A) The other half of this duo, the person joining me on this holiday was my boyfriend – known as Ariel – and not my mother. This in itself results in numerous holidaying differences, such as use of the word ‘romantic’ without being inappropriate
B) I had to be a mature, fully-functioning, confident adult. This is a cause for concern, for many involved, namely myself. In fairness to Ariel, I had originally pitched myself as the responsible adult, to which he quickly pointed out that he is too. Given his experience in street smarts and navigating the urban nightmare that is, to me at least, London, he went into this city break with the least cause for concern. I meanwhile was the one carrying the passports, money, boarding passes, and spent most of my time in the airport checking I still had them. My mother had taught me well.
Rome and Athens happened because of my passion and interest for Classical Civilisation studies, Prague happened because Ariel Googled ‘romantic breaks.’ (Google is the unofficial third character of this tale. Praise be to Google Maps.) He settled on Vienna, Prague and Milan as contenders. We watched videos about each on YouTube and I fell for Prague pretty much straight away.
Our reasoning, and our timing, are sound and logical. Which is a rarity, for me. February 12th marked one year since I sent our first message on Tinder, February 14th marked, well, that unique time of year when chocolate, flowers and alcohol are all available in one aisle. Our short break in Prague covered both.
That about wraps it up for the introduction. Let us begin.
Actually! Let us take several steps backwards, to the Monday (or Tuesday) before we went – a grand total of 5 or 6 days beforehand, ladies and gents. Here’s a tip: when travelling abroad, check what currency that country uses. We felt so ready and sure to go buy our euros later that week; it was only someone at work pointing out me that Prague actually uses Czech Koruna (CZK). Cue Ariel and I trying to buy money online through Debenhams: they offered a great rate, but ‘less mainstream’ currencies such as Koruna have to be ordered in. If we’d rocked up on Saturday, the day before our flight like we’d planned, there’d have been a slight issue.
Anyway, this is just your basic ‘monkey see, monkey plan better next time’ situation. Do your research, shop around for a good exchange rate, and be ready ahead of time.
On a positive note, the money issue was more or less the most stressful part of the holiday. Not bad, considering we’d hadn’t actually gone yet.
Which will happen now.
11/02/2018: Sunday. Day One.
The very
first line in my entry for Sunday runs thusly: Ariel and I are currently in Southend Airport – which, though small,
isn’t nearly as tiny as the shed that is Bournemouth. While not
exactly a riveting start to this fable I’ll admit, I feel it worth mentioning.
Ariel warned me before we arrived that Southend was small, and I agreed
with him when we pulled up outside. (Bear in mind Rome and Athens both occurred from
Heathrow Terminal 5 which is a behemoth-size shopping mall with occasional
flights.) But, Southend had 3 restaurants and two shops. Compare that to when
my immediate family and I went to Spain, some years ago, we flew from
Bournemouth. That had been essentially two rooms with security in the middle. And a
plane outside. Southend had a few, including one with propellers. It turned out
to be a display model. Until I realised this, I was terrified it was our ticket
out of England.
I won’t dwell too much on the flight itself; though a small airport does make for small planes. Two seats either side of an aisle, that was it. And besides a small, infuriating and intrusive child sat in front of Ariel – who we would both have preferred to see restrained to his seat (or better yet, one of the wings) – the flight went smoothly, on-time, even managed to arrive thirty-five minutes early. Our transfer was waiting for us too – so far, so seamless.
Thus began
our drive from the airport into the city itself. I almost committed an
ultimate in Tourist Blunders, by burying my nose in a guide book during the
journey, instead of looking out the windows. I’d planned to look for places for
us to visit over the next three days, but I was missing real-life versions of
my guidebook’s photos. Ariel quickly nudged me and
gestured outside the taxi. I promptly dropped the book and took my first proper
look.
Prague is a
beautiful city, there can be no denying it. Not striking exactly, like Rome and
Athens had been, instead mesmerising and intriguing. It draws you in with promises to take your breath away later - and trust me, it will do that.
In our first glimpses, my
attention wasn’t immediately drawn to huge structures and shapes,
rather, I saw mixtures of cultures and artistic licenses. Bits of Greek, bits
of Roman, bits of Russian, even bits of more eastern countries. Sitting
landlocked by so many other nationalities (and, Ariel later informed me, having
been invaded a fair few times) had turned Prague into a makeshift sponge of
culture and design. No two building matches. All of them differed in size,
shape, and colour – a lot of pastels, for that matter. Basic residential houses
would have front doors flanked by beautiful sculptures, streets were
cobble-stoned, narrow, and flanked by parallel tall buildings. It was like
walking through a library of randomly assorted books. Prague is a fairy-tale city.
You just know, as I knew, I would fall in love with the place.
 |
| A typical, wonderful, Prague street |
You just know, as I knew, I would fall in love with the place.
That's not all of Prague though. Due south, the city becomes newer, industrial, and impaled by skyscrapers. There’s less of a
merge of old and new in this city. There's like a boundary (specifically, a bridge) where you can step forwards
or backwards through time:
Throughout the holiday we remained in the past, walking its gorgeous narrow streets, riding on its wonderful tram network, soaking in so much saturated history.
 |
| Literally travelling forwards in time |
Throughout the holiday we remained in the past, walking its gorgeous narrow streets, riding on its wonderful tram network, soaking in so much saturated history.
But more of
that is to come. We’ve only just reached our place of re`sidence, suitably named
Elema Residence. Found on lastminute.com –
appreciative shout-out to them, while we’re here – and served as a perfect little
home from home. We had our own kitchen area, a spacious bedroom with very high ceilings and free Wi-Fi.
It had already gotten dark by the time we arrived. In moments like these, you may decide to go out for dinner, or you hold-off and wait, go in the next day and see the city proper. We elected for the latter and found a nearby supermarket to buy an easy dinner – first helping of thanks to Google Maps, there.
The exchange rate became a hot topic throughout the holiday – so much so, Ariel made frequent access to his phone’s calculator. The rate between pound sterling and koruna can be a little disorientating. Example: we went shopping, bought enough food to last us the four days – if not even more – which cost us 684CZK. Sounds a lot, do the exchange though: £25. The same amount of stuff, bought back home, for that kind of money would be considered decent. It did mess with my head when I was standing in a Prague shopping queue – also, FYI, having learnt 0 Czech words, minus points to us there – handing over a note with 1000 on it. Hand over a £50 note anywhere in England and they look at you like you’ve just robbed a bank.
