Italics are mine

Prague 5

I started the day by going to the Konvent of St Agnes, which was close to my hotel and hosted part of the Gerhard Richter retrospective - in fact it turned out, after I went to the National Galerie to see the main part of Richter's exhibition, that his best paintings were on view for free here. I found walking through the convent truly inspiring, although it is hard to imagine the conditions under which nuns lived a few centuries ago. Then I walked to the Klementinum Reading Room, but it turned out it is closed for renovation.

 This is when I went to the National Galerie for the Gerhard Richter exhibition, which was a huge disappointment. The retrospective at the Georges Pompidou Art Center a few years back in Paris was much, much better. In an alcove outside the National Galerie I saw a movie of Richter painting for free, which was the same movie I had seen for a fee in Paris during the Richter retrospective. That movie was a lot more enjoyable when I hadn't paid for it, although I'll admit I didn't stay for the whole thing. What I loved most about the National Galerie was the collection of Asian Art. That was remarkable. Without it I wouldn't have been nearly as happy about visiting the National Galerie. 

I had lunch at Maitrea, the sister restaurant of Clear Head that I went to yesterday. I got my favorite freshly squeezed juice (apple-carrot-ginger) for 100 crowns and a salad with avocado but without noodles for 235 crowns. (The waitress, after I had waited for 15 minutes, said the salad took 30 minutes to prepare. A salad, really? When I finally got my salad it had smoked tofu, sun-dried tomatoes and warm toasted tortilla, and was really good. So I suppose it was worth the wait.) There was jazz playing on the sound system. Maitrea seemed a lot more oriented toward Buddhism than Clear Hear. The Maitrea bookstore next door even hosts Buddhist programs. I wonder when Prague got interested in Buddhism. This was so unexpected. 

In the late afternoon I went to the Neoluxor bookstore on the street behind my hotel, in a nice-looking mall. I bought the bilingual edition of George Orwell's 1984 - I don't speak one word of Czech, but I figured it'd be a cool way to learn a few words... I've never been able to do things like everybody else - and a book in Czech by Vladimir Sevela about a KGB mole who infiltrated the CIA. The spy, arrested by the FBI, was ultimately traded with his wife on the Glienicke Bridge in Berlin and returned to Czechoslovakia a hero in 1986. He was given an apartment, a Volvo and a job at the Czech Institute for Economic Studies where future minister of finance and President Vaclav Klaus also worked. 

The day ended with the concert of a lifetime: Jiří Bělohlávek conducting the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra in Mozart's Turkish Concerto and Mahler's 5th Symphony. He passed away a month after I saw him conduct the orchestra. I've written about that elsewhere so I won't go into the details here, except to say he did look like he was recovering from cancer (he was half as big as in his pictures) but throughout the concert he maintained the energy and stamina that suggested he had beaten the cancer beast. His love of music kept him alive to the end, although he must have known when he gave the concert that his end was near.

I arranged the trip to be able to see him in person and I'm just glad I didn't postpone it. (I had been wanting to visit Prague for years and I could have easily given in to inertia and postponed it one more year.)  The concert was magnificent and will remain forever one of my most beautiful memories of a trip of a lifetime. I do regret not trying to reach out to Bělohlávek before he died, to tell him how much his music-making had meant to him. I hope he knew the impact he had on thousands of concert-goers.

Europeans don't give many standing ovations, unlike Americans, but when Jiří Bělohlávek returned for his third curtain call, I and a few other people got up and more and more attendees then stood up until everyone was on their feet. Bělohlávek was visibly moved. I remember how he brought his hand to his heart and bowed with a small, grateful smile.

Random observations from going to the Rudolfinum: the bilingual program cost 30 cr0wns, the Bohemian Sekt brut 65 crowns (it tasted ok, although Bohemian Sekt isn't nearly as good as real champagne). In the program I noticed how the Czech use the dot after a number to mean "th" (as in: 10th season, 20th year), like the Germans. The German influence is also obvious in the traffic lights, where the red and yellow lights shine together right before the light turns to green. Interestingly, for pedestrians, the light switches from green to red with no warning. There is no blinking green light, for instance, that would tell pedestrians to hurry across the crosswalk (and warn them not to start crossing if they haven't done so already).   

But I want to end this post with a remembrance of Jiří Bělohlávek, who did so much to raise the visibility of Czech music and the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra throughout the world. His recordings of Antonín Dvořák are my absolute favorites. He left us too early, but had more of an impact on the world than most of us can ever dream to have. 

Musical accompaniment:  Jiří Bělohlávek conducting the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra in Dvořák's 9th Symphony, "From the New World", part of the "Complete Symphonies & Concertos" set. 

