Shortly before our April trip to the central European cities of Berlin, Prague, Vienna and Budapest, London experienced an early spring filled with sunshine, warmth, and the glorious weather brought with it an ease and an energy that made me giddy and happy every day. Then the clouds came. Then the rain came. And then mother nature ripped through this already frantic city with wind that snapped tree limbs, and made the daffodils (which had just bloomed everywhere) shudder and hide. This has lasted for a month... As with all nasty cold weather, it made for many days where I gave my alarm clock the finger and hit snooze until I absolutely had to get up. The last month it has felt like nothing but work, home, more work, weekend city jaunts, and more home and work, and sleep. I said for a couple of weeks that it was an improvement from the New Hampshire winters, which I suppose it is, but the feeling of dampness and the anger of my cheeks at the wind lashings made the sentiment fade with every falling drop of rain. It is England.... Ok, enough about the weather.
Prague....
I went to Prague for the first time in May of 2001 for a writing journey. It was my first journey out of the US. I had just turned 23. I was bright-eyed, inspired to write my ass off, and the moment I entered the spired city, I felt like I had walked into a fairy tale. I was with an eclectic group of writers, and we all walked through the city, area by area, drinking in everything, from curves of the streets, to the bright buildings, to the strong coffee, stronger lager, and the fascinating people. I met one of my closest friends on that trip and remember the nights where we stayed up giggling like school girls... That was a magical trip and a magical time, and it caused me to feel a bit of trepidation at returning, as I knew the Prague I greeted 11 years later would be a different Prague. The city was older. I was older. It is a post 9/11 travel world, the economies are different... I tried to go into it with a clean gaze. I don't know how successful I was, but I took as much in as I could, given the 24 hours we had in the city.
We got off the train, hopped on an aging metro, and hit Wenceslas square. It was crowded, dirty, and the energy was manic - it's what I remember Times Square being like as a child. It was a bit dirty, and I felt like we had to trudge down the square towards our hotel, and yet I felt I had to be mindful at all times. I don't know if I was too naive years ago, or if the city had really become a little sketchy, but I didn't truly relax once there. There were ebbs and flows of this type of vigilance for the duration of our one day there. Prague has retained so much of its beauty - how could it not? Yet the shop owners, restauranteurs, and the glorious historical streets and nooks seemed weary of all the people. It's like Prague needed a nap and a bath...
I felt hints of the magic and wonder I remembered, but also felt a sense of sadness as I walked up and down the small streets of Mala Strana... I felt sad that I don't write anymore. I felt sad that I was tired and I didn't feel the luxury of being able to stop and just palm the walls and observe, to absorb, to find the hidden treasures of the city which would fill me up. Every time that feeling would start to take hold, we stumbled upon a little slice of magic. We found a restaurant deep down a spiral staircase into a basement, where we were the only patrons there. The owner hardly spoke a word of English, but what he couldn't say he exuded with his smile, his gentility, and his attentiveness. Even though I wasn't hungry, I ordered Gnocchi, and it was perhaps the best I've had since I lived in Boulder. We found a pub where a big group of older men were signing along along with an accordian player - old Czech tunes. I imagined how much mom would have liked it and I got all misty-eyed. We smooched on the Charles Bridge, and we held hands as we crossed the bridge by the light of the city at night. As I stepped on my probably last Czech cobblestone, I thanked the city for showing me that there is still magic, even if my aging it is a little harder to feel...
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