Dinner that night was oven-baked pizza (I know, how culturally relevant…) and general snacks. I’d picked up a vanilla and white chocolate wafer biscuit, and it was wonderful. Ariel had brought along his laptop so we could even watch movies. Pizza and film night, it was almost like being back home.
Day Two fixed that, though.
12/02/2018: Monday. Day Two.
Upon reflection I could have included this in the introduction of differences, but no matter. This will make more sense, contextually:
It had already gotten dark by the time we arrived. In moments like these, you may decide to go out for dinner, or you hold-off and wait, go in the next day and see the city proper. We elected for the latter and found a nearby supermarket to buy an easy dinner – first helping of thanks to Google Maps, there.
The exchange rate became a hot topic throughout the holiday – so much so, Ariel made frequent access to his phone’s calculator. The rate between pound sterling and koruna can be a little disorientating. Example: we went shopping, bought enough food to last us the four days – if not even more – which cost us 684CZK. Sounds a lot, do the exchange though: £25. The same amount of stuff, bought back home, for that kind of money would be considered decent. It did mess with my head when I was standing in a Prague shopping queue – also, FYI, having learnt 0 Czech words, minus points to us there – handing over a note with 1000 on it. Hand over a £50 note anywhere in England and they look at you like you’ve just robbed a bank.
Dinner that night was oven-baked pizza (I know, how culturally relevant…) and general snacks. I’d picked up a vanilla and white chocolate wafer biscuit, and it was wonderful. Ariel had brought along his laptop so we could even watch movies. Pizza and film night, it was almost like being back home.
Day Two fixed that, though.
12/02/2018: Monday. Day Two.
Upon reflection I could have included this in the introduction of differences, but no matter. This will make more sense, contextually:
C) When the mother and I visited Rome and Athens for our city breaks, we would wake up as early as possible, wolf down a hotel-provided breakfast-buffet and be on the streets before 10am. This had apparently engrained itself into my head as The Done Thing, when one has a city break.
Having given it thought and discussion together, a bit later into our trip, I decided it’s hardly a bad thing. I had booked a week off work after all, and while I admit that mine and Mum’s holidays were certainly successful, they were tiring. You arrive home sunburnt, knackered and with feet that are learning how to sue you for mistreatment. With Ariel, I enjoyed a lie-in everyday, a leisurely breakfast, then we’d head off around noon. In previous holidays, I’d have already seen two sights and be buying tickets for a third. This way, I got the best of both worlds: an amazing and inspiring tour of a foreign city – details of which will begin soon, I promise – plus a chilled and relaxing break.
It still took time to adjust, though. Ariel woke at last and sweetly cooked us both an omelette for breakfast. There was also time to shower and prepare etc. – by the end of which I was two considerations away from carrying him out the door, but we were underway eventually.
While he had
been showering, I had been productive and marked places on our maps of where to
go, and how to get there. The conclusion Ariel had reached was he wanted to see
Prague Castle. The conclusion I then reached was we needed a number 22 tram. We
set off into town, walking north, as we’d noticed a tram stop wasn’t far from
our hotel/apartment. When a 22 arrived, we boarded and it started heading north
– in the direction of the castle, so no worries there. When it then started to go south, away from Prague Castle, we jumped off and tried another tram – possibly a 19, I forget –
which didn’t work out either.
So it came to be, we walked to Prague Castle. It was no hardship in itself – Ariel may disagree – as it meant taking in our first sight: Charles Bridge. Located north-west-ish of the city, it’s a clear and evident tourist attraction and by far the most interesting bridge – of several – that crosses the Vltava River. Clear and evident tourist attraction because it’s marked clearly on every guidebook and map, it’s populated with the typical caricaturists and knick-knack salesmen, and predominately, it’s stuffed with tourists. It’s also got some simply astounding views; looking south follows the river through the city, towards the newer section mentioned earlier.
So it came to be, we walked to Prague Castle. It was no hardship in itself – Ariel may disagree – as it meant taking in our first sight: Charles Bridge. Located north-west-ish of the city, it’s a clear and evident tourist attraction and by far the most interesting bridge – of several – that crosses the Vltava River. Clear and evident tourist attraction because it’s marked clearly on every guidebook and map, it’s populated with the typical caricaturists and knick-knack salesmen, and predominately, it’s stuffed with tourists. It’s also got some simply astounding views; looking south follows the river through the city, towards the newer section mentioned earlier.
 |
| These are the sort of views you can expect from Charles Bridge |
On the other
side of the river there began some hills, considerable in steepness, and from
there, large stones steps. All part of the passage to the castle, because the
higher a castle is, the more defendable it becomes. Also, the more exhausted
you become when you try to visit the damn thing. I wasn’t too bad. Having lived
in the bowl-shaped city of Bath for three years, I’ve become accustomed to
uphill strides. I once described it as my mountain goat legs have come in.
Ariel – self-proclaimed mermaid – did struggle, and we stopped a few times for a
breather. Not that I was complaining.
Stopping on the steps and looking back brought
a beautiful view of the city, made slightly better with each step taken,
especially at the top. We paused, for the sake of our lungs but mostly the
appreciation side. Prague lay out beneath us, in all its beauty, grace and
pick-and-mix-décor radiance. And as if that weren’t atmospheric enough, it was
at that precise moment that it started to snow. It was a light cascade, quite
hail-like in honesty, but it landed and settled in our hair like pure proper
snow and added to the moment tremendously. (A Facebook post later that day ran: “And so, the Timelord and the Princess visited Prague Castle at the top
of the city – just as it started to snow.”) I’d described Prague like
something out of a fairy-tale when we arrived, and here we were, witnessing it
live up to that reputation.
Breath back
and stamina restored, we ventured into the castle grounds. Like all good
castles, like the Tower of London or Windsor Castle, it was a formidable
fortress, containing more than just a banquet hall and an armoury. There was a fully
fledged cathedral in the middle of it, a tower, a treasury, two palaces and
whole side-streets around the edges, with living quarters. Not just one
building, more a miniature town at the top of the city. And we got in for
250CZK each – estimated £8.75. I’ve paid a
great deal more than that to visit a capital city’s main attraction.
Admittedly, it was the cheaper ticket that allowed access to only a few inner
locations: the main palace, Saint Vitus's Cathedral, Golden Lane, and the Basilica of
Saint George. There are other tickets for more money and so more locations, but
as it turned out, we were happy with what we got.
We did the
cathedral first, not knowing it effectively was the crowning jewel – pardon the pun – of all that we were about to
see. When you eat a big, sumptuous, and amazing main meal, whatever smaller
dishes which may come immediately after doesn’t catch the attention in quite the same way. Nevertheless, it was
a sight to see.
