We arrived via Frankfort in the early afternoon. I don’t believe zombies exist, except at the end of international flights. I would have keeled over in the Prague airport, but I didn’t have the strength for it.
Took a cab–“Fix” was dubious name of the company–and directed the driver to the Prague Hilton. 15 minues later I knew it was all worth it: we crossed the Moldau and beheld the architectural testament of a millennium.
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I know it’s a small sample but every young woman here seems to be named Jana. Today, we went on a city tour led by an engaging woman whose name was probably Jana. She walked us ragged, and now every part of me hurts. Got some good pictures, though. Saw a palace, which now hosts government offices, St. Vitus’ church (no dancers present), and a number of arresting vistas. Crossed the Charles Bridge, perhaps the most picturesque in the city. Told Jana I was surprised that the Czechs had given the bridge an English name. “We didn’t,” she said. “We just call it that for English-speakers.” I tipped her anyway.
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Long day today. In the morning, a bus took us to Kutna Hora, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. After a silver strike in the Middle Ages, it grew quickly in fame and fortune. Today, signs of its medieval glory remain, thanks largely to two impressive churches. Just as impressive, but in a macabre way, is an ossuary–a bone house, more or less–in which the bones of those dead for centuries are arranged as works of art. Saw a chandelier and outsized family crest made entirely of bones, not to mention many neatly arranged heaps of skulls. I was fascinated. Couldn’t help wondering how often someone came in and dusted the skulls. Not the usual housekeeping job.
Had lunch in Kutna Hora as well–duck and dumplings for me. The dumplings weren’t round but we’re served like slices of bread! I objected and got the unsettling news that the laws of the universe did not demand round dumplings. I washed them down with a wheat beer that had been judged the best beer in the world, according to our guide. To my great pleasure, it tasted like the world’s best beer!
Back in Prague, I ventured out for two hours to photograph vistas of the city. The driver, whom I’d hired privately, earned his money. Invariably, when I said, “I want a picture of that!” He managed to park the car nearby.
On to Nuremberg tomorrow.
The Scratching Post 