Prague 4

 Slow start on my 4th day in Prague. I was feeling really tired, maybe because of the jetlag and the excitement of the previous day. A good thing I had the phenomenal breakfast of Hotel Josef to keep me going. Contrary to the forecast (again), it did not rain.

The highlights of my day were:

(1) the Alfons Mucha Museum,

(2) Cafe Slavia (the view of Prague Castle from my table is pictured left), and

(3) the Lehka Hlava (Clear Head) restaurant for dinner. 

 

Let's start with the Alfons Mucha Museum. I have admit I had never heard about Alfons Mucha (1860-1939) before I went to Prague, but when I saw his art I understood why this Art Nouveau and decorative painter is a Czech icon. His drawings reminded me of paintings by the Pre-Raphaelites, especially Dante Gabriel Rossetti.

I loved the clean, precise lines and the sense of emotion Mucha infused all his work with, including his most commercial pieces. I got the book on the left at the gift shop, you can also buy it on Amazon.com. While I enjoyed the examples of Mucha's art on display at the museum, I absolutely loved the movie that is shown on a loop about Mucha's life and work. That movie alone makes the price of admission a bargain.

Mucha's journey begins in Moravia and Vienna before he moves to Munich and Paris (in those days every self-respecting artist wanted to move to Paris) thanks to local Austrian landlords who were impressed with his work and became his patrons. In Paris, he did commercial work to advertise plays by theater superstar Sarah Bernhardt, starting with a new poster for Gismonda in 1894, which revolutionized poster design and launched his career. Mucha also hoped to serve his homeland with his art, and was drawn to Freemasonry. The Exposition Universelle of 1900 further established his reputation. In 1904, he travelled to the United States, where he was welcomed as a celebrity. He returned to America several times until 1910, at which point he went back to his homeland after an almost continuous absence of 25 years. He then concluded his career with a work of great artistic depth, The Slav Epic, which he envisioned as a monument for Slavic unity. The entire cycle of The Slav Epic was donated to the City of Prague in September 1928. Mucha was arrested not long after the annexation of Czechoslovakia by Germany due to him being a prominent Czech patriot. Although he was released after a few days, his spirit was broken and he died in July 1939. 

I walked through the city afterwards and ended up at Cafe Slavia across the street from the National Theatre (Narodni divadlo), which I expected to be a kitschy tourist trap (it was a favorite hangout of Vaclav Havel's) but it was actually quite nice and seemed rather authentic, both in terms of atmosphere and food. Also, it had a piano, and if you know me you know I have a weakness for cafes with a piano. (Not only did it have a piano, but a pianist actually started playing, and he was quite good. How could I possibly not be thrilled) One possibly annoying thing is that people can smoke inside the cafe (or maybe they're not supposed to but did it anyway... Europeans can have a puzzling attitude toward indoors smoking), but I felt so close to history I didn't even let that bother me. I can't even put in words why I liked Cafe Slavia so much. I think in some ways it reminded me of those days many years ago when I went to visit relatives in West Berlin (yes it was still West Berlin at the time, which gives you an idea of how many years ago it was). There was the same sense of cavernous architecture and history in march. Also, I was thrilled to find a table with a view of the Prague Castle and the Nicosia salad was delicious. If I lived in Prague I would be at Cafe Slavia all the time, writing my novels at a table by the window, looking up once in a while to admire the castle.

After Cafe Slavia I strolled along the Vltava river and went to Hemingway Bar (it was recommended in my guide) and Lehka Hlava.  The Bohemian Puzzle at Hemingway's was delicious, in case you're looking for recommendations. The bar itself was a dark, candle-lit place with black-and-white pictures on the wall. Nothing groundbreaking (how many bars in the worlds are dark, candle-lit place with black-and-white pictures on the wall?) but enough of a unique vibe and excellent cocktails to gain a lot of loyal customers. More strolling through the side streets of Prague afterwards, escaping the tourists, and then I arrived at Lehka Hlava, which was touted as the best vegetarian restaurant in Prague. 

Eating healthy is important to me, and if you've ever been to Eastern Europe, you know their culinary tastes might include borscht, lots of sauces, and not enough organic food as I'd like. Places like Lehka Hlava are changing the food landscape, though. I tried a homemade green juice, which tasted ok (with green juices it is always a gamble whether I'm going to like the taste or not), and a salad with avocado and spicy zucchini falafel, which was on the small side but tasty. It turned out Lehka Hlava has a sister restaurant, Maitrea, much closer to my hotel. I ended up going to Maitrea several times on subsequent days. It has a Buddhist/New-Age-y vibe with excellent food and drinks. I liked Lehka Hlava and was glad I tried it but really loved Maitrea.  

All in all, a great day, full of culture and excellent food! 

Music Accompaniment: Dvorak's String Quartets in G Major Op. 106 and F Major Op. 96 by Pavel Haas Quartet, a Czech string quartet founded in 2002. This recording, which includes Dvorak's "American" Quartet, won the Gramophone Awards' "Recording of the Year" prize in 2011.

