Left: Chris, Luis, me, Daniel, and Andy in front of the St. Vitus' cathedral (Prague).
The free weekend in Prague wasn't the first time that I'd traveled independently of "real" adults, but it was the first time that I'd done so in a foreign country - one I'd never been to, at that. It certainly wasn't something I would have wanted to do alone for security reasons, but also because the presence of friends enhanced the experience.
Our experience in a hostel turned out for the better despite the loss of our reservation. The eight of us who booked at the same hostel got split up between 8-bed dorm rooms, a bit like summer camp, except you were actually supposed to let the boys in your room. We were mixed with the other young travelers in the room - two girls from Austria and one guy from Finland. The girls told me that after awhile Vienna is just another city to live in, whereas to me it's mind-blowing to think that one could tire in a place as fascinating as Vienna. I've also noticed that I've never been able to escape the misconception that all Texans own horses; this is something that's been asked of me many times now. On a different note, there were also people in our room who were comfortable in varying degrees of undress, something I hadn't dealt with since soccer locker rooms back in the States.
On the whole, I found Prague gorgeous, although I had to wonder if it wasn't intentionally a tad garish to remain strong in its tourist industry. The guidebook that I brought was helpful, although it was certainly no substitute for a guide in the flesh. We saw the Castle Quarter on Saturday after we finally scrounged up enough coins to buy our metro-tram-sub tickets (which, of course, were never checked). I think the name "Castle Quarter" had me expecting the literal meaning - a castle - instead of what it really seemed to be, which was a palace, cathedral, and overall royal-ish area. Not to be misinterpreted, though; I'm glad we went and saw the different buildings, the royal guards, and the courtyard. I was impressed by the cathedral in spite of having just seen the one in Cologne, and it was easy to imagine that Prague had been the seat of power for centuries. The views from the area were worth the trouble even if we hadn't gotten to see the interior of the buildings.
On our way back to Old Town Square from the Castle Quarter, we took a stroll across Charles Bridge and ended up in front of a church on Karlova (spelling questionable). We were chilled from the wind and had some time to kill before dinner, so five of us popped in for a "concert", the validity of which is still in question. There was a "concert manager" who bartered with us before admitting us for cheap. Oddly enough, we were tough customers because we honestly didn't care about seeing the concert too much and stuck to our price. As a violinist who has played some of the same pieces (Vivaldi's Four Seasons and both versions of "Ave Maria"), I can't say they impressed me, but there was a certain peace that I found sitting in this beautiful church with my buds on a whim. And that was worth the money.
New Year's Eve had been quite the draining adventure, so we turned in early on Saturday night. and began Sunday on a fresh and early note. Interestingly, we were all eager to get up and go without anyone prying us out of bed, perhaps a testament to how the proper motivation can get us going in the morning. We went straight to the Jewish Quarter...and that was not to be missed. If I had to see only one thing in Prague, I would pick those sites again. The Jewish Museum of Prague consists of seven different sites that are more or less on a walking circuit, which begins most logically with the Pinksta Synagogue. The following is a raw excerpt from the travel journal that I have on me at all times:
The children's art exhibit from Terezin was beyond words. It was sad, and yet it was also a testament to the innocence of the children who all but perished in the Eastern death camps. There were the simple things that all children draw, like butterflies, and then there were drawings of families on their way home to Prague. I shed a tear at the sight of those.
The rest of the Jewish Museum was well done. I appreciated that it didn't focus purely on the events of 1933 to 1945. Though certain exhibits did discuss that era, others taught me things I never knew about the Jewish way of life, which reaches far beyond the tragedy of the Holocaust. Regarding burial customs, one sign read, "There must be no difference between the shrouds of the poor and those of the rich." That was certainly a contrast to the way the Romans buried their dead, which we'd learned about just a few days prior. As if the exhibits weren't wonderful enough, the interiors of the various synagogues were all done in completely different styles.
During some point that weekend, one of my peers had wondered why I wanted to go to the Jewish Museum. I was slightly lost for words as I don't think I've ever really wondered why I wanted to see something. It's like explaining why you want to go to the Eiffel Tower, stand in the Coliseum, or tour the Smithsonian...it's primarily because of historical and cultural significance, but I find that there's also the element that I can't explain. What I got out of it far surpassed what I could have read and expected, and that's always a chance worth taking. There's nothing wrong in questioning motives, but it was something I'd never thought of before.
I also enjoy seeing that people and children in other countries are not so different than we are. At the most basic levels, we are so similar...we have fun, we connect with friends on Facebook, we sing Christmas carols. We make music and love. I wouldn't have denied this if asked prior to this trip, but when it's staring you in the face, it's immediate and vital.
You'd think that after a week of being in a foreign country that I'd have the hang of it, but switching from Germany to the Czech Republic was more difficult than I had anticipated. Change Euros to the Czech crown, switch up the language, change the transit system, and I felt totally lost again. One example? We tried to make reservations for the return train, during which we went in a circle at the ticket center with ladies who spoke varying amounts of English before we gave up and decided to rush the train instead.
Returning from Prague was a little like going back home, to a place that was familiar. A home away from home.
