I don’t know if it is Prague or the jet lag, but again I
slept in until 10:30 am. If my body needs it, I have to respect it. My
breakfast is richer this morning; in addition to my peach and banana, I have
the delicious left over half a sandwich from last night.
Ingenious invention for kids to "walk" on the river!
Today, I want to find
out where the supermarket that my hosts recommended is, since the prices at the
mini-market downstairs seem to be outrageous even to my uneducated mind. I turn
out to be right: When I do my shopping there at the end of the day, I will purchase
3-4 days-worth of fruit, water, bread, cheese, red peppers and tomatoes with
very little amount of Czech Korunas. My cashier seems to be somber if not unhappy.
I will be happy to bring a faint smile to her face when I surprise her with merely
a “Dobri verce” (Good night) in Czech… How little people need to feel connected, respected, and accepted...
This beauty of Charles Bridge and the Vltava River is so mesmerizing, I will keep coming back to it, every morning, every evening...
My goal is to go to Louvre Cafe to have a cup of tea, but by
the time I reach the waterfront, I realize I missed it already. Later during my
stay, when I manage to stop by at this café, I will be disappointed to find out
that it is a huge restaurant consisting of multiple levels, with no appeal to
me. On my path to find a place to have tea, I come across Naprstek Museum of
Asian, African and American Cultures: It is not misspelled, Czech language is
notorious with sequential consonants with no vowels, and this is not the worst
sequence…I read in my mini-Czech language book a sentence consisting of 4-5
words; no word including a vowel!
The museum is very lovely having brought together items of
all kinds from all over the world displaying cultures of mostly indigenous
peoples of Asia, Africa, all of North and South Americas, Australia, New Zealand,
even the Arctic! But Mr. Vojtech Naprstek’s life story is one of a kind, laying
out the man’s spirit that must have been bigger than life. He was born in 1826
to a couple running a brewery in Prague. Eventually he became a Czech philanthropist, patriot and politician, and even pioneering
Czech language journalism in the United
States, of all places in
Milwaukee.
According to what
I learned at the museum, some of which is in conflict with what Wikipedia describes,
he was exposed to other cultures while growing up and wanted to study Oriental
Sciences in Vienna. At the same time he was developing a Czech identity,
although supported in that by his mother, especially after his father’s death,
his mother expected him to take over the family business, when he wanted to
travel the world. In the end, they agreed upon him studying law in Vienna.
However, with
approaching 1848 revolutionary winds, he engaged in political activism and
started organizing students in Vienna as he had done back in Prague. He was
arrested in Vienna, but moreover, Czech government then banned him from
returning to Prague. After his release, he and his then activist girlfriend went
to the US penniless. Eventually, they moved to Milwaukee, where he found a
larger population of Czech ex-patriots. He opened a bookstore and led Czech
nationalism building efforts and became the spiritual father of Czech
journalism in the US by publishing the freethinking newspaper Milwaukee Flügblatter in the ten years he lived there.
When he
eventually returned to Prague in 1857, he first convinced his mother to allow
him marry the family maid Peitcka (must be a nickname since her full name is
Josefa Krizkova), who turned out to become his life and business partner. As
soon as they got married, Vojtech adopted 5 orphaned children, and the couple,
rather, Pietcka raised 7 children including her two orphaned nephews, proving
that they were not only some of the most open-minded people of their time, but their
hearts were also wide open to all that needed them. They engaged in
all kinds of progressive ideas from women’s rights, to outdoors activities and
naturalism, to nation building to enlightening their society in all fronts. It
wasn’t long before his old buddies, who had also engaged in politics, arts, and
world traveling like himself, started circling around him. This group of young
people began discussing the possibility of establishing a Czech National
Museum.
Some things are left to come back to with (a) dear friend(s), this one was what I left unvisited this time, in Prague: The Czech National Museum
This pursuit would take many decades. His role in the establishment of
the current museum started as a Technological Museum idea. They got some
funding and purchased many technological items of their time in London.
However, his friends traveling all over the world were also bringing him gifts
from various cultures that he was collecting.
As a result, the current
museum was founded in 1862 as the Czech Industrial Museum in the basement of
the family brewery. After his death, he left all his estate to a foundation,
which oversaw the museum’s transformation to a focus on non-European cultures. And,
in 1931, it was nationalized and joined the National Museum network. What is
astounding is that this museum, which was one of the cultural and educational centers
of the Czech intelligentsia in the 19th century, owns much of its collection
that was either given to Mr. Naprstek as gifts or through donations by his friends
who were Czech expatriates, travelers and ethnographers. As I debate, at a turning point in my life, on whether I should slow down and ease into retirement or invest a new energy into the last phase of my professional life, I bow to a guy like
that, here is a man, who has changed his world in a brief span of time, which was his not too long life...
