Prague- A Walt Disney dreamland... and more.

Panoramic view of snow-covered Prague from Hradcany at the entrance to Prague Castle.

This year's Christmas adventure began in the legendary city of Prague in the Czech Republic, and from the train ride to Nice International Airport, it already seemed to compete with last year's whirlwind tour of Budapest for title of "Must Eventful Trip." And yet, missed connections due to snowy runways and ice-laden airplane wings are no match for a dedicated adventurer. Perhaps this marks the beginning of a new Pre-Christmas tradition--spending the week before Christmas exploring a Comcon country.  

View of Charles Bridge looking
towards Hradcany and Prague Castle.

The weather, for one thing, always proves entertaining, not to mention the often-times gripping terror of having to communicate with people who speak a language based in neither latin nor germanic roots. The architecture is sure to be frozen in time; it is stunningly beautiful and uniquely fascinating, like the objects unearthed in a time capsule--rusty and perhaps even black with dirt but still embodying the allure of their previous luster. Something about the "pays de L'est" (Eastern European countries) commandeers my curiosity in the snowy winter months. Whether it is the harsh climate or the history of the land, the countries which emerged from behind the Iron Curtain illustrate for the Western World the realities of a recent and tangible "hard knock life." 


Partnered with the atmosphere of the holiday season, visiting such countries provides a fresh appreciation for the blessings and comforts alloted to the youthful generations of the West. 

Much like the astonishment that overtook my senses in Budapest last Christmas Season, I found myself at a loss for words upon lifting my pen to capture Prague on the blank abyss that is the back of postcards. I resorted to repeatedly composing the same phrase: "This city is every bit the enchanting destination it is fabled to be. The legendary home of 'Good King Wenceslas' and Alphonse Mucha rises out of the snowy fog like a Walt Disney dreamland."

Local woman rushes home with
 a festive bunch of mistletoe.

Indeed, Prague, itself, is every bit the marvel of its reputation. It is truly a living city and not simply a tourist attraction. Sure, shops brimming with Bohemian crystal, Czech garnet, and Prague porcelain are a stone-throw away from every streetlamp in the town center, but that sort of business exists in every city center that tourists might find remotely interesting: New york, Chicago, Paris, to name a few. The difference is that in Prague, Czech is written and spoken at every turn, and even in the most touristy of places, one can spot any number of locals scurrying home with groceries and gifts, kids in tow. By contrast to my experience in Budapest, the locals of Prague seem to be a jolly lot; not pretentious, nor hostile, and always glad to, at the very least, attempt to communicate clearly with non-czech speakers.  They smile openly openly on the street and do not look at you like you have three heads if you do the same. 

Nothing compares to a hearty meal at a local bar, especially when local Czech families
 file in after you to fill the entire back room of the place. Always a good sign. 

Lunch of hermaline cheese, bread dumplings stuffed with pork, and cabbage. Oh, and bottled water, because tap water is apparently never served at restaurants in Prague. Don't forget the bread, just in case you didn't feel that your desire for carbs was met in this lunch.  Needless to say, we did not eat dinner that night. 

The cuisine is hearty (gross understatement) and leaves you feeling warm and cozy with the distinct desire to indulge in a nap. A delightful combination of salted meats (primarily pork), dumplings of bread or potato, and cabbage (some much-needed acidity to cut through it all), it is not unlike that of Hungary, Austria, and Germany. This is not at all surprising, considering that these countries ultimately share the same climate, historical roots, and political regimes. The idea of "the harsher (colder) the climate, the heavier the food (and beer)" illustrates perfectly the magnitude of goulash and Pilsner Urquell consumed here.  The tradition of hermaline cheese (fried cheese), a not-so-distant cousin of the beloved American staple, the Mozzerella stick, perhaps explains the popularity of the American fast-food giant, KFC, in these parts. Voilà, heavy consumption of potatoes and items breaded and fried. 

This is only one of many international enterprises to make its mark on this city, one until so recently deprived of contact with the rest of the world. The effects are more than apparent. Only 20 years ago, Wenceslas Square lined with stores of empty shelves and was the stage for Anti-Communist Velvet Revolution. Now, it buzzes with international commercialism (Starbucks, KFC, Zara, H&M, Darty), and tourist feet beat the pavement where lives were lost to break down the wall to the West. 


A remarkable patch of land, indeed. In the midst of all the daunting commercialism, the legendary statue of St. Wenceslas (patron saint of the Czech Republic) stands watch over the hustle and bustle of change, with elements of Czech pride hidden in the corners of storefront windows and in the details of Art Nouveau facades. The Alphonse Mucha Museum and the Museum of Communism lie within steps from each other, an intriguing juxtaposition of the Czech Republic's greatest claims to fame. From these tourist landmarks, the wandering eye can catch a glimpse of the Christmas market lights illuminating traditional Czech delights, (sausages to satisfy the savory taste buds, and trdelnik, rolled dough of cinnamon-crusted goodness, for the sweet-tooth), stuffed animal representations of the best-loved czech cartoon (Krtek the mole), and postcards honoring scenes drawn by renowned illustrator, Josef Lada.  Czech culture is alive and well, flourishing even, watered by the waves of tourism and the light of freedom of culture and expression. 

A eager child awaits her own trdelnik.

Santa serves up traditional Czech sausages.  

Krtek, the most lovable of moles.