25 April 2014

Gardens and Power

I’ve decided to walk up the back way to Hradcany Castle, the path that Arthur and I were driven up the first time we were here.  It’s a longer walk, but minus all the steps, and it goes through a green belt that is especially lush.  Before you approach the Castle area you go through a neighborhood of fine homes,

and then through the royal gardens.  They are especially fine as well, along with both an old and new orangery, and other out buildings that suit the royal gardens well.  What is remarkable, and this point will be made at several points during the day, is that several royal and democratic leaders made certain that these places of retreat and refreshment should be open to all the people.  So amid the pomp of royal ostentation there is a sense of largesse.

I go to the Cathedral and the ticketing is a bureaucratic nightmare.  A woman tells us to leave the queue that we are, and that there are four other ticket and information kiosks through the gate.  When we leave we discover that they are all closed.  Back we go.  It’s interesting, most people don’t get tickets for the cathedral, but instead stick to the rear of the church, because its free.  They miss the scope of the place (Wenceslaus, John Nepomuk, etc.) in favor of basking in the 19^th century narthex and fore-nave. 

I think for most people visits to such buildings are to be blown away by size and pretense, and not to find the little gifts and details that lie in wait.  For me it was the portative organ in the chancel, the graves of Nepomuk and Wenceslaus, the actual lighting of the church, the gates to a chapel right near the entrance, and odd little modern pieces of art, stuck here and there.  The small vignettes at the Golden Gate and its door handles are beyond words.  There is power here – the power of the architect and sculptor. 

I visit the exhibit on the history of the castle, and the curators have arranged for the viewer to get an uncanny sense of what it meant to live in those times.  I am especially intrigued with clothing and other personal articles.  I am utterly engrossed by a video on the history of Bohemia.  But now I am hungry and bump into a lovely restaurant in the royal enclosure in a lovely garden.  I am struck by a stylized balustrade that encircles the dining area.

I remember a lovely café in the Sternbersky Palace, but when I get there I see that it has been dumbed down – so I decide not to have a dessert there.  I walk through the exhibition and find several favorite things, all commenting on the power of the place.  The sculptures engage the viewer and talk not only about the power of life, but the power of being human as well. 

When I’m done I go back to the café, but notice a sign that says “Garden” so I walk through a door into a hidden garden.  As I walk through enjoying the sheer green of the place and the sculptures a woman having a wine and cigarette greets me. 

She is an art historian and we talk for two hours about politics, art, religion (see is flabbergasted when I admit to her I am a priest), taste, and tourism.  She lives both in Prague and Canada, and as a Czech Jewess offers a different perspective on both past and current politics.  Later she suggests that I check out the Baroque exhibition at the second museum in “The Triangle” as the Prague National Museum is now called. 

I do go over, and am blown away not so much by the paintings and sculpture (Baroque, for me, is really more about architecture than anything else), but by the collection of arms up in the attic.  It is both a wonderful and unsettling display, and a witty comment on my previous conversation with my woman friend.

It is raining, so I buy a cheap umbrella and work my way home.  Later I go back to Obečni dum and have dinner at their French restaurant.  It’s an interesting menu:

Steak tartar with Parmesan and crème fraiche

Smoked Salmon with sour cream and cream cheese (should have been goat) mousse with orange gel, unsweetened lemon curd, orange/ginger zest, toasts, and salad.

Cream of Pea soup with fresh peas, some crispy vegetable, small croutons, and scallop prepared with paprika.

Sous vide veal tenderloin with morels.

Strawberry mouse with gel, ice cream, macaroon.

As the Germans say, “Ich bin sat!”

24 April 2014

Photography and Memory

Late last year, my book club colleague Howard Crane suggested that I read Laurent Binet’s HHhH, (Himmlers Hirn heißt Heydrich), which I did.  It is an account of the assassination of Reinhard Heydrich, “Nazi Protector of Bohemia” and instigator of the “final solution”, in Prague in 1942.  It also has a sub text about writing historical novels, but that was what was not interesting me this morning.  I wanted to revisit Ss. Cyril and Methodius Church (actually, Cathedral) in Prague.  I actually remembered how to get there, and my memory was full of the poignancy of seeing the crypt and reading the story of Jan Kubiš, and Jozef Gabčik who were trained in Britian and returned to Czekosolovakia to do the deed.  The first time I left in a rage.  The second time I left with a deep appreciation for all those who sacrifice for others.  The crypt, aside from being the actual place where they killed themselves after being assaulted by the Germans for several days, seemed through its photographs, candles, and statuary to be a place that needed to be remembered.  Funny thing about memory, however – I hadn’t remembered that it was a Baroque building.  Other images were more important.

I went down Resslova Street, past Frank Gehry’s “Fred and Ginger” building, over the Vltava River on the Jiráskuv most over to the “south” side of the river.  There was a pleasant walk up toward Hradcany and Park Kampa.  I paused for a refreshment right before the park, and sitting there watching people walk, bike, and relax, I realized that just sitting there was exactly what I needed to do.  A kid was playing in the window of a wonderful Jugendstil building.  I wondered what his memories would be.  The park was lovely with white and purple lilacs, and blooming chestnuts everywhere.  There was a quick detour to the Infant of Prague’s house, which was filled with lots of noisy tourists in spite of the fact that the Mass was being celebrated.  He looked good, so I left. 

I had to stop off at Saint Nicholas Church.  It is a baroque wonder, and I wished that my friend and colleague Mother Lizette Larson-Miller were with me.  She would have loved decoding the iconographic program there, like the hooded woman holding the chalice and host of the Utraquists (Hussites) standing the left (get it) of the pulpit, very much on the sideline.  There were other delights – huge statues of eastern saints, a beautiful portative organ in the gallery, and gilt everywhere.  Finally it’s like a hot fudge sundae, you just can’t take any more.

