Final Day in Prague

Saturday, my last day in Prague, I flew to the Schwartzenberg Palace museum like a homing pigeon. I saw a number of excellent paintings, but when the guard pointed to the stairs to the top floor and insisted I go up those steps, I was reluctant. Arms and armor? Not really my thing. Despite my shotgun series, I’m more amour than arms – make love not war, right?  Like this new bride, posing on the edge of the parapet.

Fall  in love! But please, not literally.

But sure enough, I saw some things that imprinted on my retinas like a flashbang. It’s how artists in every media insist on creating beauty no matter what, no matter when, no matter where. That’s what gives me hope for our species.

Just throwing down that gauntlet could do some damage.

detail of a gun stock

Consider what kind of force was behind the blow that made this dent In the shoulder, from behind.

This is what Payton Manning really should be wearing on the field.

 

Okay, it’s not all sliced ham and great art.

Prague, the dark side:

Smokers exhale outside of every building entrance and exit.

All those picturesque cobblestones are bilateral ankle fractures waiting to happen. They also function as outdoor ashtrays, and the gaps around each stone is packed with smoker debris, filters and butts. Ew.

City of 100 spires, yep, and ten thousand tourists for every freaking spire. We infest the place like lice. It’s it just as true in March as June, apparently.

Where there are tourists there’s a whole of lo identical, cheap crap for sale. It may be touted as made in Prague but bro, it’s made in China.

April weather is a fickle, unpredictable bitch, lurching from sleeting to sweating in a day.

Prague, the bright side:

The Golden Well was exactly suited to my taste and temperament. Small, historical, located out of the crush of nightlife and at the foot of the castle complex. Authentic, tasteful, comfortable, and one of a kind. And the staff? Top quality.

The architecture lives up to its rep. Every street and alley in the historic center is replete with wonderful buildings. A time traveler’s parade that marches on from the Medieval Our Lady Before Týn church to post modern 1996 Dancing House, Fred and Ginger. Bonus; everywhere is close, and pleasantly walkable.

Not one bad meal. Delectable takeaway available on every street. From pink Prague ham to luscious patisserie to tasty banh mi to the Michelin star inventive excellence of Field

The most beautiful library in the world in the Strahovské monastery. My idea of heaven.

Number one best thing about Prague – my daughter joined me. She’s curious and intrepid. We notice the perfect eyelashes on an otherwise too sweet painting of the Virgin and naughty loaves of bread and oysters. We like picking up fun facts via audio tours. We appreciate inventive food. And we both like exploring, at our own pace, our respective agendas, sharing information and experiences afterwards.

Prague, Day 10

Friday was my first day solo, and I fell into my accustomed trip rhythm. Slow start. Nice breakfast upstairs with the stellar view over the roof tops of Prague. Joined at my table by Simon, the suave and genial fellow who runs the front desk. We talked about the Slav Epic and he told me which painting had Mucha’s own granddaughter in it.

The Slav Epic: Coronation of Servian Tsar – 6th painting

Hint: she’s considerably more visible and important in the canvas than the Tsar.

The girl with flowers in her hair.

I showed him Robin’s side by side comparison of the Olsen Twin and the Adam figure fleeing the horsemen. Epic hilarity.

We talked about the artistry of the restaurant Field at some length. I know it’s his job to make guests feel welcome, but it didn’t feel forced or awkward, just companionable and relaxed.

Walked across the very pleasant not-the-Charles Bridge to look in at the optical shop again, Decided against a purchase. Nothing caught my eye. Heh. Ate lunch at the Vietnemese Banh Mi Ba eat in/take out place that was part of Robin’s tasting tour. Delicious.

My Bahn Mi

12 variations on the Banh Mi (menu in words and pictures) and a soup special. They should open these up back home, like all the taqueria places. Four bars to eat at, high stools, tiny front counter to order and pay, the various element of the sandwiches prepared and waiting to be assembled, excellent bread, one guy putting the sandwiches together and one server. Perfect to pop up in Atlanta. Can’t think why it hasn’t. The equivalent of Willy’s, only yummier.

Followed the trail Robin made for me via text links to Google maps. Started with the place she found good tee shirts and bought another one. They made the sale because they were cheerfully willing to take the shirts out of the box and plastic wrap and let me try them on over my clothes. A good thing I did. A Men’s L came to my thighs, a Womens 2XL just barely fit around me. Um, WTF?  Onward, this time part of the turbulent stream of tourists crossing the Charles Bridge. Found the place of scarves and the hilarious fountain of two men peeing on the nation. That’s when I realize that I am  going to miss the Czech’s irreverent sense of humor more than the charm, history, culture, and food. Given my love of Prague ham, that’s saying a lot.