Our experience in a hostel turned out for the better despite the loss of our reservation. The eight of us who booked at the same hostel got split up between 8-bed dorm rooms, a bit like summer camp, except you were actually supposed to let the boys in your room. We were mixed with the other young travelers in the room - two girls from Austria and one guy from Finland. The girls told me that after awhile Vienna is just another city to live in, whereas to me it's mind-blowing to think that one could tire in a place as fascinating as Vienna. I've also noticed that I've never been able to escape the misconception that all Texans own horses; this is something that's been asked of me many times now. On a different note, there were also people in our room who were comfortable in varying degrees of undress, something I hadn't dealt with since soccer locker rooms back in the States.
On the whole, I found Prague gorgeous, although I had to wonder if it wasn't intentionally a tad garish to remain strong in its tourist industry. The guidebook that I brought was helpful, although it was certainly no substitute for a guide in the flesh. We saw the Castle Quarter on Saturday after we finally scrounged up enough coins to buy our metro-tram-sub tickets (which, of course, were never checked). I think the name "Castle Quarter" had me expecting the literal meaning - a castle - instead of what it really seemed to be, which was a palace, cathedral, and overall royal-ish area. Not to be misinterpreted, though; I'm glad we went and saw the different buildings, the royal guards, and the courtyard. I was impressed by the cathedral in spite of having just seen the one in Cologne, and it was easy to imagine that Prague had been the seat of power for centuries. The views from the area were worth the trouble even if we hadn't gotten to see the interior of the buildings.
On our way back to Old Town Square from the Castle Quarter, we took a stroll across Charles Bridge and ended up in front of a church on Karlova (spelling questionable). We were chilled from the wind and had some time to kill before dinner, so five of us popped in for a "concert", the validity of which is still in question. There was a "concert manager" who bartered with us before admitting us for cheap. Oddly enough, we were tough customers because we honestly didn't care about seeing the concert too much and stuck to our price. As a violinist who has played some of the same pieces (Vivaldi's Four Seasons and both versions of "Ave Maria"), I can't say they impressed me, but there was a certain peace that I found sitting in this beautiful church with my buds on a whim. And that was worth the money.
New Year's Eve had been quite the draining adventure, so we turned in early on Saturday night. and began Sunday on a fresh and early note. Interestingly, we were all eager to get up and go without anyone prying us out of bed, perhaps a testament to how the proper motivation can get us going in the morning. We went straight to the Jewish Quarter...and that was not to be missed. If I had to see only one thing in Prague, I would pick those sites again. The Jewish Museum of Prague consists of seven different sites that are more or less on a walking circuit, which begins most logically with the Pinksta Synagogue. The following is a raw excerpt from the travel journal that I have on me at all times:
Names of victims are inscribed on the wall. I realize there are tens of thousands, but this is profound. There are rooms upon rooms of names, inscribed in small letters, and at the top floor in a room near the art exhibit, you think they will stop but they do not. There seems hardly a place where there are no names, almost as if they do not fit. And this is only a fraction, only the Czech Jews. This isn't over generations; it is from one war.That was the impact that the memorial (which is contained purely in the Pinksta Synagogue) had on me.
The children's art exhibit from Terezin was beyond words. It was sad, and yet it was also a testament to the innocence of the children who all but perished in the Eastern death camps. There were the simple things that all children draw, like butterflies, and then there were drawings of families on their way home to Prague. I shed a tear at the sight of those.
The rest of the Jewish Museum was well done. I appreciated that it didn't focus purely on the events of 1933 to 1945. Though certain exhibits did discuss that era, others taught me things I never knew about the Jewish way of life, which reaches far beyond the tragedy of the Holocaust. Regarding burial customs, one sign read, "There must be no difference between the shrouds of the poor and those of the rich." That was certainly a contrast to the way the Romans buried their dead, which we'd learned about just a few days prior. As if the exhibits weren't wonderful enough, the interiors of the various synagogues were all done in completely different styles.
During some point that weekend, one of my peers had wondered why I wanted to go to the Jewish Museum. I was slightly lost for words as I don't think I've ever really wondered why I wanted to see something. It's like explaining why you want to go to the Eiffel Tower, stand in the Coliseum, or tour the Smithsonian...it's primarily because of historical and cultural significance, but I find that there's also the element that I can't explain. What I got out of it far surpassed what I could have read and expected, and that's always a chance worth taking. There's nothing wrong in questioning motives, but it was something I'd never thought of before.
I also enjoy seeing that people and children in other countries are not so different than we are. At the most basic levels, we are so similar...we have fun, we connect with friends on Facebook, we sing Christmas carols. We make music and love. I wouldn't have denied this if asked prior to this trip, but when it's staring you in the face, it's immediate and vital.
You'd think that after a week of being in a foreign country that I'd have the hang of it, but switching from Germany to the Czech Republic was more difficult than I had anticipated. Change Euros to the Czech crown, switch up the language, change the transit system, and I felt totally lost again. One example? We tried to make reservations for the return train, during which we went in a circle at the ticket center with ladies who spoke varying amounts of English before we gave up and decided to rush the train instead.
Returning from Prague was a little like going back home, to a place that was familiar. A home away from home.
"I was told
Every day in my childhood
Even when we grow old
Home will be where the heart is
Never were words so true."
- "Home", Beauty and the Beast
No comments:
Post a Comment