Josefov

The most memorable part of visiting Josefov was viewing the belongings of detainees at Terezin, a holding camp that was marketed by the Nazis as a kind of Jewish resort. In particular, a suitcase owned by the children's art teacher was found to contain 4000 of their drawings. She gave the children art assignments meant to help them process everything they were experiencing, although great strides were taken to try to shelter them from reality. There is a wonderful display of the artwork and in some cases photos of the young artists. It was poignant and heartbreaking.

It was an extremely cold day when I was there, so I didn't take many photos. I have included historical information from this site: Josefov History. There are also wonderful photos at the link (but look at mine first). If you Google "Prague Jews" there is a ton of information available but here is a small bit of background for you:

Josefov is the old Jewish quarter of Prague, situated near the river, northwest of the Astrology Clock. It is named in honor of Emperor Joseph II of the Austrian Empire who ruled the Czech Republic in the 18th century, the time when the Jewish quarter was incorporated into the city.

"Jews had first settled in Prague in the 10th century near the Prague castle which is just across the Vltava river from Josefov. At the time of the First Crusade in 1096, the first recorded pogrom took place in Prague when Jews were systematically killed by the Crusaders. This violence may have been what prompted the Jews to move to the present Josefov quarter of Prague, near the Old Town, in the 12th century. In the 13th century, the Pope decreed that the Jews should be segregated from the Christians and a wall was built around the Jewish quarter.

The Jews participated in the revolutionary activity throughout Europe in 1848 which finally brought equal rights for the Jews and the walls of the ghetto were torn down, allowing the Jews to live anywhere in the city of Prague. This caused a number of violent anti-Semitic protests by the Czechs in Prague. With the granting of equal rights to the Jews, there was also pressure put on them to assimilate, instead of maintaining their separate culture. To assimilate or not to assimilate: that was The Jewish Question. In the 19th century, The Jewish Question was widely discussed; even Karl Marx wrote a dissertation on the subject.

When the wealthy Jews moved out of the former ghetto, it soon became a slum as other poor people moved in. By 1890 the former Jewish quarter had a population of 186,000 people, but only 20% of them were Jewish. In 1893 the city decided to completely demolish the whole Josefstadt quarter, leaving only 6 synagogues, the old Jewish cemetery, the Ceremonial Hall and the Old Jewish Town Hall, which are collectively known as the Jewish Museum."




One of the most impressive sights in Prague is the Old Jewish cemetery which was used from 1439 to 1787, and is the oldest existing Jewish cemetery in Europe. The Nazis made it a policy to destroy Jewish cemeteries, sometimes using the tombstones for target practice, but Hitler ordered that this cemetery be left intact, since he was apparently planning to build a Jewish museum in Prague after all the Jews in Europe had been exterminated.

Vysehrad

On my birthday I slept in late then took the subway to Vysehrad (High Castle), which is south of Novo Mesto (New Town). It is the mythical birthplace of Prague, high up on a hill overlooking the Vltava River, on the opposite side from the castle. The story goes that the wise chieftain Krok built a castle here in the 7th century.



His cleverest daughter ran things until the subjects complained that they wanted a male ruler. So she took a husband, founded the Premyslid line of Czech rulers, war broke out, and on her deathbed she predicted the rise of the great city, Praha. Actually, Vysehrad may have been settled as early as the 9th century. There was definitely a fortified town by the 11th century.

The area was nearly wiped out during the Hussite Wars, and the Czech National Revival generated new interest in it. Smetana set his opera Libuse there. The local graveyard was converted into a national cemetery. Since the 1920s Vysehrad is known as a quite park with wonderful views of the river valley.




National Cemetery
The Vysehrad National Cemetery defies description. Many of Prague’s artists are buried here. I wish that we could all have such beautiful resting places for eternity. I took lots of photos and there is more information at this wonderful site which I just found here.

Daniel and the Million Russians

The photos don't match the text, but I needed something to show you while I tell you these stories.

