticket to see Mozart's opera Don Giovanni at the famous Estates Theatre, the very place where Mozart premiered the opera in 1787. Apparently, he did so because audiences in Prague were less prudish than those in Vienna. The experience was outstanding. The theatre has an elliptical seating plan with many private boxes and balconies, and everyone leaning over to see. The scene looked like a painting from centuries ago. Too bad I didn't pack my powdered white wig.
At the end of the opera, when Giovanni is confronted by that big statue and descends into hell, it reminded me of my dust-up with the picture police at the cathedral, though in the end I fared better than Giovanni.
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| Sculpture Depicting My Run-In With The Picture Police |
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