A problem I
have, or specifically a problem in situations like these, is when I see
something amazing, I tend to say: “Christ!” Not too shocking, doubt I’m alone
in this. However, when one is visiting a cathedral – a fully decked-out House of the Lord – is it wise not to blaspheme. Every time we went around a corner and saw, say,
a staggeringly beautiful pane glass window, or a four-piece sculpture four
sizes taller than me serving as someone’s coffin, or happened to gaze upwards
at the artworks on the ceiling; I would gasp and mutter “Christ!” Here, Ariel would, rightfully so I think, nudge me. He spent a lot of time
gazing up at the sights on the ceiling, leading to his nugget of wisdom:
“Catholicism is bad for the spine.”
I was very thoughtful during my time in the cathedral, reflecting on what it meant to me compared to other people. I will hold up my hands and admit that I am not a religious person and consider myself to be an Atheist. I may not sing the songs, read the books, make the prayers – but I can, will and frequently do admire what mankind has done, in the name of tribute. Whether God is real, whatever people wish to believe, it doesn’t change the fact that so many years ago, hard-working and diligent citizens of Prague banded together and constructed one of the most beautiful cathedrals I’ve ever had the pleasure of visiting. God-fearing or otherwise, they should at least be proud of themselves.
I was very thoughtful during my time in the cathedral, reflecting on what it meant to me compared to other people. I will hold up my hands and admit that I am not a religious person and consider myself to be an Atheist. I may not sing the songs, read the books, make the prayers – but I can, will and frequently do admire what mankind has done, in the name of tribute. Whether God is real, whatever people wish to believe, it doesn’t change the fact that so many years ago, hard-working and diligent citizens of Prague banded together and constructed one of the most beautiful cathedrals I’ve ever had the pleasure of visiting. God-fearing or otherwise, they should at least be proud of themselves.
Pantheon, Acropolis and Saint Vitus' Cathedral - three different but uniquely wonderful temples built in the name of belief.
As a result, the Basilica of St. George fell rather flat. It’s a much-much-much smaller room with about three shrines in it – plus two police officers, when we went in. Though admirable and striking in a classical sort of way, Ariel and I breezed round it in a sort of U-shape, discussing ancient history if memory serves. The man at the ticket barrier did seem surprised to see us back again so quickly.
As a result, the Basilica of St. George fell rather flat. It’s a much-much-much smaller room with about three shrines in it – plus two police officers, when we went in. Though admirable and striking in a classical sort of way, Ariel and I breezed round it in a sort of U-shape, discussing ancient history if memory serves. The man at the ticket barrier did seem surprised to see us back again so quickly.
The Royal
Palace itself was…well, big, I’d give it that. I’m not intending to cause some
international debate/incident here, but interior-wise, our local Windsor Castle
trumps the Prague Castle by an astonishing degree. I’d gone into the Royal
Palace with Windsor in mind; all the old crests and ceiling banners and
ridiculously huge dining tables. What we got instead were a lot of large rooms
that demonstrated the meaning of the word ‘minimalist’ and a few spiral
staircases. I myself am not one for spiral staircases. They make my head go
funny.
 |
| Golden Lane |
Sticking to
the theme of fairy-tales and old-fashioned quaintness, I fell in love with
Golden Lane – a small section of living quarters, for workers who’d wanted to
get away from higher taxes in the city below. Small multi-coloured buildings
with misshapen front doors along a crooked, narrow, cobblestoned lane, where in
places parts of the houses jutted outwards – mind your head as you go along. It
was all quite Diagon Alley from Harry
Potter, sans wizards, wand shops and some Weasleys. I loved it immensely;
much like the hot-chocolate-with-rum I purchased not long after. The hot choc
warms your tum and the rum makes your brain swim, it’s a wonderful combination in taste and sensation. Ariel and I have
vowed to recreate it, back home.
With a substantial point checked off of Ariel’s Prague List, it was time to tick off one of mine.
I’m a
reader, most people know this about me, I yearn for a personal library in my
home and if I glance over my shoulder right now, there are…...twenty books on
my bedside To-Read pile. Not counting the pile of graphic novels next to me on
my desk, or un-read items stored in my bookcase, or a box of them somewhere
in my wardrobe. My assumed method of death is one day being crushed
by a toppling, overfull bookcase, accidentally of course. I love books in general, not just
reading them but how decorative they can be; and because of this, a friend of
mine at work likes to tag me in pictures of beautiful, old-fashioned, classical
libraries on Facebook. Just before we
left, he found me this one. The Strahov Monastery. It cost us a fair amount to
get in, plus an extra 50CZK for the privilege of taking photos – which of course I was going to buy. I even got
a little sticker for it, too, and when someone saw me get out my phone to take
a snap, I enjoyed being able to show her my “badge” of authority. Yes, it’s the
little things in life.
Anyway. The
library itself is cut off from the public unless you pay for a special tour
which has to be booked in advance. In retrospect I could have booked something, but given my reaction, it probably
worked out better that I didn’t. No tour guide would be able to deal with me
tagging along, tearfully mumbling the words “It’s all so beautiful” every fifteen seconds. We Book Nerds, we’re a pretty
calm and collected bunch, until you put these kinds of locations in front of us:
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| Room One |
 |
| Room Two |
In the gift
shop, I purchased a journal – what else? – for me and a fridge magnet for Mum.
She got one from Rome and Athens, after all.
To our good fortune there was a tram stop right outside, from which we caught a number 23 back down the hill. I will say, on the topic of trams, they go faster than you think. First one we’d got on, earlier that day, its pulling-away acceleration almost had us both toppling over. This time, sat as we were on polished wooden seats, swiftly coming down the curved hills to city-level nearly saw Ariel slide off onto the floor. It was a unique tram trip, of the holiday. A Japanese woman stood near my left shoulder started to sing, quite sweetly I thought; but she was consistently being over-shadowed by the braying hysterical laugh of a Czech girl, who apparently considered whatever her friend was saying to be incredibly funny.
To our good fortune there was a tram stop right outside, from which we caught a number 23 back down the hill. I will say, on the topic of trams, they go faster than you think. First one we’d got on, earlier that day, its pulling-away acceleration almost had us both toppling over. This time, sat as we were on polished wooden seats, swiftly coming down the curved hills to city-level nearly saw Ariel slide off onto the floor. It was a unique tram trip, of the holiday. A Japanese woman stood near my left shoulder started to sing, quite sweetly I thought; but she was consistently being over-shadowed by the braying hysterical laugh of a Czech girl, who apparently considered whatever her friend was saying to be incredibly funny.
