I haven't written in a very long time. Sorry to those who've looked for something new...if anyone has.



Notes from Prague:



Czech Airlines plays Vltava by Smetana when you land in Prague. It was cold, raining, and foggy, so I didn't see Prague from the air when you fly into the valley -- but I've heard it is beautiful. I was met at the airport by someone from the travel agency that booked my hotel room and driven to the Bubenec neighbourhood to check into the miserably names Hotel Splendid. The buildings on the street were all in disrepair, and I shouldn't have been surprised to find that the hotel is no more than a glorified Communist dorm from the 1960s. I checked in, laid down, worried that maybe I shouldn't have given my passport to the women at the front desk, and feel asleep. A bit later, Robert came, looked around the hotel room and said, "you're out of here." I changed clothes, re-packed, and we headed to the much more fabulous Grand Hotel Europa. The women at the desk look incredulous when I checked out. Robert leaned over and said. "she thinks we had a quickie." And after thinking that I was in the room for an hour, changed, and slept in the bed, thought she had reason to suspect.



The Grand Hotel Europa is a stunning art nouveau hotel on the Wenceslas Square -- apparently just across the street from the advent of the velvet revolution in 1989. The room was delightfully turn of the century, but cold, and the bed was hard. Still I was miles closer to Robert's flat and happy to be out of the Hotel (not) Splendid in it's suspect environs.



We walked to the Old Town Square and met Steve, Rick, Linda and Terry near the Hus monument. The old town is a lovely mixture of art nouveau and Baroque architecture. Linda and Terry are friends of Robert and Rick, and although I hardly know them we have momentous times. I spent my last Saturday night in San Francisco at a party in their flat, and my first trip to Prague in their company. They're delightful -- charming people with infectious laughter.



I can sum up the rest of the weekend as: walking, walking, eating, drinking pivo (beer), walking, shopping, eating, walking, sleeping, etc. We ate at places like the Hotel Europa and Cafe Slavia (the famous haunt of the Czech surrealists and political dissidents before it was closed for five years and tastefully remodeled in a Czech modernist style), the Zltava near the castle, Chez Marcel,and a fabulous restaurant near the Slavia. Things like bread dumplings, roasted pork, stewed meats, sandwiches, and pivo, pivo, pivo (I bloated). Shortly after snacking at the Zltava on potato croquettes and bread (and pivo, of course) we ate a Czech diner (that reminding me of the Czech drinking club in West Hampstead that Giovanni took me to) that Robert's friends took us too. I think I actually did damage trying to politely eat my dinner and drink pivo without needing to purge. Then, because I deserve to be punished, we went to the Thirsty Dog bar to drink, yes, more beer.



Did we do anything but eat? Of course! We saw Mozart's Requiem performed by rather haughty Czech divas at the stunnning Smetana Hall in the Obesci Dum. We climbed up the Mala Strana to the Prazsky Hrad (castle) and walked across the Karluv most (Charles Bridge) in both day and nighttime. Shopped (I bought a Czech boyband CD and a leather bookbag), climbed through the St. Vitus catacombs. Admired the beauty of the Czech people in their Czech-fabulous style (brilliant mix of East and West European) and strolled the Vltava.



It's dreamlike. One can see in the shadows the dark, mythical past of Kafka's Prague, and its more recent Soviet "occupation." But one can also see the hope and determination of the city. They're methodically stripping away the literal and rhetorical soot and re-discovering the shimmering gem of the city. Go. Now.