In Retrospect

Prague, to me, was something very important.

Thinking back I believe that being in a place of such grandeur and significance made everything much more acute. I felt that things could never be humdrum, even when they clearly were. When times were good, life was bliss. Never have I had more fun. There were times when I felt an extreme clarity of the soul, where for five minutes I could shut off my brain, and simply experience the world around me. But when things were difficult, I felt a weight on my shoulders like never before. I would actually feel as if the universe itself was trying to crush me.

Prague gave me the perspective to question the very fabric of my own reality. I often got to ask myself questions I had never before considered. But in a lot of ways I invested too much in Europe. I demanded that it free me from all my problems, all my responsibilities, and that it give me the power to escape the mundane American existence that I had come to dread in the years immediately following college.

It has been some time now since I left Prague behind. My experiences there seem like a dream to me now. Everyday the memory of my days in Europe fades a little further as I again become consumed by my American distractions: a troubling political system, disturbing farming practices, schools that turn compassionate, motivated teachers into jaded, apathetic zombies, and a population so overwhelmed by the media that they seem to be more invested in who wins Dancing with the Stars then who we put in charge of creating law in this country. With all this on my mind the images of Prague slip further away from me everyday.

So finally, I fully realize why I started this blog in the first place. It was less about broadcasting my goings-on to the people I left behind, that was more of my intent in Volume I. Only after the fact do I come to understand how important it would be that I kept this blog. I always have something to look back at and remind me of the time I stepped out of what I considered my boring existence and attempted to be more than that. This has always been for selfish purposes, and for that I apologize to you, dear reader, but I do hope this has given you something as well. Not often have I used this forum for philosophizing, but before I end I'll give it a bit of a try. Living in a foreign country is an experience that anyone with the means to should try. People have sometimes told me that they wish they could just pack up and leave the way I did. But really, it takes very little to do something different, merely an idea, and the motivation to act on it. Hell, leaving? That's easy. The hard part is coming back. 

I'm bad at endings so I'll just say: Thanks for reading!

If Havelia existed, I would totally live there.

Next door to the Kafka Museum is the Vaclav Havel Commemorative Library. As you may know, I'm a tremendous fan of Havel, the first President of the Czech Republic. Basically this guy was a playwright who was a constant thorn in the side of the Communist government. He was never violent, he just refused to censor himself and his work, and he would never shut up. As I mentioned earlier in this blog, he was quite suddenly thrown into the position of President, so he is a unique modern figure that so many candidates seemingly strive to be, the non-politician. However, it has now come to my attention that I was wrong. Havel always had political ambitions. Why, look at this drawing he made in his early childhood:


Havelia, indeed! So the exhibit wasn't the most well thought out, but I still enjoyed seeing it. Basically there was a room full of his documents (like his drawing above), and then a room full of quotes and clips from his public appearances. But first, I was sat down in front of a flat-screen TV sitting crooked on an armchair, and a women put on a DVD called something like Vaclav Havel Goes on Vacation. It occurred to me an hour in that this was a full length documentary on the time, during Havel's house arrest by the Communists, when he wrote the government asking if he could go on vacation. Assumably since the circumstances of his incarceration were dubious at best, he was somehow given the approval to go out into the Czech Republic and visit with a few of his friends. In this country it seems commonplace to go out into "the nature" and enjoy quiet evenings in your summer cottage sipping Becherovka. So I suppose if he were denied that privilege it could have led to a public outcry, which in the end was all it took to overthrow the regime, so the threat of such solidarity was enormous.

Two anecdotes come to mind from the film. The first was after Havel had become President. He returns to a room which was formerly a prison-cell that he spent a few nights in, only to find that it was now a room in a hostel charging 300 CZK ($17) a night. Other than that is was virtually unchanged. Not a bad price for Prague though. The second was about a time the secret police barged into his flat searching for evidence of "conspiring to disturb the peace." As the officers tore apart his room looking for hidden secrets, Havel anxiously looked down at the document sitting on his desk right in front of him. Details of a plan to meet Polish dissidents in the mountains in northern Czech was more than enough to convict him for whatever they wanted. Casually, as they wrecked the place, Havel crinkled up the papers in his hand. He looked over at a man standing near him. It was conventional to always bring a civilian observer with you when you raided someone's home, so this man was an unrelated stranger who was brought in off the street. Having no other available option, Havel made eye contact with the man and with a subtle motion handed him the papers. Against all the communist brainwashing this man grew up with, this complete stranger helped Havel. Many people speak ill of the Czechs today because they supposedly never get involved when they see injustice around them. I disagree.

The Ever-ticking Metronome, and the Kafkaesque

Last week, on one of the last sunny days we will have, apparently, until the spring, I paid a visit to historic Letna Park. In the midst of cobblestone roads and tall fancy buildings lies a large green area filled with walking paths, grass and trees. I passed people walking their dogs, gratuitous public displays affection, and a Tai Chi class, if I'm not mistaken. In the center of the park is a series of stairs leading up to the hill overlooking the Vltava river. What has now become a hang-out for Czech skaters was once the home of the giant statue of Stalin one can read about in the Communist museum. During the Velvet Revolution, thousands of Czech citizens gathered in this park to protest the oppressive regime. In 1991, a large metronome was constructed as a sort of reminder of the changes that took place in Prague. In it's slow ticking one can hear the echos of a country crying for freedom. Or maybe it's just the gears shifting.