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| All it needs is Tinkerbell flying over the top |
“I swear that song follows you, sometimes,” Ariel remarked.
The Old Town Square is also the location of Prague’s famous Astronomical Clock. This too had been recommended to me by friends at work, and as a Timelord and indiscreet lover of beautiful old time pieces, this was a sight for me. It has, according to guide books, three mechanisms to tell the time, date, and location of the Sun and Moon, and even had moving figurines. It sounded perfect. When we walked into the square, however, I noticed that one of the huge buildings on the right was covered in scaffolding.
Wouldn’t it be funny, I thought to
myself in Czech, if it’s like the Big Ben
situation and no-one can see it? Tourists travel great distances to see a
famous clock, only to discover that they can’t just now.
Follow it
round to the right, we see that the Astronomical Clock is behind a blue cover
and scaffolding, with signs and placards beneath to say it’s under repair and
won’t be ready until later in the year. Big Ben, eat your over-sized clockwork heart out.
It had been a long time walking, and we were hungry for some local, traditional Czech cuisine. One thing you’ll notice about Prague, a great number of restaurants have in the windows or on signs outside: “Traditional Czech Cuisine!” Maybe it’s just me, but I felt wary of these claims. If I were back home and saw a restaurant offering “Traditional British Cuisine!” I’d pop in the Italian place down the street. “Traditional Czech Cuisine” felt exactly like the sort of sign a restaurant would use to entice gullible tourists.
It had been a long time walking, and we were hungry for some local, traditional Czech cuisine. One thing you’ll notice about Prague, a great number of restaurants have in the windows or on signs outside: “Traditional Czech Cuisine!” Maybe it’s just me, but I felt wary of these claims. If I were back home and saw a restaurant offering “Traditional British Cuisine!” I’d pop in the Italian place down the street. “Traditional Czech Cuisine” felt exactly like the sort of sign a restaurant would use to entice gullible tourists.
And I’d also
read in our guidebook to be careful of restaurants and food sellers near
tourist hotspots like the Old Town Square and Charles Bridge. They were apparently
liable to increase prices, just because tourists don’t know the difference.
Sure enough, we ended up dining in a restaurant on the edge of Old Town Square, with the words “Traditional Czech Cuisine” printed over the doorway. Ariel and I had the same meal. They brought over some bread and pâté for us. We shared a starter of cold meats and cheeses, then we each had Czech goulash served in a bread bowl – a large bread bun, mostly gutted of its soft centre to hold the stew. The goulash itself was fairly basic in flavour, but it was warming and wholesome – the perfect thing after a long, busy day – and the beef was unbelievably tender, it required minimal chewing. Ariel and I enjoyed our “Traditional Czech Cuisine” immensely, dining and chatting about the day over candlelight – all very romantic and atmospheric. We did pay and check out pretty soon after, when a massive group of Eastern tourists rocked up.
Sure enough, we ended up dining in a restaurant on the edge of Old Town Square, with the words “Traditional Czech Cuisine” printed over the doorway. Ariel and I had the same meal. They brought over some bread and pâté for us. We shared a starter of cold meats and cheeses, then we each had Czech goulash served in a bread bowl – a large bread bun, mostly gutted of its soft centre to hold the stew. The goulash itself was fairly basic in flavour, but it was warming and wholesome – the perfect thing after a long, busy day – and the beef was unbelievably tender, it required minimal chewing. Ariel and I enjoyed our “Traditional Czech Cuisine” immensely, dining and chatting about the day over candlelight – all very romantic and atmospheric. We did pay and check out pretty soon after, when a massive group of Eastern tourists rocked up.
A short evening wander led us to the Bake Shop for dessert. Ariel enjoyed a tiramisu and I chose one of the best marble cakes I’ve ever had. We got a number 6 tram back to our residence, with a convenient tram stop just up the road from us. After a long day of wandering, fairy-tale sights and “Traditional Czech Cuisine” we slept the whole night through.
Thoughts on the Day
An extra
little tangent. While Ariel and I were waiting for a tram, our conversation
went like this:
A: You know what I can hear?
Me: What?
A: Nothing.
Prague is the quietest and calmest city I’ve had the pleasure of visiting. It feels safe, too. I didn’t feel tense at all, unlike when I’ve gone walking about London or Southampton. It’s just a very nice, calm, beautiful place to be, sprinkled with mixed histories and delightful to visit. You say “European holiday” your first thought is unlikely to be ‘the Czech Republic’ but it had changed my mind, and it worked in our favour. Sure there were tourists, but not nearly as many as Rome, or the Acropolis in Athens. (The reduced number of tourists may also be caused by our travelling in February.)
(Just thought I’d clarify.)
Anyway, while Ariel showered, I had my maps and a pen ready, plotting out a whole day for us. We would start with the closest part, at the south-east end of the city, called Wenceslas Square. Which in itself is poorly named as it’s actually a rectangle. Well, technically it’s one long, wide high street of parallel shops - boulevard I believe is the term. A bit like a smaller version of Leicester Square or Times Square, except swap the lights and overhead television screens with pastel-coloured buildings and sculpted architecture – less high-tech, but more aesthetically pleasing. What it held over the London and New York alternatives was, at one end in full majestic view, the Prague National Museum……also under scaffolding.
Further down the road – boulevard if you’re that way inclined – on the right we saw something that caught my eye with ease: a bookshop, known as Palác Knihy.”Palace of Books,” my beloved bindings of stories given the royal treatment they deserve. Of course we had to go in, to Luxor. It was akin to our Waterstones although this place came with four – that’s four – floors. It included a section for English readers, but my love and attention was saved for the Czech versions of Neil Gaiman, Terry Pratchett, Stephen King, Douglas Adams and Ray Bradbury. I decided I’d just have to learn how to read Czech, because they really knew how to design a book cover.
Next stop on our tour – guess who picked this one – a LEGO museum. It had sets from up and down history and all over the franchise universe. One whole room for Star Wars sets, shelves devoted to Harry Potter, an entire city diorama in the middle and even stuff from my childhood! There were a few that I own myself, but so many amazing and timeless pieces. It may well be true that I took more photos inside the LEGO museum than anywhere else in the whole of Prague.
Hungry again, we wandered back to Wenceslas Square/Rectangle and decided to sample a Prague desert: Trdelnik. It is advertised and available everywhere, we’d seen some the day before but not gotten round to having one. It’s a welcome advance on our ice-creams; rather than a wafer cone, you’re given a hollow cylinder of dough, baked with sugar and spices caramelised around the outside. Once you’ve decided on filling – I went for strawberries and vanilla – they coat the inside with chocolate (or vanilla) fill it with cream/ice-cream (and strawberries) and drizzle sauce over the top. Whole thing is entirely edible and entirely delicious. I may well have had the best, freshest strawberries I’d ever tried, and they came from a basic street vendor in the middle of Prague.