 

From there, to the serene beauty of a nearby park where Robin had seen a flock of peacocks. No exotic birds today, but I had the pleasure of near solitude, the sound of the wind soughing through the boughs of trees laden with spring blossoms. Pale petals littered the bright green spring grass. Read for a bit, in the peace and quiet. Walked slowly up the hill at the end of a lovely day in Prague.

Spring rain of petals

My laundry was brought to my room, jeans on hangers, teeshirts neatly folded. Simon appeared and me offered a pair of prints of watercolors scenes of Prague. He felt with my interest in art this would be fitting souvenir of my stay at the Golden Well. Alas, they were too large to fit in my suitcase. Seriously, I travel light, y’all. I regretfully declined. Later I was told they checked at the post office, the fee to ship them was only ten dollars so they were sending them to my home on the hotel’s dime. Spoiled. Spoiled rotten.

I am nervous about the bill, they are so freaking nice to me. I did the math so I know what charges to to expect. Better than reasonable, unless they are going to spring something out of the woodwork. The room was prepaid, so it’s VAT tax, breakfasts, postage, laundry, and the car to and from the airport.*

Caught up with my writing this blog, planned my final day – pack and finally visit the Schwartzenberg palace museum, maybe have lunch at the Lobkowicz.

*Our numbers matched. They are just that fabulous. They proceeded to straighten out my airport check-in online, wake me up with coffee at 5:30 (no charge), generally being awesome. I left with regret, grateful for the pleasure of my experience. Honestly, stay here if you ever get the opportunity. You can thank me later.

Prague, Day 9

Thursday morning Robin ran out to climb more towers. I trotted up the private stair through the emperor’s garden to do the audio tour of the castle complex, then visit the Swartzenberg  and Salm museums. Wandered Golden Lane, home of the original tiny house people, built as barracks for artillerymen.  Now they are set up as vignettes of life back in the day; a bedroom, a pub, a kitchen, a seamstress (not the Terry Pratchet kind).  It is sobering to consider that squalor, poverty, endless labor, and cramped housing were the best you could hope for if you weren’t one of the elite.

The olden days look better than they lived

In the not so distant past, Kafka rented one of the dank, miniscule rooms from his sister, a setting that befits his dark stories.

Stood in line and purchased an audio guide for St Vitus Cathedral.  Zipped through the quickly moving lines, and skirted the eddying pool of people that stood in the entry to the side chapels. I knew I was tired when other tourists irritated the soup out of me. They wore too strong perfume, bumped me aside for their photos and pawed the ancient sculptures. I seethed, while part of me was aware that I am no better. I am just like them – another tourist that’s clogging up the holy aisles, gawking at the relics and stained glass, tramping over the graves beneath my feet. I’m sure I did some unnecessary glaring, but I didn’t accost anyone.

Welcome tourists. You’re next in line.

Mucha’s stained glass was gorgeous,

but my favorite thing was a tomb that was an open book, with colors from the stained glass window above playing over it.

If my reliquary making thing doesn’t work out, I’d be fine with something like this.

 I watched a man cleaning a bas-relief. He used a machine that spewed something out in a controlled stream (water? steam? forced air?). He aimed the apparatus at a curve in the bas-relief and a cloud of particles surrounded his head. I wanted tap him on the shoulder and  insist he wear goggles and a facemask. Safety first!

Put your mask on and don’t forget your safety goggles.

That was another clear sign of my being a quart low in spiritual fitness.  Mama said there’d be days like this.

Left St. Vitus and walked in a big circle, my mental compass spinning like a roulette wheel and Google maps confusing me, trying to find the Schwartzenberg museum.  I ended up walking along the back of a palace.  I could hear dogs barking, see some kind of terrace restaurant, and a gravel walkway with a rectangle of fir trees clipped into cones. Suddenly there is Robin! She walked around one of the trees I had been forlornly circling, trying to find my non-existent bearings.

My darling girl.

We sat down on the terrace and ate lunch. I had a pair of sausages – grilled, with weirdly split ends – and a reviving cappuccino,

Looked funny, tasted fine.

