Doom and Gloom: The Good King's Dead Horses

Today I woke up and it was rainy and grey. SURPRISE. A New England native and born moper, I appreciate a cloudy day or two or five. But this month with all its cold and wet bearing down from above has grown a bit tiresome. Still, I suppose it's the essence of Prague. So late this afternoon I decided to embrace my sour mood as a celebration of the city, buttoned up my grey (of course) coat, donned my rickety headphones, and made a grocery run all the darker by searching out another Černý.

Above, Wenceslas (whom I pass every day) heading Wenceslas Square (really more of a rectangle, and horse market of old). Most know Wenceslas as the "Good King." He was never a king. He was Duke of Bohemia, and is patron saint of CZ.

Below, Černý's interpretation. Wenceslas straddling a horse hung upside down, dead with lolling tongue. Its gloom reigns and rains from on high, and makes for an interesting juxtaposition with the shiny shopping area it haunts. Once more I've got to gawk up at Černý's dominant work. A fitting sight for a dreary Prague day.

CLICK IT OR TICKET

As notified by Gaia, New Hampshire might not be as liberal as the Czechs think.

Live Free Or Wear Seat Belts?

Christopher Robin went down with Alice

They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
"Do you think the King knows all about me?"
"Sure to, dear, but it's time for tea,"

Says Alice.

The lines of this childhood A. A. Milne poem (and thankfully not the illustration to his Brownie) ran through and through my head yesterday afternoon on my way back from the Sternberg Palace. It was no Buckingham Palace, to be sure. (It houses the National Gallery of Prague's Collection of Old Masters. Not my favorite stuff, but a fine way to spend a Friday afternoon.) But I did catch the Changing of the Guard at Prague Castle.

Growing up seeing movies or television shows or whatever depicting the Guard at Buckingham Palace, reading about their rigidity, lines like "A soldier's life is terrible hard," had me prepared to see a brief and sober ceremony. But for the guards last afternoon, none of that old-fashioned stoicism! There were two guards coming and two guards going, and three of the four were smirking. Almost as if they were holding back a guffaw. One, once he arrived at his post, even cocked his head with a half grin at some squawking teenage British girl tourists.

I know I read something of the Changing of the Guard at Prague Castle, but I can't seem to remember the details. The tradition, I believe, was modeled after that of Britain, and therefore is less historically or culturally important, in a way. However, I don't believe the guards are supposed to be catering to tourist cameras. As surprised as I was, it was refreshing to know that a few of these cranky Czech people could take even the Changing of the Guard at Prague Castle lightly. And after having a small chuckle and gathering a few snowflakes in my hair, it was time for tea.

Pet Peeve

(As you might have been able to tell, not alliteration.)

When people get all up in my grill at museums.

I love museums. Some find them static. I just find myself getting worked up (in a good way). Unless the people around me have bad museum manners.

Bad museum manners are often born out of wanting to have good museum manners. If you're exploring marble hall after marble hall, you don't want to lose your cultured companion. You can't rely on a cell phone to reunite you. Cell phones are very bad for museum manners. (Duh.) So you stick close. Too close.

There's also the dilemma of how much time to spend at which works. You don't want your cultured companion(s) to think you unappreciative of art, historical documents, old buildings. Solution: Lurk slightly behind, tuning in to how interested they are. Keep them in your peripheral vision, so you know when you can move on (not too quickly or obviously after they have). To appear learned, be sure to give more time to the works by famous artists (Caitlin's default museum = art museum). To appear alternative, pay attention to the obscure.

It seems to me that this self-conscious tagging-along method of museum-going happens most often when you're with people you don't know super well. It's awkward, and irritating. Class visits to museums can, if you're not with the right class, be exponentially more frustrating. They breed a chain of shuffling and breathing down necks to read the next plaque on the wall.

Today for my Art in Czech Lands class, we visited the Stone Bell House, a part of the City Gallery of Prague. The professor spoke which was fine because I love him and he gave us some context (which may or may not be all that important, but that is a discussion for another time). But of course, silly museum group dynamics ensued. Some people comment just to comment. Some speak just to appear arty and wise. Etc.