It was a lot of sugar we needed to walk off. A random detour down a side street put us out front of a small, tucked-away church, and a cubist-design lamppost which served as an excellent photo opportunity.
Close by was another long and wide pedestrian street, not a main road this time, playing host to some kind of market and full of street stalls. Most of the street stalls contained the usual tourist crap one would come to expect: mugs, bookmarks, magnets and far larger sundry items that no-one in their right mind would be able to buy and then get on a plane home. Two stalls also sold these ultra-creepy and quite unseasonal cackling witches. Hardly decorative; I idly wondered if Prague hadn’t differing views and opinions on witches and hadn’t condemned them to October. Either way, their recorded cackles were equally unsettling and annoying, so we pushed onwards.
Now. Some of you may judge. But we had seen the day before on Google Maps, quite by chance, that Prague has a sex-machine museum. Three floors, over “200 items” according to their website – yes we had to see the website – and located somewhere south from the Old Town Square. We weren’t on a lad’s holiday, far from it, but we’d seen it on Google Maps so had it on a back-burner of potential sights to see. What then happened, quite by accident I assure you, after several minutes wandering down identical streets and alleyways, we found ourselves right outside the museum. One of the…ahem…”items” was on display in the foyer. Ever the mature and responsible one, I was reduced to sporadic fits of giggles. More level-headed, Ariel suggested we check the prices first. Given that they were quite steep, or not great value at least, we ventured onwards and left things like “hand-operated vibrators” to themselves.
This left us with a gap of spare time. Ariel wished to see the Palladium. It's a vast shopping centre, located in the north-east end of Prague, but given it was also the location of that night’s dinner establishment, we decided to while away a few more hours. I’d seen on the map, and heard mentions of, a John Lennon wall. Getting there took us back over Charles Bridge – cue more tourists rubbing more statues – and due south.
After that
was the wall. The four letter word ‘wall’ doesn’t do it justice, for one of the
most moving moments of the whole holiday. It was an ordinary wall, but after Lennon’s death, Prague youths
painted on Lennon/Beatles inspired lyrics, quotes and artwork into one
multi-coloured mural. (Then in 1988, according to my guide, there was a clash
between police and Prague’s youths on Charles Bridge.) The wall stands as a
symbol to free speech and rebellion. When we got there, the place was full of
tourists, plus one guy with an acoustic guitar singing Beatles songs and some of
the crowd joined in. The quotes on the wall said to love life, make peace,
chase dreams; all unbelievably atmospheric and moving. Ariel and I spent most
of our time there in silence, struck by the emotion left behind over so many
years.
There were a
few hills to reach and then navigate around the inside of Vyšehrad, but they came with simply astonishing views. Facing south,
we gazed out across the river below, that caught the sunlight of a new
day and the ascending hills into the distance. Facing north, I picked out a
sharp point on the horizon that was Prague Castle – two fortresses facing each
other.
Our location helped me realise that Prague (and its surrounding lands) makes it sort-of W-shaped. We were stood on the middle point, Vyšehrad. Prague Castle was the opposite point. The distant hills to the south were the third point.
It was also on Vyšehrad – apparently where random thoughts run rampant! – that we upgraded our earlier talk of Prague being quiet. Up here, with barely any people and sights onto the still city below, Prague wasn’t just quiet, it looked abandoned. From one look-out point, we peered down over some disused tennis courts. The nets were tattered, its frames rusted, the courts scattered with dead leaves. Nothing moved in that line of sight. A brief moment where Prague resembled a post-apocalyptic ghost-town, upgraded from quiet to full-blown spooky. Again, it could have been due to the unseasonable time of year, but it was intriguing me without end.
I’m rather shocked and confused as to why the next part isn’t in my journal. Located within the grounds of Vyšehrad was Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul, with a cemetery adjacent. First thing you’d notice about this graveyard was how pristine and well-maintained it all was. Forget typical English cemeteries of crumbling gravestones, over-grown weeds and lichen upon lichen – a testament to forgetting the dead. This place compared, I mean not to pass judgement, but it seemed to be flooded with money.
However, Ariel did some digging (not literally) into some information on the place, and discovered that the Vyšehrad cemetery is the final resting place of many composers, artists, sculptors, writers, and those from the world of science and politics. It was this realisation that rerouted my thoughts entire. As a writer/creator myself, I fully appreciated this touching and poignant tribute to the thinkers and makers of the world: a resting place of geniuses. The afterlife version of this place must be absolutely amazing.
We got another tram back into town – of course – for a final wander and a bite to eat. It took us a while to decide what we wanted, having passed numerous restaurants offering “Traditional Czech Cuisine” along the way. It inevitably led to a Google. I found a place called White Horse in Old Times Square, which turned out to be a rather posh restaurant with an underground cellar and iPads for menus. (It almost turned into my own grave when, having removed my dark-tinted reaction glasses to be able to see, I then missed the bottom step.) Once we were sat down and had consulted the menu, Ariel told me he didn’t feel quite right. Nothing looked appetising to him, everything was expensive, and he felt out of place. The waitress wouldn’t leave us alone, so I ordered some non-alcoholic (and pricey) Piña Coladas.
I said I’d Google again. I made a search for cheap, good food in Prague and found a local eatery called Sad Man’s Tongue Bar and Bistro – they named it, not me. When Ariel said it back to me, after suggesting it, he made Sad Man sound like "Sandman". I smiled at that. We (over)paid for our drinks and left, to head for “Sandman’s” instead. It was instantly much better: cosy, comfy, 1950’s rock music, a rock-and-roll/movie theme and some lovely staff who spoke excellent English – one of them even expressed admiration for my t-shirt.
There we enjoyed some excellent chicken nachos between us, followed by the best sandwich of my life, with some pretty damn good fries on the side. I even had my first beer, given that Prague is famous for it. My decision reassured me that I still don’t like beer, but it came in a typical beer flask, and wasn’t too bad an accompaniment for the chicken sandwich I was devouring, with all enthusiasm.
“Sandman’s” was much cheaper, better prices, better atmosphere and excellent food, with staff that treated us like friends, not customers. Ariel had been apologetic for taking us away from the White Horse, the kind of expensive establishment which sells itself as the “perfect place for a romantic Valentine’s.” Let others have that. It's just another cliché, like a lock on a bridge. My boyfriend and I spent our Valentine’s in a basement burger/sandwich place, that we found ourselves at random, loving every part of it. It was without doubt more us.