She had a hamburger and lemon-colored fries. She told me on every trip there’s an “I hate everybody” day, and this one was ours. Why that was so comforting I do not know, but it was. I ate my sausage, sipped my cappuccino and the world brightened.

Afterwards we went to the Salm Palace Museum. Meandered past paintings with occasional interesting elements – perfect eyelashes on a saccharine virgin, a gorgeously fat lizard in a floral still life.

A painting of a goldsmith with a wall of tools I recognize from metal class.

I’ve used a saw just like this one.

I was in a room of interesting small works when I got a fraud alert text from AmEx. I called them back, conversing in whispers with someone with a strong accent I could barely understand. It was just a misunderstanding on their part, but it punched a hole in my fragile equanimity. All I wanted to do was take a nap. On my way out saw a statue that perfectly illustrated the way I felt.

Why yes, I do need a nap.

Staggered back to the hotel, taking the long way because I was stupid tired. Robin bounded out to shop for tee shirts. I lay down, closed my eyes, and fell instantly to sleep.

At 6pm I hastened to St Nicholas church for the horn concert, discovered my printed out ticket was missing, ran back, found my ticket in the room, raced back to the church where the concert was in progress. Thanks to modern technology, I was able to texted Robin the situation and knew she was in the back pew. I slid in, caught my breath, and after the first flat notes knew it wasn’t going to be a sublime evening of music. But my coat was toasty warm – yay! Bring it, icy Russia. Gave up hope for a fabulous musical experience, and read a book on my iPad through the draggy organ parts. We left making jokes about the grim faced white-robed nun in the ticket office who refused to accept Robin’s iPhone ticket – ‘none of that!’ – and had to be overruled by the guard who had 21^st century email reading skills.

A lovely dinner followed, on the terrace restaurant of our hotel. Robin checked in for her flight tomorrow, and we had a last magical evening, overlooking the lights of the city of 100 spires. I climbed into bed with a sense of relief, and fell asleep while Robin was still packing her suitcase.

Prague, Day 8

Bright and early, I passed by the Lennon wall on a morning stroll down to the river.

“Don’t talk about it, do it.”

Visited the Museum Kampa by the water with the giant alien crawling bronze babies. If you come up with a better description, have at it.  Went inside and felt that sense of disconnection and ennui I all too often experience in the presence of contemporary art. Great bathroom though. 

baby

Ubered over to the town at 1:30 to meet Robin for lunch at the restaurant Field, (motto; Free Range Dining). Hatchets, rakes and scythes accent the spare décor. We have high hopes because of their newly awarded Michelin star. We decided to go for broke and did the tasting menu. What tipped me over the edge was the fact that they offer the option of pairing the courses with specially crafted non-alcoholic drinks. Oh wow!

And the entertainment began. Everything was indescribably delicious, and the presentation was half the fun. The service struck the right note of being both serious about the food and relaxed. The snails were served on something that looked like the country home of elves and fairies.

fairy and elf territory for snails, pumpkin, marrow, dried apples

Woundwort, goat cheese, bread leaven, spruce

They poured smoke into one dish.

Fallow deer, black garlic, chokeberry, ginger

The fish was an abstract composition that put to shame what hung on the walls of Museum Kampa.

Pike perch, mackerel, kale, kohlrabi

The cheese course came in a picnic basket that was put together like a Chinese puzzle, which we unpacked; cups, plates, fresh cheeses in a wooden box, and clasp-lidded glass jars.

Picnic of Cheese from Krasolesí

Super delicious; crisp circles of meringue over a soft, sweetened curds atop dollops of plum and graham cracker crumbs.

Sweet, light, subtle

Tasting menu with the non-alcoholic drinks pairing;

Snails, pumpkin, marrow, dried apples – Drink: Apple, red pepper, pumpkin

Woundwort, goat cheese, bread leaven, spruce – Drink: Celery, elderflower, bay leaf

Pike perch, mackerel, kale, kohlrabi – Drink: Plum, cranberry, dill

Fallow deer, black garlic, chokeberry, ginger – Drink: Red cabbage, cranberry, rosemary

Beef brisket, veal, potatoes, onion – Drink: Potato, cherry, thyme

Cheese from Krasolesí – Drink: Plum, Earl grey, juniper

Curd, plum jam, plum brandy, spruce – Drink: something unlisted but it came in two egg shell halves in a bed of growing chives.

Intense chocolate truffle, almond nougat ball – Drink: kickass espresso.

