Pisa, Hotel Royal Victoria

Because Ryanair had recently introduced charges for travelling with hold luggage this was our first attempt at restricting luggage to cabin baggage only.  At the airport I checked in but things became a little difficult when the security checks identified the corkscrew that we had concealed in the middle of a bag.  This was quite risky because the airport web site about restricted items in luggage is quite specific on the matter of corkscrews.   We knew that you were not supposed to carry a corkscrew on board of course but as we consider it to be such an essential piece of travel kit thought we would try it on all the same.  The scanning machine was much more efficient than we had given it credit for however and there was some explaining and apologising to do before being allowed to proceed.  I am still perplexed by exactly what damage the airlines think a passenger can do with a corkscrew that couldn’t be done with the sharp bit of a belt buckle or a pair of metal spectacles, but rules are rules I suppose no matter how ridiculous they may appear to be. 

The flight was uneventful and arrived a couple of hours later in a dreary, wet and overcast Galileo Galilei Airport in Pisa and as the Airport is only a very short distance from the city so we looked for a taxi to take us to our hotel.  

Now everyone knows of course that Italian drivers are certifiable and I am now able to absolutely confirm this because it was just our luck to get the craziest taxi driver on the rank.  He drove at madcap speeds into the city, dodging down back streets and directing the car into impossibly tight spaces and then he rounded off this virtuoso lunatic performance by demonstrating some advanced driving skills that involved having two very loud and very animated mobile telephone conversations on two separate phones whilst steering the car with his knees. With his knees!  This man was clearly on the run from an asylum and our nervous laughter only encouraged him to play some more tricks as he switched lanes and negotiated the busy traffic with careless abandon.  He had obviously spent some time perfecting this talent because he continued to direct the car quite expertly without even having to drop his breakneck speed by a single engine revolution and we were mightily relieved therefore when he slewed to a halt outside the Hotel Royal Victoria and we were thankful to get out of the car in one piece.

We checked in and found our room and knew immediately that this was going to be a different sort of hotel.  Originally opened in 1837 it had retained all of its original features.  Quite literally that is!  We were allocated one of the hotel’s finest suites that had an old wooden door with a temperamental lock that was reluctant to work but which when finally opened revealed a generous sized room with fascinating decoration and furniture, a solid wooden floor and interesting pictures of old Pisa decorating the walls.  It had opulent decoration, antique furniture and a front window that had a balcony with good views over the River Arno directly outside.  The balcony looked precariously unsafe so I was careful not to step out onto it for fear of falling into the street below in a pile of crumbled masonry, and there were some decaying shutters that looked as though they would surely fall apart if anyone ever attempted to open and shut them so I decided to leave them well alone.   At the opposite end of the room was a an old fashioned bathroom that had everything that you could possibly want in a bathroom but looked as though it had been salvaged in a sanatorium clearance sale.  This was not a problem however, the taps ran, the toilet flushed and there was a bidet, which, being English, we didn’t require for the purpose for which it is intended and was therefore a handy place for Kim to deposit her bathroom travel bag.

Outside it was still raining so without walking too far we turned left and walked along a busy road until reaching a hospitable looking bar in what turned out to be the student district of the city.  If we had walked on only a little further there was a lively little square with more choice but it didn’t matter, this place was agreeable and we only really wanted a nightcap so we found an empty table near the window with some precariously high chairs and had a glass of red wine; and then we had another.

Back at the hotel I became aware for the first time that this was an exceedingly noisy room with all of the road sounds outside seemingly amplified several times over by the darkness.  It was a strange thing but turning the light on seemed to reduce the noise but it returned immediately it was turned out again.  I am sure that there is some plausible scientific explanation for that.  When I had selected this hotel I had read some hotel guest reviews on an Internet site that had repeatedly pointed this out but I had paid little attention to these when I made the reservation.  I optimistically assumed that eventually the noise would abate and settled down and slept reasonably well because tonight I was tired after the whole day travelling.  Kim on the other hand found it a lot more difficult and she had a disturbed and restless night on account of the noise.

