Prague

The drive into Prague included cobblestone streets, cars and pedestrians going all directions at once, trams honking at vehicles stopped on tracks, and one man yelling at my Hungary plates. Once there, however, we were really there: Prague, a place I was planning to see since friends returned from there in high school, and again after my first year of teaching, when I shared a room with a Praha man who was touring the U.S. and somehow found himself in Brewster, near Wenatchee, where my car had broken down. Here, in Prague, I was happy to shelve the car and get on foot, a means more relaxing and above all slow enough to absorb the city's facades and structures, tastes and history.

Prague.

Above, in the distance, is the Charles bridge, a 650 year old pedestrian bridge, with fantastic figurines of saints perched at its sides. In the morning, a woman in an orange jumpsuit slowly crosses the bridge with a small broom, sweeping cigarette butts and soft leaves into a pan. A crew of men smoke in the recess by a statue of Christ before lowering a scaffold over the side to scrub old archways. Painters roll tables and easels by handtrucks and prepare to display their talents with caricatures or straight portraits of Angelina Jolie's lips and Barack Obama's ears. A few drunken leftovers laugh their way across the river. Tourists stretch out with their cameras. Workers and students commute to the other side. And lovers stroll.

At night, the city was alive with residents and tourists alert with festivity. When we arrived, the children were eager to stay at home after the sun went down, and we were still nervous about the rare car that would jet down the streets and throw pedestrians onto the narrow paths at the base of buildings, but my first glimpse of the Old Town Square was so magical, I ran back to our apartment, only 200-300 meters away, to bring everyone over.

Everyone was just in time to see the tolling of the great astronomical clock, which celebrated its 600th birthday last month. Every hour, mechanical saints revolve above the clock face, bells toll, and a man robed in motley red and yellow emerges from the tower and trumpets the time, first in one direction, then the other.

The Old Town Square was a reference point, in time and space, but also in history. It wasn't only the carriages and the gothic spires over the stoned cathedral than made me feel the nearness of the late middle ages, and the bustle of a prosperous city long ago; it was the way the tall old buildings faced each other in generous angles, the way streets radiated out in horse-thin spokes, it was the spacious intimacy of the square.






But the city was beautiful in every direction. As my friend here Nora said, Prague was spared the WWII destruction that Budapest was not; and as the Lonely Planet guide said, it's hard not to be awed by the "overachieving" architecture. After three nights, I still couldn't get used to the fact that from our bedroom window we could see a church from the 14th century filled with baroque treasures.

Walking in Prague was an utter joy.

We also had a memorable meal in a brewery recommended by Lackó (above left) and one late night concerto concert in a cold and beautiful cathedral by the Charles Bridge. Below is the Jewish Town Hall, centering several synagogues and cemetery in the Jewish quarter. I was interested in encountering history on Prague's golem, especially because our librarian at Roosevelt had extensively researched the automaton, but I was content to stay outside and keep walking. 

Feel free to walk around yourself, IN YOUR BRAIN. This web-tour is pretty good.

On the second day we walked up the stairs to the enormous castle complex, the Pražský hard. Much of what you see in the background of the picture below is a part of this.

We spent several hours wandering the palaces and cathedrals that dated from the 10th century.

By the time we emerged, we were very hungry, and took advantage of the slighter stubbier version of kürtöskalács they eat in the Czech Republic, trdelník.

I'm willing to go back to Prague someday, if anybody wants to join me.

Hohenschwangau

Traveling with children has certain demands: Regular access to food and hygenic quarters, for example. Frequent visits to the bathroom--surprisingly unnecessary. Also, children seem to need a goal if they are going to walk for hours on hot dogs and ice cream alone. While all of these things mean traveling with children is more expensive, it has not meant that I no longer get to do my absolute favorite thing, which is to endlessly wander streets, because Stephanie realized that I don't care so much where I go as long as I go, and kids don't mind going as long as they decide where, and so we now travel well together.

One demand made of our European travels is close contact with castles. Ruined, palatial, restored--doesn't matter: driving through Austria and Germany, where every foothill has its own fortress, was satisfying traveling for the kids.

Our one-night detour into Germany was the apotheosis of such travel. Stephanie and the kids had worked for days on a 2000 piece puzzle of Schloß Hohenschwangau, which happened to face one of the world's most recognizable castles, the Neuschwanstein, popularized by Walt Disney through Sleeping Beauty's castle and then more ubiquitously by the Disney logo itself.

Both were richly decorated and preserved and furnished, but in the end, they preferred Schloß Hohenschwangau, because it seemed like a more comfortable place to live. Probably we would need a gardner.



So, Hohenschwangau Castle (above and below) was built by King Maximilian II of Bavaria in the 1830's on the site of what had been a fortress since at least the 12th century. It is imposing and beautiful beneath the mountains and above the Alpen lake, and inside, every room is decorated with a story, some of which can be seen here. The real star of the castle is Maximilian's son, Ludwig II, who spent so lavishly on his castles that he was declared unfit to rule: In 1886, an armed government commission arrived to depose Ludwig, but they were beaten back by a 47 year-old baroness and her umbrella.





On the other hill, of course, was one of Ludwig's biggest projects, the Neuschwanstein Castle. Though he never actually lived in this castle, it was clearly an intimate, fantastical dream, and remains so.

Like his father's hunting lodge across the valley, each room had a themed mural, in this case, devoted to operas by Richard Wagner. The rooms are over the top. There is even a hallway plastered to resemble a cave. If you want the tour yourself, Bavaria has thoughtfully provided this webtour so you don't have to get a teaching Fulbright and an autumn holiday and a car and a ticket (or you can just click Grotto and Conservatory if you want even less). Just remember, since you won't have the firsthand experience yourself, if you have to choose to live in one castle or the other, choose the other castle, as my children have done.

Remaining pictures attest to the beauty of the surrounding area, as well as that of my family.

Salzburg

Last week our family left for an extended holiday break, driving to Salzburg, Austria; Schangau, Germany; Prague, Czech Republic; Vienna, Austria and back.

We were sorry to miss All Saints Day in Barcs, but so excited to take advantage of our proximity to places we'd longed to visit for so long; and this turned out to be an outstanding time to drive towards the Alps, where the leaves were turning a brilliant red, and everywhere, against the rich, vibrant green of the foothills and the craggy tips of mountains were extraordinary reds and oranges and yellows. And the sun stayed out all week.

Our children surprised me once again for their stores of happiness in taxing conditions -- such as the backseat of a sedan for hours on end. So the five hour drive to Salzburg, which included one 20 kilometer stretch of one-lane road through forest near Kaposvár, was a lovely one.

We stayed in a comfortable Pension across the street from a Turkish bakery, walking everywhere from our room and back again. We visited Mozart's birthplace and apartments, a castle, the river, and mostly spent our time wandering through cobbled streets, gazing at apartments built into the cliffs and gnawing on pretzels, fantasizing about yet another life.

In Salzburg, as in most of our travels, we were served breakfast at the hotel and ate one other meal in a restaurant, snacking the rest of the day. On our second and last night, we had dinner in the Stiegl brewery, where Stephanie and I delighted in our beer and heavy meat and our kids ate gulash.

While the children were very excited to go to the castle, perhaps their favorite find in Salzburg was its playground, near the Mirabell palace gardens.