Prague

It was 1992. 

Every heartbeat bore his name:

Jaromír Jagr. 

So when I stumbled upon the NHL rookie at the mall, offered to buy him ice-cream (naturally) and gazed up into his striking Czech eyes. 

Well, he put Prague on the map. For me. 

Forever. 

Incidentally. He turned down the ice-cream. 

(I bet he regrets that now.)

To Prague we went the other weekend. For Mozart. For Jaromír. For me. 

Prague is the prettiest.

 

Well, Prague in the morning is the prettiest. 

Pure, gleaming, Baroque beauty bathed in brilliant sunlight, quietly waking. 

Perfection. 

Prague by afternoon is congested. Teeming with tourists (ahem, yes, us and all of humanity). 

Its historical integrity clouded by stag parties and cannabis shops and drunken parades. 

Meh. 

Jason stumbled upon a man naked from the waste down. 

He thought he was dead. 

He was not.  

You can’t unsee that. 

But, Prague in the morning. 

Sigh. 

I’m convinced Bach preferred that too. 

Well, spoiler.

Even though he summers in Prague with his Stanley Cup- I never saw Jaromír. 

But, we did see everything else. 

1. Jan Hus Memorial- Jan Hus. The OG reformer.  Before Martin Luther held a hammer in his hand. His papal critiques got him burned at the stake. With his final breath,  he sang Psalms and forgave his executioners.  So moved- his fan club  (Hussites) and the remorseful  Czechs eventually erected him a memorial.  It was a must-see. #reformation

2. Astronomical Clock- Synonymous with Prague. You can’t not see it. This medieval time piece is attached to Old Town Hall and was installed in 1410.  In addition to showing the phases of the moon- the 12 Apostles appear in windows at the top of every hour. This is not creepy at all. And makes complete sense. 

3. Castle- We climbed the meandering cobblestone paths, centuries-worn, to the top of the mountain where the ancient Prague castle has sprawled majestically since the 9th century.  

Coincidentally.  

By the top, Olivette was ready to sprawl not majestically on the cobblestone. 

Have I mentioned she’s done climbing steep paths to castles? 

Well, she is. 

Traveling with a 4 year old is a delight. Always. 

Home to Bohemian royalty and Holy Roman Emperors for centuries, we felt like we belonged.  

Kings, Emperors, ‘Mericans. 

Preferred mode of transport for Vetts. 

The view from the castle

Golden Lane  is a darling little subdivision on the Castle grounds.  Unconfirmed by an actual historian- but here, it’s obvious there was an active, (ancient) HOA since all homes followed a pastel aesthetic and the shingling was uniform. 

Also. These homes were built for dwarves. 

When did we all grow? Tell me that. 

Or tell my kids. (Who asked.) 

I insisted it was the fresh fruits and vegetable diet that have contributed to our height spike. 

So, boys, don’t hate on your broccoli if you really want to be the next (pale) Steph Curry.  

Frank Kafka lived here. Apparently, he was also a dwarf. 

St. Vitus Cathedral had a line for a mile. Just to get in. 

My kids groaned. 

I groaned. 

J did not groan.  He never complains.

What could be so amazing about yet another gothic cathedral? 

If you’ve seen one- well. You’ve been fumigated by enough incense for a lifetime. 

Folks.  Not. This. Time. 

HOLY. CRAP. 

That was Col’s eloquent exclamation when he walked into the imperious sanctuary. 

It was stunning. Truly. 

The Renaissance and Baroque influence was reflected in frescoes, sculptures, and stained-glassed artistry.  

I could say more. But, you get the gist.

 

Oh and Good King Wenceslas has his own bejeweled burial chapel there.  

Who even knew where that guy was from? 

Surprise! 

It’s Prague. 

And now, I hope you’re singing the carol. 

Because I was. 

All day.

Changing of the Guards Pomp and circumstance and Ken Doll soldiers. 

That’s what you get with the changing of the guards. 

Rick Steves, my travel sensei, personally recommended this performance in the castle courtyard. 

What his video failed to mention were the throngs of people obscuring our entire view AND the sudden, violent thunderstorm that came out of literally nowhere. 

Without warning, the skies opened up. And *bonus* hail. 

Happily, Olivette fears nothing. 

Save for thunderstorms. 

Suddenly, it’s hailing and thundering. 

And she’s screaming a shrill scream reserved for dying animals. 

And we all were running on wet, slippery, ancient, uneven cobblestone for cover. 

One day we’ll all laugh at this memory, I say. 

One day. 

Can’t see a darn thing. 

Ken Doll Guards

Waiting out the hail. 

4. But a Tredelnik makes you forget the weather. 

Eowyn can attest. Food is her love language. 

These Czech churros filled with ice cream and strawberries and whipped cream are a delight. 

5. Klementinum- St. Clements Cathedral  Amadeus Mozart played the organ at the Klementinum complex in 1787. I didn’t know that until our weekend in Prague.  But that’s all I could think about during the  Vivaldi Four Seasons Prague concert (with Mozart pieces). 

It was transcendent.  

I mean. Not T-Swift Eras tour level transcendent. 

But, pretty close, I would imagine. 

6. Charles Bridge- Connecting Old Town Square and Prague Castle, this historic bridge has sustained centuries of footsteps- coronations of kings and emperors.  (Sense a theme?)  Bohemia boasts a rich legacy traipsing across this hallowed bridge. Naturally. We had to do it too. 

7. Old Town Bridge Tower- *winner* This was the kids’ favorite attraction. Steeply precarious steps led to a 700 year old tower overlooking the Charles Bridge. The view is great. Not Eiffel Tower great. 

But it thrilled 4 kids who are sick to death of cathedrals and enshrined saints. 

Do you feel me? 

The view from up here. 

8. Jewish Quarter- Once my gentile heathens reconciled themselves to wearing a yarmulke, we soberly ventured through the Old Jewish Cemetery- one of the oldest in the world- featuring over 40,000 graves piled upon each other. At some plots- 12 layers deep!  

So many synagogues to explore.  So little interest …by Olivette.  

However, the Pinkas synagogue’s walls delineate a tragic list of the thousands of Czech Jews who were lost in the Holocaust. Their names are read aloud as you pass.

“To forget the dead would be akin to killing them a second time.” - elie Wiesel. 

(One small section of the names of those who were lost in the Holocaust) 

Ironically, that weekend, we also sat in the Nuremberg Courtroom 600 where the perpetrators of this malevolent genocide were tried for their crimes. Most died for them too.  

Meanwhile, Hitler’s haunt- Zeppelinfeld, the grandstand and rally field lie lifeless- a weathered monument to his imperious ambitions. Covered in tangled weeds and foreboding signage, the cracked clinker brick structures- both Zeppelinfeld and Congress Hall testify to absolute power’s corruption. Absolutely. 

Sobering. Even eight decades later. 

(As you can see, I am a good time! Invite me to all your dinner parties for levity, laughs and WWII trivia.)

 

Well, travel can’t be all fascism and genocide. 

So, cheery, charming Rothenberg was an our final stop. 

If you’ve seen Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, then you’d probably recognize the main square. 

My kids did. 

If you’ve not seen Chitty Chitty Bang Bang- did you even have a childhood? 

Kidding. 

This whimsical, walled medieval town with flowering window boxes, climbing rose trellises and the requisite cobblestones streets- evokes fairy tale vibes.  

I fell in love.  

Which apparently is easy for me to do. 

30 years ago it was a Czech hockey player. 

Today, it’s renaissance inspired architecture and begonia-filled windowsills. 

What a difference adulting makes. #iamold 

Prague by morning light.