After stopping
briefly at the St. Gilles Church and the Baroque Library (Clementine), which
was not open to visitation, I decide I’d better head to Josefov; the Jewish
quarter of Prague renamed after the Austrian king Joseph II, who was the first
European king that started the Jewish non-discrimination wave. He gave them
their right to speak their language, to start Jewish schools, to pay taxes more
or less equal to non-Jews among others. As a result, this movement spilled into
first surrounding countries then to other European countries. Hence,
appreciation by the Jews of Prague. However, I would
like to stop at a café first, since I am thirsty and hungry. Vola, I bump into a
café named Kafka Snob Food! I check out the food; the lovely young woman, my
size with a bright smile, who will become my server convinces me that the
pistachio cheesecake is really good. That’s what I will eat then along with
mint tea; all cafes in Prague have mint tea that they prepare from fresh
mint leaves and they know it needs to be
served with honey and lemon!.
I have already
made a mental note that she has an impeccable command of English. As I am
taking notes on my scrap paper, she brings me my tea and cake. My brothers
would say “No surprise”, I chat her up, who is more than willing to talk with
me. Her name is Dina, originally from Egypt! Her English command comes from
having attended an “Experimental” School from elementary school until the end
of high school, where the educational language was English. Just like I. I tell her from
the outset, I kind of saw my youth in her, same dark complexion, same curly
dark hair, same sparks of curiosity in her eyes (I don’t know if my curiosity
about all walks of life will ever end), and a gut feeling that told me she was
not European. Her face is a big smile when I tell her that. She asks me about
what I was writing all this long, I tell her about my blog, she is interested
not only in my blog, but also in being in my story, and even letting me take a
selfie of the two of us!
Dina, an Egyptian beauty, doing her PhD in Prague meeting a Turkish woman from America at Kafka Snob Food café! Globalization has some good to it...
She is in Prague
because she is doing her PhD in sociology with a focus on non-profit
organizations! I had sensed, there was more than complexion drawing me to her. She
is supporting herself by working here to complete her PhD. She was also an
activist back in Egypt just like I back in Turkey in 1970s-80s. I wish we had had
enough time to talk more about our activist days. I wonder what her role was in
the Arab Spring, since she is now 30. But she is busy with other customers. When
I am ready to leave, she asks for the address of my blog. I give her a hug,
which she warmly accepts since she is the same age as my daughter. I hope my
daughter also meets people, who will give her warm, genuine mother’s hugs… I
hope we will remain in contact Dina.
A few blocks from
the café is Pinkas Synagogue, the first of the six complexes I will visit today
that belong to the Jewish Museum in Josefov. When I enter the synagogue, I feel
an initial aversion to the place. It is empty, other than its walls, there is
nothing. My critical mind comes into play asking “Why don’t they use this place?”
In Amsterdam, all the old churches and synagogues had a contemporary function
and I had loved it.
Just as I am
trying to open my judging mind to curiosity, I notice the red sparks on the walls
and notice that all four walls of the first room are covered with lines of
names and numbers: Instantaneously, I recall, I would visit a place where the
names of all Jews from Bohemia and Moravia that died during Holocaust would be
on display. That is why, the place is so bleak, almost emitting negative
energy, very justly so. I remind myself kindly one more time “All initial
impressions may be false, ‘pause and explore what is underneath what hits the
eye’ is always a better strategy before jumping to judgment…”
Truth is that
five large rooms in this synagogue, which is a medium size worship space, with
all their walls are covered with the names of the fallen. The last name of the
first member of a family is in red, so are the initials of all first names, the
following family members are listed only with their first names. For all individuals,
the dates of birth and death follow their names, the latter falling between
1939 and 1945, with no exception. 78,000 names on the walls of five rooms… Has
the room gotten chillier or is it me, my skin is covered with goose bumps and I
am a bit shaky, barely able to keep in place the tears in my eyes, fighting to
roll down my cheeks.
How did humanity
lose all its compassion in that impossible to comprehend period of time? How
did they dehumanize millions to almost non-sentient being level? How did masses
follow a mentally ill, narcissistic invalid to such extents? Did it feel as
normal as it does nowadays with how we try to understand the Trump voters, with
how half the population in Turkey follows Erdogan to their and country’s
destruction? How does all that happen at sociological level? What should we do
to prevent history from recurring?
With these
thoughts, I go upstairs to a room where numerous drawings and paintings from
10,000 children, who were interned along with their parents in the ghetto or
concentration camp of Terezin, an hour north of Prague. Some 4,000 such art
work were preserved, some of which is on display in this room; another chilling
experience. The Jewish self-governance body in Terezin had gotten permission
from their jailers to teach their kids drawing, singing, and crafts, which must
have been seen as not dangerous. Yet, with what the children drew and painted,
they told the whole story of Terezin…
The elders not
only wanted to keep their children engaged with a means of self-expression but
also wanted to help them remain emotionally healthy. In the meantime, they
secretly also taught their children language, history, and science. Since some
of the best minds of the era were Jews and they were also interned, the kids
got the best of the best of education, go figure! However, scores of adults and
children were sent to all kinds of other concentration camps including
Auschwitz, work camps, from where very few ever returned.