Even so, it was very cool. The building was in many ways still authentically Gothic (rare). And the exhibition we saw was from the Prinzhorn Collection. The works were all done by 'the mentally ill,' and were absolutely fascinating. I would say more about them, but I need a revisit, and, being visual works of art, they largely speak for themselves. [See above: Bitten by Johann Knopf.]

So please don't drown them out; don't speak for the paint, the pottery, with a lean, a thoughtful frown, an artistic vocabulary. Just let them state their own cases. Just let me look. Mind your museum manners.

Dresden, Saint Valentine's Day, Allied Bomb Holocaust

This morning I hopped a cheap train with a couple of kids from my program for a day trip to Dresden, Germany. Heading there, we didn't know that what we recognize as Valentine's Day, the citizens of Germany remember as the anniversary of the Allied bombing of the city. From what I gather, it is a day of national remembrance for all. But national remembrance means different things to different people.

Getting off at the Dresden station, we noticed an unusual number and variety of "polizei." We had arrived just in time for a Neo-Nazi march. Seriously. It was a repulsive, compelling, fascinating spot to be in. I've never witnessed any demonstration before. And it is just amazing that Neo-Nazism is actually alive, active. There was also, of course, a gathering to counter the Neo-Nazis. It was very difficult to tell who stood for what, though. Everyone was speaking in German. Virtually everybody was wearing black.


The wind carried the sounds of helicopters, chants, the rock tunes of a band playing against Neo-Nazism. I saw more police than I have ever seen in my life. (And I thought the Czech police were plentiful.) It is so fresh and was so outrageous that it is extremely surreal to me. But at the same time hauntingly and sickeningly powerful.

[A lighter side note: We stopped into the Staatliche Kunstammlungen Dresden art museum (to escape the cold, and being hounded by police), and got to see some great works from Titian, Rubens, Vermeer. Though it's not the kind of work that usually gets me going, the museum is home to Raphael's Sistine Madonna, and it was a really lovely piece to see.]


I am still trying to process this cold, long day. I don't really have much to say about it; I'm in awe. But it was an experience that I could not have had anywhere else. I truly, I guess, experienced the culture of the place that I was in, firsthand. I feel like I've been lacking that a bit in my abroad experience so far, and it's strange that a Neo-Nazi march was what brought on a feeling of "authenticity," or something. But as horrifying as it was, it was also extremely valuable, I think, in ways I cannot even consider at present.

News story about the day.

Zoinks!: Žižkov Television Tower

Today I took the time to do a little bit of wandering. Not as much as I had hoped to, but I can now cross off one of my weekend to-do items: Find creepy tower babies.

This may seem strange. (It was.) Those who know me can say that I don't like those things creepy, and sometimes I don't even like babies. (Though I am growing to. Somehow every little one I see here is adorable, and quiet.) But I do like art. So I took a not-so-long walk down to the Žižkov Television Tower where David Černý installed slot-faced, disturbing, larger-than-life baby sculptures crawling up and down the sides. They were meant to be temporary, but people liked them so much that they were made permanent. Weird, when you first consider it. But then, why not add some art to an ugly structure?

The area wasn't the nicest, and the shiny silvery tower based in cement made for a strange juxtaposition with an old cemetery just a few paces away, but Černý is perhaps Prague's most famous (and controversial) artist and this work is worth the short walk and hopefully any nightmares that will ensue.

Stay tuned as I seek out his four or five other sculptures of note that are scattered about the city! They are curious, to say the least.

Seat Belts and Southern Bohemia

Toward the end of last week I met a friend of one of the Czech girls who lives with us. He asked me from where in the States I came. When I answered "New Hampshire," I was surprised to get an emphatic nod and "Ah, the very liberal state!" Because we don't have to buckle our seat belts. (A stupid law, admittedly, but you can't truly be living free if you are strapped into a car. Come on.)