Age of Innocence

Check out my blog about childhood and growing up in the 1950s and 1960s and see if you agree with my recollections about growing up in Hillmorton near Rugby:

http://aipetcher.wordpress.com/

Prague, Castle Hill

After our refreshment we went inside the main gate that opened up into a spectacularly impressive courtyard overshadowed by the soaring towers of St Vitus’ Cathedral, which looking up it was framed against a big blue sky and the gargoyles peered out menacingly from the stonework.  We walked around the outside of the Cathedral and came across a wedding party having photographs taken but we were not sure if it was a genuine celebration or just a photo shoot, no-one seemed especially happy so I was inclined to the latter.

We paid to go into an area of the castle called Golden Lane, which was a street of artisan’s houses that had predictably been transformed into craft shops for the tourists.  But here was an interesting exhibition of medieval armour and dress and a particularly unpleasant collection of torture equipment and entrance to a restored watchtower.  Around the exterior of the castle there was an attractive garden walk underneath the high castle walls and with especially good views over the whole of the city.

It was hot and we had been on our feet for a long time so we stopped to rest and admire the Cathedral for a short while before we moved on and went inside.  It was a very good Cathedral and for a while we successfully joined onto the end of a guided tour to take advantage of the guide’s informative narrative and we learnt that St Wenceslas had been murdered here and I thought ‘served him right for having such a crap square!’  We went down into the crypt that housed some royal tombs but we didn’t tackle the spiral staircase to the top of the tower because we simply could not face another.  On the way out we stopped to admire some spectacular twentieth century Czech stained glass windows.

Leaving the Cathedral and the castle we agreed that we liked this part of the city more than the others and we passed out of the gates and past a trio of musicians performing traditional Czech music and we listened for a while but hurried on before the collection hat came out.

We walked back towards the Charles Bridge and discovered a nice pavement bar underneath the bridge and stopped for a beer in the sunshine.  The bar was part of a hotel and inside there was an interesting feature; the stonework of the original Judith Bridge, (which preceded the Charles Bridge on this site) passed through reception, which completely denied access to all but the able bodied. I was intrigued about the lack of commitment to equality and diversity and this confirmed my view that it is only in Britain that we are compelled to comply with the plethora of European Union regulations. 

This is Europe’s little joke and I imagine it goes like this.  At a meeting at the EU headquarters the French, the Germans, the Italians and all of the other European jokers turn up early and arrange a little gag to play on the unsuspecting British delegate so when he eventually arrives they have all agreed on something absurd like a decree that say, requires everyone to wear their underpants over their trousers on a Monday, or a requirement to wear night vision glasses when driving in the dark, or something similarly ludicrous.  When they reveal this to the gullible Briton he dashes off immediately to make sure that it gets implemented without delay and they all stay behind and piss themselves laughing and as soon as they can control themselves again they have a rather good lunch and a glass or two of wine.  I’m sure that that is how we get to comply with so many rules that everyone else contemptuously disregard.

Rested and refreshed we returned for the meal that we had promised ourselves at the restaurant that was permanently full.  At five o’clock it was empty and we presented ourselves for our meal but were forced to reconsider and leave because the temperature inside was several degrees above what would be regarded as comfortable and the late afternoon ambiance in the restaurant was stuffy and oppressive, which wasn’t helped by an abundance of candles and no natural ventilation. 

Instead we went back to the Nerudova, which was an interesting street full of baroque architecture and that was home to a number of Embassy buildings. We choose to eat at a restaurant recommended by our hotel receptionist at the house of the three little fiddles, so named because it was previously the home of a family of violin makers about three hundred years ago or so.  We were the only diners, which made me feel a little self-conscious and the food took some time to come.  We decided that this was either because the chef hadn’t turned up for work on time or the food would be very good.  Happily it was the latter and after what seemed an age we enjoyed our best meal of the week, the food was excellent and there was an attention to detail that had been lacking elsewhere.  Suitably impressed we paid our bill, left an appropriate tip and returned to the hotel for our luggage and our prearranged taxi to the airport.