South of Letna Park, just beside the Charles bridge lies the Kafka Museum. As you may know Franz Kafka spent most of his days in Prague, and the museum takes you through his life in the city. Allow me to begin my description with the poignant quote from the author:

"Prague doesn't let go. This old crone has claws. One has to yield, or else."

The place was quite unusual, it's official name was The City of K. Franz Kafka and Prague. This is based on his unfinished book, "The Castle", in which the main character K. struggles to make himself accepted in a strange city. The feel of most of Kafka's work was reflecting in the architecture of the exhibit. The first room was dark and the captions on old photos of Prague were hard to read. As a matter of fact, they were submerged in water for some reason. Another room had a black netting in front of everything you were trying to read, make it more difficult than it ought to be. Some things were suspended by chains from the ceiling, and as you read them they would move slightly from the air current making me slightly query as if I was reading in a car, which I could never do. A room beyond that was surrounded by mirrors and played strange video clips and sound effects.

Yes, yes, I get it. Labyrinthine. Very clever.

It's all old and pretty, but there are some cool museums, too.

There are plenty of sights to see in Prague. I could tell you every inane detail about them, but there are many other websites where one could find information on the big landmarks, like Charles Bridge, Prague Castle, and the Astronomical Clock, of which are or will be in my photo albums. The district of Stare Mesto (Old Town) is home to so many pretty cobblestone roads, ancient buildings, shops, and museums. So I decided, instead, to talk just about the smutty places.

Just around the corner from the Astronomical Clock near Staroměstské náměstí (in case you're ever in the area) lies the Sex Machines Museum. We found the brouchere for this place hidden on the bottom of a display in the TV Tower, and decided we had to devote most of a day to it. Three floors of historic sexual instruments ranging from bizarre chairs that were used in brothels to horrifying S&M contraptions was what awaited us. They had some things dating back hundred's of years. In the photo, for example, is something that will make you never look at an eggbeater the same way again. In addition they had a small theatre showing pornography from the Silent Film era. It was... certainly a bonding experience for me and my new classmates. I'll get you more smut in the future, but for now we'll move on.

The Communist Museum down the street from the Náměstí Republicky was of a more serious caliber, and detailed a complete history of Czechoslovakia since it's modern existence as a state in the early 1900's. After being occupied by Nazis, and then being controlled by an oppressive Communist dictatorship for most of the century, it's a wonder that the country is doing as well as it is. Since I've been here the Czech crown has falling to 17 to a US$ which is bad thing for me with my worthless American money, but a good sign for the people of Czech who have for so long been brushed to the side by the larger, more developed countries nearby. Funny story from recent Czech history, when Vaclav Havel, first president of the Czech Republic, was appointed he was not a polician. He was an often imprisoned playwright, who was among the organizers of the mass demostrators who started the Velvet Revolution. Here's the funny part: He didn't even own a suit, so he was unaminously swore into office by the people wearing above the knee shorts. There was no info as to whether or not his shirt had buttons, but we'll give him the benefit of the doubt. One more thing: What better place for the Museum of Communism then above a McDonald's and sharing a floor with a casino? I could make this stuff up if I tried.

It looks like this month is going to be pretty crazy for me with all the work TEFL certification entails, so I can't do too much sightseeing. Nevertheless I should have some more debauchery for you soon.

Living in Žižkov when giant babies are looking down at you.

Nazdar! I have arrived in Prague, so here begins the next volume of the ongoing Chronicles of my life. I was placed in a residence within the neighborhood of Žižkov which has been described as the Brooklyn of the city. At first I was put-off by the more dingy look to some of the buildings, but in the past two days the neighborhood has grown on me. I currently live below a florist, and my windows are seriously sewer-grates from the street above, but other than that it is possibly the best and cheapest apartment in which I've lived.


In what I believe to be the center of this district of Prague stands the enormous Žižkov Television Tower (pictured to the right, obviously) that was finished in 1992. In addition to broadcasting radio and television to the area it was the builders' intention to make it rival in height other structures like Manhattan's Empire State or the CN Tower in Toronto. A quick elevator ride will take you to a fantastic panorama of the city, which I have included in my album.

As you may have noticed, on the sides of the tower are giant baby statues crawling up and down. It's freaky. A close-up look revealed that they had no face, just a horrible concave scar. Upon reading up on their significance I found no concrete answer to why they exist other than that the "artist" who placed them there called them experimental. So the next time I need an explanation for any of the weird shenanigans I get up to, I'll know what word to use.

For future reference, Praha (Prague in Czech) is divided into a number of large districts such as the above-mentioned Žižkov. Because of the likelihood that I'll have a lot more to say about my new home city than the others that I'll only have a chance to visit shortly, I will divide the Praha posts by these districts. I suppose you could have figured that out on your own, but I needed more words so the tower photo wouldn't be longer than the text.

Na shledanou!