Daniel
Regarding my music store quest, the only shop I couldn’t visit on day One was Daniel’s so I was determined to re-visit. It was a tiny unsavory storefront. I peered through a dark dusty window pane, barely able to see the outlines of instruments hanging from everywhere. There was a little sign taped to the dirty window;

DANIEL BERDYCH
HOUSLARSKA DILNA 20/5

and an arrow pointing to the right. I followed the arrow and found a directory of names with buttons. I looked and looked but didn’t see anything resembling Daniel or Berdych or Houslarska or Dilna (or 20/5 for that matter). I was just about to give up, thinking that he must really not want to be bothered and had written it as a joke. But I decided to take one more extremely diligent look and found it, just like it was written on the note.



I pressed the button, expecting that he would either come down and open the dingy door, or yell at me through the intercom. Instead, a door opened to the right of the directory and this big guy with big mousy curly brown hair and a matching big mousy brown beard, and blue-grey eyes, came out. He looked like a lumber jack. I looked up at him, gave him my best flirty smile and batted my eyes, thinking; “Great, I pressed the wrong button and this guy’s going kill me.” As it turns out, it was Daniel Berdych, violin maker extraordinaire.



He took me upstairs into his workshop (yes, I was scared). It was small and cramped with bits of musical instruments everywhere. Every time I turned around I knocked something over, so I squeaked off my big down coat and my big furry hat and my long scarf , and laid them down gingerly on the only empty surface I could find and tried to make myself as small as possible. I tried not to breath too much or laugh too loud for fear of hurting something expensive. I learned that he is one of the few traditional Czech violin makers who actually stayed in the Czech Republic. Most, he explained, left the country to pursue prestigious careers elsewhere.



We had a really nice talk and he brought out all of his violas for me to try. Some were very old, some new, but it was a little like comparing apples and mangos because the quality of strings on each one was as different as the instruments themselves. Still not knowing whether I was serious or not about buying an instrument, I settled on two, picked out the oldest, funkiest case I could use to get through customs, and told him I would be back the next day. If he had taken American Express, I probably would have bought one.



The Million Russians
One night I walked into a crowded café for dinner, wearing my black CUBA t-shirt and a young Russian waitress asked me if I was Cuban (?). It turned out that she was dating a Cuban guy located elsewhere in Czech Republic and the two times he had attempted to see her he had gotten into a car accident (or so he said) and could not make the trip. So we talked for a little while and she spoke about how she disliked the Russians living in Prague because they were not particularly friendly. I told her that she should come to New York because we have over one million Russians (fact courtesy of my friend Yuri) and they all seem very friendly. She was intrigued so I told her my (now) infamous Million Russian story, which I tell everyone who asks me about New York. It goes something like this:

They: How do you like New York?

Me: I love it. It’s the most wonderful place on earth. You should
come and visit someday. You would love it too.

They: Why?

Me: Because nobody speaks English. We have people from every country and every religion, and everyone gets along. You can be anybody you want to be and you will fit in just fine.

They: Wow, I didn’t know that.

Me: For example, we have A MILLION RUSSIANS!
(statistic courtesy of Yuri)

They: No! A million Russians??!!

Me: Yes!

They: How did they get there?

Me: I have no idea, but they are EVERYWHERE. Even where I live on Long Island, everyone is speaking Russian.

They: Hmmm…a million Russians…I had no idea (their eyes focus to the distant horizon as they try to imagine it)

So my young friend was comforted by my story and I don’t know if she will ever hook up with the Cuban again, but at least she knows she would be welcome in New York.

Watermelon, Rosemary, & Jan

Watermelon and Rosemary
My birthday week in Prague was wonderful – a short but sweet vacation, one of the hazards of corporate life. The purpose of the trip was 25% sightseeing and 75% cleaning out the waste paper basket that was my mind. This year I visited two parts of Prague that I did not have time to see on my last visit; Josefov, the Jewish Quarter, and Vysehrad, the magical birthplace of Prague.




It was cold – a steady thirty degrees – and it snowed every day. The sky was mostly grey, but it suited my mood since I really needed some down time. For an entire week I had no phone, TV, or watch (I forgot to wear one when I left for work Friday). I slept late, ate when I was hungry, and took a big fat nap every day.