Prague 3

 On my 3rd day in Prague, I finally made it inside the Prague Castle compound (with only a 2-min wait at the checkpoint this time), after walking around Old Town Square with the famous astronomical clock - pictured left - where I enjoyed the tourist-less side streets and strolled along the river before crossing the bridge. The day was sunny and warm, although the weather forecast had initially called for clouds and rain. Inside the Prague Castle compound, I spent some time in the South Gardens before buying a ticket to get inside the monuments. At 250 crowns, I can't say it was expensive.

St Vitus Cathedral was simply stunning, and as crowded as it was stunning. I particularly liked the lion painted high on a wall with the motto "Pravda vítězí" (meaning: truth prevails in Czech), and the story of Cardinal Josef Beran (1888-1969), which was recounted in an exhibit. He was arrested by the Gestapo in June 1942 and kept imprisoned at Pankrac, Terezin and later the Dachau concentration camp. In December 1946, he was made the 33rd Archbishop of Prague and enthroned in the St Vinus cathedral. After celebrations on June 1949, he was interned by the state secret intelligence service and was interned continually from 1951 to 1965. He was made Cardinal by Pope Paul IV in January 1965, left for Rome in February 1965 to receive the cardinal's insignia with no possibility of return. He died in Rome in May 1969 and was buried in the Vatican. His beatification process was initiated in April 1998 by the Archdiocese of Prague. His life sounds trite when I sum it up like this, but there is no doubt that someone interned for 14 years for his religious beliefs and subsequently made Cardinal by the Vatican is someone of great resilience and moral fiber.

I also saw the Old Royal Palace, St George's Basilica and the Golden Lane. 

As a side note, I noticed a lot of tourists with selfie sticks... I don't remember seeing so many in New York. Maybe it is more a European/Asian thing. The number of tour groups was also staggering. It made hard to walk around at times, and I can't imagine what it's like at the height of tourism season. But it's a good problem for Prague to have. 

Afterwards I walked to Globe Bookstore and Cafe (I like to walk, what can I say), which I found to be overrated as a bookstore - Shakespeare and Sons is much better - but the Greek salad was excellent. The cafe part of the bookstore seemed to be the local hangout of U.S. college students on study-abroad programs. On my left, two co-eds were having a one-way conversation where one kept talking and eating and the other one was apparently just there to prevent the other one from talking to herself. On my right, some man was talking about his legal trouble and discussing with his friend whether it was better to have a Czech lawyer. There was something about roommates and painting the apartment too.

I walked through Wenceslas Square, where so many demonstrations took place during the Velvet Revolution, and which is now hopelessly commercial. I also walked past the Municipal House, where a young woman talking in French to her friends almost walked straight into me because she wasn't paying attention to where she was going. This reminded me that French tourists have an unusual ability to get noticed for all the wrong reasons. (I'm French too, but I always speak English on trips and people can't place my accent, so I don't count as a French tourist!) 

In the evening I went to the Municipal House for a concert. Its marketing reminded me of the concerts organized in the Latin Quarter to attract tourists during the summer, and the program was made of excerpts of famous symphonies (rather than entire pieces of music), but the players were first-rate, all members of the Prague Symphony Orchestra. The concert hall's lobby was gorgeous, as was the area outside the hall, with its pink marble. The splendor of the hall itself seemed a bit faded. Hordes of tourists in groups were taking photos, especially Asian, but it was great that they had come for the music too. In the end there were many empty seats for an outstanding concert, and I wish more people had been there to enjoy the music. 

Musical background: Jiri Belohlavek conducting the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra with Emil Leichner as soloist in Bohuslav Martinu's piano concertos.

Prague 2

And here comes the account of my second day (first full day) in Prague, for what will remain one of my best trips for years to come. First, the breakfast at Hotel Josef was a true feast. It was included in my room rate, although I don't know if it's included in all room rates at the hotel, but really, even if you have to pay an add-on, if you stay at Hotel Josef you have to eat the wonderful breakfast, which served as my lunch too.

The hotel has a bakery on the premises with the most delicious, perfect, fluffy, warm croissants and pains au chocolat (chocolate croissants) that I've ever eaten outside Paris - they were even better than most croissants in Paris, as a matter of fact - as well as excellent grilled veggies, scrambled eggs, fruit, muesli, granola, yogurt and everything else you might possibly want for breakfast. The coffee was served in French presses, and was just as great as the food. That breakfast just was the perfect way to start the day.

