Prague
"In Prague we were properly entered in the register by a sort of gate-clerk, who gave us lodging-tickets and sent our passports to the police directorate for endorsement."
"In Prague we were properly entered in the register by a sort of gate-clerk, who gave us lodging-tickets and sent our passports to the police directorate for endorsement."
Stage three, stop five.
The theatre here is not without taste in its construction. The play performed was poor; the company acted badly, and the ballet went little better than the play.
Today Hamlet was given, and you can imagine I had no wish to see one of my favourites so ill-used.
This was Seume's second visit to the theatre on his grand stroll. And the second time he was unhappy with what he saw. In Dresden he described the opera as ‘a regular botching’, and here in Prague the play was ‘poor’. I hope he does find something worth seeing between here and Syracuse.
At home in England I had looked up the programme for the theatre Seume would have visited, the Estates Theatre, which had opened in 1783, and much to my delight found it was presenting Mozart's The Magic Flute on the night I was to be in Prague. Furthermore, there was one ticket remaining. I saw this as a sign and quickly booked it for the bargain price of £10.
Before setting off for the theatre I enjoyed a hearty meal and glass of white wine.
I was excited about the evening. This was going to be the closest I had come to experiencing something of what Seume experienced on his stroll. The theatre was designed in a Neoclassical style and remains largely preserved in its original form. I was not disappointed. The building’s exterior and interior are both beautiful, and the performance was wonderful.
After the show I enjoyed a beer outside a nearby restaurant and admired the beautiful building. By the time I had finished, it was dark and a light drizzle was falling. I walked back to my Airbnb happy.
The next day I was up early as I had a plane to catch home in the mid-afternoon.
I thought I'd avoid the other tourists by starting early but alas, the streets of central Prague were already throbbing with visitors from all parts of the globe. I wove my way through the crowds towards the Jan Hus Memorial in Old Town Square. I found a cafe, ordered a £7 coffee and watched the world go by. Were there any Czechs in the square? Maybe the street cleaners hosing down the pavements? I chatted to the Serb waiter about the World Cup and wondered what Hus, not to mention our man Seume, would have made of all this.
Charles Bridge was my next stop, again packed with tourists and portrait painters. I felt uncomfortable here. Too many others were snapping away on their phones; it was all a bit much. I hurriedly left the bridge and walked along the embankment instead, which was much quieter. The next bridge down was largely empty of tourists and gave me a good shot of Charles Bridge.
And suddenly my time was up, I picked up my bag from the Airbnb and headed over to the station for the bus to the airport. I took a quick look inside and admired the striking Art Nouveau interior.
I'll be back in Prague in September for the fourth stage of my journey to Syracuse, but this time I'll avoid the centre and head out to see Bohemians FC play a match. I'll also grab lunch at a restaurant not far from the ground that was frequented in the past by Jaroslav Hašek, creator of that most celebrated of Czechs, The Good Soldier Švejk.