Replete, entertained, and satisfied we departed, astonished that it was now past 4pm. In charity with all the world, we impulsively stopped in the Alchemist Museum. This was unfortunate choice. Dim room, crammed with props so fake even poor lighting couldn’t disguise them. In a word, cheesy. The one thing worth seeing was a bookcase that pivoted, opening a secret door to an underground stone and brick passage that led to two rooms that sadly had still more inept props and a horrendously lame soundtrack (loud bubbling and clanking sounds). Don’t get me started on the cringe-worthy paintings of the Rabbi with his golem and Tycho Brahe.  Robin and I made sotto voce cynical comments, so we wouldn’t spoil the experience of the only other customer, a gullible young woman who very badly wanted it all to be real.  “Here is a beaker with real gold distilled from flowers! We have the original recipe for eternal youth, elixir for sale in the gift shop!” Oh please. Go home and watch Death Becomes Her, I wanted to suggest.  It’s more realistic.

This looks way better here than it did there.

Make a slight detour to the Bakeshop (don’t judge) en route to the art supply store. I found a Czech-made sketchbook with toned paper, just the right size, while Robin did an audio tour of the old town. Walked back via a bridge not the Charles, listening to the Mala Strana audio tour. Followed signs to a little fabric shop at the back of a courtyard, and bought a dusty rose-colored silk scarf because, color.

Silks

Back in my room at the delightful Golden Well, I struggled a little with iPhoto, which seems to be my daily penance. No idea why some images download and others do not. I keep trying various methods to semi -effective avail. I keep swearing I won’t blow another evening trying to make that dog hunt, and then I fall back into the abyss. It will all be worthwhile later, when I have this record to remind me of my adventure.

Prague, Day 7

We did a little early morning photography. In the window of my room;

yo, Prague!

Hopped on a tram, led by the fearless traveler on public transport, Robin. Got off and reversed direction a stop later, arrived without further incident at the Trade Fair/Veletržní Palace – museum of modern art – without further incident.

Saw adorable kids dressed like street workers in banded reflective vests drawing the Zodiac Heads installed by Ai Weiwei along the front terrace of the museum .

From the brilliant light of a bright sunny Prague day, I entered the dim world of the Slave Epic, the twenty enormous canvases the comprise Alphonse Mucha ‘s magnum opus.

Awesome achievement on often harrowing themes. Not entirely liking the roles he assigned women in his work, but holy Christ on a cracker this stuff is egg tempera and oil.  I liked the graphic strength of the compositions combined with his frequent use of subtle pastels. I loved his dedication and his commitment to his ideals.

 

He gave it his all.

Gives you an idea of the scale of these paintings.

Here’s two details, a lovely curve of a belt;

And corner of the knight on the lower right hand side of the canvas.

chain mail

And people say I’m obsessive.

It puts me in mind of the questions about art raised in the book, The Forgery of Venus by Michael Gruber.

Afterwards, I strolled to Lokal and pigged out on ham, whipped cream and horseradish, ‘cabbage salad’ (Czech for coleslaw) and potato puree, aka mashed potatoes.

Did one of the audio walks around the old town, glad they encouraged me to look up above the gaudy tourist tat and focus on the architecture and history, like this peacock;

white peacock

I saw a lovely painting of Mary and St Luke in the church of Tyn, where Tyco Brahe is buried, then back to the Golden Well.

Patron Saint of painters and sitters

Prague, Day 6

Robin headed out to wander around Prague gardens, and later took a Taste of Prague food tour. I walked up the private stairway from the Golden Well through the emperor’s garden to the Lobkowicz palace. A quiet morning spent viewing LobKowicz family portraits and artifacts that illuminated the family’s history. Not so much about the art as the story of the Lobkowicz lineage and the turbulence of 20th century losses and rebounds.

The audio guide is excellent work and the marketing aspect is a thing of beauty. That said, the portraits as works of art… not so much.  It’s the historical signifigance that gives them luster. Like a plain woman or unattractive man from a distinguished family, who has a big heart and a great personality, they are doing the best they can with what they’ve got. Objects and paintings are beautifully presented and the audio guide is lively and well-written, with an eye to the captivating historical details. The staff is cordial and helpful, no glowering. The building is clean and feels fresh. Objects are dramatically presented, like the red rooms of pistols, swords, and daggers hung in a true wheel of fortune.

so many ways to die

The blue room of musical instruments and musical manuscripts soothed my burnt out retinas  after all the artillery. It’s clearly the room the present-day head of the family, William Lobkowicz, loves. His greatest source of familial pride, and justly so, is that his great-great-great-great-grandfathe gave Ludwig van Beethoven a stipend so the notoriously difficult composer could create his immortal works. The collection also includes pages of musical notations made by the hand of the master himself. Ah, Amadeus.