It was a couple of days later that the whole program rode to Český Krumlov for an overnight stay. The weather was great for a sleepy bus ride -- grey skies and slush falling -- but not ideal for touring the small, medieval town. We arrived in our pensions, then had a tour of the castle. Though it kept us dry, the castle's interior was even more chill than the air outside. It was hard for me to untense my cold, damp shoulders enough to really appreciate the building through which I was walking. But it really was cool -- some (very extravagantly decorated) few hundred rooms, including a private Baroque theater and personal chapels hidden in the walls.

The next day was a little more comfortable walking around. There was actually SUN for a couple of hours. (Very rare in Czech Februaries.) However, there wasn't much of anything to do. I was excited to check out the Egon Schiele Art Center. Apparently he was born in Český Krumlov. Schiele was a German Expressionist who worked roughly around the same time as Klimt. Much grotesque yet compelling self-portraiture. The center is closed until March as they install new exhibitions. Bugger.

Next up was the "Fairy Tale House," which was actually a (very, very creepy) puppet museum. Okay.

Really, it was a day of wandering and killing time. Relieving to wander down small streets, see ducks, not have to dart through crowds in the square, walk to walk, without fear of pickpocketing. On the bus ride home I saw deer and hawks in the Bohemian fields and thought of home and how much I love it. Madbury is certainly without many things -- pubs, museums, sidewalks to name a few -- but I am so glad to have my spot in "the very liberal state." I'm going to soak in all this culture while I can, but it is nice to know that when I am saturated with city and return home it will be to a place where I can traipse through fields and trees and beach sand; where I can walk with my bag swinging loosely from my hand, not clutched tight to my side; where I can drive -- without my seat belt.*



*Friends and family, do not fear. I always wear my seat belt.

Jsem Americanka z Praha a nemluvím český.

Another! ...though I haven't really done much of anything since my last "entry," apart from starting classes. Good news!: I can say such useful things as, "I am an American in Prague and I don't speak Czech" (see title), "Do you speak English?", "Please," "Thank you," and "ice cream" (zmrzlina. Don't tell me that is not a fun word). HOWEVER, I am too chicken to use most of them (well) yet, and really just end up mumbling them timidly. Which works, in a way, because the Czechs seem to be mumblers. But still, I'd like to be confident in thanking someone.

GOAL: Put myself in more situations in which I can use the loose grasp that I have on this crazy language and use it wholeheartedly.

I guess this "entry" (I am not liking this word, but whatever) is mostly meaningless musings that have arisen during my time here so far. Here, see some posters preaching public transportation courtesy.

One has to wonder exactly how effective these posters are. (I cannot tell as I've only ridden the tram and metro a handful of times.) Would they fly with the MBTA? I find them simultaneously repulsive and compelling. Funny, at least!

Also funny? Some food packaging. But I guess that is to be expected everywhere. My first grocery trip through Tesco (sort of like Wal-Mart here, but with really great produce) I resolved to buy food on the basis of how funny its packaging was. Then I realized I'd be stuck eating children's cereal and maybe some jogurt.

Hearing about the Czech Republic's mainly meat-and-potatoes cuisine had me a little worried but I am all set. Oatmeal, green tea, and vegetables (stirred with a knife! Oh yes!) can still be my main staples. (Because my diet is really the most interesting thing I could comment on while in Prague.) But I am going to have to go without sweet potatoes until May. I asked Martina, the Czech student who lives with us, if Czechs "did" sweet potatoes and she said no, "just LOTS of regular potatoes." Oh, well. ALSO, I haven't had peanut butter since I've gotten here. (Gasp!) It is hard to find (usually in the international section) and overpriced. Alas. I still have to ask about brown sugar, too.

Prague is also very big on dogs. The other day I saw a couple who was pushing their dog in a stroller while their toddler bumbled along ahead. There are lots of little funny things like this that I end up smiling to myself about. More will come, I'm sure, with more exploration of the city. There is more gorgeous architecture to be seen, art and history museums, street signs, billboards, cemeteries... Though I have yet to find some good graffiti. Maybe those posters are more effective than they let on.