I am almost
relieved to be in the Old Cemetery and take in deep breaths to shake off the
guilt, shame, and despair Pinkas Synagogue triggered in me, not knowing yet, there
is another story told here. For centuries, from early 15th century
until the end of the 18th century, Jews of Prague were allowed to
bury their dead only in this barely an acre of cemetery squeezed among the
Pinkas and Klausen synagogues and the Ceremony Hall. As a result, in this space,
nearly 12,000 gravestones are leaning against one another over 12 layers of
bodies buried on top of one another, underneath.
The rest of my
visit through the Jewish quarter was not so very impressive since nothing could
surpass at this point what the Pinkas synagogue and the cemetery had instilled
in me already. If one cannot visit it all, these two are must-see places in
Josefov. By this time it is around 4, and before going to the concert at the
library in the evening, taking a 2 hour bus tour sounds perfectly appropriate.
It adds very little to what I know about the old town and most of new town, but
once we cross the river to the Hradcany area where the castle is things do
change.
I think, this is
the largest castle I have seen in Europe, considering, it is still a center of
administration, it is indeed quite a big deal. Right in front of the castle, we
take a half hour break to take pictures and stroll around. I must have used my
time a bit too generously, when I come out, the bus is gone as the driver
promised us to do upon releasing us! Apparently this happens all too often. No
big deal, in the half hour before closing time, I visit the Sternbersky Palace,
in which Old Masters’ art is on display. I must apologetically
say, I am not much fond of Old Masters’ art: Their theme is all about
Christianity, obviously there was no thinking beyond religion after Aristotles
for close to 1200 years… Lack of light of the mind is reflected in their dark paintings…
When I come across impressionism on the other hand, I can spend hours and hours
in a museum. However, I can tell, in late 1500s, things started to shift. I
enjoy the pieces where true facial expressions, body movements start reflecting
on the canvas… “The Scholar in His Study” by Rembrandt being one of those: The
scholar clearly is a thinking and feelings human being, despite still being
engulfed in dark colors.
After I come out,
I figure, the winding down slope must be leading to town. However, before I
turn that direction, I get a dark beer from one of the vendors creating a
divide in the middle of the cobble stoned square in front of the castle. They
have put out high bar tables with no chairs in two rows, around which customers
are hanging out as they drink and eat. None of the food is appealing, except
for a grill on which delicious appearing steaks are calling my name through
immense aroma they are emitting.
From the "Palace Square" looking at the hills crowned with Prague's mini-Eiffel Tower
There is a young
dark complexioned man also looking at the steaks. The cook says it is not
ready, we say, we will wait. Eventually, we learn that the steak in fact is for
tomorrow, but he will sell us two pieces. We are happy by that time Phillip
from Portugal and I have already introduced ourselves to each other since we
became comraderies in this steak acquisition pursuit. He is the son of a
teacher mother and a salesman father and the younger of two brothers.
He is finishing
his nano-chemistry degree this year and will hopefully get into bioengineering
of nano-chemistry master’s program in Dresden, German. He has been on a Europe
tour including Berlin, Dresden, Prague, Vienna, where he will meet up with his
brother, who is doing his master’s degree there. He is delighted with the idea
that with his degree he may contribute to finding treatment for currently
incurable diseases such as traumatic paralysis. He is barely 20 and full of
hope and passion.
What hits me most
is that he loves traveling alone, he shares with me “Finding that edge of
discomfort because of uncertainty and be fine with that patiently waiting for
things to unfold is a good thing.” What an emotionally intelligent man he is. I
wish I had acquired this intelligence when I was much younger. But I also like
the idea of “Never too late…” In fact Pema Chodron says “We have to learn to be
comfortable with the discomfort of uncertainty.” That is what I am trying to
master for the last several years and the better I become with it, the more at
peace I become… Thank you Phillip and best of luck to you…
As I walk across
Charles Bridge again, I notice that beggars are again in their folded pose, is
this their tradition, are they keeping their faces away from passers-by for
fear of recognition, are they sleeping as they beg? Or are they meditating? Quite
a mystery for the time being, which I won’t be able to resolve during this trip.
When I befriend one of the shop keepers, I will ask her about this, she brings up "They must be ashamed..." I am not sure, if anybody knows the mystery behind this, please leave a note for me on this blog if you do. When I enter the bridge, it is again full of life, color, and vibrancy... A group of young musicians are making lively music with violins and a make-shift drum. I join the crowd and savor the sounds... Every time I pass across on this bridge, I can’t help but recall King Charles IV and how one person may change
the history and trajectory of a nation, a community, a family… I am convinced
every day that we should strive to do our best, with compassion and kindness.
The seeds we plow will definitely lead to good crop sooner or later…
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| Yet another band on Charles River |
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| Yet another beautiful moment on Vltava River at dusk... |
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