What an experience that turned out to be.  An unmarked vehicle arrived and we loaded our luggage in the boot and then the driver took us away from the city on a completely unexpected route that we didn’t recognise or anticipate.  After a few miles driving through the suburbs we both began to feel uneasy, I was certain that we were being abducted and I think Kim thought so too.  I had read about these things and I was beginning to contemplate my last days on earth spent in a basement cellar being force-fed frankfurters and being routinely frogmarched daily to an ATM to clear out my bank account.  I think Kim actually informed the driver that she wasn’t paid until the following week, a heavy hint that he was wasting his time on relying on her for a jackpot payout.  I was contemplating trying to secretly destroy my cards and send a text message to anyone back home informing them of my plight but then we saw signs for the airport and I started to relax.  I had been genuinely concerned but there had been no reason to worry and the driver drove us directly to the airport and the departure terminal.  We took our bags, thanked him and I realised that I needed the bar!

Prague, Hradčany, Palaces and Museums

The sky through the bedroom window was blue this morning and when we woke I anxiously checked the windows back and front to be sure of the weather. There was a fine azure sky and the day looked hopeful.  Apparently the reason for the unsettled weather had been a hurricane over the Atlantic that was pushing poor weather further east but the TV forecaster on CNN assured us that this had now passed to the west of Ireland and we could expect a fine day and that was good enough for us.

There was more champagne for breakfast and lots of tasty food again so we repeated yesterday’s exercise of consuming enough to get us through the day.  Joining us for breakfast this morning were the German drinkers that we had seen in the bar last night.  One of them had clearly woken with a severe hangover, which served him right, and he was trying to cure it with the ‘drink copious amounts of orange juice cure’.  He drank so much the waitress had to refill the two-litre jug at least three times.  She must have thought that there was a hole in the bottom.  I was almost tempted to call for an intravenous drip to save him the trouble of keep getting up from the table to refill his glass.  I could have told him that from my extensive experience that this is a cure that simply doesn’t work and I would have recommended two glasses of the champagne instead.

Today we went to Prague Castle, which, according to Guinness World Records, is the largest ancient castle in the world and stands proudly at the top of a very steep hill.  It was already getting warm and the walk was pleasant.  We decided not to go in straight away and we walked instead to discover the Hradčany area that had a regal air full as it was of old royal palaces and government buildings.  We walked to the top of the town, which brought us out close to the observation tower that we had climbed yesterday and I had to give Kim a short lesson in geography as she was totally disorientated and completely lost.  Kim is not a natural navigator you see.  At the top we stopped and admired the view over the city and hurried past a beggar with no toes just in case he was a leper.  He didn’t have a little bell however and on reflection I guessed that it was more likely that he had just enjoyed a spell in a Gulag in Siberia and lost them all to frostbite.  This was quite likely because one of the principal features of Stalinist Communism was the vigilant exposure of the alleged enemies of the state and the political purges in Czechoslovakia from 1950 until Stalin’s death were on a larger scale than in any other Eastern European country.  Thousands of accused individuals were coerced into admitting to crimes they hadn’t committed for which they were sentenced to years of slave labour or if they were lucky very quickly executed.

This was a nice part of the city and more than made up for the disappointment of Wenceslas Square.  There were many fine buildings and many others were undergoing restoration.  Amongst them was the Ćernĩn Palace, which is the Foreign Office building and where the Foreign Minister Tomáš Masaryk fell from a top floor window and died in 1948.  He was the only non-communist in a new communist Government and the guidebook said that it might have been an accident.  Somehow I doubt that!

We peeked inside the Loreto museum but it was about to close for lunch and we convinced ourselves that it probably wouldn’t be that exciting anyway so we moved on and hoped that we hadn’t missed anything spectacular.

It was nearly twelve o’clock and there was a sizeable crowd gathering outside of the castle gates which suggested to us that something worth seeing was shortly about to take place.  The guidebook confirmed that it was the changing of the guard ceremony so we took up a position and waited with everyone else for the event of the day.  Right on time the soldiers appeared marching smartly from the barracks down the street towards the castle entrance and there was a ceremony of passing over the republican colours that I suppose symbolised the temporary exchange of responsibility.  Everyone was waiting for the end of the ceremony so Kim sensibly suggested that we move on before there was a mad rush and we slipped into the castle through a side gate.