I arrived in Prague after dark. I found my way to my hostel – Hostel U Melounu (Watermelon Hostel) in Nevo Mesto (New Town) where I spent my first two nights. I really was ridiculous about lodging. I couldn’t make up my mind as to what kind of accommodation I wanted. Initially, I was just going to get the cheapest room I could find, because I figured it would really be nothing more than a place to keep my stuff. So I booked a bunk bed in a room that I would share with a few other girls. It seemed fine enough as I reminisced about all my other trips to Europe, and then I realized that I was seriously sleep deprived and that maybe sharing a room wasn’t such a good idea. Then it hit me like a brick wall that this was going to be my first European trip with a suitcase. I had always traveled with my backpack, tent, and stove - completely self-sufficient - and now here I was (extremely embarrassed to admit) toting wheels. You can imagine the horror of it all – realizing that I was no longer a young bohemian, but someone who was now high maintenance. Not that I ever contemplated brining a backpack. I wanted to be extravagant. I brought a hard covered book, my giant bottles of shampoo & conditioner, Snoopy, my hot rollers (yes, laugh your ass off) which I never used by the way because my electric converter didn’t fit into the round hole surrounding every outlet in the city. I brought Crabtree & Evelyn soap for Monika and my snow pants in case it dropped below thirty degrees. I was dragging it all with me, happily.



By the time I decided that maybe I should get a private room, U Melounu didn’t have any left. So I decided to work it out when I got there. Miracles do happen, and behold, I managed to get a private room due to someone’s cancellation but then had to move to a different hostel for the third & fourth nights (private rooms cost about $35/night). I spent two nights in this wonderful place, which had a very friendly staff and a lovely courtyard that was, for the time being, filled with snow, in a remarkably historic neighborhood south of Prague’s popular old town.


On the third day I moved to Hostel Rosemary in the heart of Stare Mesto (Old Town), just around the corner from the Municipal building, which had a skylight and kitchenette that was nicer than anything I could ever hope to find in NYC.


I spent my first day visiting every music store in town. It wasn’t something I planned to do, but I wanted to see if I could find the little shop hidden in a courtyard where I had bought my violin in ’98 on Dlouha St.. When I couldn’t find it, I stopped into a sheet music store to ask for directions, and there the shop keeper mapped out every music store in town where he thought I might be able to find a viola. And so my day was drawn out. I was attracted to the treasure hunt like a moth to flame and did manage to visit every shop but one, but only because no one was there – not because I couldn’t find it. I did happen to find a viola or two that I liked, but swirled myself into a tizzy wondering whether I should or shouldn’t, since I really didn’t have the money budgeted to do so, and then decided not to.



For the entire duration of my stay in Prague, my map was always in my left hand. The city is not laid out in a linear fashion. It is more circular with streets ending at Vs, that end in more Vs. I checked my location at every block – just to be sure. Twice I forgot my map (keep in mind that I’ve taken every wrong train in New York City. I’m now an expert at the subway system and I’m fine as long as I remember where I am going). The one time I was mapless I had to stop at every major crossroad and say out loud something like; “Turn left at the Phillips Building”. “Turn right at the big clock,” leaving verbal crumbs along my route so that I could pick them up on the return home. The second time, I was not going far, but it was late and my usual shortcut had been gated off for the night. In an attempt to navigate back to my hostel I got completely turned around, but was guided home by the friendly dog who lived on my floor. I knew it was her and she barked until I put my key in the door and then I never heard her bark again for the remainder of my stay.



I walked around at night with the intent of discovering something new. I walked west until I hit the river and then was struck with the beauty of Prague Castle, high up on the hill, in the dark, lit up like a Christmas/Hanukah tree. I find the beauty of Prague, especially at night, to be nearly painful.



There are really no words to describe it. And I think that the only way one can alleviate the pain is with the embrace of a loved one, or perhaps with alcohol if alone. Here's a photo of Monika in front of the castle. It's a photo she sent me from a prior trip and happens to be the only photo I have of the castle at night.


Jan
Because it was still the dead of winter, many of the hundred or so restaurants in Prague were empty. I’d find myself on a winding narrow street, I’d see a large wooden door that opened into a courtyard. I’d peer in and see a cobblestone path lit by candles, ending at a beautiful, romantic restaurant decorated with tea lights and music, but no customers and only the workers lounging around the bar. It was a little depressing. Some places were just too romantic to enter alone and I ended up always going where there were a lot of people…which is how I met my friend Jan, from Hanover.