Remember: it doesn’t take money to make a great Valentine’s Day. If it does, you’ve got a problem.
We ended our last night in the Old Town Square, tucking into our second and last Trdelnik each. The place we’d found offered one with vanilla and white chocolate sauce, one that I was enjoying immensely. Nearby, a very talented man was playing converted versions of pop songs on his piano, so I had fun trying to guess the song title. I recognised Bohemian Rhapsody, soon after Ariel realised My Heart Will Go On. We caught our last tram back, trying to ignore the fact it was our last tram ride. We packed up most of our stuff, and proceeded to finish our Valentine’s Day together, in the proper way.
15/02/2018: Thursday. Day Five.
There remains little to tell, as always. We woke early, finished packing and left Elema Residence. Our transfer was on time, as was our flight – maintaining our faultless holiday. Ariel realised why our tickets were so cheap, though. We were sat at the very back of the plane. We didn’t mind, though. He slept and I read Don’t Panic by Neil Gaiman. A story about one of my favourite authors, penned by another one; I was loving it.
A: You know what I can hear?
Me: What?
A: Nothing.
Prague is the quietest and calmest city I’ve had the pleasure of visiting. It feels safe, too. I didn’t feel tense at all, unlike when I’ve gone walking about London or Southampton. It’s just a very nice, calm, beautiful place to be, sprinkled with mixed histories and delightful to visit. You say “European holiday” your first thought is unlikely to be ‘the Czech Republic’ but it had changed my mind, and it worked in our favour. Sure there were tourists, but not nearly as many as Rome, or the Acropolis in Athens. (The reduced number of tourists may also be caused by our travelling in February.)
But, to wit, for the first holiday I’d ever undertaken without parental supervision
and under my own initiative, it was going extremely well with no stress
whatsoever.
Off the back
of that point, Ariel and I did spent time on holiday holding hands, walking
arm-in-arm and sharing the occasional kiss – it was an anniversary/Valentines
holiday after all. We’d done our research. Czech was listed as a LGBTQ-friendly
place to visit. While I was a bit apprehensive myself – always a supporter of
“just in case” – barely anyone glanced twice at us. It made the holiday even
more enjoyable. We could fully relax.
13/02/2018: Tuesday. Day Three.
Another chilled start to the day, fuelled by strawberry grahams – opening note for the day.
13/02/2018: Tuesday. Day Three.
Another chilled start to the day, fuelled by strawberry grahams – opening note for the day.
(To those
who are confused, there are cereals known as Cinnamon Grahams and Golden
Grahams – and I’m unsure if they’re still called that. In Prague, I found
strawberry-flavoured ones, a version I’d not seen in a very long time and
bought in a fit of excitement.)
(I hadn’t
begun my day eating men called Graham that tasted of strawberries.)(Just thought I’d clarify.)
Anyway, while Ariel showered, I had my maps and a pen ready, plotting out a whole day for us. We would start with the closest part, at the south-east end of the city, called Wenceslas Square. Which in itself is poorly named as it’s actually a rectangle. Well, technically it’s one long, wide high street of parallel shops - boulevard I believe is the term. A bit like a smaller version of Leicester Square or Times Square, except swap the lights and overhead television screens with pastel-coloured buildings and sculpted architecture – less high-tech, but more aesthetically pleasing. What it held over the London and New York alternatives was, at one end in full majestic view, the Prague National Museum……also under scaffolding.
Add
this to the Astronomical Clock, it was becoming a recurring theme. A lot of our
holiday was very much Still Under Construction.
At the museum-end of Wenceslas Square, where we started, Ariel and I encountered a four-legged hero of the holiday. A pug wandered by, weaving between the legs of street walkers, dressed in a rather fetching purple jumper. We christened him Simon. Simon had no leash; instead a misguided trusting owner, we saw shortly after, who kept having to go back to get him.
At the museum-end of Wenceslas Square, where we started, Ariel and I encountered a four-legged hero of the holiday. A pug wandered by, weaving between the legs of street walkers, dressed in a rather fetching purple jumper. We christened him Simon. Simon had no leash; instead a misguided trusting owner, we saw shortly after, who kept having to go back to get him.
Further down the road – boulevard if you’re that way inclined – on the right we saw something that caught my eye with ease: a bookshop, known as Palác Knihy.”Palace of Books,” my beloved bindings of stories given the royal treatment they deserve. Of course we had to go in, to Luxor. It was akin to our Waterstones although this place came with four – that’s four – floors. It included a section for English readers, but my love and attention was saved for the Czech versions of Neil Gaiman, Terry Pratchett, Stephen King, Douglas Adams and Ray Bradbury. I decided I’d just have to learn how to read Czech, because they really knew how to design a book cover.
 |
| A LEGO version of the museum we didn't get to see |
Next stop on our tour – guess who picked this one – a LEGO museum. It had sets from up and down history and all over the franchise universe. One whole room for Star Wars sets, shelves devoted to Harry Potter, an entire city diorama in the middle and even stuff from my childhood! There were a few that I own myself, but so many amazing and timeless pieces. It may well be true that I took more photos inside the LEGO museum than anywhere else in the whole of Prague.
Hungry again, we wandered back to Wenceslas Square/Rectangle and decided to sample a Prague desert: Trdelnik. It is advertised and available everywhere, we’d seen some the day before but not gotten round to having one. It’s a welcome advance on our ice-creams; rather than a wafer cone, you’re given a hollow cylinder of dough, baked with sugar and spices caramelised around the outside. Once you’ve decided on filling – I went for strawberries and vanilla – they coat the inside with chocolate (or vanilla) fill it with cream/ice-cream (and strawberries) and drizzle sauce over the top. Whole thing is entirely edible and entirely delicious. I may well have had the best, freshest strawberries I’d ever tried, and they came from a basic street vendor in the middle of Prague.
It was a lot of sugar we needed to walk off. A random detour down a side street put us out front of a small, tucked-away church, and a cubist-design lamppost which served as an excellent photo opportunity.
Close by was another long and wide pedestrian street, not a main road this time, playing host to some kind of market and full of street stalls. Most of the street stalls contained the usual tourist crap one would come to expect: mugs, bookmarks, magnets and far larger sundry items that no-one in their right mind would be able to buy and then get on a plane home. Two stalls also sold these ultra-creepy and quite unseasonal cackling witches. Hardly decorative; I idly wondered if Prague hadn’t differing views and opinions on witches and hadn’t condemned them to October. Either way, their recorded cackles were equally unsettling and annoying, so we pushed onwards.
