The train from Berlin was a comfortable cabin-style train meant for sleeping. I read A Prayer for Owen Meany at the farm, after Jenna was done with it; on the train, I finished Tess of the D'Urbervilles, which figures in the plot of the former novel. Hardy's writing possesses a constant sparkle of wit and descriptive acumen which I don't expect of 19th century writing. Jenna finished Owen Meany before me; now I've passed Tess on to her.
Traveling abroad, I've realized that the things I've seen on postcards, the things that seem exciting, picturesquely quaint, or exceptionally beautiful represent not an unusual sight, but rather a dominant aesthetic mode of a particular place. Everything is quaint, exciting, or beautiful in a specific way. The things that would delight and charm a foreign visitor to the U.S. - our Norman-Rockwell-esque suburbs, or the raucous bustle of our urban centers, for example - would go unnoticed in their particulars to an American. The apparently prevailing aesthetic of Prague is extraordinary ornamentation. The Art Nouveau movement (seemingly a theme this week) had a particularly strong influence here.
Much of the city wants for a fresh coat of paint. Instead of marring the architectural appeal of the ornate Bohemian edifices, the scarred plaster and peeling paint only heighten their age and elegance. It suggests shades of bygone Hapsburg treachery, opulence, and power.
This dilapidation isn't a sign of poverty. There appears to be a tremendous amount of money in Prague today. The Czech Republic has thrown off the cloak of communism and stamped it into the ground. All of that architectural decadence seems more suited to the excesses of capitalism than inflexible Socialism, anyway. In the city center, black Mercedes-Benz sedans roll over cobblestone streets lined with luxury brand storefronts. Prada, Louis Vuitton, and Rolex boutiques rub shoulders with antique shops selling $50,000 grandfather clocks (the antique dealers hate Jenna and I, and disguise their disdain very thinly. They've been around the block long enough to compare the probability of one of us knocking over some priceless vase relative to the probability of our buying something, and, finding the odds strongly tilted toward the former event, their baleful stares are not entirely unwarranted).
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| To be fair, it's a very nice clock |
Immediately on arrival, we ate at a mediocre Chinese joint downtown. Its recommending feature was its cheapness. It was a mistake, because when we called Svát'a, our CouchSurfing host, he had just fixed dinner. He gave us directions to get to his apartment in the Holešovice neighborhood, just across the Vltava from the city center. Svát'a is the CEO of an eco cleaning company, which he and a friend formed about a year ago. He's a 27-year-old-tattooed vegan, straight-edge hardcore kid who's also a big Star Trek fan - so, obviously, we had a lot in common. In fact, he offered to host us for our entire time in Prague, although our stay overlapped with two other CouchSurfing guests on our first night. Svát'a really wanted to host us, so he offered to put us up in his office. Jenna and I thought a sleepover in an office building after hours sounded kind of funny, so we agreed.
Svát'a is an absolute pleasure. He's the epitome of a nice guy: outgoing, talkative, tolerant, and generous. He exudes childlike energy, openness, and cheer. I was strongly reminded of Toki Wartooth, of Adult Swim's Metalocalypse, when talking to Svát'a, especially when the subject turned to an upcoming visit from a French girl he liked. He was unreserved in expressing his excitement.
"I am going to meet her at the airport," he said, "Well, she really likes my postcards, which look like a child made them, with lots of stickers and whatever. I'm going to - you know how people at the airport wait with signs with your name on them? So, I'm making her a sign that looks like one of my postcards! With her name on it. And, also, I will make her a flower."
"You're going to make a flower?" Jenna asked.
"Yeah, out of paper!"
At the same time, Svát'a is also bright, thoughtful, and mature. We talked late one night about religion, and I was impressed with his reserve, intelligence, and respect.
After showing us the apartment, Svát'a walked us back downtown. His office is in a complex shared by other green businesses, which allows Svát'a use of a collective conference room, library, and reception desk. We slept in the conference room in our sleeping bags. I got a very concerned look from an elderly woman the next morning as I emerged, many days unwashed and unshaved, with my toothbrush hanging like a rake's cigarette from my foamy mouth.
We toured the Alfons Mucha Museum in the morning. Although his work seems to be of minor importance in the U.S., he's the artist laureate of the Czech Republic. Little trinkets bearing his artwork crowd the souvenir shops in downtown Prague. Mucha is the popular emblem of the Art Nouveau movement. Art Nouveau was perhaps the harbinger of the convergence of "low" and "high" culture, the commingling of art with commerce. That he should be so readily embraced in Prague seems appropriate: the expertly-turned naturalistic complexity of Art Nouveau seems like a modern reemergence of the Baroque, the style which defines so much of the city's architecture. Explicitly decorative and with mass production in mind, Nouveau has a place within the History of Ideas, while also being easy to grasp on a popular, visual level. Mucha's prints and posters are among the prettiest of the era; it's probably not coincidental that he doesn't seem to have been a very complex or intellectual artist. He was given to easy answers - nationalism, Romanticism, freemasonry, Christianity - without seeming bothered about their sometimes contradictory ends. Of course, you only have to consider David Lynch's fascination with Eastern religion and quinoa to realize that great art sometimes comes from prosaic people. Anyway, Mucha's optimism is infectious and charming. No photos allowed, though.
The Mucha Museum is small - two large rooms - so we had time to go to Prague's Jewish neighborhood and visit two synagogues. The Spanish Synagogue, so named not because its constituents were Spanish, but because of the 19th-century building's Moorish style, was the most glorious place of worship I've ever seen. Photos were prohibited, but we snapped a couple phone pictures.