Made by the hand of Mozart

The dog room struck a chord with my dog loving heart. Maddie girl, I miss you! And there were objects you just don’t see every day, like this oil lamp in the form of an acrobat.

After hours of viewing, I had tasty lunch on the terrace over looking the gardens and distant spires of Prague, with free, blazing fast wifi.

Did a quick in and out of St Vitus – too many tourists. Preferred my memory of the choir singing from my first visit. Seeing the castle complex in good weather was a much difference experience.

Left by chance at the time of the changing of the guard, so got to witness that that bit of military performance art. Walked down the hill to the sounds of country music on my iPod, and over to the Church of Our Lady Victorious, home of the Infant of Prague. So many outfits! Reminded me of those designer replicas of Dior and Chanel made for Barbie. Just so over the top… well, here’s a sample of his lingerie.

Back at the hotel, they have a nightly light tea or coffee and canapé offering. This night was particularly exceptional. Yep, I am officially spoiled rotten.

Prague, Day 5

Charles Bridge  Woke at six, slipped quietly into the shower and by seven was walking down the hill to the Charles Bridge. It was very pleasant at this time of day, not long after sunrise. Cool enough for a coat, but not for long. It’s a perfect perfect day – bright blue clear sky, warm sun, cool breeze.  April weather; from sleet to sweet.

I ambled across past the age-blackened statues of Gods and Saints, and made an audiotape using John Cage 4:33. John Cage.  A trio of swans flew over my head – a lifetime first for me. Three Czech soldiers walked by, two of them women in full make up, with charmingly disarrayed versions of a French twist, and machine guns. There are a few photographers with tripods, and several couples sightseeing, and groups of young adults, laughing and flirting, on their way to work. I asked a nice woman passerby to take my photo by the statue of St John Nepomuk.
His story: he served as the queen’s confessor and when he wouldn’t tell the king her secrets, the irate monarch had him pitched off the bridge, drowned in the Vltava, and five stars appeared over the water.

Picked up toasted bagels at Bohemian Bagels and headed back to the room. We caffeined up and walked up the long stairs to the castle complex. Robin stopped to strike a pose in an arch.

I stopped to catch my breath long enough to thank Jessica Bowman, trainer extraordinaire, who got me in good enough shape to make it to the top.

Loreto Church  Strolled through the complex to the Loreto church, founded in 1626 by Baroness Benigna Katharina von Lobkowitz. In the center courtyard is copy of the Italian Santa Casa, where an angel informed Mary of her status as mother-to-be. Decorated with statues and reliefs on the outside, it’s surrounded by a storyed cloister with corner chapels. One chapel had what appeared to be Christ on the cross in a violet dress.

St Wilgefortis story:  She didn’t want to wed a heathen and prayed to be saved from marriage. Miraculously, she grew a full beard that left her hirsute and unwed. Her irritated father had her crucified for her disobedience.  Less heart-rending attractions for pilgrims are the  charming clarion bells and a staggering amount of bejeweled religious swag. From gorgeous embroidered gloves,

to multiple monstrances dripping with jewels.

The diamond monstrance, known as the Prague Sun, was bedazzled with 6,222 diamonds, made possible by Countess Ludmila Eva Frances Kolowrat, who donated the gems from her wedding dress. Reduce, Reuse, Recycle.

 

The Church of the Nativity of Our Lord was Rococo eye candy and made me glad I remembered to look up.

Sternberg Palace

Just what I love – excellent paintings. Favorites include a painting of Luke, the painter’s patron saint, and a  virgin with a basket of mending, or perhaps she is making diapers.

A still life of bread and oysters is supposed to warn us against sin. I dunno, it looks more celebratory to me. I think the painter was winking at the viewer. Exhibit A: that naughty loaf of bread.

Walked back down to the bridge, and lo and behold, there’s a film crew setting up shop. Wherever I go, there’s Robert’s world (and now RK and Parker.) Made feel right at home

A great, late lunch at Pod Vezi, down by the bridge. I recommend the leek soup.

Tomorrow, back to the complex to tour the Lobkowitz palace, and over to see the wardrobe of the Infant of Prague. Robin says it’s not to be missed.