Now. Some of you may judge. But we had seen the day before on Google Maps, quite by chance, that Prague has a sex-machine museum. Three floors, over “200 items” according to their website – yes we had to see the website – and located somewhere south from the Old Town Square. We weren’t on a lad’s holiday, far from it, but we’d seen it on Google Maps so had it on a back-burner of potential sights to see. What then happened, quite by accident I assure you, after several minutes wandering down identical streets and alleyways, we found ourselves right outside the museum. One of the…ahem…”items” was on display in the foyer. Ever the mature and responsible one, I was reduced to sporadic fits of giggles. More level-headed, Ariel suggested we check the prices first. Given that they were quite steep, or not great value at least, we ventured onwards and left things like “hand-operated vibrators” to themselves.
This left us with a gap of spare time. Ariel wished to see the Palladium. It's a vast shopping centre, located in the north-east end of Prague, but given it was also the location of that night’s dinner establishment, we decided to while away a few more hours. I’d seen on the map, and heard mentions of, a John Lennon wall. Getting there took us back over Charles Bridge – cue more tourists rubbing more statues – and due south.
Sure enough, we passed a Lennon-themed pub with a yellow
submarine hanging over the doorway.
No-one capitalises on small fame like a small business.
There was a bridge after the pub, with railings covered in padlocks. Ariel expressed agreement with it; personally, I consider it cliché now which I think detracts from the romance of it.
No-one capitalises on small fame like a small business.
There was a bridge after the pub, with railings covered in padlocks. Ariel expressed agreement with it; personally, I consider it cliché now which I think detracts from the romance of it.
 |
| A small section of the scene |
We then took
a romantic walk into a nearby park and sat on a bench in front of the river. We
shared thoughts on the holiday so far. It was sweet, especially after we’d
shared a inspiring moment at the Lennon wall, but – and consider this an
Overshare Warning – I was so cold that my nipples could have been used to
sharpen knives. We walked a little further and caught a nice, warm tram to the
Palladium shopping centre.
We saw a pet shop, with cute budgies and parakeets, and the biggest Guinea pig I’d ever seen. There was a toy shop with purchasable rare sets like the Ghostbusters fire station – the sort of thing I’d expect to see in the museum, not available in a local toy shop. Ariel, an employee a long way from his local branch, had to visit the Prague Lush store too. He sent a photo to his co-workers and, of course, did some price comparisons.
Dinner was in a place called Café Palanda. Ariel had found it the day before by literally Googling ‘Prague Gourmet Burger Kitchen’. What he got instead was a trip review, stating that Palanda was superior in both food and prices. So we had to go there. And oh. My. God. The review did not lie. I enjoyed the best cheese and bacon burger of my life, with pulled pork chips on the side. Essentially someone cooked a small rack of ribs, stripped the meat and dumped it on a pile of chips with two types of sauce. Plus a vanilla milkshake on the side. This whole delectable meal, it cost us less than we would have spent in a GBK. It was incredible.
14/02/2018: Wednesday. Day Four.
Ariel picked the first location of our last full day: Vyšehrad – another castle/fortress/public-park to the south of the city, towards the more industrial and modern side. There was an entire section of city – mostly residential by the looks of things – situated beneath a vast road-bridge. It drew my eye and sparked my creative mind. A part of the past literally sheltering beneath the modern world. And there must have been houses down there which would have never been rained on.
We also ended up, unsure how or why, on the roof of a pub/restaurant decorated with modern-art sculptures. It was eerily quiet and we saw hardly anyone, at this point. Besides the traffic noise of the bridge, now behind us, Prague almost belonged to us alone.
We saw a pet shop, with cute budgies and parakeets, and the biggest Guinea pig I’d ever seen. There was a toy shop with purchasable rare sets like the Ghostbusters fire station – the sort of thing I’d expect to see in the museum, not available in a local toy shop. Ariel, an employee a long way from his local branch, had to visit the Prague Lush store too. He sent a photo to his co-workers and, of course, did some price comparisons.
Dinner was in a place called Café Palanda. Ariel had found it the day before by literally Googling ‘Prague Gourmet Burger Kitchen’. What he got instead was a trip review, stating that Palanda was superior in both food and prices. So we had to go there. And oh. My. God. The review did not lie. I enjoyed the best cheese and bacon burger of my life, with pulled pork chips on the side. Essentially someone cooked a small rack of ribs, stripped the meat and dumped it on a pile of chips with two types of sauce. Plus a vanilla milkshake on the side. This whole delectable meal, it cost us less than we would have spent in a GBK. It was incredible.
14/02/2018: Wednesday. Day Four.
Ariel picked the first location of our last full day: Vyšehrad – another castle/fortress/public-park to the south of the city, towards the more industrial and modern side. There was an entire section of city – mostly residential by the looks of things – situated beneath a vast road-bridge. It drew my eye and sparked my creative mind. A part of the past literally sheltering beneath the modern world. And there must have been houses down there which would have never been rained on.
We also ended up, unsure how or why, on the roof of a pub/restaurant decorated with modern-art sculptures. It was eerily quiet and we saw hardly anyone, at this point. Besides the traffic noise of the bridge, now behind us, Prague almost belonged to us alone.
There were a
few hills to reach and then navigate around the inside of Vyšehrad, but they came with simply astonishing views. Facing south,
we gazed out across the river below, that caught the sunlight of a new
day and the ascending hills into the distance. Facing north, I picked out a
sharp point on the horizon that was Prague Castle – two fortresses facing each
other.Our location helped me realise that Prague (and its surrounding lands) makes it sort-of W-shaped. We were stood on the middle point, Vyšehrad. Prague Castle was the opposite point. The distant hills to the south were the third point.
It was also on Vyšehrad – apparently where random thoughts run rampant! – that we upgraded our earlier talk of Prague being quiet. Up here, with barely any people and sights onto the still city below, Prague wasn’t just quiet, it looked abandoned. From one look-out point, we peered down over some disused tennis courts. The nets were tattered, its frames rusted, the courts scattered with dead leaves. Nothing moved in that line of sight. A brief moment where Prague resembled a post-apocalyptic ghost-town, upgraded from quiet to full-blown spooky. Again, it could have been due to the unseasonable time of year, but it was intriguing me without end.
I’m rather shocked and confused as to why the next part isn’t in my journal. Located within the grounds of Vyšehrad was Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul, with a cemetery adjacent. First thing you’d notice about this graveyard was how pristine and well-maintained it all was. Forget typical English cemeteries of crumbling gravestones, over-grown weeds and lichen upon lichen – a testament to forgetting the dead. This place compared, I mean not to pass judgement, but it seemed to be flooded with money.
