On the last weekend of July 2016, I visited Prague. I had a dreaded 6 am flight on a Saturday. I got some sleep on the flight before we began descending over spreads of light Golden fields of the first Eastern-European city I was visiting. I had to take a bus to get to the nearest metro station (No connections to the airport). I stepped in to notice that the underground station was surprisingly deep. Seriously, two flights of escalators down?
I made it to the Wenseclas Square with some time to pass before my first activity for the day – a guided walking tour of old town. I walked around a bit, warming up for more of the same to come.
The walking tour started with a bus ride. We drove across the river to the Prague Castle and then roamed about the premises with some history lessons along the way. I learnt that inthe 10th century, Prague Castle was not only the seat of the head of state, the princes and later kings, but also of the highest representative of church, the Prague Bishop. Of course I quote this from a website, because no part of my education ever trained me to retain anything related to history, until memorized at least 10 times.
Resentments aside, our group reached the St. Vitus cathedral located within the premises of the castle. It was a majestic structure of Gothic architectural style. At this point the guide threw a question at us – “Can anyone give another of similar architecture?” “The Cologne Dom”, I shouted out, immediately followed by a feeling of disbelief. Did I just shout out an answer in a large group? “That’s correct” said the guide & just like that I was now the know-it-all jerk of the group.
The second half of the tour involved a lovely ferry ride along the river, with beer and some haunting narrations about renaissance era in Prague. We passed under the famous Charles Bridge. With all its statues standing in glory, it was hard to imagine that the same bridge had witnessed the beheading of anti-Habsburg revolution leaders, the advance of the Swedes into Prague during the climax of the Thirty years’ battle and Ranbir Kapoor’s antics in the Hindi movie Rockstar. The gentle cool river breeze on a hot and humid day made the stories of war & Franz Kafka even more enjoyable.
The final leg had us go back to the old town. We passed through the Jewish quarters, hearing about the Jewish Cemetery and all horrors starting from the Crusades and beyond. The tour ended at the Old town square, right under the iconic Astronomical clock tower. Orloj, as it locally known as, is the oldest Astronomical clock in the world. After informing us about the hourly “surprise”, our guide parted ways. In my wait for the clock to strike 1pm, I decided to try out Prague’s world famous Doughnut cone ice-cream. A few hearty bites, hand wipes and an “aah” later, the medieval marvel began its act – with figures ranging from Apostles to Skeletons set in motion along with the chiming bells.
After a brief nap, I began my evening session by heading back into the abyss that was the astonishingly deep metro station. As I waited for my train, I heard a few heavy footsteps of running people. As I turned towards the sound, I was momentarily stunned frozen on the sight of a man with a gun approaching me. I immediately realized that he was a police officer with his bulletproof-overall half on. His team followed him as they ran along the platform. I didn’t dare to activate the inquisitive part of my mind, and quietly walked back up with the rest of the crowd. There were only 2 police vans – not even flashing. So it was probably just a false alarm – but with all that was going on in Europe, the quick action was understandable.
I braved myself back to the station 30 mins later and made it to the city center. I strolled across the Charles bridge, enjoying the numerous artists and performers along its span, as the violet dusk eventually turned dark blue. There was a haunting rendition of the Game of Thrones tune with violins (I am not a GoT fan BTW). After a hearty Goulash for dinner, I called it a night.
While Saturday was all about the pre-1900s, Sunday was going to be all about communism. I started with the Museum of Communism. It housed a plethora of fascinating yet bizarre collections, busts of Stalin, sad facts and painful stories from the Soviet era. I skimmed through the anecdotes of life under communism. I had just began reading about the velvet revolution that ended the communist reign here, when I heard a British voice from behind say – “I like your T-shirt”. I had my Tintin T-shirt from Brussels on that day. I turned back to learn that the voice was associated with a young lady with curly hair and a beautiful black dress. She was gorgeous, had a British accent and was a fan of Tintin, a comic book I worshipped growing up. Was she…? Well, if she was, then I had to respond with something meaningful.
“Thank You”, I said with an ear-to-ear smile (Bravo – that was deep!). She smiled back and walked off. That was that. My focus quickly took a downwards spiral from socialism to my social skills. Anyway, I decided to walk out and, well, get some lunch. What better way to allay the pain but with some scrambled eggs and sausage-links.
Next up – I had a ‘Communism and nuclear bunker’ walking tour. I met up with the tour party and the tour started with a walk along the streets of the old town. It was fun seeing in bricks and mortar, some of the references I just read about. Of course I had to imagine the blood and veins part. Our enthusiastic tour guide’s vivid stories made it easy to paint a picture of how the secret police would be all around, spying for any trace of revolution. To the extent that they would strike up conversations with kids to sense if their parents were talking against the Government. If guilty, the dark and dingy prison building in front of us, was where they would end up. Scary stuff!
Finally, it was the turn of the much-awaited Nuclear bunker tour. We had to take a tram to the newer part of Prague. The Baroque orange roofs suddenly turned into plain and dilapidated boxy buildings, clearly designed for “mass storage” of humans. The administrative buildings however were architecturally advanced for that time. Many of them reminded me of Institute buildings in India. One of them was eons ahead of that or any time in the future. It was Prague’s TV tower building and was designed to mimic a rocket (an asymmetrical one for that). It was a living tribute to the Space Race era.
The Nuclear bunker we were about to enter was one of many which also characterized that era. We were escorted to a door in an alley behind a lively beer garden. It opened to a 500-step spiral stairway. As we trotted down towards darkness, the tour guide asked us what else this reminded us of? I instinctively blurted out – “the metro stations!”. “Yes, they were designed to act as backup nuclear bunkers”, he replied. And the jerk strikes back! Twice in two days after a lifetime of silence? – maybe Prague brings out the best in me. The first three alphabets match with my name too!
I missed a couple of stories while hauling this rather juvenile train of thought. We had passed a dark dungeon which led to a hall – barely the size of a basketball court. There were some 5 or 6 bathrooms. And this was supposed to accommodate up to 5000 people. There was another hall that led to some disturbingly creepy mannequins wearing gas masks and posing out some of the torture scenes of those days. After taking some pictures it was time to get out of that claustrophobic vault.
When we resurfaced, there was no nuclear apocalypse, but seasons had definitely changed. It was drizzling. We ran across to catch our tram back to the city. The tour ended where my trip began – Wenseclas Square – with a detailed account of the previously missed, Velvet revolution, which took place on these very streets. The trip had come a full circle.
I took another walk around the Charles bridge and set off towards the airport. Another 2-day trip of this amazing summer had ended. After getting a taste of two different times in two days, I needed to get some sleep and report on time for work next day.
Pravel 
Interesting read. Love of history exists in all of us. If only we didn’t have to memorise dates. And much of history is sad. I like the self deprecating humour, the precision of detail and the sheer love of travel. Good luck and keep writing!
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