New World Street, Novy Svet |
But the quietness of Novy Svet leads to the tourists of the square in front of Prague Castle, complete with guards standing firmly at attention. I take the wide staircase down to the river and cross to the Rudolfinum. But today I stop and buy boat tickets for a trip on the river. The person selling them is speaking with a man who turns out to be a guide visiting from Cuba, so we talk a few minutes when he learns that I’ve traveled there. He asks me the same questions I was asked there: what I’ve seen, whether I liked it and how I was treated. He seems pleased when I tell him I was treated warmly and would go back in a heartbeat.
As I have an hour before the boat trip, I decide to take the long way and go see the Jewish backwards clock, which I somehow missed on my trip through the Jewish Quarter the first day. I manage to find it, niched just below a regular clock for those of us who don’t know our numbers in Hebrew or read right to left. As I walk, I hear various different languages. One of them is German. There’s something strange and maybe even a little bit wrong with German tour groups in the Jewish quarter; I wonder what they’re being told.
(There’s also something strange about the option, tempting though it is, to eat moules (mussels) or Vietnamese bo-bun in Prague, even if it’s only to compare how they’re prepared here. During my visit, I choose to stick to local specialties: goulash, trout with dill, “dumplings” in beef broth.)
Even with the Jewish Quarter detour, I’m still early for the boat’s departure. So I sit down next to a couple who are speaking English. They introduce themselves as Jim and Monica from Scotland, and we chat away happily about Prague and all the other places we have traveled.
When the boat finally does arrive, we head to the upper deck, ultimately sharing a table with Elizabeth - just arrived from a marathon in Berlin - and Matt. Shortly we head upriver, under the Charles Bridge - which looks totally different from down here - and past canoeists from the white water party. And that white water is what causes a back-up, because we need to wait our turn in the locks that will eventually raise us - plus three other boats and a myriad of canoes - up 2½ meters, a small but indomitable obstacle to navigation on the Vltava.
The boat trip takes a leisurely two hours, and carries us upstream past all that I've seen this week: past the swans, past Prague Castle and St. Vitus Cathedral, past the Rudolfinum, past Kampa Island and its millrace, past Café Slavia and the National Theater, past the Dancing House and the Havel home, all the way to Vysehrad. It's a totally different perception of the "castle on the heights" than the one Christopher and I had from the ramparts above, and I can see what a formidable challenge taking these bluffs would have been to an intrepid invader.
After our boat returns to its moorings, to see a little more of the city, I head back to the hotel along the riverbank, then cut south past St. Agnes Convent, one of tomorrow’s goals.
Vysehrad Castle |
There’s just time for a quick shower and hair washing before dinner downstairs in the café: risotto again because it was so delicious the first time.
Then it’s off around the corner to Municipal House. When I bought the ticket yesterday, I was told to arrive at 7:30 if I wanted to take some photos of the interior before the concert starts. And the reason I want to do that is that this is the house that Mucha built. Or rather decorated. The interior of this Art Nouveau building’s Smetana Hall was a canvas for the leading artists of the time, and chiefly Mucha.
I was lucky enough to get a seat in the first row of the second orchestra section: far enough away from the stage to get an overall view of the musicians but without any heads in front of me to have to peer around. Next to me is a couple from Utah who are coming to Paris after Prague. Far to my right is someone who turns out to be Chinese and insists on fiddling with his iPad almost all throughout the 90-minute concert. Luckily the house lights weren’t totally down, so it wasn’t disgustingly distracting, but I told him at the end that he really shouldn’t do that. To which he said he’d asked permission from the staff... which would surprise me greatly. Why you would bother to come to a live concert and do that instead of just staying at home and listening to the radio while you fiddled around on-line... I’m sure I can’t tell you. But I just couldn’t stop myself from giving him my two cents worth.
Tonight’s orchestra is called Prague Music. It’s made up of ten musicians: five violinists plus the Master Violinist - whom I choose to call Fast Fingers because he tends to rush on his solos (does he have a pressing gig later?) - ably accompanied by a striking blonde on viola, a cellist (also blonde, with a marvelously resonant cello), and a man on bass... plus a woman on clavichord (or is it a harpsichord?) for the second piece only.