Inside there were some nice gardens and a café so we selected a table and then requested some drinks.  The waitress took our order with a critical tut and a disapproving look, presumably because we declined to order food from the menu but again we weren’t hungry on account of the generous breakfast we had consumed.  The sun was hot now and as we drank our cold beer I consulted the guidebook and Kim people watched.  Apparently a woman with an impressive surgically enhanced bust passed by but for some unknown reason she neglected to draw my attention to it, which I thought was a bit mean, but I didn’t make an issue of it.

Prague, New Town, Little Quarter and Fire Dancing

We always enjoy looking around the local food markets to enjoy the range of local products for sale, especially the fruit and the meat and the fish so we were pleased to come across a street market as we walked.  It was disappointing to discover however that this was not a food market at all but instead one that was designed mainly for the gullible visitors.   The merchandise was the usual tourist souvenirs, the sort of things that seem to be a good idea to buy at the time and then you wonder why you did when you get home and so we walked through fairly briskly to make sure that we didn’t get tempted to make that mistake.  We window shopped at the jewellers and surveyed the amber necklaces, some so heavy that they could have been used as an anchor on an ocean going liner and naturally we didn’t buy any.  We were intrigued however by the many marionette shops with puppets all with blank expressions that stared out menacingly into the street and which was reminiscent of Corky and his puppet Fats, in the film Magic.

The new town was full of busy commercial streets that were yet to fully shake off their communist legacy, they were grey and uninspiring and the buildings looked tired and dirty.  That included the National Theatre which although it has been restored internally its external appearance was soiled and unappealing and that was a shame because it was a very fine building underneath those decades of encrusted communist city pollution.

We crossed the river and looked back over the old town and walked onto the Little Quarter and to a funicular railway where we bought tickets to the top of Petŕĩn Park, which rose steeply to a viewing platform with good views over the city.  At the top there was an observation tower modelled on the Eiffel Tower in Paris and with only two hundred and ninety-nine steps we decided to go the top.  Well, the view was good and the sun was shining, we walked twice around the top to get my monies worth and then went down again. 

Back at the bottom we walked along the west bank of the river until we came to the Kampa Museum of Modern Art that had an outside display of photographs with environmental images focussing on global warming and climate change.  It was the best part of the day now and the bright sunshine had turned the River Vltava from grimy grey to brilliant blue, which contrasted nicely against the mellow stone of the Charles Bridge.  We went back onto the bridge without any real purpose except to see the statues in the sunlight and then feeling weary and hungry went in search of snack food.

At the mini-market I bought nuts and crisps and beer and wine and back at the hotel a helpful barman opened the wine for me after critically examining the label, turning his nose up at the cheap purchase and giving it a seal of disapproval.  He told me that the Manager wouldn’t approve of me bringing my own wine into the hotel so I gave him my ‘so report me look’ and took it back to the room for consumption. 

We tried again to eat at the restaurant at the top of the street but once again there was a note saying no availability.  Kim wasn’t convinced by this so went inside to enquire anyway, they didn’t speak English especially well but I fully understood the ‘which part of no tables available don’t you understand?’ response by the waiter.  As it was so popular we concluded that this was a good recommendation and determined to return earlier tomorrow to eat there.  The alternative restaurant that we choose instead was at the top of a steep street and had an outside terrace with a good view over the city below and we had the goulash again.

It was still quite early so we made our way back to the Old Town Square.  The Charles Bridge had transformed itself into a vibrant outdoor theatre with a variety of street entertainers including a speciality act of a fire dancer who was doing flaming acrobatics and who I secretly hoped would set fire to his trousers but didn’t.  I did admire his courage; I certainly wouldn’t allow a paraffin-doused torch in such close proximity to my genitals as he did without taking the sensible precaution of wearing asbestos underpants.  We watched him perform twice and then wandered off when he moved into the crowd seeking payment for the entertainment. 

Back in the square we decided to finish the evening with a drink and choose a table at a pavement restaurant.  The waiter arrived and shooed us off, explaining that these seats were reserved for diners and we should shift to another seating area behind.  This seemed perfectly reasonable and we moved to the table as directed.  Another waiter arrived and wouldn’t take a drinks order either indicating that we should return to our original table selection as this area was reserved for diners.  This didn’t seem reasonable!  The restaurant was not especially busy and we were after all prepared to pay an inflated price just for the privilege of sitting in this premier location so we decided to move on.

