Buckled onto Barbed Wire

This weekend Prague delivered another few days of beautiful weather for my friend Gina's visit, which was much appreciated and very, very nice. As we were wandering from the Lennon Wall along to Kampa Park and some of Černý's creepy, grounded babies we crossed over a little stream. On one side a wall came up to our middles and was lightly fenced above that with barbed wire, and on the fence were various padlocks. It reminded me a bit of something I might have seen in Postmodernism last semester, thinking on Warhol's pack-ratting, Broodthaers' Department of Eagles, accumulation, maybe some fetishism in there. (It's been awhile.) Many of the locks had couples' names or initials scratched into the surface or markered on. Maybe it's sappy, but I really liked these chains of padlocks and pairs. At least the barbed wire gives it edge.

Below, some photos. (I don't know if anyone else will enjoy them as much as I do, so, apologies.) I tried to look this up, wondering if it was a springtime tradition for Prague, but Google failed me. (Or, more likely, I failed Google.) If anyone has some insight, I'd be happy to hear it. If not, I'll just enjoy the looks of it.
...And they all lived happily ever after?

Hungary

While I should be doing schoolwork in preparation for the looming end of my semester I choose to blog. To be honest, I don't have a whole lot to say about Hungary. We spent the majority of our time (about 3 days) in Budapest, but this photo is from Szentendre, a small town about an hour outside the city. This is the town's plague column. You can find one in every Central European city or town, usually in the Baroque style and meant to commemorate the horror of the plague as well as to give a sort of thanks for its end. We've seen a ton of these columns in our travels as a group, and most are very elaborately decorated with saints, angels, etc. In addition to being a monument, then, you can also say they stand as a sort of offering or appeasement to the God (not the gods) to continue to keep the place plague-free. After seeing the impressive columns of Vienna, Prague, Bratislava, etc., a fellow student looked at this relatively barren column and noted that in this town, "they must not have been very scared of the plague." Our program director thought this was great (as all plague jokes are?). I'm also blogging for the program as a "student correspondent," so he told me, still laughing, "That should go in your blog!" Here it is. (I will tweak the entry before sending it off to him.)

The most notable of my Hungarian exploits involved traveling to a park on the outskirts of Budapest with three of my flatmates. A free afternoon on our hands, we decided to go the the park where all the communist statues from the country (I think) were collected. The whole thing turned into quite the funny fiasco. Involving multiple buses and missed stops, expired tickets, being ignored at certain stops, crossing the city border about 4 times, and ultimately traveling for 3 hours in order to get to the park half an hour before it closed. The statues were cool. My camera battery was dead.

(A story better lived than read, as most are. We were all in that funny hysterical state that arises when things go awry like that. It made Hungary more fun.)

Now, back to the chores I should complete before I get to play hostess tomorrow. Gina, hurry up and get here!

Before Budapest

Post-crazy in Prague today, I guess... Here are a few springtime images of the city before I leave for the weekend to Budapest.


Cemetery detail, view of the Vltava from Vyšehrad, Prague Castle from Petřín (my new favorite spot), a statue around Old Town, the John Lennon Wall.

Well wishes for your weekend!

Lidice

While other small towns in the Czech Republic were experiencing the playful Pagan tradition, we were in a small town whose history was anything but playful. In fact, its past is so tragic that it largely doesn't exist anymore, and I feel wrong for even using the word "playful" in this post.

Lidice was a town that Hitler chose to destroy in reaction to the assassination of Reinhard Heydrich. The town was ravaged, all the men lined against a farmhouse wall and shot, while the women and children were sent to concentration camps.

Where a community complete with church and school once was now lies only grass and a few stone foundations. Donations were taken from all over the world to rebuild the town, in a space slightly removed from the former center. Walking through the 'new' town reminded me a bit of Pleasantville, or the first verse or so of Malvina Reylnolds' Little Boxes. Rows of little houses, somewhat crowded, a few people spotted on their lawns or in patio chairs, all begging the question that we asked ourselves when we walked the streets of Terezín: Who would live here?

What compels people to (re)start lives and raise families in places so dark? To try and heal the place, the community? To demonstrate a certain strength? That though everything here was destroyed, whether it belonged to them before or not, they can progress, maybe thrive? Build something positive?

Why do people persist in the towns of tragedies?

Easter

I spent a solo Easter Sunday this year, which was fine by me. Setting off to seek trees, grass, and sun I noticed that my street seemed extra quiet. I chalked it up to Easter, and figured the city would be relatively still. Some small shops on my way to Wenceslas Square were closed, but one of the main groceries was still open and I was able to pick up some snacks for my day.

When I hit the square, though, I realized that Easter would not prevent Praguers from passing the day out and about, or tourists from crowding for the (admittedly underwhelming) hourly performance of the astronomical clock. I was surprised that the Easter market was still open as well. Shouldn't it close by Easter?

Then I remembered that Czech Republic is one of the least religious countries. My maybe silly ideas of families gathering for an indoor rest from sidewalks and shopping started to dissolve. Perhaps it was the overwhelming, several-weeks-long presence of the Easter market that spans from the bottom of Wenceslas Square to Old Town Square. Perhaps it was the displays of foil-wrapped chocolate bunnies that dominate supermarket shopfronts (reminding me of home). Prague had me convinced that Easter was a bigger deal. Either way, it was more relaxed than I'd imagined.

