Golden Memories

I was feeling a heady mix of excitement and trepidation when we were picked up by Gareth's Dad at lunchtime last Friday to head to Birmingham Airport for our city break to Prague.  I don't really enjoy flying and certainly don't appreciate being notified of our speed of travel and flying height.  For nervous passengers like me, this is unwelcome information.  That said, I was glad of the distraction of our planned pre flight drink with Vix and Jon who were off to Corfu on the same day.

Sadly, it was not to be.  Despite leaving a good hour before our agreed meeting time, the traffic on the M6 and M42 laid waste to those plans and we were so disappointed not to have made it in time.  We were beyond frustrated.  As Vix sent updates of their swift progress through security and a photo message of a chilled beer, we enjoyed a view of HGV tail lights; our hopes were fading fast.  Next time eh?

Out of practice as we are with air travel, I'd forgotten to decant the large bottle of sun cream I'd purchased into appropriate sized bottles, so security picked up on that and in the absence of any alternative, promptly confiscated it.  Still, their thoroughness was reassuring.

Battling through hoards of travellers, we were relieved to finally find a table at Wetherspoons, allowing us just enough time to grab some food and a pint of lager for me to steady my nerves.  

A couple on a neighbouring table struck up a conversation with us and just before we departed, Julie stated that Caleb would visit Iceland.  Bemused, we pointed out that he had been earlier this year.  Her partner explained that she was psychic ( Julie Angel International Psychic Medium).  She had picked up on an Icelandic connection.  Spooky!  

Onwards and upwards - literally - we boarded our Jet2 flight (allegedly the world's most sustainable airline) and took to the skies.  A couple of glasses of prosecco and a good humoured stag party, which included another nervous flyer, helped to take my mind off things.  I also made good use of my wireless earphones, my Mother's Day gift from Caleb.  Despite a 15 minute delay due to bad weather over Europe, in no time at all, we were descending and the landing was smooth.

After passing through security, our driver was nowhere to be seen.  We were just about to give up and get a taxi when in strolled John with a sign bearing my name.  Twenty minutes later, we were dropped off at the end of a pedestrianised cobbled street with some vague directions of how to find our apartment.  After wondering around for a few minutes, trying to get our bearings, a man emerged from the shadows of the parked cars and called out to us.  Initially wary, I soon realised that it was Maury, the apartment owner.  Years of holiday letting had obviously heightened his senses to instinctively identifying his latest occupants.  Of course, you could argue that three weary travellers wandering around in the street dragging suitcases was a bit of a giveaway.  Anyway, home for the next few days was a beautiful third floor apartment in this building.

Maury, though very pleasant and polite, was extremely thorough in his tour of the apartment.  He explained everything in detail, from recycling bins and kitchen equipment to his Italian/Czech heritage and the source of the marble used in the bathroom (Pisa, if you're interested).

Eventually, we made our way back outside and said our goodbyes to Maury and embarked upon a late night exploration of our surroundings.

We took a right and then a left, working our way through throngs of people in the narrowing street which wound round to the right and opened up into the fairy tale kingdom that is Old Town Square.

It's no exaggeration to say that it took our breath away.  

So much so, that we completely forgot our mission to buy groceries, content to roam the rain soaked streets and take in some of the atmosphere of the city.  First impressions?  The architectural beauty of the place is off the charts.  Everywhere you looked was a postcard in waiting.  It's like walking around a film set.  As you might expect with any city, all tastes are catered for.  No doubt popular with stag parties, Absinthe and Cannabis products are plentiful...as well as possibly the world's only Sex Machines Museum.

The main supermarket beneath the Metro Station was by now closed, so we hastily grabbed some bags of crisps from one of the numerous Vietnamese mini markets and finally headed back to our apartment, our heads hitting the pillows some time around 1.00 am.  

 

The rain had long since stopped and our apartment was intensely hot and stuffy, in spite of the floor fans, so after very little sleep, we were up and out by 8.30 the next morning.  Check out the views!

I picked up a couple of souvenir gifts from the outdoor market just outside our apartment building... 

...taking a few photos in the process...

...and we stocked up on supplies at the amazing mini market beneath the Metro Station.

Well, Gareth made a head start.  I got distracted by a pigeon.

After breakfast and using Google Maps, we headed towards the river, with a vague plan to visit two destinations en route.  Had I been alone, it would have taken me an age to get anywhere.  