On the bridge the fire dancer was still performing his daring pyrotechnic act that at home the Health and Safety Executive would have stopped immediately and we passed by this time without stopping.  All along the bridge there was a profusion of beggars kneeling uncomfortably and doing themselves irreparable skeletal damage all for a few measly coins.  On the other hand we did admire and were amused by an opportunist tramp who equipped with a miniature torch in the palm of his grubby hand was carefully examining the contents of the litter bins and extracting various items from within them for his evening meal.

Back over the bridge and in the Little Quarter we found a pavement bar and ordered drink that was about a third of the price of those in the square.  So we had two and still saved money.  At an adjacent table were some German tourists who were talking loudly in that Teutonic way, were drinking excessively and getting very drunk and we admired their capacity for beer. It had been a long day so we paid the bill, returned to the hotel and crashed out contentedly despite being woken by the returning German revellers who clearly also lost their way in the confusing maze of hotel corridors.

Prague, The Jewish Quarter

When we woke the weather was not as brilliant as I had confidently predicted the night before but there were some promising patches of blue and at least it wasn’t raining.   To start the day there was a substantial and filling breakfast complete with a rather sophisticated glass of champagne.    Today, as well as the usual breakfast fare, there were some very nice stuffed tomatoes and I filled myself up with bread and cheese, assorted meats, fruit and sticky buns.  At home it would never occur to me to eat cakes for breakfast but here it seemed quite normal.

Today we had a different itinerary planned so after breakfast confidently left the umbrellas behind again and went off to discover the Jewish quarter of the city.    We crossed the river by a bridge down stream from the Charles Bridge and watched the multitude of people swarming across.  Even early in the morning it was noisy and busy.  Prague was overrun with walking tours and the streets were full of tourist congas all jostling for position and listening attentively to a guide holding aloft an extended umbrella for group identification.  Prague is the sixth most visited European city after London, Paris, Rome, Madrid and Berlin so the vast number of people on the bridge and in the adjoining streets was not really surprising when you consider that fact.

The Jewish cemetery was surrounded by a high concrete wall; this might have been for reverence or even for security but I think mostly it was to make sure everyone bought a ticket to go inside. We bought our tickets that we were pleased to discover included admission to a number of other sites in the Jewish quarter.  This part of the city had been demolished for public health reasons at the beginning of the twentieth century, but the synagogues and the cemetery had thankfully been spared. 

First we went into the ceremonial hall of the Jewish burial society to see an exhibition of the Prague ghetto.  Here there was an amusing incident when a city tour guide became confused and thought for a moment that he was a member of the state ticket police and doubting our legitimate entitlement to be there reported us to the official ticket clerk.  She demanded inspection of our tickets for a second time in an impressively authoritarian eastern European manner.  We produced them of course and she did apologise.  Twice I think.  The man who thought that he was from the ticket police didn’t.  In fairness I understand that it must be difficult for some who were used to the communist regimes to adjust.  Ten or twenty years ago these people had real authority and were used to being obeyed without question but now they have to modify their natural behavioural tendencies to accommodate visitors from the west who have a more flexible way of living. 

It wasn’t that impressive in there anyway and after we had moved at a lively tempo past the exhibits went on to the Klausen Synagogue next door, which was slightly more interesting and included exhibits of Jewish history and life in central Europe including some informative displays about circumcision and kosher meats, neither of which particularly appealed to me.  Jewish life didn’t strike us as being terribly exciting and the exhibits were a bit dull so we moved on quite quickly.

Next we went to the Pinkas Synagogue, which is a memorial to nearly eighty thousand Jewish Czechs and Slovaks who were imprisoned by the Nazis during the war, later deported to death camps and never returned.  It was cold and austere and for me failed to be as emotive as I imagined a place like this would be.

