Praha

The silence of Zizkov is nothing like the silence found in the suburbs of Lahore on fog ridden winter nights but its everything like the silence of Friedrichshain in east Berlin. It remains dead calm amongst the blocks and the cars parked in between but all it takes is to open the door to any tavern and a world of life beckons from within. There is warmth, soothing light and the openness of all of Prague to be found there. Moments melt away into hours as people smile, laugh, smoke, converse, shout, talk and exchange moments with each other. It was an extended weekend due to national holiday and since Czechs take to the countryside at every instance they can find, Sunday evening turned out to be the time when they all gravitated back to bohemian Zizkov. All the tables in the tavern were packed by people who had not yet gone home to drop off their luggage and instead had headed straight for the taverns to exchange stories about the adventures that had been had over the past few days. Jonsa and I ended up in such a tavern and got lost in Zizkov that night.

Going to Praha, as the Czechs refer to it, has been a romantic affair in waiting for a long time but this union was fulfilled only over the past few days. Arriving into Praha in a group of four we only stopped in Jonsa’s working class neighbourhood of Kommunardu for a few minutes to dump the bags. Entrusted in Jonsa’s hands who being a local promised to introduce both sides of Praha, that which the tourists got to see and that which the residents got to see. It was late when we arrived but hunger held out and we landed in the heart of the old town searching for a place to dine. The first impressions of Praha’s old market square were fairytale. The magical aura of the cathedral bears a great resemblance to a fairy tale castle. The square was all we could take that night and we decided to not explore the city until the wee hours and get some sleep instead.

In the morning, Jonsa and his girlfriend took us back to the old market square so we could see it in the light of day. The city was never bombed in the two world wars therefore almost all of the old buildings remain intact especially those from Praha’s golden era under the fourteenth century holy roman emperor Charles IV who made Praha’s his seat of government. It was only decent to pay our respects to the glory of tourist ridden old Praha so we did the rounds of the castle perched on elevation overlooking the city with its thousand spires pointing into the sky, did the rounds of its various courtyards, peeped in the gothic cathedral which honestly is the same as the Koln Dom, the one in Strasbourg, in Heidelberg and numerous others seen in pictures. Nonetheless each one has its own charm and so did this one. Jonsa’s girlfriend, Jana professed her Jewishness and disavowed the place as one of charm. The couple then left us to go spend time on their own so Joachim, Verena and I wound our way down from the castle to the hustle and bustle of the main street down below to satisfy Verena’s craving for ice cream. What should have taken a few moments ended up in a walk past ice cream shops which lasted for over an hour and included a bench stop at a park overlooking the Valtava river which snakes right through Praha. Soaking in the visuals of the day which included the cobblestone streets of the city, the Karl Most (Charles bridge, which incidentally has stood solidly over the Valtava for 700 years now), the various steeples and churches (we climbed one such a steeple) and bumming around with the throngs of tourists had borne down hard. Arriving at Jonsa’s apartment Verena snuggled into her sleeping bag for a brief siesta. I decided to make myself useful and did the dishes. By the time I got done Joachim too had snuggled into bed and it was not even seven in the evening on a Saturday night. Abandoned by the dozers I too slipped into my sleeping bag and got some shut-eye until a phone call woke me up. Verena emerged from her brief siesta and hour and a half later, still tired. Joachim was inspired by me doing the dishes and went on to make him-self useful around the house. He took all of Jonsa’s laundry out of the washing machine and delicately spread it out to dry. Verena and I harassed him about Jonsa’s underwear. Joachim, being Joachim turned red in the face and coolly denied any links to homosexuality, yet again. Jonsa’s arrival a short while later brought the prospect of visiting Zizkov. We had to get on one of Praha’s quaint charming trams and then into the subway which was very reminiscent of the Moscow metro although not as beautiful. However I wish to be a tram driver some day since they can drive as fast as they possibly can.

Acropolis was the name of the place where Jonsa and Jana introduced us to 3 other locals, 2 men and one other woman, Camilla. This attractive-tall-Slavic-blonde-woman had two claims to fame. One was that she was the sister of the equally attractive but shorter Jana and the second was that she was a Lieutenant on the Praha police force. Joachim happened to be strategically placed right next to her so he proceeded to flirt. Although one shouldn’t really call that flirting since Joachim is the straightforward epitomy of German efficiency and directness. I proceeded to admire her from across the table and think of what she would look like when fully clad in police gear while Verena proclaimed that Jana was a notch above her more illustrious sister.Afterwards Joachim, Verena and I walked down the street eventually catching a taxi to the city center to watch young American, British and German tourists who happened to be predominantly men hunt around town for Praha’s legendary night life. We thought of entering a couple of clubs but prospects of charged American-British-German hormones was a put off, instead we chose a tavern and stayed there until we were ready to collapse and eventually went home. Verena and Joachim had classes on Monday so they caught trains home to Berlin whereas I stayed behind an extra night.

What happens to be stated in the first paragraph happened at this point. May I also add that Jonsa and I also met a friend of his, Helena who joined us on our tavern crawl. Being a long time resident of Zizkov she knew the places to visit. The Bohemian spirit of the neighbourhood cuts right through the streets although they remain deserted. If there is one place that I want to live in Praha, it is Zizkov. And apart from the working class flavour of Kommunardu where we stayed in Jonsa’s apartment it is the spirit of Zizkov that I miss most about Praha.

Praha is every bit fantastic that people say it is. It is the 4th or the 5th most visited city of Europe but beyond the throngs of tourists there is much that Praha offers to the traveller. The hustle and bustle of its soviet subway system, the quirkiness of its ancient racing tram network, its old town charm untouched by devastation and war that swept much of Europe last century, the resilience of its thought and sturdy Czech populace, its fantastic transition from the communist system to a liberal system and most of all its intellectual and bohemian flavour cuts right through the city. It is the city of Kafka, Hrabal, Kundera, Capek, Neruda and countless other thinkers. Prague is small in geographic proportions but large enough for someone to loose them self in.