However, Ariel did some digging (not literally) into some information on the place, and discovered that the Vyšehrad cemetery is the final resting place of many composers, artists, sculptors, writers, and those from the world of science and politics. It was this realisation that rerouted my thoughts entire. As a writer/creator myself, I fully appreciated this touching and poignant tribute to the thinkers and makers of the world: a resting place of geniuses. The afterlife version of this place must be absolutely amazing.
We got another tram back into town – of course – for a final wander and a bite to eat. It took us a while to decide what we wanted, having passed numerous restaurants offering “Traditional Czech Cuisine” along the way. It inevitably led to a Google. I found a place called White Horse in Old Times Square, which turned out to be a rather posh restaurant with an underground cellar and iPads for menus. (It almost turned into my own grave when, having removed my dark-tinted reaction glasses to be able to see, I then missed the bottom step.) Once we were sat down and had consulted the menu, Ariel told me he didn’t feel quite right. Nothing looked appetising to him, everything was expensive, and he felt out of place. The waitress wouldn’t leave us alone, so I ordered some non-alcoholic (and pricey) Piña Coladas.
I said I’d Google again. I made a search for cheap, good food in Prague and found a local eatery called Sad Man’s Tongue Bar and Bistro – they named it, not me. When Ariel said it back to me, after suggesting it, he made Sad Man sound like "Sandman". I smiled at that. We (over)paid for our drinks and left, to head for “Sandman’s” instead. It was instantly much better: cosy, comfy, 1950’s rock music, a rock-and-roll/movie theme and some lovely staff who spoke excellent English – one of them even expressed admiration for my t-shirt.
There we enjoyed some excellent chicken nachos between us, followed by the best sandwich of my life, with some pretty damn good fries on the side. I even had my first beer, given that Prague is famous for it. My decision reassured me that I still don’t like beer, but it came in a typical beer flask, and wasn’t too bad an accompaniment for the chicken sandwich I was devouring, with all enthusiasm.
“Sandman’s” was much cheaper, better prices, better atmosphere and excellent food, with staff that treated us like friends, not customers. Ariel had been apologetic for taking us away from the White Horse, the kind of expensive establishment which sells itself as the “perfect place for a romantic Valentine’s.” Let others have that. It's just another cliché, like a lock on a bridge. My boyfriend and I spent our Valentine’s in a basement burger/sandwich place, that we found ourselves at random, loving every part of it. It was without doubt more us.
Remember: it doesn’t take money to make a great Valentine’s Day. If it does, you’ve got a problem.
We ended our last night in the Old Town Square, tucking into our second and last Trdelnik each. The place we’d found offered one with vanilla and white chocolate sauce, one that I was enjoying immensely. Nearby, a very talented man was playing converted versions of pop songs on his piano, so I had fun trying to guess the song title. I recognised Bohemian Rhapsody, soon after Ariel realised My Heart Will Go On. We caught our last tram back, trying to ignore the fact it was our last tram ride. We packed up most of our stuff, and proceeded to finish our Valentine’s Day together, in the proper way.
15/02/2018: Thursday. Day Five.
There remains little to tell, as always. We woke early, finished packing and left Elema Residence. Our transfer was on time, as was our flight – maintaining our faultless holiday. Ariel realised why our tickets were so cheap, though. We were sat at the very back of the plane. We didn’t mind, though. He slept and I read Don’t Panic by Neil Gaiman. A story about one of my favourite authors, penned by another one; I was loving it.
Back in London, landing in London Gatwick this time, we caught a series of trains
and underground ones to get back to his student digs in Reading. We had Chinese food, a nice bath,
and I managed to fall asleep by about 9:30pm!
A Final Reflection
I like to end my travel pieces on a thoughtful note. I'd also like to end this one with an apology, given it has taken nearly a month for me to finish this damn thing. Chalk up some blame to my iCloud drive. Trying to get all my pictures off became a farce, and only recently did I remember to acquire the ones Ariel had taken. It has just occurred that I haven't used any.......No matter! And a great deal of love to him, for they will still take their rightful place in my records.
So what can I say about Prague? I knew nothing about the place before going, and know perhaps just a smidge more since getting back. What I do know is that if I were (in some bizarre scenario) ordered to live in Prague for a year or two, I wouldn't argue. Well, I'd want Ariel to come along too, of course, but something about that wonderful city appeals to me, as a long-time-lover of all things fantastical and characterful. Prague was full of character, it is worthy of the title I bestowed: the fairy-tale city. Order me to live there for two years and I'd never stop exploring it; and I imagine that two years wouldn't be enough to discover it all.
Prague had never before been my first, second, third or tenth choice for a holiday, but I loved my visit to the Czech Republic, just as much as I did in Italy, and Greece. The best way to put it, if 'best' is the right word, is quite simply:
There's just something about it.
Also. Prague has inspired me with an idea for another new novel-to-come. I shall call it Underbridge, and while certainly not a story I was expecting to find, it is one I have come to enjoy crafting already. So thank you, Prague, for that as well.
Perhaps I'll go there again one day.
Peace out.
A Final Reflection
I like to end my travel pieces on a thoughtful note. I'd also like to end this one with an apology, given it has taken nearly a month for me to finish this damn thing. Chalk up some blame to my iCloud drive. Trying to get all my pictures off became a farce, and only recently did I remember to acquire the ones Ariel had taken. It has just occurred that I haven't used any.......No matter! And a great deal of love to him, for they will still take their rightful place in my records.
So what can I say about Prague? I knew nothing about the place before going, and know perhaps just a smidge more since getting back. What I do know is that if I were (in some bizarre scenario) ordered to live in Prague for a year or two, I wouldn't argue. Well, I'd want Ariel to come along too, of course, but something about that wonderful city appeals to me, as a long-time-lover of all things fantastical and characterful. Prague was full of character, it is worthy of the title I bestowed: the fairy-tale city. Order me to live there for two years and I'd never stop exploring it; and I imagine that two years wouldn't be enough to discover it all.
Prague had never before been my first, second, third or tenth choice for a holiday, but I loved my visit to the Czech Republic, just as much as I did in Italy, and Greece. The best way to put it, if 'best' is the right word, is quite simply:
There's just something about it.
Also. Prague has inspired me with an idea for another new novel-to-come. I shall call it Underbridge, and while certainly not a story I was expecting to find, it is one I have come to enjoy crafting already. So thank you, Prague, for that as well.
Perhaps I'll go there again one day.
Peace out.
