Praha noci - Prague nights

For a few years now I've had a burning curiosity to see the notorious city of Prague. Feeling drawn to a reputation of uncanny, 'almost' eastern european beauty well-maintained despite WWII, and seeing a few dreamy looks from friends on recalling their experiences, I was well convinced.

View from Prague Castle
Photo Credit: Anna

Prague old city square Christmas Market
(for more see previous blog post)

On discussing Christmas plans with my auntie who-knows-all-and-beyond, she agreed firmly that I should drink in the city during the holiday fever.

However, sadly my camera was taken from my bag Christmas Eve, so the pictures are a bit limited (finally bought a new one the last evening).

"Probably"...I'm not sure I'm convinced.

Snugglemonster

Finding a gracious American CS host with whom to share a somewhat traditional yet quite unique Christmas was a cinch, and Nigel even kindly agreed to let my friend Anna stay as well. He also had a frisky, sleek black cat named 'Mini-Me' who became instantly everyone's mini cuddle buddy.
Nigel lived above a friendly Czech pizza joint, which sadly we didn't try out, especially given their convincing marketing ploy. Deciding to stay with Nigel for our bachelorette Christmas was a stroke of genius, as he knew even where to find delicious burritos past 10pm.

The first day at Praha was a rainy one, but Anna and I walked around contentedly with umbrellas. We had planned to go to the Jewish concentration camp in Terezin but unfortunately missed the bus. Instead we walked through the Jewish quarter of Prague, seeing the cemetery and synagogue.

The Basilica to the right, the very serious security to the left.
We enjoyed watching him struggle to keep credibility
as many teenagers and little kids
ran around him, even leaning up against him for pictures.
Photo credit: Anna

After which we were in the mood for some authentic Czech goulache with which came the most mouth-wateringly succulent potato soup I've ever encountered. I continued my mission of conquering at least one Czech word, which took me only five days, "dĕkuju" (thank you, and pronounced "dee yhek oh you"). We finally stumbled out of the little restaurant close to Charles Bridge feeling satisfied.

The Prague Cathedral
Photo credit: Anna

For Christmas Eve I had booked a ticket for a classic concert in the Basilica of St George, tucked into the courtyard of the Prague Castle. I only read afterwards that (super!) it was the best preserved Romanesque chapel in Prague, however...being so old, no indoor heating. Not even those battery-powered electic heaters for the seniors? Ooh, how authentic, the adventurous voice whispered.
Ten minutes into Canon in D, my toes were shivering. Halfway though Vivaldi, I was anxiously glancing at my watch and moving closer in a not-so-subtle fashion towards my neighbour on the wooden bench. The melody of the violins swirled around our blue lips. After feebly clapping, grateful for the chance to thaw the cooled blood in our veins, we scuttled out faster before the musicians could finish their bows. People must have appreciated music in a wholly different way before Thomas Edison came around, bless him. I shuffled quickly (only getting slightly lost) back through the elegant dollhouse streets, dark and frigid.

Our grinning couchsurfer hosted another american who turned up just after having exchanged our gifts (which, by the way, is a story to tell in person). Hilary joined us as we scouted some new Prague beverages, doing a bit of bar hopping and continuing our game of 'dares' (also another off-the-record story I'm cheerful to recount).

Christmas morning began naturally late, without six year olds awaiting the stroke of dawn, you can't expect much more. Setting off to our second home, the Christmas market, we went in search of food and general wandering. We then nibbled on the yum yum Trdelnik and fruit pastries, sipping our mulled wine, and watched the exquisite zodiac clock strike (slightly anticlimactic, but you can't help but stop with the crowd and gaze up).

After doing some more Christmas prezzie shopping and admiring the marionettes strung up about the place, soon enough nightfall struck again.

The skinniest hotel, or so Anna said.

Hilary's swanky Iphone informed us we should seek the John Lennon wall, after which, receiving no other orders, we swiftly obeyed. The wall was the ideally wistful and contemporary addition to the fairytale city where was scribbled favorite quotes and painted stylish Lennon portraits.
No, I certainly wasn't the only dreamer.

The final morning I rose for a final walk along the river to say what I hope was a temporary 'na schledanou'.