Once I made it out of the hotel, I picked up my tickets for that night's performance of Zauberflöte at the Estates Theatre and Saturday's performance of Madama Butterfly at the National Theatre, at one of the ticket offices of the National Theatre (Narodni divadlo), which handles both venues. I bought the tickets online but I couldn't print them at home before leaving since they are only valid when printed on A4 paper. I had printed my receipt but it didn't include my order number (the theater's fault, not mine) and the employee became a bit rude, as if she thought I was trying to steal tickets. I couldn't help but think of the employees in Paris, who bark at customers. Thankfully I found the order number on my phone - which stayed on airplane mode throughout the trip, except when I was at the hotel and used the free wi-fi, but I could still scroll through my emails on the street and follow Google Maps after I pre-loaded my itinerary from my hotel room - and the employee got much nicer once she realized my order was legit. She even smiled at me, in the end. 

I pocketed my tickets and made my way to the other side of the river to visit Prague Castle on what was supposed to be one of the last nice days of my week in Prague. (In the end the weather was good all week, I never had to use my umbrella, it only rained twice and always during the night. Thank you, lucky star.) The picture at the top of this post shows the castle from the bridge by the Rudolfinum or Manesuv most. I reached the entrance to the castle around 11am, but the lines to go through security control were so long I changed my plans and walked around through Mala Strana instead and ended up at the other compound entrance - the one where guards in picturesque uniforms stand in front of the President's residence for hours on end - which had even longer lines. The reason for the security is that the compound houses the official residence of the President of the Czech Republic. So I walked around some more, admired the narrow, cobbled streets of Prague, and enjoyed discovering this part of town instead of visiting the castle today. Then I walked back across the river and tried to go to the Museum of Decorative Arts but it looked closed, perhaps permanently.

So I walked north across yet another bridge - most people would have taken the tram, but I am a walker, what can I say - to the Modern/Contemporary Art collection of the Narodni Gallery, which is housed in the Trade Fair building (Veletržní Palác). The building looks unassuming from outside, but the inside is much better, as you can judge from the picture on the side, and the collections were simply breathtaking.

It has many non-Czech artists, but I hadn't come for those, so below is a list of the 20th century Czech artists (mostly painters) I particularly loved. Given my interest both in the Czech Republic and modern art, it seems incredible that I'd never heard of those artists before, but I'm glad I'm aware of their work now. Such talent!

František Kupka (1871-1957): Vireni I (Whirling), Babylon, Round and straight

František Drtikol (photographer, 1883-1961): Melancholie (1925)

Otakar Nejedly (1883-1957): Hotel

Jindřich Prucha (1886-1914): Inside the beech forest

Alfons Mucha (1860-1939): Portrait of Josephine Crane-Bradley as Slavia

Emil Filla (1882-1953): Still Life 1913, Amorous Night

Otakar Kubin (1883-1969): Composition 1914, Abstract composition 1912

Jan Zrzavý (1890-1977): Biblical landscape, Cleopatra

Václav Špála (1885-1946): A path on Lopud, The Vltava River near Cervena, Bouquet with figures in the background 1930

I had a snack afterward at Cafe Jedna next to the museum: mezze (tabouleh, hummus, israeli salad, olives, sundried tomatoes and warm, soft pita) and a small bottle of sparkling water for 180 crowns or less than 9 dollars. It is easy to forget how expensive food can be in the U.S., and not necessarily with quality to match. Cafe Jedna had a wonderful artsy vibe. I loved that real Prague residents sat around me, rather than tourists. This is because the museum is not in the touristic part of town. 

When I walked back to the hotel, I felt that I was back in Brussels, with the tram rumbling along the street, the small shop windows and plenty of normal-looking people in jeans and windbreakers, a refreshing sight after the extremes of life in the U.S. It felt more like my kind of crowd.

In the evening I went to the Estates Theatre - a 7-minute walk from my hotel - to see Die Zauberflöte. The Estates Theatre is known as the theater where Mozart premiered Don Giovanni in 1787, but I found the inside a bit rundown, and the production frankly mediocre. (For instance, the director created a character of Mozart who hovered on stage throughout the performance, mouthing words and looking at the protagonists - his creations. Sometimes the music stopped and the Mozart character spoke in Czech. I kid you not. We agree that Mozart did not write that... Directors really shouldn't add characters to an opera. It is just gimmicky. That's also the reason why the recent Rusalka at the Met, directed by Mary Zimmerman and composed, of course, by Antonin Dvořák, left me quite indifferent, although the voices were marvelous.)

The Estates orchestra was small, most voices were small, with the exception of the excellent Queen of the Night. But I was still glad to attend a performance in this famous theater, and impressed that I had no jet lag at all. The Nespresso coffee machine in my hotel room, in addition to the breakfast's French press, surely helped... What a joy to be in Prague at last, after years of hoping I'd some day make the trip.

Musical background: Czech Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Jiří Bělohlávek in Dvořák's Symphonies 6 & 7 of the Complete Symphonies set.