In my customary way of aimlessly wandering until I find something interesting, I ended up at a smoky pub that was one of the most happening places in town, known for its food. Since I detest eating amid cigarette smoke, the waiter sat me in a little niche downstairs that was as far from the other tables as possible. I ordered authentic Czech; lamb sausage, goulash, and the national brand of beer; Pilsner Urquell.



A little while later this guy came over and sat near me because it was the only seat available and we started small talk. Three pints of beer and two shots of Becherovka later, we were best friends. He’d been going to school in Prague for five months, living with his grandmother. His mom is an astrologer and so we drew each others charts and discussed the symbiosis of Pisces and Scorpio. We talked about our strengths and weaknesses, which led to a discussion of love, marriage, sex, children, religion, politics, giving, and working. At a late hour, when neither of us felt that we should drink any more, he walked me to the subway and waited with me until my train came. Hopefully he got up in time to catch his plane the next morning.

Zurich

I started and ended my Prague trip in Zurich, where my friend Monika lives. Monika and I met in Santa Cruz in 1997 or ’98. We met while sitting in the bleachers of a lousy basketball game. Immediately we began trading travel stories. She had taken time off to travel for 24 months and had seen much more of the world than me, and then we realized that we’d both traveled extensively in India and that we both studied Bharatnatym, a form of dance from Southern India (although Monika was much more advanced than me). From that point on we were fast friends. Monika left the US shortly after that and then I left California for what I thought was New York, but what ended up being a 5-year side-trip to Utah. We kept up via email until I moved to New York, when I stopped writing everyone. It wasn’t until I decided to take time off to go to Prague that I realized I could try to track her down and reconnect. I decided that I could visit with her on my way to and from Prague and break up the trip a little since flying straight from New York to Prague seemed a little long.

Monika met me at the airport in Zurich looking exactly like she did the last time I saw her. She hadn’t aged one day. I was so happy and shocked to see her. She had lovingly prepared everything to help make my time in Zurich as easy and memorable as possible.



Zurich is a quaint alpine city nestled along the coast of the giant Zurich Lake. I arrived in the late morning and we spent the day walking; through the modern part of town that resembles 5th Avenue with all its designer shops, and then along the edge of the lake, and then through the old city with its twisted narrow streets and quaint shops.







We’d walk until it was time for a break. Monika had chosen a wonderful array of unique cafes where we would sit and drink designer hot chocolate or coffee with some wonderful kind of liquor, and small cakes. Toward evening we made our way to a bar that was situated right below an observatory and had a 360 degree view of the city. We literally had walked every corner of the city. For dinner, we took a bus ride out to a restaurant that was quite different from anything I’d ever experienced. We ordered a kind of designer buffet where the food was all pushed to our table by the chef on a beautiful wooden cart with an assortment of display boxes on top. The side dish box looked like a giant version of my grandmother’s sewing box but, when opened up, contained bowls of various vegetables instead of piles of thread and material scraps. The desert box was glass and contained many tiny plates of wonderful things. We could order as much of anything that we wanted. I had lemon mouse and then raspberry chocolate cake.

I got back to my hotel before midnight and was berating myself for booking an early flight to Prague. “I’m on vacation. I should be sleeping in”, I thought. But I got up at the crack of dawn and took a shower – something that I always find awkward in Europe because the hardware is so different. Most showers have only a hand-held hose which becomes very messy – what to do with the thing while you’re busy with lather?– or do you turn it off and freeze in between rinsing? - I never get that feeling of total abandonment that I can get in an American shower. Fortunately, the Zurich shower had a place to hang up the shower head on the wall, and a shower curtain, but to no avail. When I got out there was a solid half inch of water on the floor that I had to mop up with every towel I could find.

I arrived at the airport Sunday morning, clean, but feeling that I had gotten up way too early and that I should still be in bed. I tried to be optimistic, thinking that it would be good to get an early start to my favorite city. As it turned out, it had been snowing solidly in Prague all weekend and the airport was closed. Two or three of my flights were canceled that day before I finally took off at about 5:30 PM. I got to know the Zurich airport really well. I spent time in the internet café which was extremely cool. The seats were large clear balls (like in pilates class) anchored in silver holders. Although I’m not a modernist in any sense (except for the use of technology) I do get a lot of enjoyment out of modern Swiss Design. It’s clean and efficient, well thought-out.