Maybe the Czechs embrace Easter Monday more than they do Easter itself, practicing a Pagan tradition. Many of the market vendors sell wand-like whips, made of branches braided together and ending in an explosion of colorful streamers. Men are supposed to buy these, then chase and whip women on Easter Monday. For fertility, they say. The vendors also sell pretty painted eggs. Women are supposed to buy these as rewards for the men that whip them. An alternative gift from the women is a shot of alcohol (Becherovka, Czech Republic's national liquor or something, I am assuming). Also, women can splash the offenders with water. (This option seems most fair to me.)

Though this stuff was being sold everywhere in Prague, our professors assured us that we wouldn't be chased with these whip-wands by Czech men down Wenceslas Square. However, these traditions are still, apparently, in practice in smaller towns and villages. Though we did get out of the city to a smaller town for Easter, we visited Lidice, which was not exactly the spot for this merry flagellation and retaliation.

And while the feminist (?) in me gives a great big roll of the eyes to this tradition, I admit I'm disappointed that I didn't get to witness it in action. But at least I spared myself some mild pain and some crowns.

Promiňte.

Consider this my formal apology to the City of 1,000 Spires. Prague, I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I've been complaining, "Everyone told me it's supposed to be the most beautiful city; I just don't get it."

I'm sorry with all your rain and clouds negative feelings toward you had fermented.

I'm sorry that I doubted you. You are beautiful.

Obscurity in Artistry

Obscurity, in both senses.

The warm April that's got plants and good moods springing up everywhere has cloaked it for the past week or so, but I was reminded today with a visit to the National Gallery's Fair Trade Palace.

Not only does a dark current of history pulse through the Vltava and the territories it touches, but much of it goes underexposed. How many Czech figures can you name? Three months ago, the only name I could drop was Art Nouveau's darling Alfons Mucha. And let's face it -- his popularity was born out of his success in Paris.

Today we saw a collection of František Kupka's work, including his Amorpha: Fugue in Two Colors, the first abstract painting ever presented to the public. (Who would have guessed it?) I don't care much for it visually so chose his Piano Keyboard/Lake to illustrate this post instead. Here you can see a snapshot in his shift from naturalistic to abstracted depictions. And a defining moment in art history that I'm willing to bet goes unnoticed in your typical art historical education. An ignorance, at least in my course of study, that permeates the greater Western education.

The Czechs' obscurity continues to be compounded by their Central (and sometimes even Eastern) European status. I don't know how much light can be shed, but I'm glad the April sun has lifted the veil at least for me. Maybe the warmest Prague spring (points for unintentional historical reference!) in half a decade will bring some new life to Czech scholarship?

Here's to hoping, here's to sunlight, and here's to you, František Kupka.

Pařiž

I have now known Paris in April, if only for a couple of days. This weekend I took the short plane ride to visit some friends from Tufts who are studying in Paris for the semester. And it was a beautiful weekend to visit a beautiful city -- arguably the best weather I've seen all semester.

It's funny that Paris is actually geographically smaller than Prague because it felt so much bigger. Perhaps it is because there is more to see in Paris. Perhaps it's because all of Prague's sights are rather concentrated. Perhaps it's a matter of my familiarity with the cities. Whatever the size, I was lucky to see a lot. I was sure to visit the Louvre, and perhaps before going had had more ambitious museum plans (being myself), but easily, gladly abandoned them. Instead I walked around with my friends lots. Growing blisters walking the dusty garden paths in good company was a much happier way to spend my couple of days than shuffling quiet marble floors from one Impressionist painting to another.

A weekend of sunny conversation in the Luxembourg garden, being surrounded by French (a language much prettier than Czech, and a touch easier to latch on to), sitting in the grass by the Eiffel Tower, being treated to a canal-side bottle of Bordeaux, and eating Parisian crepes was exactly what I needed. I got to see Paris and people I know and the streets and park chairs in which my friends spend their days. I was sad to go after such a short time but glad I'd had what I did.

Luckily Prague welcomed me back with a couple of seventy-degree (I still refuse to use or understand Celsius, I guess) days that coat the cobblestones in sun. I'd been doubting its reputation of beauty of late, but it's probably been the months of sour weather. With some sun in the sky and some buds on the trees things are looking brighter. I'll be able to stray from my more well-traveled paths and enjoy the City of a Thousand Spires. But I am glad to have kicked off my spring in Paris.

Brobama in Bohemia

As I leave for the weekend, Prague shuts down. It could be that Prague holds the seat of the EU presidency, currently, and Obama is to make his first speech in Europe as president. All of the American students I'm here with are enthused to get up early and hike it to the castle for our president's public speech. The Czech professors and students seem less eager, stating that "it will be on TV." Fair enough. Glad I am missing the security and closings-off and crowds, disappointed I'll be missing the speech, but quite looking forward to my weekend. I can always catch Obama stateside.

Some more detailed links if any are interested:

Prague Prepares for Obama Visit

Want to see Obama? Get up early and bring nothing

Barack Obama's Prague Trip News

Dobrou noc.