My real intentions where to get to St. Vitus.  Geo and Realpolitik were to undermine that however.  Some “meeting of presidents” had closed down all of the castle and thus the cathedral as well.  I made my way back through the back streets to the Mánesuv most over to the Rudolfinum, where there was an exhibition of Barbara Probst photographs.  Later, after people watching and a rather dry Sacher Torte in the Rudolfinum’s café, I crossed the street to go to the decorative arts and crafts museum. 

An exhibition there of the work of Ivan Lutterer (Inconspicuous Connections) served as a more than ample contrast to Probst’s work.  She attempts to make the photograph indecisive, spreading the action over various viewpoints, and times, by using multiple cameras.  In this exhibition it seemed to be all about her.  Lutterer’s work was about the Czech people, and was a collection of his work to document everyday folk, and then the changing times by showing locations then and now.  Most interesting was a film on his restoration of older work, from the 19^th century, and his commentary on method and memory.  I think I liked Luterrer’s efforts better.  They weren’t my memories, but there was a human commonality in them.

23 April 2014

What is it about Statues?

I decided that this trip was for relaxation and no heavy cultural agenda.  Prague has always seemed to me to be Disneyland – there are only bits and pieces of a culture here.  For example:  “The Best of Sleeping Beauty”, “The Best of Mozart”, and so on.  This is all for the tourists, which have crowded the city.  So I go and look for little things – things that amuse me.  I do have one destination, however, Our Lady before Tyn.  Getting in can be a bit of a problem – the main door is hidden in a very tiny courtyard.  The last time we were here, I never got in.  This time I was lucky.

And rummaging around in old churches can have unexpected rewards, like the tomb of Tyco Brahe.

Once I am quite satiated with its medieval, baroque, and rococco splendors, I leave the church after buying a book (no photos).  I walk past the Astronomical Clock (absolutely jammed with people) and have a gander in the old neighborhood that we stayed in last time.  I walk up river a bit and then notice and remember the doors of the Goethe Institut – a tribute to Arthur, I think.  They are just as beautiful as they were when we first found them.

 I work my way up to the Charles Bridge, and then notice the river cruises, and choose a small boat for 50 minutes of absolute relaxation. 

The fun of the river cruise is seeing all the bridges.  I am especially interested in one that is decorated with the Hydra on one side, and ubiquitous women on the other.  I wonder why the Hydra.

But then, why statues at all?  There are many here, describing past persons of importance, abstract notions of what institutions are all about, but most of them just cut the air, fuzzing up the mass of stone or brick that defines a building or plaza.  I wonder, as I am eating in a restaurant (goulash) with music going on in the back ground if statues aren’t like elevator music – there, but not to be taken too seriously.

Like this building that is trying ever so hard to emulate Asamshaus in München, but not quite making it.  But the doors are amazing, filled with gilded copper panels of thistles – beautiful.

The street in the Jewish quarter is now filled with very expensive shops.  I have a Bellini and a tartalleta di Fragola.  It is very odd.  The people next to me speak French – the waiter does not – so English is the language.  Same with the Germans on the other side.  I am really amazed that the waiter knew no German.

I’m tired, so go grab a nap at the hotel, and then have dinner next to Obecní dum (Microsoft Word doesn’t seem to recognize Czech diacritical markings).  A nice rabbit pate, a lamb shank that actually tasted like lamb, and a “chocolate trio” capped the evening.

21-22 April 2014

Transport and A View of a Gracious Past

It’s always amazing to me all the little stuff that needs to be accomplished before leaving on a journey, and how much stuff you actually think that you can get done in that time.  The math is bad.  Errands were run, the house prepared, and bags were packed.  Taxi Magic didn’t do its magic this time, a big disappointment, but Luxor did get me there on time.  I waited in the lounge a bit and then ran to get water and chocolate – two absolute necessities when traveling.  I ran into Jim Kowalski while searching for the chocolate.  It was good to see him.  Then to the gate, with a small amount of waiting and on board.  I had a front row seat – “lots of leg room,” they said – wrong.  My “Neuschwanstein knee” bothered me for the whole flight.  The sun never really sets when they take the wide ark over Canada.  We actually flew through the mid point of Greenland.  Shades were down most of the time since the window was facing east. 

Frankfurt was absolutely effortless, since we landed at the new terminal (AZ) and my connecting flight continued on from there.  The passport control officer was amused that I spoke a little German.  “Viel spaß!” he said as I continued on, with a big grin on his face.  Nice.  The flight to Dresden was uneventful as well, and I am always amazed how Lufthansa can have in-flight beverage service on a 45 minute flight.  Dresden airport is quite nice, and the S Bahn connection (€2,20) can’t be beat.  I had a three hour layover waiting for the train to Prague, and the station in Dresden is a bit dreary.  I think that I semi-dozed.

 

The trip to Prague was just amazing as we trained beside the Elba river with its deep river valley walled in by steep cliffs on either side.  The trees were that spring green that defies description, and there was a mist in the air due to the recent rain.  In Bad Schandau there were many gracious 19^th century buildings, which begged for exploration.  The train continued over the border to Dečin, and then much later into Prague.

The hotel was an easy walk from the main train station, although I had difficulty finding the proper address.  A porter from another hotel saved the day.  I took a walk into town, and then returned back to the hotel for dinner (a bad choice).  Very tired, I went to bed.