The sun was coming through now just in time for a walk through the cemetery.  It was surprisingly small and until 1787 this was the only place that Jews could be buried in Prague and there an estimated hundred thousand bodies (twelve layers deep) and twelve thousand gravestones there.  There is no order to the gravestones at all and they appeared untidy and arbitrary like a mouthful of rotten old teeth pointing randomly in every decrepit direction.  We idled through the cemetery around the meandering paths and noticed some tombstones where visitors had placed tiny pebbles and in some cases bus tickets and wondered what this was for.  Later I discovered that it was for good luck. 

Out of the cemetery we walked to the Spanish Synagogue, the last admission and the one that turned out to be the most interesting of them all.  There was an exhibition of Jewish history in Bohemia with some particularly poignant displays charting the years of Nazi persecution.  Also here was free admission to a temporary exhibition but that turned out to be very disappointing and the only exhibit of note was the ticket clerk who was at least eighty years old but had flame red hair, dyed of course, and an entire jar full of foundation applied to her face in a totally arbitrary way that had obviously been put on in the dark and without the aid of a mirror and hadn’t improved her appearance one little bit.

The Jewish quarter had been an interesting place to visit but it was a bit morbid and I for one wasn’t terribly sad to leave it and walk back to the Old Town Square through streets that became incrementally more cheerful and colourful with every block that passed.  The weather was good now and the square was bathed in a weak midday sun, which brought an infusion of vitality to the gaily-decorated buildings.  It was time for a Staropramen so we chose a pavement café and ordered some beer; drank that and then ordered some more. Sitting at the next table was a man eating the special of the day, a pork knuckle joint that was big and fatty and clearly inedible because he left most of it on his plate.  That was a good clue that this should be avoided later when selecting an evening meal.  On account of the large breakfast we skipped lunch and suitably refreshed left the square and walked into the New Town heading for the river.

Prague, A Musical Concert

After lunch we re-examined some of the side streets off the old town square and debated whether to watch the astronomical clock again but decided that we probably couldn’t stand the excitement twice in one day so went instead to look inside the Church of St Nicholas standing on one corner of the square.  It was a nice church, but much like any other and it didn’t take long to complete the visit.  Back outside I was forced to concede that the sun was probably not coming out today and that was a shame because the overcast sky had a bleaching effect on the attractive pastel facades of the buildings that really needed strong sunlight to show them off to best effect.

Prague has a strong musical heritage and there were a lot of classical concerts on offer and we therefore decided to go and see one and set about making a selection.  We thought that we would prefer strings to an organ recital so choose a five o’clock performance, purchased a ticket and retired to a bar to have a drink and wait the forty minutes or so before the start.

The concert took place in a hall of mirrors called, not unsurprisingly, the ‘Hall of Mirrors’ and the musicians played popular pieces from Vivaldi, Mozart, Beethoven, Dvořák and other well-known composers. It was really very good.  I was a bit tired however and at one stage could feel my eyes closing, lulled to sleep by a particularly soporific passage that had the effect of a most rapid anaesthetic.  I couldn’t resist it any longer and I fell instantly asleep but at the moment of going over the edge into the oblivion my body shuddered and dropped as though I had fallen through a trap door and I woke in a start and hoped no one had noticed.  After this briefest of power naps I managed to stay awake after that watched the rest of the concert without any further difficulty.

We retraced my steps over the Charles Bridge and found a mini-market to purchase a modest amount of alcohol.  Further down the street we passed another shop and I decided that I had been too modest and hadn’t bought enough at the first one so I queued again for some more.  It was one of those delightful central European shops that we just don’t see in the United Kingdom anymore with an arbitrary assortment of items for sale all thrown together in a chaotic ensemble that requires a disorderly ramble around the shelves searching for what you want.  Supermarkets at home go to a lot of trouble to place items to maximise sales but in these shops goods are just placed randomly wherever there is a space.  I found the beer without a problem and we returned to the hotel to shower and change, drink the alcohol and go out for dinner.  We decided to stay local again and found an interesting little place close to the hotel, but it was full and a note on the door said that no tables were available this evening.  So we went next door to the ‘House of the Donkey’, so called because a chemist in the middle ages had supposedly broken some sort of apothecaries code and for punishment his head was supposedly turned into that of a donkey.  No we didn’t believe it either.  We ate outside in a dark courtyard and had goulash and dumplings and the meal was edible but certainly not worth a recommendation but on the upside it was cheap and it filled us up.