The city is indescribably beautiful.  Prague seems to be a city where no architect ever said "That's too much".  Seemingly every square inch is embellished.

The Jewish Cemetery was off limits, being a Saturday and therefore the Jewish Sabbath, so we continued on to the Lennon Wall; a colourful wall of street art in the Lesser Town of Prague, close to the French Embassy.  

Its origins are in the 1960s, a time of political upheaval and activism, so many of the messages left in those days were political in nature; silent protests against the Communist government.  However, since the death of John Lennon, the wall has come to symbolise love, peace and freedom and the artwork is awesome.  

The original portrait of Lennon has long been covered with layers of paint over time, but that's the nature of the wall.  It's ever evolving as each generation leaves their mark. 

As soon as I saw this show of solidarity with Ukraine I could hear the echoes of John and Yoko singing "All we are saying, is give peace a chance."

I managed to seek out a couple of the messages in the mass of artwork, name tags and doodles, like this one:  "I was born to make mistakes, not to fake perfection."

Also, this one, which amused me:  "Can I offer you a nice egg in this trying time?"

We found an area covered in stickers and, as it would be rude not to, left one of our own Voodoo Street stickers behind.

Can you spot it?

Naturally, local businesses have looked to capitalise on the wall's popularity.  Close by was a Yellow Submarine themed bar and restaurant...

...but we weren't in the mood to stop.  I was in need of caffeine, Caleb was craving something sweet and Charles Bridge was calling.

Charles Bridge is a medieval stone bridge, connecting the Old Town with the Lesser Town and crosses the Vltava River.  Construction started in 1357 under the auspices of King Charles IV (also known as Charles of Luxembourg and born Wenceslaus) and was completed in the early 15th century.  

The Old Town Bridge Tower is located on the Old Town Prague side and was built in 1370 under Charles IV's rule and is today considered one of the most beautiful Gothic towers in Europe.  You can just glimpse it at the far end of the bridge in this photo, taken later in the day (we crossed this bridge numerous times during our stay).

Here's Charles's emblem - a Kingfisher wrapped in cloth, purportedly forever tying him to the bathhouse wench and hair dresser, Zuzana, who helped the king escape imprisonment.  The kingfisher symbolises contented love, joy and loyalty.

Charles Bridge is renowned for its statues of saints (approximately 30 in total).

However, at this point in the day, the heat and overwhelming exhaustion forced us to seek some shade and a siesta, but not before I share this little video taken on the bridge that day.  It's only fair to share the magic with you.

Charles Bridge, Prague, June 2023 - YouTube

Heading back into Old Town, we all tested one of the local sweet treats - a Chimney Cake.  Layers of dough are cooked on a cylindrical spit, covered in sugar and baked on an open fire.  They are then filled with ice cream and numerous toppings are offered.

Blood sugar levels no doubt raised to dangerous levels, we took a leisurely stroll back through the streets.  I paused every two steps, snapping everything and anything that caught my eye, including this little local, dozing in the afternoon sun.

Later, after our siesta, we headed back in the direction of Charles Bridge, once again without any great plan other than to grab dinner somewhere.

"Somewhere" turned out to be Certovka Restaurant.  We stumbled across it after discovering an insanely narrow passageway (fold your arms in front of you and your elbows would touch the sides).

 As such, a traffic light system was in use to navigate from the top to the bottom of the steps.  At the bottom of the steps, the tables were arranged in a beautiful courtyard riverside setting.  With the weather being in the high twenties and such commanding views of Charles Bridge, we opted to sit outside. 

I've since discovered that this has had a number of negative reviews on Trip Advisor, but other than a few inconsiderate smokers sitting nearby, we had no complaints.  The service was good, the food ample and we greedily consumed our traditional Czech cuisine, washed down with chilled beer.

We walked back in the soft golden light that gives the Golden City its nickname.  Here's a tourist rubbing the statue of St. John of Nepomuk (erected in 1683).

  

According to legend, the queen's confessor incurred the wrath of Wenceslas because he would not reveal what the queen had confessed to him.  After an embarrassing interrogation in 1393, Wenceslas had him thrown into the Vltava River to cover up traces of torture.  Today it is said to bring good luck to touch the relief of the saint.  As you can see, the dog on the left side and the torso and skirt of a woman on the other side of the figure have been stroked spotless.

And so, the sun set on our first 24 hours in Prague.  Until next time.