Prague: Day Four, Part Two - National Holiday

Once on the left bank of the Vltava, in Mala Strana, I stop off at yet another church.  This one’s resolutely Baroque:  the Church of St. Nicholas.  Evidently Czech churches were taken over by the Communist government, and only recently returned to the church.  That leaves a dilemma:  how to find the money to do all the restoration work needed.  That might explain why many of the churches charge an entrance fee.  Inside massive scaffolding hides the altar from the nave, and the immense painting on the dome can be seen only by climbing the sixty steps to the gallery.
       After the church, I get back on track to The Loreto, and Nerudova Street seems the most direct route.  Many of its houses have some kind of decoration over the door.  At Number 12, it’s U Tri Houslicek (the 3 violins), where violin makers once lived and plied their trade.  Nearby is a Medusa with gilded hair over a hostel door.  Further up is an ornate Virgin and Child painting amid an equally ornate stucco-and-gilt decor.   Cafés and restaurants - such as the Rilke Restaurant, complete with his photo - alternate with shops.  One of them specializes in objects in wood, and I end up with amazingly-crafted jewelry for Christmas gifts:  earrings and bracelets in wood, plus a necklace in multi-colored amber, also a product of the Czech Republic.

On the way up to The Loreto - my ultimate destination and farthest point for today - I manage to get lost, subjugated by the view out over Petrin Park and its acres of trees already tinged with the autumnal colors to come.  Peeking out on the summit is the park’s own version of the Eiffel Tower - or at least the top of it - which is actually an observation tower.   Somewhere in my musing about Nature, I’ve strayed from my straight route.  And when I ask how to get to The Loreto, the general reply is a version of my grandfather’s old saying, “You can’t get there from here”.  Ultimately it involves a huge detour.
       The Loreto is a pilgrimage site based on the legend that the house where Archangel Gabriel announced to Mary the future birth of Jesus was transported here (and elsewhere in Bohemia and Moravia) from Nazareth in the 13th century to save it from the Infidels.  This replica was later enclosed by cloisters to provide shelter to the pilgrims, and even later a Baroque facade.  The muted colors of the chapel vie with all the gold trim, and the Treasury upstairs gives an idea of the past wealth of the Roman Catholic Church in this part of Eastern Europe:  gold, silver, pearls and precious gems.
       (A wink and a nudge:  there’s a sign outside The Loreto that says “No Wedding Pictures”.  They take their legends seriously here.)

The return route from The Loreto passes through a time warp.  And that time warp is Novy Svet.  Its low houses are like something borrowed from the countryside, totally unlike anything else I’ve seen in Prague.  And although there are some parked cars, there is literally no traffic, except pedestrians.  It reminds me of Rue St. Rustique, once the only street in the village of Montmartre.  Under a begonia-ed window is stacked row upon row of wood for the winter stove or fireplace.