As it was still early we strolled back to the Charles Bridge to walk off the meal and crossed the river once more.  The bridge was still very busy but now there was entertainment and beggars to enliven the passage from one side of the river to the other.  The sky was clear and there was a splendid view of the castle looming over the city with coloured spotlights silhouetting it out against an inky black sky.  This made us absolutely positive of a good day tomorrow so we went back to the hotel and went to bed.  Sometime during the night Kim heard a disturbance when some British tourists were brawling in the street below but it was all over quite quickly and I heard nothing and slept right through till morning.

Prague, Astronomical Clock and St Wenceslas Square

After a second glass of the excellent beer we wandered over to take up a good position to see the famous astronomical clock that stands in the centre of the square strike eleven.  It really was very impressive to look at but not nearly so good that it justified the city authorities blinding its creator after it was completed just so that he couldn’t make another one elsewhere.

Anyway, bang on time, the mechanism creaked into action and the little statues started to do a little jig, I especially liked the skeletal figure of death that to be absolutely certain of the time diligently inspected an hourglass and then rang a tiny bell to get proceedings started.  First came the promised highlight of the event when a small window opened and the twelve Apostles passed by in procession each one in turn gazing out over the square.  They had to be quick though because this wasn’t so much a procession as a hundred-metre dash and they sprinted past as though the landlord at the rugby club had just called last orders at the bar.  Then a cock crowed and the clock chimed out the hour and that was it.  I thought the whole horological experience was over rather disappointingly quickly.

Next door was the old town hall and we purchased tickets to go to the top of the tower and queued for a few minutes in a very slow moving line but after passing through a narrow entrance door realised that these people were waiting for the lift and it was much quicker to use the steps.  At the top there was a fine view of Prague, the clouds were turning from a gloomy grey to a chalky white and the sky was brightening and we started to convince each other that the sun would be out soon.

It was to Wenceslas Square next and we walked out of the old town and through a commercial district until we reached it.  Immediately it was a huge disappointment.  I had been expecting something similar to St Marks Square in Venice but it was lined with shops and familiar fast food restaurants and it felt a little just a little unsophisticated and disappointing.  It was big too, much bigger than I had imagined.  I was expecting it to be like the Grande Place in Brussels or the Piazza Navona in Rome with an attractive open space and stylish pavement cafés but it wasn’t even pedestrianised and it was full of impatient cars and speeding trams that made the visit a bit of an ordeal.   We didn’t like it very much and it didn’t help that by now it was starting to rain, which made the whole place even more disappointing.  We walked to the end of the square to see the statue, which is the iconic image of the city, but we thought that even this was poor and needed a good scrub.  We dawdled about for a bit just in case we were missing the point of this place but sadly on a gloomy overcast day I don’t think we were so we left St Wenceslas behind without a second look and walked back towards the old town.

It was drizzling now and we were beginning to regret the decision not to bring the umbrellas so we quickened our pace and took shelter in the Powder Tower, bought tickets and ascended the steps to the top.  I like going to the tops of towers and although it was a good tower the view from the top was the same as from the Town Hall Tower so it didn’t exactly take my breath away if I am absolutely honest about it.

The rain blew over but the sky remained dull so we returned to old town square to find somewhere for lunch.  To be fair the sun was doing it’s best to come out but couldn’t quite make that final breakthrough.  Nevertheless we were determined to sit outside and eat so choose a restaurant just behind the square and ordered Staropramen and pizza.  The restaurant was in a respectable part of the old town but just across the road was a group of vagrants doing nothing in particular except look untidy and presumably to take away the mind-blowing boredom of their humdrum existence profusely swigging cheap alcohol. 

As we waited for the pizza it turned much cooler and eventually we surrendered to the falling temperature and retreated inside but as we did so noticed that the restaurant was providing blankets for those hardy souls who stayed out of doors.  We hadn’t seen this before and thought that this was a nice touch and then later saw it again several times at other locations around the city.  It turns out that this is quite common across central Europe and we have seen it several times subsequently in Slovakia, Austria and Slovenia.  There were no courtesy blankets for the vagrants though who had to make do by pulling their ragged coats tighter around themselves for some extra warmth.

