•November 17, 2006•
I am having difficulty adjusting to public transportation. The streetcars are always crowded and we spend a good part of each day waiting for one. A very nice custom prevails in Prague. If you are elderly or disabled, people will readily give up their seat to you. In California we drove everywhere. I can't imagine driving in Prague. It's chaos. It's not like Italy. That's pure insanity. Our landlady, Sylvia, says that drivers in Prague will cause an accident just to prove that they have the right of way. That must explain the ever present sirens. The day Sylvia drove us in her black Rover to our apartment she tried to merge into oncoming traffic and was nearly rear ended, horns blaring. She jumped out of the car and started a shouting match with the driver behind us. Thirty seconds later they were laughing and waving goodbye. Try that in Oakland and see what happens.
Sylvia and her husband are interesting characters. She is Czech and married to an Italian. They own an Italian shoe boutique in Wenceslas Square. She is high energy, lots of make up, dyed jet black hair and speaks Italian with a Czech accent to her husband who speaks Czech with an Italian accent back to her. They're fair landlords but they haven't invested a penny to improve the apartment so we've spent money at the IKEA on the outskirts of town trying to make the place more comfortable and homey. Fortunately Paul packed three of our Japanese scrolls in his suitcase and we've hung them on the otherwise bare, white walls.
One thing I will never adjust to is smoking in restaurants here. I'm a reformed ex-smoker so I can sympathize with the addiction, but four or five chain smokers in a crowded, over-heated restaurant while you're trying to eat is a form of torture. In one of our favorite restaurants we were seated at a long, shared table having lunch one afternoon when two men sat down across from us. They took out their cigarettes, ready to light up when Paul said, "Ne, prosim," or no please. They looked at us as though we were crazy. They did, however, wait until we'd finished eating then lit up. I bet that would start an international incident if you tried that in France.
It was a clear, Autumn day today so we decided to explore the Stare Mesto or Old Town. This is one of the most popular tourist areas and it is easy to see why. Millions of korunas have been spent on beautification projects to 17th century cathedrals and building facades. Elaborate architectural detailing and heroic statuary decorate the pastel buildings, side by side, like a tray of fancy cakes. Narrow dark alleyways lead you to iron gated gardens or tree lined boulevards with elegant shops. In the Josefov district is the ancient Jewish cemetery and the several synagogues that compose the Jewish museum tour. Horse drawn carriages clatter on cobblestone streets and a quiet little back street will suddenly deposit you onto a busy boulevard next to the Vltava with a stunning view of the castle and St. Vitus Cathedral on the hills, high above the opposite bank. This part of town, along with the Mala Strana on the other side of the river, are what most tourists see of Prague and little else.
•November 18, 2006•
We are living such a disconnected life here, we showed up a day early for a dinner engagement with Paul's aunt Jetti. I think our being here without a job or even a plan, baffles our Czech relatives. No one, not even our closest friends, had any idea the stress we were under before leaving the States. We sold our home at the beginning of the real estate slowdown in California. Our business landlord of twenty-six years was considering tearing down the building and putting up live/work lofts and wouldn't guarantee that we would have our space in six months, even if we prepaid the rent. We decided that it was wise to close up shop rather than take the chance of a mid-winter call from him telling us to vacate our studio. We began to take every difficulty as a sign that it was really time to move on and an affirmation of our decision to leave. So in three months we moved an entire household and business and finished two difficult restoration projects for equally difficult clients before leaving. Maybe that is why we are sleeping an average of ten hours a day and find it difficult to initiate any serious undertaking. We're still a little befuddled and it's probably the reason we don't even know the day of the week. We did show up the next night for dinner with Jetti and Eva and had a great time.
•November 19, 2006•
Eva is a jazz singer and we went to hear her perform at a festival in Wenceslas Square. There were several acts at the concert, one of which was an African American blues singer named Vera Love. She's seventy-some years old and sings every song at the same ear-splitting volume. She sang a lot of standard like Kansas City, Stormy Monday and the like. The Czech audience, at first reserved, was finally won over by her total enthusiasm. She was like a force of nature, thrusting her hips and shimmying, repeating "Dobry, dobry, dobry," which is good in Czech, and by the end of her performance the crowd was cheering. Paul and I were sitting with another African American singer who lived in Germany and she and I were in hysterics at Vera's lack of inhibition and energy at seventy. Poor Eva, who was not feeling well that night, had to follow Vera's act. As a former singer myself, I know how demoralizing it can be to follow an act that is dynamite and loved by the crowd. Eva was a true professional and soldiered on, sore throat and all.
There are concerts and clubs with live music every night in Prague. There is the ballet at the National Theater and symphony at the State Opera house near our apartment. There are chamber orchestras playing in churches and at the castle and jazz groups at cafes all around town. It's a great city for music.
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