We also saw the Maisel Synagogue, now a museum. Beautiful as both were, the synagogues were solemn, because many displayed artifacts were the personal belongings of Jews deported to ghettos and concentration camps. These articles were warehoused in the synagogue for safekeeping. Their rightful owners were killed in the camps; now their property is on display behind glass.
At the Spanish Synagogue, there was an exhibition of Mark Podwal's art. We both liked it, but Jenna must have made her appreciation especially visible, because the old woman staffing the ticket desk gave her a 2009 calender with Podwal paintings.
We crossed the Charles Bridge together, the classically romantic Prague activity. In the middle of the bridge is a piece of ironwork obscured by padlocks, each inscribed with a couple's initials, immortalizing their love through the power of vandalism.
In the late evening, we ate at a Loving Hut. I'd never been to the all-vegan fast-food cult-religious chain before; they had one in Philly, but it closed down. It was really good, plus it was cheap. Prague is maybe even cheaper than Berlin. Needless to say, I love that part.
The next morning, we walked a few blocks to the Veletržní Palác. Despite being titled in the singular, the Prague National Gallery actually consists of several museums, each displaying art of different eras or styles. The Veletržní Palác shows art of the 19th through 21st centiuries. An informational notice explains, almost apologetically, that the modern art holdings are idiosyncratic and small, due to government censorship and lack of funding for the arts behind the Iron Curtain. Perhaps that's so, but the 19th-century and prewar collections had some real gems:
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| Myself, Portrait-Landscape, Henri Rousseau |
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| Joaquine, Henri Matisse |
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| Model, Emil Orlik |
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| Still Life with a Goblet, Picasso |
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| Flight (Tahitian Idyll), Gauguin |
...and the modern and contemporary galleries seemed, at least to my vulgar and untutored tastes, full of lively and interesting pieces.
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| The Turkish Central Courtyard, Josif Solomovič Školnik |
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| Sweet Dreams -- Baby!, Roy Lichtenstein |
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| Light Levers III, Peter Sedgeley |
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| News, Renato Guttoso |
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| Operation, Max Oppenheimer |
I especially liked the Fluxus display.
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| 3x TV + Birds, Nam June Paik |
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| Print on Canvas, Robert Watts |
The Veletržní Palác is huge, so there was no hope of seeing it all.
I was glad we looked through the floor of Czech 20th-century art.
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| Bathing, Josef Čapek |
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| Nightmare in the Kateřinsky Mental Asylum, Vlasta Vostřebalová-Fischerová |
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| From Four Stories of Black and White, František Kupka |
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| Autumn Sun, František Kupka |
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| A Storz of Pistils and Stamens I, František Kupka |
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| Money, František Kupka |
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| What the hell are these in the background? Greedy capitalist cenobites? |
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| Cabaret Actress (Gallien's Taste, A Girl for Gallien), František Kupka |
Kupka seems to have dabbled in a little bit of everything: political cartoons, post-impressionism, realist painting, abstract minimalism, and woodblock printing, with predictably spotty results. Some of it was pretty cool, though.
The other major exhibition at the Veletržní Palác, which we hadn't realized when we decided to go, was Mucha's enormous Slav Epic. Covering over half a kilometer of canvas, the 20-painting Epic was his masterpiece. He devoted much of the second half of his career to realizing it.
Because of the sheer scale of the paintings, it's difficult to capture it accurately. It's art to be experienced first-hand.
We had decided to cook Svát'a a meal while in Prague, so we spent the afternoon making a red bean curry, with stewed nectarines for dessert. Svát'a introduced me to the most perfect junk food I've ever encountered: peanut puffs, or krupkes. They're made from corn and peanuts, and have the light, crunchy consistency of Cheetos. The flavor is the ideal sweet-salt interplay of peanut butter. They're very addictive.
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| Svát'a's bathroom (the toilet seat has a pentagram on the other side)... |
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| ...and his wall of pellet guns |
He also encouraged us to stay an extra day. We didn't need much convincing. We'd left some preparations for our upcoming campaign in Šumava Park undone, so it made sense, and we were having a great time.
Our plan was to leave Prague for Český Krumlov, an ancient town and tourist attraction in the south of the Czech Republic, and amble without definite plan for a couple days in the nearby Šumava Park, before catching a train or hitchhiking to Vienna. Staying in Prague for an extra day meant cutting our hiking time, realistically, to one day. As it turned out, we ended up spontaneously reinventing our itinerary entirely, but more on that later. We started our day at Country Life, a health food store and vegan cafeteria-style restaurant, where we gathered food supplies and subsequently met Svát'a, who had risen much earlier than we, for lunch. Country Life charges by the weight of your food. It was quite good, but I'm a goddamn pig and can't resist putting mounds of good food on my plate when good food is there to be had, so it was kind of expensive.
Svát'a had mentioned that his birthday was in a few days, so, to celebrate and also to thank him for being a good host, Jenna and I baked him a cake (mostly Jenna; I just navigated the complexities of buying foreign ingredients at the grocery store). It turned out very well.
The strawberry frosting was great, and Svát'a seemed really happy, too. We've made a real friend in Svát'a, and I really hope he makes it to the States soon.
Prague is a breathtaking place, with high-brow luxury and creature comforts. To me, it felt like the ultimate European city. It's ancient, architecturally splendorous, cultured, and fashionable. We were sad to leave Svát'a's hospitality for a nebulous and unscheduled adventure. We were lucky to find such a great host in this amazing city, and we both had an unforgettable time.
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