Prague, Charles Bridge and the Old Town

We haven’t yet decided what time of day is best to travel.  Either first thing in the morning after waking early and dash to the airport still half asleep without thinking too much about it or leaving it until later to have a leisurely day in preparation.  Early morning departures seem to involve less trouble and I think I like them best but on this occasion it was an afternoon flight from Birmingham.

On arrival in Prague we joined others in a mini-bus taxi that took us efficiently to the city and our hotel for a very reasonable rate.  A good taxi ride, what an excellent start!  The hotel was first class and we had an interesting room in a converted attic that was clean and spacious but with a lot of what I thought were unnecessary instructions on how guests shouldn’t move the furniture around, I mean, unless they were practicing Feng Shui and were particularly picky about the bed facing a special direction or something why would anybody want to?

The receptionist was very helpful but gave far more information about the city than anyone could possibly cope with in one go and forgetting most of it almost simultaneously as it went in one ear and straight out of the other left the hotel to find somewhere for an evening meal.  Because it was late we decided not to go too far and found a charming little restaurant in an adjacent street and sat outside on an uneven pavement at a dangerously unstable table and ordered a first meal in Prague.  After a generous beef stroganoff we walked around for a while had another drink and then went back to the hotel.  We found the way back without a problem, but once inside the labyrinth of corridors got completely lost.  We had missed the correct staircase in the confusing warren of corridors and were in completely the wrong part of the hotel.  We sorted it out after a while, went to bed and slept well.

In the morning there was a good breakfast with the usual cold buffet full of continental offerings but with some unusual hot items in addition.  There were sausages but unfortunately they were frankfurters and I am afraid that I just do not like frankfurters because of that horrible rubbery chewy consistency.  Not much chance of a superior Lincolnshire sausage here because it is close to Germany of course and clearly under the Teutonic influence when it comes to bangers.

The weather was overcast but seemed to be improving so we left the umbrellas behind and went out into the city.  Our first planned destination was the City’s old town, which was reached by crossing the Charles Bridge and I know that it was overcast and there was no sun to help cheer things up but the famous statues were dull and grimy and seemed to me to be desperately in need of a good scrub.  There must be enough tourist revenues pouring in to fund the process and I am sure that the city authorities are thinking about it but they really need to get on with the job.  

I have an idea to help them.  One statue, St John Nepomuk, is supposed to bring luck to those who touch it and it is polished bright where tourists rub their hands on it.  If the City spread the word that touching any statue would bring similar good fortune then they would all be gleaming clean in no time at all.  Actually I found this statue a bit surprising because poor old John Nepomuk didn’t seem to have a great deal of luck himself in his lifetime as he was a Jesuit priest who was tortured and killed by King Wenceslas in 1393 and his body was thrown into the river.  Because of his aquatic final resting place he is regarded as a protector from floods but he must have been off duty in August 2003 when the city endured its worst floods for two hundred years and forty thousand people were evacuated and the cost of repairing the damage ran into billions. 

The streets were busy and we walked until reaching the old town, which opened up into a spacious and welcoming central square and it was free of traffic so we were able to wander aimlessly around looking ever upwards and admiring the buildings that surrounded it.  In the centre is the Jan Hus monument, a religious reformer who was burnt at the stake for his beliefs.  I was beginning to detect a gruesome pattern here.  In the Middle Ages there always came a time where persisting with a point of view became dangerous to life and limb and poor old Jan obviously did not get his timing right, a bit like Thomas More and his out of touch views on King Henry’s wedding plans. 

It was about half past ten so we sat at a pavement café and had a Staropramen, which is a pleasant Czech beer and surveyed the sky and speculated about whether the sun would come out.  Although it was early I don’t think anyone in Prague would have found this early drinking unusual because according to the Economist, in a poll in 2006, the people of the Czech republic are the biggest alcohol consuming nation in the World.  The weather didn’t look very promising but we strained my eyes searching for spreading patches of blue.  They appeared sometimes but always to be cruelly snatched away just when things seemed to be improving.  We optimistically assured ourselves that it would definitely be out by the afternoon.

Age of Innocence

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